“Many of you fought bravely against Napoleon. On the battlefield, it mattered not whether you hailed from noble or peasant blood. We were all Russians together, and we brought glory to our empire.

“Now, however, without war to unite us, the monarchy has returned to its old ways, enslaving farmers to their lords. The imperial family has forgotten how serfs and nobles alike laid down their lives for our country. And we aim to remind them. To Karimov and a constitution!”

The soldiers pounded their boots and flagpoles on the ground and roared, “To Karimov and a constitution! To Karimov and a constitution!”

A smile spread across Nikolai’s face. These were his people. Royal blood or not, Nikolai had come from a tiny nomadic village on the steppe and spent his entire life fighting for respect. He’d been an errand boy for a tailor, and he’d polished shoes for a cobbler. He’d bartered for dance and sword-fighting lessons by trading his time and his services. So these men who stood before him, these ordinary soldiers, were his brethren.

But then the thundering of hooves drowned out the shouts of the Decembrists. The men in the square all turned away from Obolensky toward the sound.

“No,” Nikolai said.

It was not, as the Decembrists had hoped, reinforcements from other garrisons. It was Pasha’s cavalry and infantry. They were close to ten thousand strong.

They were still some distance away, but Nikolai felt as if their horses were already stampeding him.

Because the Decembrists were now outnumbered by more than three to one.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

Vika rode to Pasha’s left as he led the cavalry into Peter’s Square. Yuliana rode to his right, unwilling to accede to his requests to stay behind or at least ride behind the front line. Their horses had to tread carefully on the icy cobblestones.

The Decembrists were lined up in formation in front of the statue of Peter the Great.

The forces Pasha commanded were much more daunting.

“Infantry,” Pasha shouted, “surround the square, but maintain distance from the rebels, and do not fire unless ordered to.”

His commanders snapped to action, and their regiments marched to take strategic places around Peter’s Square.

“I want light artillery there”—Pasha pointed to a spot in front of one of the infantry units, facing Peter the Great—“and here,” he said, indicating a line to shield where he and his horse currently stood. They would be able to see the Decembrists from this vantage point but remain protected by several regiments of infantry, along with the light artillery.

“Cavalry will ride to flank the rebels,” Pasha said. “I want the Decembrists to have to look up at us.”

The officers and their soldiers marched off to their places. Vika looked from Pasha to the square and back to Pasha again. “Very impressive, Your Imperial Highness.”

Pasha gave her a curt nod, a serious commander of troops. But a smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

“Count Miloradovich, where are you?” Pasha asked.

The count, a war hero who, like Obolensky and Volkonsky, was admired by the troops, hurried to Pasha and saluted.

“Speak with Obolensky,” Pasha said. “And if possible, address the men. They can still change their minds. I will let them walk away.”

On his right, Yuliana snorted in disapproval. Pasha ignored her.

“Yes, sir,” Miloradovich said. He saluted again, then marched toward the rebels’ formations in the center of the square.

Pasha turned to Vika. “Is Nikolai here?”

She could feel the tug at her chest as she scanned the square. “I don’t see him, but I feel him. Even if I couldn’t, I know he’d be here. The Decembrists mean to put him on the throne. That means they are Nikolai’s men. And Nikolai is not the sort to stand aside and leave the unhappy work to others. So yes. Nikolai is here.” Her heart beat faster, remembering the mazurka in the volcano dream. If only this scene were a dream, too.

Pasha began to run his hand through his hair but stopped, as if he’d suddenly remembered he was being watched by thousands of his men.

“Kill Nikolai,” Yuliana said to Vika.

Vika took in a sharp breath of air, and everything inside her flipped upside down. Of course she knew it was more than a possibility that she would have to hurt Nikolai, perhaps even kill him, but a possibility was far different from a direct order spoken aloud. Especially since the cuff would enforce it.

Pasha steadied his horse beside her. He was a shade paler than usual. “Don’t—”

“Pasha.” Yuliana whipped her head around to glare at him. “You tried to show leniency last time by having Vika capture him. But Nikolai escaped the egg and tried to kill you again. We cannot count on being able to capture and contain him this time.”

Pasha swallowed hard but nodded. “Vika, find Nikolai and . . .” His voice cracked. “Well, you heard Yuliana.”

Everything inside Vika remained upside down. Her pulse throbbed inside her.

In the middle of the square, Miloradovich spoke to Obolensky. The men puffed out their chests and stood with legs anchored wide. Hot clouds billowed where their breaths met the winter air. The discussion did not appear at all friendly.

Vika’s horse shifted beneath her.

“Have you located Nikolai?” Yuliana asked.

Vika had to do it. She had chosen Pasha’s side, and not just because a bracelet burned her. But she would try her best to do this her way. She could at least have that much integrity.

“I’m narrowing it down.” Vika concentrated on the far right of the Decembrists’ formation, where the air seemed to be disturbed not by weather, but by magic.

Miloradovich spun away from Obolensky and climbed up onto the Thunder Stone. “Listen, my fellow soldiers—”

A shot rang out before he had a chance to finish the sentence. Soldiers yelled. Miloradovich toppled to the ground.

Obolensky reacted immediately, unsheathing his sword and holding it above him so it glinted in the early morning light. Then he ran it through Miloradovich’s body.

“Oh, mercy,” Vika said.

“Murder!” “Treason!” Pasha’s troops shouted in shock.

The Decembrists began to yell too and drew their weapons.

The sudden outburst surprised the horses in Pasha’s cavalry, and they jostled against one another while shrieking. Their riders tried to calm them.