Page 105 of The Crown's Game
“I was waiting for inspiration. But then Pasha changed the Game, and I had to hold on to my turn.” Nikolai clawed distractedly at the collar of his shirt, where the brand must have been searing into his skin. “But what I wanted to say, and did not get a chance to, was that I am sorry to hear about your father’s passing.”
Vika was dizzy with the conversation. Nikolai hadn’t even mentioned that she’d destroyed all his possessions. Were they enemies fighting a duel? Or were they friends making up for lost time? She didn’t know whether to protect herself or open up to him. “Um, thank you. But it turns out Sergei was not my father.”
“Oh . . . I’m sorry . . . that must have been quite a shock.”
Shock is a mighty understatement.
Nikolai scuffed the heel of his boot on the gravel. “My father also died recently. Although I didn’t know he was my father until after his death. Nearly the mirror opposite of your experience.”
Vika blinked at Nikolai. “Oh. That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “I hardly knew him. But thank you.” He looked at her and held her eyes. Vika thought she saw a flicker in his, a shape like a golden eagle, like an echo of their time together on the dream steppe. But then Nikolai looked down at his knife, and the memory of their shared moment evaporated into tense air.
The dagger gleamed. “I don’t want to do this,” he said.
“Then don’t.”
“It’s the only way.”
Vika jerked back to the reality of the Game. She checked her shields, and she began to pace along Candlestick Point, so as not to be too easy a target in a single static space. Who knew what that knife was capable of? Sergei’s simple leather bracelet had been enough to drain his life. Surely Galina’s gift would be equally as powerful, and likely much more vicious.
But Nikolai did not move to aim it at Vika.
“There’s one more thing,” he said.
“Yes?” Vika forced herself to continue walking. If only he would hurry and make his move. If he was going to kill her, she wanted him to end it now, before her own dread choked her.
“I love you,” he said.
“What?”
He smiled sadly. “I was lost from the moment I saw you on Ovchinin Island. It took a long while for me to realize it, but it’s true. I’ve spent my entire life scrambling to fit in and to change myself, Vika, but where I’ve belonged, and who I needed to be, has been right here the whole time. I love you.”
Vika stood in one place, no longer pacing. “But . . . but you kissed Renata.”
Nikolai shook his head. “She’s only a friend.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”
Vika gasped as the invisible string that connected them pulled taut. She wanted to let it reel her in, to pull her to Nikolai, and him to her. And yet . . . the dagger. “Then what is the knife for?”
“To end the Game.” Nikolai gripped the handle, and sunlight glinted off the sharp edges of the blade.
Suddenly, it seemed as if the air grew thinner, and Vika’s head swam as she tried to make sense of everything Nikolai was saying, everything Vika wanted him to say. And to not say. But she had to ask.
“You love me, so you’re going to kill me?”
“I love you,” Nikolai said, “so I want you to live.”
“I don’t underst—”
“Galina said this knife would never miss.” He pointed the dagger at his chest. “This is my fifth move.”
No, he couldn’t mean to— “Nikolai! Stop!”
Vika lunged and threw a wave of magic at him.
