Page 64 of The Crown's Game
But then his smile faded. Had she created this island for them to collaborate? Or was it a trap, waiting to be sprung? Nikolai might have forgotten about the Game the other night at the ball, but it was possible she had not.
No, it was likely she had not.
Pasha waved to him from an outcropping that overlooked the Neva Bay to Saint Petersburg. Beside him rose a pillar of rock shaped like an enormous candle.
“Hey-o, Nikolai, come see the view.”
Nikolai sighed. “I’ll be right there.”
He trudged over to where Pasha stood. But he did not take in the bay or Saint Petersburg. All he could focus on was the pillar of rock.
It looked just like a candle that had been snuffed out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Since work at the Zakrevsky household had slowed to a tortoise’s crawl, Renata was permitted to set up a tea stall next to Ludmila’s pumpkin kiosk to make some extra money. Her station consisted of a simple table and several large copper samovars and a set of barely chipped cups and saucers Renata had salvaged when the countess declared them wanting. For a few kopecks, Renata would sell Ludmila’s customers a cup of tea to go with their pastry. For a few more coins, she would read their leaves.
As soon as she opened her stall, the first customer arrived. “I understand you read leaves,” she said.
Renata gaped at her. It was the lightning girl, Lady Snow, the other enchanter in Nikolai’s Game. She tried to look Vika in the eyes but had to turn away. There was something too vibrant about them. Too green. Too intense. “Y-yes, miss. I read leaves.” She fumbled with setting up the samovar.
“Will you read mine?”
“Uh . . .” She could not seem to form a coherent sentence. Although she and Vika were close to the same age, Vika’s confidence and the way she carried herself made her infinitely more formidable than Renata could ever be.
“You were the girl at the ball with Nikolai, were you not? In the peacock gown. I recognize your braids. They’re very intricate.”
“Yes, that was me.”
Vika reached over to help Renata with the stubborn spigot on the samovar. “There. That ought to be better.”
“Thank you. Your dress was, er, exquisite.”
Vika beamed. “Thank you. I was lucky to have such a gown. Now, if I may inquire about the tea?”
“Oh, yes. I . . .” Renata could think of no excuse for not serving Vika. It also seemed unwise to defy her. She grabbed one of the clean cups and a saucer and filled it with tea.
“Come join me.” Vika glanced behind her as if to confirm there was no one else waiting for Renata’s services. Renata instinctively looked down the street, toward the Zakrevsky house, as if Nikolai could come to her rescue. But he couldn’t. He was on the new island with the tsesarevich. She followed Vika to one of the tables by the canal that Ludmila had set up for her patrons. Renata waited until Vika was seated before she herself sat.
“I’m Vika Andreyeva, by the way.”
Renata stood up again and curtsied.
“I hardly think that’s necessary. It’s not as if I’m the grand princess. What is your name?”
“Renata. Renata Galygina.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Renata. Please do sit.”
She obeyed.
“Are you . . .” Vika spun her cup back and forth on the saucer. “Are you Nikolai’s betrothed?”
Renata’s eyes widened. “Me? Oh, no! I wish I . . . I mean, no, miss. He’s my friend, but I’m a servant in the Zakrevsky household. Nikolai would never marry someone like me.”
“I’m not so sure of that.” Vika tilted her head, as if to get a better, deeper look at Renata. “He seems rather fond of you. He took you to the ball.” Her voice lifted at the end, almost like a question tinged with the hope that Renata would deny it.
Which, of course, she had to, not only because it was the truth, but also because Renata was trained to speak honestly to her superiors. “No, miss,” she said. “I came to the ball on my own. I wanted to . . .” The words drained away, along with the color in Renata’s face.
