Chapter 28 #2
“Let’s find my father,” she kissed him quickly, “Then I’m happy to spend the rest of my life letting you try and prove it.” She winked at him, and they stood. They slowly disentangled themselves from one another as if they were rising from bed, not the floors of a palace on fire.
A fresh swarm of people flooded into the room as soon as they stood. It was a group of men, all of them in tattered clothing, while wearing jewels they had pillaged from the palace. It was a curious sight. Less curious were their rifles, now pointed at both Mikhail and Anastasia.
“I’m getting really tired of having guns pointed at us,” Mikhail grunted, his hand instinctively wrapping around Anastasia. It was Anastasia who took a protective step in front of him, her magic flaring at her fingertips.
Mikhail stood once more at her back, speaking first to let them know where their allegiances were.
“We’re looking for the tsar,” Mikhail said, looking at the men. “Has he been found?”
One of the rifles cocked and re-aimed directly at Anastasia. Mikhail made another sound from somewhere deep in his chest, feral.
“She is Romanova,” one of the men shouted. He was a boy, barely of age, with yellowed teeth and dull eyes. Anastasia felt even now, as he threatened her life, a sympathy for the hunger in his stare.
“I have no allegiance to my father,” she said calmly, holding up her hands and willing her magic to go out. She had no desire to fight with these people. They were victims of her father’s cruelty just as she was. “We are looking for him so that we might see him deposed.”
“Or to escape!” Another boy yelled, who looked even younger than the first.
“Trust us,” Mikhail said, stepping forward with his hand out. “We are on your side.”
“You’re the one that the tsar was with!” The first boy said, now aiming at Mikhail. “You’re Rasputin!”
Mikhail cursed under his breath. He knew he hadn’t been able to win over the entire crowd, but he had hoped they had seen through that charade.
“I’m not,” he forced his tone to stay neutral, “There is no one by that name. It was a lie. She is not like her family,” he continued, trying to get the boys to understand, “You must believe us. She is here to help.”
“He’s the one with the dark magic!” The boy pointed a finger at Mikhail, and it took everything in him not to roll his eyes in response.
“Actually,” Anastasia cut in, “That would be me.”
She let her magic flare to life, taking the form of open flames that danced above her palms.
She watched as it reflected in the eyes of the teenage revolutionaries in front of her, having no patience left for seeing her lover threatened. The boys shouted in surprise, taking a few steps back, but kept their rifles up.
Anastasia didn’t want to use her magic; she didn’t even want to take their weapons, but they were losing precious time. If the tsar hadn’t already left, he would soon, and he had a million ways to sneak out of the palace.
Don’t forget about Alexei. Anastasia’s thoughts took a sharp turn, and her stomach lurched. She had barely seen her brother in years. She didn’t know what side he would take, for or against them. If he were in the palace, she needed to try to find him.
“They’re working with the tsar!” One of them cried, “They have to be!”
“Have you found him?” Mikhail asked again, trying to distract their line of questioning.
“Yes,” one of the boys looked down at Mikhail, “Not that it is any of your business. She will be joining him soon.” The boy cocked his rifle and nodded towards Anastasia, “You are coming with us, Romanova. You will see your father.” He said her name as if it were a curse.
Anastasia paused, letting her magic go out. She stood frozen for a second before picking up her skirts and taking a few delicate steps towards the boys. Mikhail let out a grunt of surprise, his arm moving to grab Anastasia.
“What are you doing?” He hissed. “They want to execute you with your father!”
“I will not harm innocents,” Anastasia whispered back, looking up at Mikhail. “I won’t become him. I won’t let them shoot me. They’ll take me to him.”
“This is a bad idea,” Mikhail shook his head, his grip tightening ever so slightly on her arm. “Please. They’re desperate, trigger-happy men. They aren’t thinking clearly, and you’re a royal.” Anastasia put her hand over Mikhail’s, her fingers gently stroking him as if to soothe.
“I am a royal,” she nodded, “I am no fool. Do you trust me?” Anastasia met Mikhail’s gaze.
He bit back a sharp retort, letting out a long breath. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like this plan at all. He had only just found her, and now, Anastasia was ready to play prisoner to some revolutionaries with stolen rifles. The answer to her question was simple.
“I do.”
Anastasia winked at him before turning and moving slowly toward the steps. She raised her arms and kept her magic sequestered.
When she reached the top of the staircase, one of the boys came forward and grabbed her arm. Mikhail’s chest tightened as he fought to keep his breathing in check and obey Anastasia’s wishes. He trusted her.
She wasn’t the woman he had met just a few short weeks ago. She was entirely self-possessed. If she had a plan, he believed it. That didn’t mean he liked it, especially when it involved anyone else laying a hand on her.
One of the boys kept a gun trained on Mikhail as the others pulled Anastasia out of the ballroom, letting the broken door swing shut behind them.
Mikhail let out a long string of curses once Anastasia was out of sight. He counted to twenty before he went running after them.