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Chapter Twenty


Imperial House, former Governor’s House, Tobolsk

Imperial House, former Governor’s House, Tobolsk



Tobolsk, Siberia

Tatiana shivered and pulled her robe closer, holding it closed just below her chin as she leaned forward to place her forehead on the frosted glass pane of the window.

“You wouldn’t be so cold if you didn’t insist on standing there for hours every night.”

Natalya’s words were biting, but her tone was gentle. Tatiana looked over her shoulder to see the young baroness standing in the doorway of her office. Natalya still wore her evening clothes.

“What are you doing up?” the Empress asked her friend. “It is late.”

“I am checking on you, of course, Your Majesty.”

Tatiana let out a sigh. “What is it, then? Barring a first greeting, you only call me ‘Your Majesty’ in private when you are annoyed with me.”

“I am just wondering how long you plan to torture yourself—and him?”

Tatiana didn’t pretend not to know whom Natalya was talking about. Instead, she turned back to the window and her study of the rain falling through the lights onto the street below. “I’m not sure what you would have me do,” she said after a long moment.

“I suppose I would have you talk to him. Or scream at him. Or cry to him. Anything to stop this ongoing heartache you suffer, Tatiana. This is not healthy.”

“I cannot speak to him. He will not see me.”

“Oh, really? And here I thought you were the Empress of All the Russias, able to summon any of your subjects to an audience? No? Hmm. My mistake. Why, exactly, are we fighting a war again?”

Tatiana spun from the window, anger rising in her—just as Natalya had planned, she realized, once she got a look at the small smile on the younger woman’s face.

“I’m not my father, Natalya. I’m not an autocrat. I can’t compel him to talk to me—”

“Perhaps not. But you can require him to attend upon you. You can ask him to his face if he will ever forgive you. Perhaps he will not. But at least then you would know. And then you can move forward. Surely anything would be better than this . . . this limbo you inhabit now?”

Natalya walked further into the room, passing through the shadows until she, too, stood next to the window, illuminated by the outside glow. She reached out and took Tatiana’s hands in hers. Tatiana blinked as she suddenly realized that Natalya had grown taller in the last several months. She now nearly matched Tatiana in height. The young baroness had been through so much in her young life, Tatiana often forgot that she was younger even than Anastasia.

“Tatiana, you cannot go on like this. Let me send him a message, at the very least. Let us see if he will come when asked. Please. Your people need you healthy and strong, not weakened by heartbreak.”

It was the last point that got her, Tatiana realized later. She had sworn to do everything in her power to put the Russian people first, and to never let her personal emotions get in the way . . . but Natalya was right. Until she spoke to Daniil, she could not know how to proceed.

For the truth was, she needed him. She needed him to command her army, to keep her safe, to win this war . . . 

And she needed him for herself, as well. But if he would not serve in those capacities, then she needed to find someone who would. And though the back of her mind screamed in defiance at the thought of anyone replacing Daniil, ever . . . she knew that it was imperative she do so, if he would not return.

Natalya let go of Tatiana’s fingers and gripped her gently by the shoulders. She peered into the Empress’s eyes, forcing Tatiana to focus on her.

“Please, Tatiana?” she whispered once more.

Tatiana breathed in deeply, and then nodded her assent.


The following evening, Natalya slipped Tatiana a piece of paper during a council meeting. Tatiana accepted it with a nod, but did not unfold the paper or glance at it until after they had concluded their discussion and she’d dismissed everyone.

Then, finally, she unfolded the paper and read the words written there:


He is here. In the garden.


Tatiana refolded the paper with care, willing her suddenly pounding heart to slow its frantic beat. She inhaled deeply and pushed up to her feet.

“Baroness, I believe I will have a walk in the garden tonight before supper,” she said, for the benefit of anyone listening. “Will you join me?”

“Gladly, Your Imperial Majesty,” Natalya said. As Tatiana’s waiting woman, she had remained within the council room after delivering the note, and no one would find it odd for the two of them to take a walk together.

While she waited for her maid to fetch her cloak, Tatiana continued to try to force her racing pulse to calm. To distract herself, she considered why, exactly, Natalya had chosen to be so secretive about this conversation.

Perhaps she is protecting my reputation in case he chooses not to remain, Tatiana realized. Or in case he does, for that matter. Not that it would be unusual for me to meet with the commander of my army . . . but he is no longer that right now, is he? Oh! This is such a stupid tangle!

Tatiana embraced the irritation that flowed through her, let it add steel to her spine and lift her chin in something midway between imperiousness and defiance.

Her maid returned with gloves and a cloak, which she settled over Tatiana’s shoulders. As usual, Tatiana murmured a quiet “thank you, Irina” to the young woman, but her mind already surged ahead as she geared herself up for battle . . . or a conversation.

In some scenarios, they were one and the same.

“Choose your words with care, Your Majesty,” Natalya whispered as they started down the long hallway toward the French doors that opened onto the garden.

“I always choose my words with care, Baroness,” Tatiana said, her tone nearly as icy as the air outside. The last rays of the sun slanted across the western horizon, and their breath rose in clouds of steam as they stepped onto the garden path.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Natalya said, “only, I meant . . . consider your end goal for this interview. That is all.” Perhaps it was the cold, but she sounded strange . . . more diffident than usual. Tatiana glanced over at her, and saw that her friend and lady-in-waiting watched her face, something like trepidation in her expression.

Tatiana let herself soften enough to smile. She reached out and gripped Natalya’s gloved hand.

“Thank you,” she said. “For facilitating this.”

“I only want your happiness,” Natalya said, her eyes uncharacteristically wide and vulnerable. “For your sake, but also for all our sakes.”

Tatiana squeezed the younger woman’s fingers and then dropped her hand, folding her own arms inside the sleeves of her cloak before continuing out into the garden.

He was there.

Further along down the path, Daniil Kostyshakov stood in the puddle of light beneath the next light post. He wore civilian clothes, but his ramrod-straight spine gave him away. You could take the man out of uniform, but you couldn’t take the soldier out of the man.

Tatiana felt, more than saw, Natalya fall back and take a seat on a nearby bench while she continued on down the path. As she drew close, Daniil dropped to one knee on the path.

He didn’t meet her eyes.

“Please stand, General,” Tatiana said, her words soft as the snowflakes that fell in the hushed air around them. “Thank you for coming.”

“Your Majesty summoned me,” he said. His voice was rougher than she remembered, more gravelly.

“Because I have things I must say to you,” she said. “Will you please rise?”

Slowly, he stood, returning to the position of attention, his eyes caged straight ahead. He still wouldn’t look at her.

Tatiana inhaled slowly and squared her shoulders.

“Foremost among them,” she said. “I . . . I owe you an apology.”

That startled him enough that he glanced in her direction. Tatiana tamped down hard on the jolt of electricity that shot through her gut and deep into the center of her body as their gazes met for just the briefest instant. She paused for a moment, then licked her lips self-consciously and pushed on.

Not for joining the battle, exactly . . . I do believe that was necessary. But . . . I should have been honest with you. I should have openly declared my intentions. I should have insisted. You would have found some way for me to do it with less risk to myself . . . to everything that we are building here, everything we are fighting for. I was rash, and foolish, and wrong, and Daniil . . . I—”

Tatiana’s voice broke on the tears that closed her throat. She pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut. But it was too late. She felt the hot track of a tear run down her chilled cheek. She sniffed hard and opened her eyes.

“I apologize,” she said, forcing her voice to be steady . . . or steadier, at least. “It was wrong to hide my plans from you.”

Daniil didn’t say anything for a long moment. Long enough that Tatiana half-feared that he wouldn’t speak, but would just stand there in silence until she gave up and turned to go back inside.

“It isn’t—” He broke off, his voice barely louder than a whisper. She watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down before he tried again. “Your Majesty must know. It isn’t just the risk to our cause. Your safety . . . it means more than just that to me.”

It was Tatiana’s turn to wait, silently, until he found the words.

“You can’t know what it was like, when I heard. My first thought wasn’t for my men, or for our objectives . . . it was for you. Tatiana, I cannot function unless I know you are safe.”

Her earlier rage roared back to life. She felt her eyes harden and heat.

“Then why did you leave me?” she asked.

“Your Majesty—”

“No!” She snarled the word. “You called me Tatiana just now. We have moved beyond formalities, Daniil. You say that for you it’s more than just political? Did you think you were the only one? It is personal for me, too! I made a mistake. I was wrong, I admit that, and I apologize. But you left me all alone! How am I supposed to do this without you?

Tatiana stared into his eyes as a night breeze rustled the leaves around them. His expression had gone carefully blank, his military bearing firmly back in place. For a brief second, she dreamed of doing something to shatter that professional mask . . . 

But the moment passed. She was the Tsarina. She had her pride.

Tatiana nodded slowly, swallowing hard against the sensation of her heart shattering in her chest. She started to turn, pivoting on the garden’s cobblestone path—

Daniil reached out and caught her hand, pulled her back around to face him.

“Tell me to go,” he said, his voice almost a growl as he pulled her up close against his body. His other hand rose to her face, sliding under her jaw to cup the back of her head. “Or I’ll never leave your side.”

Need flared deep in Tatiana’s body. She looked down at him, at the dark intent in his eyes and, without meaning to do so, wet her lips.

“Stay,” she whispered. “Stay forever.”

Daniil let out a groan and stretched upward slightly to meet her as she bent and to take her mouth in a tangled, heated kiss. All around them, the wind continued to rise, rustling the leaves in the otherwise silent garden.




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