“Tell us what she said, Marin.” Hall stepped closer, eyes flashing between blinks. They were knowing, those eyes. Not in the same way Lily’s were. He never left Zivon with the impression that he saw his heart, but somehow he saw more. He saw how people fit into the world, which meant he could predict what they would do in it. And he was shaking his head. “I know you well enough to know you’ll try to handle this on your own, to spare us. But don’t play the hero. Please. Trust us.”

With his own life, he would. He’d let them come to his flat and take the risk that Nadya’s exhaustion would dim her perception long enough. But this wasn’t just about him. There was Evgeni, who was still out there somewhere.

And more, there was Lily. Had the blonde really been the one to kill Alyona? Would she do the same to Lily? If she saw anyone from the OB lingering around his flat, she could take off and do it before anyone could stop her. No, he had to play it safe. For Lily’s sake.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Zivon let his eyes slide shut. The Lord would be exalted. He would make the wars to cease. But would He do it soon enough to save anyone Zivon loved?

Draw out also the spear, and stop the way against them that persecute me: say unto my soul, I am thy salvation.

He opened his eyes again. For months, Zivon had tried to prove who he was. He had tried to forge a new path. He had tried singlehandedly to save his brother, his people, his country. But the truth whispered now through his soul.

I am thy salvation.

27

Lily paid no attention, for once, to the way the sunlight glinted over the buildings, through the trees, onto the path in Hyde Park. She’d risen at the first breath of dawn this morning, dressed, and spent a few minutes in prayer. Then a few more studying the photographs she’d made duplicates of.

He meant to leave her. Soon. Though Zivon hadn’t so much as strayed into her neighborhood, Daddy and Blinker had kept her updated on all he was doing. Putting affairs in order here. Saying his farewells to everyone else. Booking passage on an ocean liner to America.

She’d had an hours-long conversation with her parents last night, in which she looked them squarely in the eye and declared she meant to go with him, wherever he went. To America, to the Arctic, back to Russia—it didn’t matter where. She’d have to convince him to marry her first, of course, but she could do it. If he’d just talk to her . . .

That was probably why he’d been avoiding her.