After trading the man five grevka for the travel icon, I slipped it in my pocket and made my way back to Mikhail, who was carrying a cotton worker’s cap. He sniffed the fabric as I approached and made a face but slipped it on his head. Shadowed by the hat’s brim, his features were strikingly sharp, unkind even. When he lowered his face from the hissing streetlamps, his silver eyes tarnished to the color of smog.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“Good.” I cocked my head, studying him closely. “You know, I’m pretty sure that Papa used to have a hat like that.”

His eyes narrowed. “Lovely. So, I remind you of a walking corpse now?”

“Not at all.” I chuckled, although a touch offended by the term walking corpse. “Just the hat does.”

“Well, it certainly smells like one.” He tugged down on the cap’s brim. “Find anything interesting?”

“Maybe.” Fighting to contain my glee, I slipped the pendant from my pocket and held it out to him. For a long moment, he merely stared, looking so confused that I was afraid the icon wasn’t Troika at all. Then he took it from me and opened it, tracing his finger over the engravings.

“The Three Sisters,” he murmured, lifting his gaze. The chill had thawed from his eyes—he’d let his guard down, just for a moment—and all I could think was how exhausted and lonely he looked, like he’d been walking for hours alone through the dark. “Toma, did you...did you get this for me?”

I nodded. “To replace the one that was taken from you.”

“Why?”

My smile slipped from my face in an instant. Heat rose in my cheeks, and my throat tightened in mortification. He didn’t like it. Of course, he didn’t like it. It was just a cheap icon that cost less than the blinis we had eaten at the bathhouse’s tearoom.

“Sorry.” My voice came out very small. I reached for the icon, but he kept his fingers curled around it.

“No, no, I want it.” He laughed, sounding a touch shaky. “Thank you.”

“So, you don’t hate it?”

“Toma, this is probably one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received.” He paused to set his rucksack down and freed one of the thin suede strings securing his bedroll. Stringing the cord through the icon’s hoop, he tied it around his neck. “Thank you. It feels just like my old one.”

Minutes passed and the market began to empty. The warm feeling Mikhail’s reaction had left in my stomach slowly chilled into unease. I shifted from foot to foot as the vendors locked in place the metal shades and wooden boxes securing their wares. Where was Vanya?

“What’s taking him so long?” Mikhail muttered under his breath.

As I opened my mouth to answer, a hand landed on my shoulder. I swiveled around, reaching to my waist for the hunting belt hidden in my rushnyk’s folds.

“Hey, don’t disembowel me.” Vanya pulled his hand back, offering me a smile as I loosened my hold around the knife handle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”