“Stop!” I wrenched against my captor’s hands. “He’s—”

“The Tsar,” Vanya said suddenly.

Mikhail’s eyes flashed open, the air hissing from between his clenched teeth.

Dronov narrowed his eyes, turning to us. “What did you just say?”

“He’s the Tsar,” Vanya repeated, the waver of uncertainty in his voice smoothing over. He stepped forward, or at least tried to, only to be yanked back again. “If you kill him, Koschei will hang you. He’ll execute your entire unit.”

Slowly, Dronov lowered his pistol and returned it to its holster. His jaw worked silently as he peered down at Mikhail. “Show me your face, boy.”

Laboriously, Mikhail sat up, his entire body racked by his panting breaths. Sweat shone on his brow, and his skin grew paler by the moment. He flinched as Dronov seized his chin and twisted his face this way and that.

“Lantern,” Dronov barked.

One of the soldiers stepped forward and raised the lantern to Mikhail’s face.

“By the Three,” Dronov muttered, his mouth sagging open. “There is some resemblance... But why were you on the train?”

“To kill Koschei and reunite with the Otzvuk,” I said, thinking quickly.

“I didn’t ask you, girl,” Dronov growled, before turning his attention back to Mikhail. “If you truly are the Tsar, then who are these two?”

“Duchess Aloisia.” Mikhail sagged in Dronov’s hold, his head falling. Blood oozed from his mouth, and the dark stain on the shoulder of his uniform jacket inched slowly toward his elbow. “Fourteenth in line to Groznaya’s throne... Sent as a diplomat before the insurrection... She was captured with me and agreed to help in exchange for a marriage pact...”

Dronov’s amber eyes scanned over me, taking in the sight of my medic’s uniform, my dripping hair. I looked down at my feet to escape his burning gaze, shivering as a cold wind swept across the road.

“What about you, Strannik?” Lieutenant Dronov asked, his voice thick with condescension as he turned to Vanya. “I don’t suppose you are royalty, too? Not with that accent of yours.”

Vanya cleared his throat. His thick accent, his provincial charm, the way he spoke so casually, so carefree even in the presence of our enemies—all these things worked against him now. At least my shyness could be mistaken for noble modesty, but there was no hiding who he truly was.

“No, sir,” Vanya said quietly, running a hand through his wet hair. “They paid me to smuggle them aboard the train. It was all my idea. If you—if you hurt Duchess Aloisia, Groznaya won’t stand for it. If you so much as touch her, they’ll do everything in their power to wipe out the Fraktsiya in retaliation. She’ll be far more valuable to you alive, as a bargaining piece.”

The lieutenant’s gaze returned to me. For a second time, I looked away, half-afraid he would see the deception in my eyes.

“I see,” Dronov said at last. “In that case...”

Down the road, hooves clomped against cobblestones. Lieutenant Dronov swiveled around and drew his pistol from its holster, while the remaining soldiers readied their rifles.