who—?”
Anya had completely forgotten about the clergyman. He turned from the table in a swirl of cloth and swept the cowl from his head.
The world dipped out of focus and Anya’s knees almost gave out as she beheld a face she’d thought never to see again in this life.
No. It was the potion. Her brother was dead and—
“Surprised to see me, Petrov?” Dmitri said calmly, and Anya let out a croak of astonishment as the rumbling voice matched the beloved face. The impossible miracle of her brother—alive, here—engulfed her like a tidal wave.
Vasili let out an almost inhuman growl. “You’re dead! I saw you myself at Waterloo.”
Dmitri’s blue eyes, so similar to her own, gleamed in fury. “Yes, you saw me, you bastard. You searched what you thought was my corpse.”
Anya couldn’t stop staring at Dmitri’s face. He looked the same, and yet subtly different. Older, more careworn. His hair was longer, shaggier, and she’d never seen him with a beard, but it was indisputably him. Her entire body began to shake, and she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. She sagged back against Vasili, heedless of the gun still pressed to her temple. The world started to spin.
Vasili hauled her back upright with an angry hiss. “Stand up.”
Dmitri reached slowly into his clerical robes and withdrew a folded piece of paper. “This is what you’re after, Petrov. Your letter to General Ney. You tell him the Tsar’s army’s too far away to help the British if he attacks immediately.”
Vasili’s chest rose and fell in deep gusts against her back. The pistol’s muzzle shook by her ear. He was clearly as shocked as she was to see her brother alive.
“Give it to me,” he panted.
Dmitri held the paper out toward them. “Take it.”
Anya immediately saw his intent; Vasili would either have to release her or take the pistol from her head if he wanted the letter.
He seemed to realize it at the same moment. “You take it,” he ordered her with another painful squeeze to her ribs.
With a trembling hand, she reached forward and took the folded note.
Vasili grunted his pleasure and angled his chin at Dmitri. “Now get out. Don’t make me shoot your sister.”
Dmitri’s gaze flicked to hers as he edged sideways toward the exit, his hands up near his ears in a gesture of surrender. He sent her a sweet, heartbreaking smile, almost an apology.
“You can have the letter, Petrov,” he said softly. “I’ve already shown it to the Tsar. He’s proclaimed you a traitor to Russia. There’s a warrant out for your arrest.”
Anya gasped as Vasili jolted against her back. Dmitri was completely exposed in the doorway. He wasn’t even covered by the men outside; his body was blocking any shot they could take. Her chest felt as though it were being crushed, and not simply from Vasili’s iron grip. Her brave, foolish brother was trying to goad Vasili into shooting him, instead of her.
Oh, God. She couldn’t lose him. Not when she’d just found him again.
“Devil!” Vasili roared. In a single movement, he shoved Anya away from him and aimed his gun at Dmitri’s chest.
“No!” With all her strength, Anya stabbed the map pin she was holding into Vasili’s shoulder. He roared in fury as his gun went off, a deafening report in the enclosed space. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dmitri stagger back against the map table in a flurry of black-and-gold cloth.
Vasili swung on her with a shout of fury. He backhanded her, catching her with the muzzle of the pistol, and pain exploded in her skull. She fell back, dazed, and heard Elizaveta scream a warning. She lifted her arms to shield her head, anticipating another blow, but it never came.
Another shot rang out, the sound like the crack of a tree limb breaking. In the stunned silence that followed, she lowered her hands to see Vasili frozen in front of her, his eyes wide in shock. His mouth opened as if he was about to ask her a question, but then he glanced down at his chest, coughed once, and simply collapsed at her feet.
Anya stared down at him in confusion, expecting him to get up, to grab for her, but he remained utterly motionless. A neat hole the size of a sovereign had appeared on his chest. A bright ring of red began to seep outward, discoloring the pale blue fabric above his medals, and she let out a gasp of horror as she