every direction, and that sent each of them zipping to a different part of the garden, the island now lit up by a seemingly endless string of glowing paper orbs.
“Voilà,” he whispered. He hardly had enough energy to speak.
And yet, he produced a tiny bench from the satchel, purchased as part of a dollhouse set, and put it on the ground. Then he blew on the bench, and where there had been one, there were suddenly ten. Nikolai flung his arm outward, and the benches shot off and planted themselves along the main promenade, each bench equidistant from the next. There, they began to enlarge, like the model dock and the jack-in-the-box and ballerina had done before.
When the benches had grown to full size, Nikolai fell to his knees, all his muscles shaking. His shirt was drenched with sweat, his hair damp against his forehead. He wanted to lie down right there, melt into the gravel, and sleep for days. He could use his overcoat as a blanket. The waves slamming against the shore would be a fitting, violent lullaby.
But it was already past midnight, and there was still so much, too much, to be done before the sun rose in seven hours. At least the next part of his turn could be accomplished in his sleep. It would be a fitful sleep, but Nikolai would be able to recover a little while he worked. In theory.
He scraped himself off the ground and staggered to the nearest bench. There, he shrugged off his overcoat and laid it on top of the seat, then lay down and stretched out his legs, thankful he’d decided to make the benches extra long. He pulled his satchel under his head, like a pillow, and closed his eyes to sleep. But before he drifted off, he reached over and drummed his fingers several times on the armrest, and he whispered to the bench, “Moscow. This one is Moscow.”
And then his entire body relaxed, and he fell into a dream.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
At dawn, Vika’s scar flared, and she knew that Nikolai’s move had been made. She was also certain it was on the island, as sure as she knew that her hair was red. What Vika didn’t know was how Nikolai had interpreted her island. She didn’t even know herself whether she’d intended it as a means to cooperate or merely the next step in one-upmanship. Had she ruined their connection by fleeing the masquerade? Was Nikolai still merely an opponent? Or was he something more? Vika both feared and hoped for the latter option.
She climbed out of bed and peeked out of her curtains. It was barely light outside. And yet, she couldn’t wait several more hours until the ferries began to run and someone could be convinced to take her to the island. She could, of course, go down to the dock and commandeer a boat for herself. But even that seemed too slow. If only she could evanesce.
But why not try? Ever since the Game began—ever since she’d moved to Saint Petersburg—Vika had felt stronger. Maybe it was being close to Nikolai, their magic magnifying against each other. Or maybe the challenge of the Game simply pushed her to be better. But whatever it was, it allowed her to perform enchantments greater than she’d ever created before and to get by on almost no sleep, even after conjuring an entire island.
Of course, in the past, she’d only been able to evanesce a few feet, and it would be a few miles to the island. But it was worth an attempt. If it didn’t work, there was always a boat to steal.
Vika closed her eyes. She imagined herself disappearing and reappearing again on the new island.
Do it.
Do it.
Go . . .
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Nothing happened except everything got blacker.
Vika huffed and opened her eyes. Perhaps she would have to steal a boat.
Except I don’t want to, she thought. She really, really wanted to evanesce. In fact, this intensity of wanting reminded her of the same spark she used to feel right before she mastered a new skill, like mending a fox’s sprained ankle or beckoning the snow. It was a combination of pure will and the right moment that had allowed her to do those things. And now, with this increased power, with all this new energy from the Game . . . this was the moment. Vika knew this would be the moment she would learn to evanesce. It had to