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own father was of the Orthodox faith. You people refer to your ancient Moscow as the third Rome and yet you run your empire from this swamp? With a woman at the head? And surely you understand my disinclination to support your way of life when you had me poisoned.”
    â€œIt was your own people. That is the way of your sultans. The barbarous behavior of your empire led to your demise.”
    â€œI was poisoned because you would not listen to sense and our peace negotiations were abandoned. After all of the blood you shed.”
    The shame bore down. “Your men should have seen sense and surrendered those battles.”
    â€œBattles? The invasions, you mean. The occupations.”
    â€œThe Ottoman Empire never acquired a thirst for blood?”
    The pasha touched his turban lightly. “Make your woman see sense. Show her the foolishness of that boy she’s taken for a lover.”
    â€œI have attempted to do so.”
    â€œOnly in the privacy of a chamber where she can dismiss you too easily. This boy she adores wants to block you? Unveil his presumption and weaknesses publicly.”
    â€œIt is more complex when trying to woo a woman of such power.”
    â€œBecause you might offend her? This God of yours is strange. He loved the world so much that he gave his only son? And yet he seems to require no sacrifice from you.”
    â€œI do not fear sacrifice,” Grisha said, voice rising.
    â€œYou make excuses and delay. Have you grown weak in your old age, white demon?”
    The pasha was his enemy, had always been his enemy even beyond the bounds of earthly life. He made a roar and lunged at the man, but the pasha dodged and Grisha ran into a thick Grecian pillar in the hallway. A heavy medallion on his chest fell with a clatter to the floor, followed by Grisha.
    â€œYour Highness?”
    Anton stared down at him, eyes wide. Grisha’s expansive stomach was already sore. A bruise would blossom by morning.
    â€œWhat happened? You were talking to someone. I heard you.”
    â€œIt was no one,” Grisha muttered, bending to retrieve the medallion and wincing.
    â€œThe empress wants you home abed. I need to follow her instructions.” His gaze returned to Grisha’s form. “Did you fall?”
    Grisha started to laugh. His back ached. He looked up at the friezes on the ceiling, doves sailing against a pure blue sky and apostles kneeling to Christ as he exited his tomb.
    â€œA trifling misstep,” he told Anton. “I shall take care to make no more of those.”

Four
    FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
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    The Monarchist Society has interviewed Romanov heirs in the past, including Dr. Herrera’s father, Laurent Marchand, but Dr. Herrera’s name is the first to have been made public in over twenty years.
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    EN ROUTE TO RUSSIA
PRESENT DAY
    They were rising above the desert, still in California airspace, when Michael started to grill Dmitry for details. “First of all, I thought no announcements would be made about Veronica’s connection to the Romanov family until after she arrived in St. Petersburg. Why is she featured in a Russian newspaper?”
    â€œThis was mistake,” Dmitry said, speaking in English, which he claimed to prefer when in conversation with Americans.
    â€œI suppose you all have decided Veronica should stay in the best hotel in St. Petersburg, where she’ll be an easy target to find for anyone with a grudge against the Romanovs.”
    â€œActually, no.” Dmitry withdrew an electronic tablet from the seat pocket where he’d stowed it and then shifted in his seat so he could retrieve something. He moved so gracefully he didn’t even touch her. “Irina Yusupova has arranged modest accommodation. She thought it best not to draw attention. Not at first.”
    Veronica had taken the window seat with Dmitry in the middle and Michael on the aisle. Even though she and Michael weren’t touching, she felt the