The Romanov Oracle by Molly Tullis

Author:Molly Tullis [Tullis, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

16

“You have lived a sheltered life, doch,” the Tsar’s voice was rough, spitting blood. He began waving his hands around manically. “You have no idea what we are dealing with! If you think you do, you have been severely misled by… by this… priest.”

“I’m not a priest,” Mikhail’s voice had turned again when he looked at the Tsar, “But I will lead a holy war against you if that’s what it will take.”

His arm slid down to Anastasia’s waist and pulled her closer to him. Somewhere in the corner, the doryantsvo stirred, slowly rising to his feet.

“He’s a cursed man,” he spat. His voice sounded cracked and hoarse, the bruising already beginning around his throat from where Mikhail had held him up against a wall. “Cursed!”

He began fumbling around in his overcoat as the Tsar wiped the blood from his lip, again leveling the pistol at the both of them. A few seconds later, the doryantsvo did the same — Anastasia and Mikhail pushed up against one another, each staring down the barrel of a gun.

“This won’t get you what you want,” Anastasia hissed, looking at her father. “Do you really want this? If you kill us now, you’ll get nothing.”

“I’ll have a threat eliminated.” The Tsar’s eyes were almost entirely black as he stared them down, looking like the commander in chief that he was. The last semblances of a fatherly facade had been ripped away.

“Moi Tsar,” the doryantsvo’s voice broke the staredown between father and daughter, “Let me take out this one,” he nodded the pistol at Mikhail, “and then we can still use the Grand Duchess to eliminate Ruzsky.”

“What makes you think I will do anything for you?” Anastasia yelled, turning to look at the doryantsvo. “Do you have a plan? Oh, that’s right. You just wanted me to fuck him. A master strategy!”

“Shoot him,” the Tsar rolled his eyes, pocketing his pistol, clearly intent on sorting out Anastasia once they were rid of Mikhail.

The command broke something inside Anastasia, her blood running cold and then hot. She was consumed with the idea and was almost violently sick at how it made her chest clench.

The doryantsvo grinned like a leech, raising a shaky hand. All at once, Anastasia threw herself in front of Mikhail and tossed her hands up in front of them.

The lights went out again in the apartments as the fire went out. The weak will of the dawn was no match for the heavy, opaque velvet curtains as the rooms were plunged into darkness.

Anastasia’s magic came whirling out of her fingertips, the telltale gold dust spreading around her fingers and up her arms. The Tsar watched on as his eyes widened, witnessing his first glimpse of Anastasia’s magic in action. The expression on his face flickered in awe… and then turned to jealousy… and, the most terrifying of all, greed for power.

The vases, candelabras, and plates in the room began to rise and vibrate, suspended in midair. Mikhail looked around, frozen at the sight of Anastasia using her magic to such a powerful extent.

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