Her voice was like stone.
Mikhail stopped.
They both sat there and stared at one another, the past crawling its way through the sparks and the floorboards to drag them both to hell.
“That’s not my name,” Mikhail’s voice was devoid of emotion as he squared off with Anastasia.
“Is it only for my mother to call you, then?”
“You don’t call methat,”he yelled, “I wouldn’t respond to it when the priest beat me, and I won’t respond to it when you say it. You’re hurting, but you don’t have to be. You’re choosing this!”
“Why would I choose this! I love you!” She hissed, “I don’t want to anymore, but congratulations, your con worked perfectly.”
“Did youeverstop to think,” Mikhail growled, his voice taking on a dominant tone that made Anastasia pause and stand up a little straighter, “That it isn’t exactly easy for me to trust either?”
The simple question made Anastasia’s mind come to a screeching halt. She had been so blind to anything but her fears. She hadn’t realized how hard this had been for Mikhail, too.
“Oh God,” she gasped quietly, her hand going up and covering her mouth.
“Iloveyou,”Mikhail choked out, fighting back his own frustrated tears, “And I had to get over the idea of hating myself for falling in love with someone I had spent decades learning to despise. Anastasia, please…”
Mikhail dropped to his knees, and Anastasia let out a choked series of gasps, trying rapidly to blink away tears. “This is alie.It’s the Tsar — it has to be.”
Anastasia’s clarity came crashing through her like a battering ram, and she realized how painfully obvious it was that this was a ploy. She had let herself descend immediately into her fears and pushed Mikhail to the limit in the process.
Anastasia sent herself crashing into Mikhail’s arms. He let out a strangled cry of relief as she buried her head into the crook of his neck.
“I’m so sorry,” she was sobbing, the strength of her cries shaking her entire body as she brushed the remaining sparks off him. “I love you, I love you…”
Mikhail sank against the wall behind him, scooping Anastasia into his arms and holding her to his chest. They sat there until they both had caught their breaths, drying each other’s tears and taking turns petting and fretting over one another. Both of them were almost too embarrassed to speak.
“My Mikhail,” Anastasia’s voice was soft as she sat up a little straighter, cradling his face in her hands. Her fingers brushed against the stress lines around his eyes and forehead as she kissed him over and over. “You’ll never be the person they paint you to be. Ever.”
They both knew what she meant. The identity that he had fought his whole life against. Anastasia leaned her cheek against his, her hand pushing some of the hair out of his eyes.
“I’ll always choose you,” she whispered it like a vow. “May nothing separate us.”
Mikhail let a soft smile overtake him, enjoying the soft touches and pieces of affection he knew were hard-won from her.
“I think, Anya… that is the wisest thing you’ve ever said.”
21
Mikhail and Anastasia lost track of time as they sat in the sitting room of the boarding house.
After the noise died down and the magic in Anastasia’s fingers had flickered out, the innkeeper slowly made her way back into the room.
She said nothing, ignoring the sight around her as if it was perfectly normal. Anastasia untangled herself from Mikhail as he stood first, helping her to her feet.
“The course of true love…,” the innkeeper smiled and gave them both a little wink as if she was keeping a secret to herself. Anastasia blushed as she looked around at the remnants of some of the chaos.
“One moment,” she turned to the woman and smiled, “I’ll fix this.” The woman nodded as if she was never concerned with this in the first place.
Anastasia began quietly moving around the room, a wave of her hand and a flick of a finger helping to repair the burnt edges of paper and scorch marks on the furniture.
Mikhail watched — perpetually in awe — at how easily her magic came to her now, no matter the scenario. He stopped when the innkeeper appeared at his side, gently putting her hand on his sleeve.
“Da?” He turned to look at her, wondering how much they were going to owe this woman at the end of this.
