“Me?” He scoffed, “You know that it would take much more than that to kill me, Anya.”
He gave her a wicked smirk as she let out a small laugh through the tears streaking her face. She leaned forward, tenderness forgotten, and wrapped her arms around him tightly.
Mikhail’s arms went around her body and pulled her to him, adjusting her gently so she was straddling his lap in the middle of the ballroom.
They sat there for a few precious moments, the smoke and sounds of the revolution just outside the doors, touching and petting and reminding one another that they were alive.
“What happened?” Mikhail finally leaned back from her and gently tilted Anastasia’s chin up to meet his gaze. “You unleashed your magic.”
His grin was infectious. The pride swelling in his chest threatened to break out of him and flood the room with as much light as her power. She hadn’t needed saving — not for a moment.
Even when he had been mutilated and ripped away from her side as she was left bound in chains, he had come back to find her fighting.
“I did,” she grinned, looking up at him with a fire in her eyes that finally seemed to be at its fullest blaze, “I… I got a little reminder from someone. I decided my father’s chains wouldn’t hold me anymore.” Somehow, they both knew what she was talking about.
“How curious,” Mikhail nodded, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I had a bit of a reminder from someone, too.”
Anastasia pulled her body closer to his, leaning her head down on his shoulder and catching a few precious moments to breathe. She wanted nothing more than to disappear with him, forever. As if he was reading her thoughts, he responded.
“We just have one more person to find.”
“I know. Did the gates fall?”
“They did. Did you shatter half the windows of the Winter Palace?” Mikhail asked with a small grin as if it could’ve been anyone else. Anastasia sat up straighter, putting her hand ever so gently across the fresh cut over his heart.
“I did, as soon as I saw my father give you over to the crowd… I set his world on fire.” She looked up at him, and it was Mikhail’s turn to be breathless. He knew it had been Anastasia but he hadn’t known what had caused her ire. She had done that forhim.
“I have a feeling I’ll never deserve you, Anya,” he said softly, his hand going up to stroke her hair.
“Let’s find my father,” she kissed him quickly, “Then I’m happy to spend the rest of my life letting you try and prove it.” She winked at him, and they both stood. They slowly disentangled themselves from one another as if they were rising from bed, not the floors of a palace on fire.
No sooner had they stood than a swarm of people began flooding into the ballroom. It was a group of men, all of them in tattered clothing while wearing jewels that they had pillaged from the palace making for a curious sight. Less curious were their rifles, now pointed at both Mikhail and Anastasia.
“I’m gettingreallytired of having guns pointed at us,” Mikhail grunted, his hand instinctively wrapping around Anastasia. It was Anastasia who took a protective step in front of him, her magic flaring at her fingertips.
Mikhail stood once more at her back, speaking first to let them know where their allegiances lay.
“We’re looking for the Tsar,” Mikhail looked at the men, “Has he been found?”
One of the rifles cocked and re-aimed directly at Anastasia. Mikhail made another sound from somewhere deep in his chest, feral.
“She is Romanova,” one of the men shouted. He was a boy, barely of age, with yellowed teeth and dull eyes. Anastasia felt even now, as he threatened her life, a sympathy for the fact that he was likely starving.
“I have no allegiance to my father,” she said calmly, holding up her hands and willing her magic to go out. She had no desire to fight with these people. They were victims of her father’s cruelty just as she was. “We are looking for him so that we might see him deposed.”
“Or to escape!” Another one of the boys yelled, who looked even younger than the first.
“Trust us,” Mikhail said, stepping forward with his hand out. “We are on your side.”
“You’re the one that the Tsar was with!” The first boy said, now aiming at Mikhail. “You’re Rasputin!”
Mikhail cursed under his breath. He knew that he hadn’t been able to win over the entire crowd, but he had hoped that they had seen through that charade.
“I’m not,” he forced his tone to stay neutral, “There is no one by that name. It was a lie. She is not like her family,” he continued, trying to get the boys to understand, “You must believe us. She is here to help.”
“He’s the one with the dark magic!” The boy pointed a finger at Mikhail, and it took everything in him not to roll his eyes in response.
“Actually,” Anastasia cut in, “That would be me.”
