“A rabbit hopped out of the thicket, saw me, and ran back into hiding. He reminded me of poor Count Chermenensky.”

“He grabbed the count's hand to check his pulse, and I held my breath. The count wouldn't have a pulse. Or a heartbeat. Or a breath.”

“Give me one year.Give me a year to prove to you that we belong together. That your darkness won't blot out my light. Promise me”

“You are going to have a nasty scar," I said as I gently held pressure to stop the bleeding."All true warriors wear their scars proudly," he mumbled. "How can I be proud of this one?"I looked up at him, horrified, as I realized what he meant. "What will your parents say?" I would be sent to Siberia. My whole family would be exiled. If not executed. He shook his head. "They will know about the count before too long. My father will think that I failed to protect the public from this danger. It is I who fear being sent to Siberia.""But...wait. I didn't express my fears out loud, did I?" I dropped his arm and backed away, suddenly spooked by his silvery faerie eyes. "Can you read my thoughts?""Sometimes, when I concentrate." He winced and grabbed the bandage from me to apply pressure to the bleeding himself. "You are very easy to read. Most of the time.”

“Count Chemenensky was quietly gnawing on something, which, upon further inspection, appeared to be his own tattered clothing. Mon Dieu.”

“Your Imperial Highness, will you do me the honor of this dance?" I turned to see Miechen's twelve-year-old son, Boris Vladimirovich, looking at me solemnly. "Of course," I said with a polite curtsy. Angels and ministers of grace, defend me.”

“As I stepped out in front of the pavilion, my brother's house reared. I flung my arms up instinctively to protect my face as muddy snow flew everywhere. I was too scared to do anything else. I heard Maman's scream behind me.”