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But he has no idea whether that’s true. We could be walking into a firing squad. I could be leading Mirdza to her death.

“If they attack us, I’m ready.” He squeezes my hand.

“How can you always read my mind?”

His half-grin looks utterly calm. “You’re as expressive as a toddler. I hope you never played poker.”

“I blew my money on horse races,” I say. “Cards weren’t really my thing.”

“Thank goodness. You’d have owed twice as much.” He lifts his hand to knock.

And the door opens before he can.

A sour-faced butler—why are they always sour-faced? Why can’t they be comedians?—gestures for us to walk inside. “Come.”

Mirdza keeps her head down as she scampers in behind us.

“Where can my maid wait?” I take off my jacket—thankfully it’s cool enough to wear one now—and hand it to her.

“You didn’t need to bring a maid,” the butler says.

“I never trust my valuables to be left alone in a room.” I shrug. “After I lost a really nice wallet and another time, a purse, I just can’t risk it.”

The butler arches an eyebrow at first, but then he nods. “Over there. She’ll find a lounge with a settee.”

Why can’t rich people just say couch? Really, it’s ridiculous. And if it’s actually a couch with just one side, then they’re especially dumb. Those don’t look comfortable or nice. It’s like rich people are the dumbest of all—they pay more for a useless sofa with fewer materials that go into it because it has a fancy French name.

“This way.” The butler starts walking and never looks back to see whether we’re following.

But when he turns down a huge hallway, we’re still right behind him. And when he opens large double wooden doors, Leonid’s behind them, standing almost at attention. When he sees us, his face lights up.

“You actually came. I didn’t think you would.”

“How could we refuse such a gracious invitation?” Alexei looks around the room, clearly looking for a camera.

It’s in the corner.

“With our nation rocked by discord, of course we agreed to this dinner. We should both do everything we can to quell any revolution or unrest. It really hurts everyone.” Alexei smiles. “The people have spoken, and if their decision was to restore the monarchy, so be it.”

“Are you upset?” Leonid cocks his head. “Do you think you should be ruling Russia instead of me?”

“As the Romanov heir, you mean?” Alexei asks.

Leonid shrugs and then nods in one smooth movement. “Even so.”

“I have a strong claim,” Alexei says. “But my family was in the process of trying to allow the Russian people more freedoms. I never thought all the power should be returned to me or my family. And I won’t try to foment discord now.”

“You’re such a good person,” Leonid says. “Exactly what Russia doesn’t need, of course, but a good person nonetheless.” He turns to face the camera. “But as you can see, we aren’t fighting, and as the gracious loser here said, neither should you. We’re all united now, in a way we never would’ve been with all those elections and a dozen different groups arguing.” His smile’s a little too beatific. “I think if you watch our dinner tonight, you’ll see that the riots, the unrest, the property damage—it’s all a waste of energy. You should be looking ahead, at our glorious shared future.”

The rest of the dinner is more of the same. I can’t figure out why Leonid’s still posturing, but maybe he’s worried that something might happen between now and the official transition. Maybe he should be—he’s not commanding the army yet.

As he promised, there’s a large charcuterie board in the center of the table. He keeps offering it to me, and every time, I grit my teeth and remind myself why we’re here. We’re putting on a show to calm down the fury among Russians, and we’re buying Mirdza time so that she can get us some backup to actually do something to this lunatic.

I’m hoping, since we haven’t heard otherwise, that she managed to get the guys inside without being caught. For now, we have a performance to continue. After we’ve eaten—as little as possible for me—Leonid sets his utensils down. “Well. If we’re done with dinner. . .”

But I worry they haven’t had enough time. What if Mirdza got delayed or detained?

“I still haven’t tried the cheese and crackers,” I say. “You should tell me which ones you like.”