I grin. One last effort, and everything I’ve ever wanted will be within my reach. Allies, power, means.
“Well then,” I say with a grin, “lead the way, brother.”
I walk up to the altar.
By my side, Yuri takes his spot as best man. I can see Grisha in the crowd, giving me a sneaky thumbs-up.
Then the march starts playing.
As the organ sings, Petra walks in on her father’s arm. Decked out like this, in six-inch heels and a tiara that would put any tsaritsa to shame, she makes Vlad look like a garden gnome. Somehow, I get the feeling it’s intentional.
With each step she takes, I can feel my dreams closing in. With each word out the priest’s mouth, I can feel my ambitions settling in my grasp. With each respective “I do,” I can sense the balance of the world shifting.
When the officiant
