“Nikolai?” Renata asked. He broke away from his planning. He’d forgotten Renata was still there. “Yes?” “You looked . . . like you’d been enveloped by a storm cloud.” “Sorry.” He charmed an apple tart to float to him, and he ate it, although he didn’t pay enough attention to taste it. “So you’re all right?” Nikolai brushed a stray flake of pastry off his collar. “No, I’m not all right. I’m not sure I’ll ever be. But I’ll do what I have to. It’s what I’ve always done.”
