“The news that the democratic Siberia we were helping is now a dictatorship led by a British puppet?”
Filip scowled. “Admiral Kolchak taking over? No. Not that. General Štefánik said we’re to hold the line until victory and that we won’t be getting any help from the Allies.”
The Allies were the ones who’d insisted on Siberian intervention. The legion had complied, despite protest, and now it was stuck. “We shouldn’t have trusted them.”
“We have Czechoslovakia now. We wouldn’t have it without the Allies speaking on our behalf.”
“Yes, but will we live to see it?” Dalek gestured to his office. “And we have it easy here. Sure, you’ve chased away partisans and rescued a few peasants kidnapped by bandits, but you go home each night to your wife. I have a desk and a roof. What about our brothers in the Urals? They’re freezing and getting shot and getting sick. They can’t last forever.”
Filip’s voice was soft, as if he weren’t sure of himself. “But the White Russians were our friends when we needed them. We can’t abandon them, can we?”
Dalek snorted. “Then the Siberian government had best get its troops to the front, and soon.” He studied his friend. Filip was rarely uncertain about things like this. Their situation was painfully complicated, so that explained it, but that didn’t make it any easier.
He’d seen some of the Siberian troops, a mix of former tsarist officers, war-weary Cossacks, peasants disappointed by unfulfilled Communist promises, and bandits taking advantage of widespread lawlessness. Then there was the Czechoslovak Legion: professional and able, tired of being pawns, and ready to go home.
As December passed into January, rumors made their way through the telegraph line. Mutiny. Legion units had refused to go to the front when ordered. Dalek understood. They’d been in hard fighting all winter, and they’d been in hard fighting before that, all autumn and all summer. They were exhausted, and they wanted to go home. They’d never wanted a war in Russia. Dalek understood, but it was still a crushing blow. The brotherhood that had sustained the legion from the Ukraine all the way to the Pacific Ocean had been pushed to the breaking point, and he didn’t know if it would ever recover.
***
“Nadia?” a voice called from across the train depot.
She turned. It was a well-educated voice, but she didn’t recognize it until she saw the face that went with it. Oleg Petrov. She smiled as she walked closer. “Oleg!” She hoped she was still permitted to use his Christian name. Seeing him wasn’t quite like seeing family, but Oleg was part of so many memories with Nikolai. He reminded her of warm summer evenings and days of plenty. He wore a major’s uniform of Kolchak’s Siberian Army now. He’d been promoted. “It’s very good to see you.”
“I thought you were dead, Nadia Ilyinichna! I went looking for you at your aunt’s home near Piryatin and was told the entire family was executed.”
Nadia squeezed her eyes shut. Echoes of the way revolver shots had blasted through the courtyard tumbled through her head. “It’s mostly true. They shot my parents and my aunt. The groom helped me escape.”
Oleg put his hand on her elbow. “Then it is a double miracle. First, that you survived, and second, that I found you.” He gestured around the remote, snow-covered station. “Here, of all places.”
“You look well, Oleg, and I’m glad. We hadn’t heard anything in so long that we feared you had fallen.” So many of her friends and all of her family had been wiped away by the war and the revolution, erased from the face of Russia like dust from a piece of furniture.
“I am very much alive. What’s more, my parents escaped. They’re in Shanghai. I didn’t want to leave Russia, not while there was any chance of stopping the Bolsheviks. But finding you changes everything. I’ll slip away from the army and follow my parents. Things won’t be quite the same in Shanghai, but you know my father—he’ll turn a profit. You might have to make do with amethyst and opal instead of diamond and pearl, but we could have a good life there.”
“We?” What was he talking about?
“Yes. You and I, Nadia. I know we never made it official. You were only seventeen when the war started. But when I last saw your brother, I promised I’d take care of you. And seeing you again . . . you’re even more beautiful now. Even if I can’t buy you diamonds, you’ll make a radiant bride.”
Nadia shook her head and took a step back. The war had changed things, and finding an old friend didn’t suddenly change them back. “I’m already married.”
The lines of his face changed from jovial to subdued. “Of course. I shouldn’t have assumed.” He looked as if he’d just been punched in the gut.
He’d gone to her aunt’s manor for her and hinted that he would desert the White Army for her. He had never seemed so attached before the war. They’d danced together, sung together, and dined together. For years, she had thought they would marry. But she’d never been in love with him, and until that moment, she hadn’t thought he was in love with her. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“I hope you can understand why I didn’t wait,” she said. “I hadn’t heard from you, and I wasn’t sure exactly where we stood.”
“Your husband. Is he a good man?”
“He is.”
Oleg glanced at her clothes. “But it seems he does not buy you gemstones. Not even tiger’s eye or topaz.”
“I have little use for jewelry now.” Wealth wasn’t as important as honor, hard work, and kindness—qualities Filip had in abundance.
“Are you happy? Because I could steal you away. My father knows people who can make it right, regardless of whatever happened.”
“I’ve come to love my husband very much. I wouldn’t leave him, not for the imperial jewels themselves.”
A frown cut into his face. “Nadia, are you sure?”
“Certain.”
“I made a promise to Nikolai.”
“Nikolai wouldn’t want you to steal me away from Filip. He would want me to be happy, and I am. And he would want you to be happy too. Go to Shanghai. Help your father build his business. And find someone else to love and marry.”
His posture wasn’t so erect now. “My regiment doesn’t leave until tomorrow. If you change your mind, ask anyone for Major Petrov. They’ll find me or bring me word.”
“I won’t change my mind, Oleg. But I’m glad to see you again, and I wish you well. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
In her past life, she could have been content married to Oleg Petrov. But now she had Filip, and nothing on earth could entice her away from him.
***
Filip pushed his way into the boxcar after another patrol. He inhaled his first breath of nonfrozen air and waited for the feeling to return in his fingers and toes. All the Bolshevik groups they’d driven off the line last summer hadn’t disappeared completely, and some were regrouping. Criminals of all political persuasions were growing bold because no one was powerful enough to impose the rule of law. Thus, despite the weather, he led his men on patrols every day. They couldn’t bring order to all of Siberia, but he had a duty to keep the rail line safe while the legion needed it.
Nadia picked up the blanket she’d started hanging near the fire and brought it to him. He pulled her into him and buried his frozen face in her neck.
“Filip!” She pulled away with a shiver and a laugh. “You’re freezing.”
He started removing layers—his thick fur hat, the Dokha overcoat, the greatcoat underneath it, and the heavy felt boots that went up to his thighs. It was a wonder he could move under so much material. Without the gear, he was down to about half the previous bulk. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and held the warm fabric to his face. The temperature was nice enough, but Nadia’s neck had a better texture.
He stood in front of the fire until his fingers weren’t cold. Nadia faced the stove, cooking something. He stepped closer. “Am I warm enough to kiss you now?” He put his arms around her waist and kissed the spot right below her left ear.