The Crown's Game
The beginning
Pasha whispered as he gaped at the cindersmudged girl.
She stare at them for another moment. Then she spun on her heel and feld, a streak of white hair and black dress with hoodies dahing into the woods and disappearing into its shadowed depths.
But Nikolai did not need her to tell them who she was.
He had never seen the girl before, but she had to be the one.
You are the reason I believe in magic.
The Crown's Game is an old Game, old other than the tsardom itself.
It began long ago, in the age og Rurik, Prince of Novgorod, when Russia was still a cluster of tribes, wild and lawless and young.
As the country matured over centuries, so, too, did the game.
But always, always it retained its untamed fierceness.
For the winner of the game, there would be unimaginable power.
For defeated, desolate oblivion.
The Crown's Games was not one to lose.
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