My room smells of heavy rose, thanks to the pale pink bouquets recently added to the crystal vases around my chamber. The odor is pleasant, and I allow myself to be distracted while adjusting one of the arrangements. One of the thorns pricks my finger, a tiny drop of blood forming atop my pale skin. I suckle it, trying to keep the crimson from falling onto my gown. In a moment of contemplation, I hold my hands out, examining them closely. My hands are small, I realize, slender and fragile looking. How odd that God would see fit to put so many fragile things in my care. How many lives would these hands hold? How much power and respect could they command? How many hopes, dreams, and hearts would be mine to nurture or crush in these little hands?

I drop them to my sides, praying they are stronger than they look.

My door opens, and Sergei strides in. Grigori closes the door and Sergei bows deeply before crossing the room in three long steps, drawing me into his arms. I let him hold me, basking in the feeling of him for only a moment before I step back, out of his grasp.

“You asked for me?” Sergei begins. His voice is tight, nervous, as if he expects the worst. Grief washes across me like a cold wave, chilling me into my marrow.

“I did. There is something I must confess to you. While you were away, after Rina died, I…” I hesitate. The next words are forced, unwillingly ripped from my throat. “I took Alexander to my bed. I was so lost and in so much pain. He… I…”

I’m not sure what I expect. Rage, perhaps. Bitterness, at least. Anger at my betrayal. But with no hesitation at all, he steps forward, closing the gap between us, and wraps his arms around me once more, laying a kiss on the top of my head.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me,” he whispers. “Can you forgive me?”

And just like that, he has absolved me of my guilt and taken it upon his own head.

It’s far more than I deserve. Even as I cling to him, I know the blame lies squarely on my own shoulders. The door opens again, and I instinctively pull away.

“Lord Mananov,” Grigori announces, closing the door once more, leaving the three of us in uncomfortable silence.

I watch as Alexander’s face falls. The sound of his boots on the wooden floor is like a slow, measured heartbeat as he approaches us. He’d been hoping I brought him here to be alone, no doubt. I fight to hold my chin up and not wither under the disappointment in his gaze.

“Thank you both for coming. Please, sit.” I motion to the couch in the center of the room, taking my own seat in a high-back chair across from it. They obey, each holding themselves rigid, their shoulders tight, their expressions somber.

Looking at them together like this, I realize that despite their similarities, the dark hair, deep-set eyes, and the golden tone of their skin, they are both vastly different. Alexander is smooth shaven, his lips thin and his nose a narrow slope, Sergei seems rougher, a dark, well-groomed line of hair riding the curve of his jaw, his eyes rounder, more open, his face wider. My men, my loves. The two halves of my whole heart. I force myself to swallow before I speak.

“I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting, as well as for keeping you both at arm’s length these past weeks,” I begin. “Things have been… strained since Elizabeth’s death, and I appreciate you both giving me some much-needed breathing room during the transition.”

Sergei nods almost imperceptibly, Alexander presses his lips together. Neither speaks.

I continue. “Things are changing, politically, and some of those changes have me uneasy. My uncle’s arrival…” I pause, not knowing exactly what to say. “He is extremely dangerous, to Russia, and potentially, to me.” My breath catches in my throat as the memory forms, clear and sharp in my mind. George, storming from my father’s study, grabbing me by the arms, forcing his mouth on mine until I was sure my face would be black and blue from the abuse. When he finally drew back, it was only to whisper in my ear, One day, I will have you, before storming from my house.

I left for Russia the next day.

Receding from the memory, I look up. Sergei looks angry, his hands balled into fists. Alexander just looks worried, as if he wants to reach out to me.

I exhale sharply. I’m stalling, weaving my way around the truth of this meeting, as if delaying it will make it easier. But I know that’s a lie, so I summon what courage I can and delve in. “But that is not really why I’ve asked you both here. Alexander, you know that Sergei has been my—my lover—for some time.” He nods, licking his lips. “And Sergei, you know that recently, I have taken Alexander as my lover as well.” He frowns, nodding. My hands begin to shake. I clasp them together in my lap, hoping they won’t notice, but as soon as I speak again, I can hear the quake in my voice.

Do it, I command myself. If I’m to cut out all of our hearts, it’s best to do it quickly, a sharp blade to spare the torment of a slow death.

“These past weeks, I’ve been trying to do something unthinkable. I’ve been trying to force myself to choose between you. But the thought of losing either of you, it’s like carving out my own heart. I want you, I need you, both. I am a selfish, awful woman and truthfully, I don’t deserve either of you. But I love you both, more deeply than I can express. It’s not fair, and it’s not right, but it’s the truth.”

I feel a hot tear slip down my cheek, and I wipe it away quickly. “So I have done the most cowardly thing I can do. I’ve brought you here, to ask you to choose me. I have nothing to say in my defense, other than I love you, and I understand if you can’t bring yourselves to share my heart, but that is all I have to offer you. I know it will not be easy. I know it is much—too much, perhaps—to ask of you. But I’m asking nonetheless. If you love me, if you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, then choose me.”

They remain motionless for a few more heartbeats, both frozen in stunned shock at my request. It’s Sergei who stands first, rounding the couch and turning his back to me. I watch as he brings his hand to his face and holds it there. I wish, more than anything, that he would look at me, so that I might read his expression. My hands grow icy, my mouth dries. In my chest, the first fractures begin, a sharp, quick pain that I expect to get much, much worse.

Alexander stands, opening his mouth as if to speak, but then snaps it closed. I sit, still shaking from head to toe, fighting to hold my composure. I will not break down, I order myself. I will not cry, for fear that my tears will sway them, only to have them hate me for it later.

“To be clear, you are telling us that we must share you or lose you altogether. Is that right?” Alexander rakes his hair back with his fingers, not waiting for me to respond. “You refuse to choose between us, so it is we who must suffer. We who must bend to your wishes.”

“There was no other solution I could live with. I didn’t plan on falling in love with both of you,” I say as calmly as I can manage. “But yes. Somehow, you have stolen equal shares of my heart, and if that is not enough for you, then you must go, for your own sake.”

“And are we to have equal shares in your bed as well?” Alexander snaps. “Shall we rotate days? Or perhaps we can adopt a weekly schedule? Or a code? You can wear blue when you want me and green when you want him.” He jabs a finger toward Sergei, who remains unmoved. “Or is this a test? The one of us who loves you enough to remain, even under these terms, is the victor? Should we make it so simple for you?”

I rise to my feet. “I know I have hurt you, but you will not speak to me in such a way. I am not your whore, or your mistress. You are mine—do you remember?” I let the words hang between us, invoking a promise he made me which feels like a lifetime ago. “You told me once that you would have me in any way I could give myself to you. Or was that pledge the shallow bargain of a man simply looking to get under my skirts?”

I level a flat gaze at him. “You have both pledged yourselves to me in the past, and you have both understood that I am not free to fully offer myself to anyone. There will always be others with whom you will have to share me. You will share me with my nation, with my husband, and with each other, or you will have no share of me at all. That is all I can offer you. Either it is enough, or it is not.”

Alexander looks down, his expression unreadable but his hands held in tight fists. Without a word, he shakes his head once and walks out the door, slamming it behind him. I turn to Sergei, who is still looking away from me.

“You know, I never imagined there would be something you could ask of me that I could not give,” he says slowly, turning to face me. His eyes are red, but dry, his tone melancholy. “I can’t help but wonder if I’d stayed, if I’d come back for you sooner, if you would have turned to him at all. Perhaps this is entirely my fault. If it is, I see now the swift penance I must pay.”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I think the grief broke down my walls, but as you said once, first love has a way of staying with you… even when you wish it wouldn’t. I’m just so sorry to hurt you like this. It was never what I wanted. But I know I have to be honest with you, with both of you.” I cross the room, taking his hands in mine. “All I know is that I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Please, please don’t hate me. I love you.”

He lowers his chin. “But you feel the same about him, don’t you?”

There’s no accusation in his voice, no anger. That makes it worse, I think. I can only nod.

He takes a deep, shaky breath as he brings my fingers to his lips and lays a gentle kiss across my knuckles. “Who am I to deny the heart of an empress? I’m just a man, flesh and bone, and every single piece of me belongs to you.”

Relief floods through me, weakening my knees, and I step forward into his arms. Raising my lips to his, I kiss him, deeply, urgently, with all the ferocity and passion I have been holding so carefully inside myself for so long. His hands curl around my waist, one sliding up to cup the back of my neck. He pulls back just a fraction of an inch, pressing his forehead against mine.

“I chose you. Without doubt, fear, or reason. I will always choose you,” he pledges.

With those simple words, he lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bedchamber.