Waiting had never been so hard. Luka was tense with impatience, his palms damp with sweat despite the frosty air. So much was at stake tonight. If all went to plan, it would be the culmination of so many things he had never realised he wanted until it was almost too late. A gunshot sounded nearby. Luka didn’t jump. The violence that swamped the streets of Petrograd was no longer any surprise to him. He just hoped she would stay clear of those wielding weapons—policemen, Cossacks and revolutionaries alike. Freedom was being bought with guns and murder, and there was no way of telling any more who was the enemy.
    Another glance at his watch—the same Buhrè watch she had given him—showed it was five minutes past midnight. A new day had begun. Another day with more for them to fear. Luka’s stomach turned as he tucked the timepiece away and peered down the street again. The heavy coat he wore was pulled high around his ears in an effort to hide his face as well as keep him warm, but it also impeded his view. It didn’t matter; he could tell from the isolation that hung heavy in the frigid night air that he was alone.
    He should have waited with her. He knew that now. He should have made himself deaf to her arguments until she had no choice but to leave with him. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d allowed himself to be swayed by her logic and had left her alone, agreeing to meet at midnight.
    Now midnight was slowly turning to morning. 
    By one o’clock his dancer’s muscles were starting to seize, unused to standing still in the cold for such a long stretch of time. He shifted his weight from foot to foot to relieve the tension, but there was only one thing on his mind.
    Where was she?
    ‘She will come,’ he whispered, as if by saying the words out loud they would have to come true.
    He repeated them over and over as the dark hours slowly ticked by. The icy air made the words stick to the walls of his throat, but somehow he forced them out. ‘She will come; I know she will.’
    She had to.