The flickering light of the candles casts shadows that dance on the wall. It reminds Antonina of a ghost story she heard once. As everyone in the Russian estate rooms headed to bed, Antonina realized she would not be getting any sleep tonight. It was a condition she'd had since she was small, first cold anxiety that made her sweat, and then racing thoughts that lasted hours. Oftentimes she would find a corner to practice an instrument or take a lantern to a hallway and practice her dancing. Her hard work was commended, and no one seemed to notice how difficult it was for Antonina to sleep.

How did things go so terribly, and so fast? She stares into the flame, turning each detail she knows over and over in her mind. It isn't enough. For the first time in her life, she wishes she'd been taught statecraft. It is hard to come to terms with feeling so uniquely useless. And so she drinks and lets the grandfather clock tick the seconds away.

Suddenly there is noise behind her and she assumes it's a guard. "Are you here to send me to bed like a naughty child?" she asks, not bothering to turn.