"So... who is the Tsar now?" Alexandra looked at the ambassador. "Is it Alexander?"
"Yes, Your Highness." Count Molokov replied with his head bowed.
Alexandra waved her hand indifferently, smiling: "Perhaps he should have done it long ago. Some of Father's actions were not very wise—let him go fishing in the Moika River. It's better than quarreling with the ministers every day..."
"Your Highness," Molokov gritted his teeth and interrupted her, "His Majesty Paul, he... has passed on to Heaven."
The girl's smile froze: "What did you say?"
"Your father accidentally fell, and a candlestick pierced his chest... This happened half a month ago."
"You're not joking, are you?"
"It is true, Your Highness."
Alexandra suddenly turned away, a low growl rising in her throat: "That greedy, cold-blooded vulture! He couldn't even wait for the abdication decree to be signed—couldn't wait one moment before pouncing to tear at his flesh! Not even Hell can contain his wickedness!"
