One second Nikolai is minding his own business, enjoying a blissful moment away from the responsibility of his kingdom and filling the space with manic tinkering and the next the door swings forward with a jarring and unnatural gust.

"There you are," Zoya says, exasperated and unsurprised. Of course if she was here Nikolai would be as well. After all, this is not the first time they slipped into a strange pocket dimension together. Zoya expertly hides any relief that she actually has found him, and embraces the role of a storm cloud rolling in to ruin his sunny day.

"Come," she instructs with the flex of two elegant fingers. Shouldn't it be considered improper the way she orders around a king? Not that notions of propriety would stop her. "We have to find whoever can send us home from this awful place."