The noise of the boxing match still echoed through the coliseum, a wave of disbelief rolling back and forth across the seats, when another cheer rose from the field.
Not for Germany this time, but for the white-blue banners of Russia.
A pole-vaulter had cleared a height never before reached by a Russian athlete.
Moments later, another competitor in Imperial red and black took second place in a sprint, the difference measured only in heartbeats.
Bruno noted it. Everyone in the Reichstag box did. It was no coincidence.
The Romanovs had studied.
And copied.
Elsa's husband, now Tsar Alexei, leaned forward in his seat with a rare smile, his face still youthful beneath the crown of authority, but sharpened by years of survival.
He applauded with deliberate pride as his countrymen bowed. When the noise subsided, he turned to his wife, took her hand, and pressed a kiss upon her fingers.
