Queen of Someday (14 page)

Sometime later, the empress finally releases me and I’m all too grateful. I practically run down the hall to the stairs leading to the dungeon. I want to make sure Peter hasn’t done something he will regret. I’m halfway down when I hear the screaming, and I freeze. Footsteps rush toward me and I know I should move, but I cannot.

Alexander’s face rounds the corner, speckled with blood.

I rush to him, taking his face in my hands.

“Are you all right?”

He grabs my hands and holds them to his chest.

“I’m fine,” he whispers. “It’s not my blood.”

Looking back over his shoulder quickly, he urges me back up the stairs. As soon as we are out of the hall, he stops into a small alcove and presses his back against the wall, wiping his face in his hands.

“What has Peter done?” I ask, my heart racing. “Is the chancellor dead?”

Alexander closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“No, it’s so much worse than that. I thought at first he was just going to beat the man—God knows I’ve been longing to do that myself—but he…” His eyes fly open, and he looks at me. “He started muttering about Bestuzhev trying to steal you away from him, how you belonged to him, and how he had to be punished.”

I swallow, trying to process what he’s saying.

“He was a man possessed,” Alexander whispers finally. “He took a knife and began slicing him. Not deep enough to kill, but there was so much blood.”

“I did not know Peter’s feeling for me ran so deep,” I admit softly, still stunned but unable to doubt his words.

He licks his lips. “I don’t think it was that. I think that Peter sees you as his possession. You belong to him, that’s what he kept saying. It was the kind of rage he used to express when he thought someone had stolen one of his toys. Not love, but obsession.”

And if he ever found out about Alexander and me, that rage would escalate a hundred fold. He would kill us both, I realize. Suddenly, the idea of running away with Alexander seems impossible, far too great a risk. The empress might someday forgive me for such a betrayal, but Peter would not. He would chase me to the ends of the earth to see me punished. I turn my back to Alexander.

“This changes nothing,” he whispers.

I don’t look back at him.

“This changes everything,” I say softly.

I hear him take a step and stop as another set of heavy boots stomps out of the hall.

“Sophie,” Peter coos softly, approaching me.

I blink back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes and turn to face him. He holds his bloodied hands out to me, and I force myself to take them.

“The chancellor has been severely punished for his crimes. I assure you that he, and anyone else who thinks to prevent our union, will think twice before ever threatening you again.”

I can’t speak so I just nod vigorously and try not to look as shaken as I feel. Leaning forward, he presses his lips against mine and my stomach heaves. I can taste the bitter, salty blood on his lips and fight down a retch. Releasing me, he quickly jerks his head to Alexander, who follows him off down the hall, only briefly looking back at me. As soon as they are gone from sight, I turn and head down the stairs. I need to make sure Bestuzhev is still alive, that a man hasn’t died for Peter’s rage.

As soon as I’m at the bottom, I see the cell at the end of the hall is open and I slip inside. The smell around me is thick enough to choke on, the stench of sweat and urine and worse things. Bestuzhev hangs from shackles dangling from the stone ceiling. His clothes have been mostly stripped off. He manages to lift his head weakly. Ribbons of blood and flesh hang from his face, chest, and arms.

“Come to finish me off?” he asks, his voice hoarse and low. I take a step back, calling to the guards.

“Fetch the physician. Quickly. And you, unshackle him and help me lay him down.”

The guards exchange a confused look before shrugging and obeying.

Once he’s on the ground, I roll him onto this back, examining the wounds. Alexander was right, they aren’t deep enough to kill, more the shallow wound a hunter might use to skin an animal, removing the flesh but preserving the meat. When I look down at him now, that’s what I see, meat. I take what’s left of his clothes and rip them into pieces.

“Fetch me some water and some brandy. Quickly,” I demand, sending the guard scurrying. He’s back in a hurry, a bowl of water in one hand and a bottle of brandy on the other.

Carefully, I soak scraps of fabric in the water.

“I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt,” I say to the chancellor, who is watching me through his one unswollen eye. I quickly pour the brandy over the cuts, making him cry out and arch his back. Then I begin laying the wet cloths across the wounds until the doctor arrives. He takes over, carefully stitching each cut with thick thread. The chancellor finally loses consciousness, a small blessing. When I finally climb the stairs again, the physician has gone and I’ve left orders for the guards to see that he received food and water as soon as he woke. It was the best I could do for the man who tried to kill me. And I genuinely hoped it was enough. I had his blood on my hands now, quite literally.

I walked to my room, unaware of the eyes staring at me as I passed. I was in a daze, shocked and confused. When I get to my room, I have the maids bring water and I begin washing myself. I’m still scrubbing the blood from my hands when Sergei arrives.

“I was worried about you,” he offers gently, as if sensing my fragile state. I can feel the tears running down my face as I turn to look at him. He has a book in hand, which he sets on the table. Coming up behind me, he wraps his arms around me and takes the soap from my hands. I lean forward, grasping the cabinet, and let the tears flow while he washes my hands and arms. I’m aware of him at my back, of the strong, musky, pine scent of him. I feel his warm breath on my neck as he lathers his hands and rubs them along my own. Something about it makes me want to fall into him, to let him hold me and protect me until the awful memories are driven from my mind. But I’m too numb for that, so I just let him wash away the blood and then dry me with a soft towel.

“I’ll call your maids to help you with your gown,” he whispers against my ear.

“No,” I manage. “Not yet.”

He steps back, releasing me, and takes a seat.

“You know what Peter did?” I ask.

He nods. “The whole palace knows what Peter did. He seemed to take great pride in it, telling anyone who would listen. The empress was furious, of course, but what could she say?”

“I went down to see for myself. It was just awful,” I say, trying to keep my voice from quaking.

“The whole palace knows what you did as well, Princess. The guards said you were like an angel, to try to save the man who tried to kill you. Peter has won their fear this day, but you have won their hearts.”

I frown. “It wasn’t some political strategy. That man almost died because of me.”

“You almost died as well,” he reminds me.

I shake my head. “And he should be punished for that. But what Peter did…”

I don’t finish the thought.

“Peter wanted to prove a point, not just to you, but to everyone. He wanted people to know what he was capable of. He thinks that to rule, people must fear him. He doesn’t have their respect. Most people think he’s too feebleminded and drunk to be trusted with any matters of real importance, and he doesn’t want their love. Fear is all that’s left for him.”

He lowers his chin, looking at me strangely, “But today, you have won both of the things he does not possess.”

I throw my hands up.

“Why does everything have to be some ploy? Some desperate grab for power?”

He sits back, his tone amused. “Because this is Russian Court.”

I sigh heavily.

“I need to rest, thank you for your concern, but I’m fine, as you can see.”

He snickers. “As you say.”

He stands, picking up the book he’d brought.

“Here, Peter’s man asked me to bring this to you. He said you mentioned wanting to read it, but he’d taken it from the library.”

I take the book.

“Thank you. Please send my excuses to the empress. I’m afraid I don’t feel well enough to come down to dinner tonight. Please have something sent up.”

He bows and leaves. When he’s gone, I open the book and find the hidden note.

Thou art my way; I wander if thou fly.

Thou art my light; if hid, how blind am I?

Thou art my life; if thou withdraw, I die.

I crumple the paper to my chest, it’s meaning clear. Nothing has changed, he said. But something has changed. I see now that I will not survive here. I will not survive Peter, politics, or a life without love. Running away with Alexander means more than just being with the man I choose, it means my very survival. We must run, as far and as fast as our legs will carry us, and pray it is far enough.

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I don’t sleep much that night. I keep dreaming that I’ve gone to meet Alexander, only when I arrive, Peter has cut him to pieces and I see only his dead eyes staring up at me. When the maid comes in with breakfast, I’m sitting up in bed, hugging my knees, my face puffy from crying.

Rina and Elizavetta help me bathe and dress, all the while talking about how the servants were gossiping, not just about what Peter had done to the man who tried to kill me, but how I’d been so merciful and forgiving.

Rina encourages me to eat, a few bites of honeyed biscuit and a sip of tea, before finally sending for some vodka to calm my nerves. Elizavetta hands me a small glass, taking one for herself as well. It’s bitter and strong, but I feel its affect immediately. My belly warms and my muscles relax. I smile despite myself, and she laughs, refilling my glass, which I quickly empty again.

“The ceremony won’t be too bad,” she assures me, brushing my hair and pinning it up.

I nod, my neck beginning to feel like jelly. Elizavetta begins reading from the scriptures. I listen in a haze of warm relaxation until Sergei and my mother arrive.

“Are you all right?” Mother demands, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

Rina intervenes in my behalf.

“The princess has been fasting in preparation for the ceremony. She’s a little weak.”

I blink, widely, nodding in agreement. Mother looks satisfied.

“I’ve had a special gown made for you to wear today. I’m going to go fetch it.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” I manage. As soon as she leaves, I burst into laughter, joined by my ladies.

Sergei grins wildly, picking up my empty glass and sniffing it.

“You are completely drunk, aren’t you?”

I shake my head. “No, just a bit I think.”

He sits beside me, looking completely pleased.

“Well, no more of that until after the ceremony, all right?”

I nod, and Rina takes the glass away.

“Now, you will need to recite your vows. Do you have them memorized?”

I take a deep breath, trying to focus. The book he’d given me to study had been more helpful than perhaps he imagined. I recite the oath in perfect Russian.

He claps. “Well done. The empress will be pleased.”

I stand and take a deep bow, nearly tipping forward, bringing in another round of uproarious laughter. Sergei catches me and sits me back down.

“All right, settle yourself before your mother returns. Why, today of all days, do you choose to begin your life as a drunkard?”

I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, holding my face in my hands. Sergei is so ruggedly handsome, with his dark, deep-set eyes and square jaw. Even the faint beard running along his jaw is so perfectly groomed that I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if I kissed him.

“You’re very handsome when you are chastising me,” I say with a sigh.

He sits back, a grin spreading across his face. “Then you will find me handsome quite often, I suppose.”

I scoot closer to him, reaching out with my fingers to touch the side of his face. He captures my hand and kisses it quickly.

“As adorable as you are when you’re inebriated, I need you to focus right now. Can you do that for me?”

I withdraw my hand and sit up, shaking off the stupor as best I can.

He sits back, pulling a long, blue box from his jacket and handing it to me.

“A gift from the empress.”

I open the box to expose two snowflake-shaped pearl pendants and a large, gold-and-silver brooch with a huge emerald set in the center. All three are so lovely that it momentarily takes my breath away.

“Please send my thanks,” I manage finally. “They are lovely.”

“She wishes one other thing. You could be baptized by your true name, of course. But it is often custom to choose a new name, as a way to renounce all ties to your previous life.”

I nod. I’d been aware of it but hadn’t given it much thought.

“Her majesty asks if you would consider taking the name Catherine, after her own blessed mother.”

I swallow. It makes no difference now. The conversion, the ceremony, all of it is for show. Something I am expected to do. I would cancel the thing altogether if not for my desire to keep Peter firmly in the dark about my intentions till the very last possible moment.

“Yes, I would be honored, of course.”

When Mother returns, Sergei bows and takes his leave, giving me one firm glance before he goes.

Mother lays the gown across the lounge. It’s similar to hers, heavy, scarlet taffeta with silver thread along every seam. Only where my mother’s gown is inset with diamonds like tiny stars, mine is simple, a slender, silver vine along the bodice it’s only embroidery.

“If I may make a suggestion,” she offers, clasping her hands to her chest.

I nod.

“Consider wearing your hair down, something simple and stark. You are pale from the fasting and between the complexion, your dark hair, and bright blue eyes, the effect will be one of the utmost elegance.”

Her tone is light, almost loving. But somehow, it isn’t enough for me to want her to stay. Perhaps there has been too much coldness between us for me to allow her into my heart now. Or perhaps, my time at court has left me jaded.

“I will; thank you.”

She curtsies—something she’s never done in her life—and leaves quietly.

“Maybe she’s drunk too?” Elizavetta offers, and the laughing begins again.

We dress and prepare to head to St. Peter’s Cathedral, where the ceremony will take place. It’s a brief walk from the palace, but the empress insists we take a carriage instead. The pins and brooch that the empress gave me are my only finery; I’ve left everything else behind. My hair hangs straight, cascading around my exposed shoulders, only a simple white ribbon holding it back off my face. I’ve put on no powder or rouge, only a bit of red wine to stain my lips. The effect, as Mother had predicted, is a bold one. As I walk into the chapel, I hear the rush of whispers around me, sighs and comments on my grace and beauty. I try to tune it all out and focus ahead of me, where the bishop awaits. From the corner of my eye, I see Alexander, but I don’t look at him fully. Beside him is Peter, who frowns and whispers to Mikhail, and beside them the empress, who has tears in her eyes as she looks down at me from her seat in the balcony.

I walk slowly, keeping in step with the choir as they sing softly. Mother follows me, taking a seat in the crowded chapel as I reach the thick, white pillow and kneel. Over my head, the bishop recites a prayer and then begins anointing me with sacred oil. I close my eyes as he touches my forehead, both eyes, my neck, throat, and finally the backs and palms of each hand, consecrating them with oil as he prays.

Finally, the time comes. I raise my eyes skyward and in as loud, and strong a voice as I can muster, I recite my vows, the creed of my new faith, in flawless Russian, sending another ripple of awed whispers through the crowd.

The bishop pronounces my new name, Catherine, and the crowd cheers. He takes my hand and helps me to my feet, offering me to the masses as the newest member of God’s true church. I keep my eyes fixed ahead of me, not reacting at all to the chaos erupting around me.

I’m ushered back to my room to dress for the feast. By the time I arrive, my head is pounding and my knees feel weak. As I’m changing, another box arrives from the empress, this one delivered by her own valet.

I open it to expose a stunning diamond necklace and matching brooch, both of which I put on for the banquet, along with the tiara Peter had given me. I plan to leave them when I go, of course, but it seems a shame not to wear them while I still can.

My ladies escort me to the feast. My stomach is rolling so badly that I can barely eat, and I’m glad when we retire to the ballroom for dancing and drinks. As soon as the maids set out the wine, I grab a glass, draining it quickly.

The empress, in her wide, lavish, silver gown, crosses the floor to speak with me. I curtsy.

“Your Majesty.”

She smiles, fanning herself with a small, silk fan that matches her gown.

“My darling, you were stunning today, truly stunning. I knew I made the right decision bringing you here.” She pauses, taking a glass of wine herself and leans forward. “And thank you for your kindness to the chancellor. He is a man with flaws, to be sure, but he is dear to me. I would hate to think what might have become of him had you not intervened.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She flitters off into the crowd, looking for someone to dance with and finding Sergei looking roguishly handsome in his simple, well-fitted suit. Peter approaches me, his men close behind, and offers me his hand.

“May I have this dance, Catherine?”

I nod and curtsy before taking his hand and following him onto the dance floor.

“You looked lovely today. I don’t know if I mentioned.”

“Thank you.”

“But I was a bit disturbed when news of your actions reached me. Is it true you took mercy on the man who tried to kill you?”

I swallow at the accusation in his voice. I’d never been afraid of Peter before, but after seeing what he’d done…

“Yes, my lord. If only for the sake of your aunt. She cares for him deeply.”

His rebuttal is sharp, and I can’t help but flinch.

“You need to concern yourself less with what pleases my aunt and more with what pleases me.”

I try to keep the mood as light as I can.

“Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“You undermined me.”

“It was not my intent, I assure you. It was,” I swallow again, “so kind of you to defend me in such a way. I only helped him in order to spare you your aunt’s wrath if he should have died.”

He takes my hand and grasps it so tightly it hurts.

“Let me worry about the empress.”

I smile and let him spin me.

“Of course.”

The music ends and he storms off the dance floor, leaving me standing there. As seems always the case, Sergei comes to my rescue, taking my hand as another dance strikes up.

“Are you all right?” he asks as we move.

I shake my head. “Peter is cross with me about Bestuzhev. He thinks I undermined him.”

Sergei says, “And now he’s drinking. Not a great combination.”

We draw close, and then back away, as the dance demands.

“But don’t worry. I’ve had a little something slipped into his wine. Soon enough, he’ll be fast asleep and he’ll remain that way until morning.”

I doubt there’s anything else he could have said that would have brought such a smile to my lips. Just then, I hear a crash as Peter stumbles, dropping his glass of wine and falling into Alexander’s arms, snoring loudly. I laugh loudly before I can stop myself, bringing a hand to my mouth to try and disguise it as a cough. Sergei smiles and spins me again.

“Thank you, Sergei. Thank you so much,” I say, grinning widely as his men pick Peter up and head off to deliver him to his room. “I feel as though I’m forever thanking you.”

He shrugs. “Then stop thanking me until you can find a more creative way to do it.”

I cock my head, unsure if he’s flirting with me. The devilish grin on his face suggests he is. When the dance ends, I excuse myself to the empress’ table. She’s sitting, surrounded by men as always, drinking wine from a golden cup.

I curtsy.

“Your Majesty, please don’t think me rude, but I’m quite exhausted from the day. I think I should retire for the evening.”

She smiles, waving me off with her hand.

“Of course, dear. Tomorrow is a big day after all.”

I nod and curtsy again, excusing myself back to my room. Before I leave, Rina corners me.

“My lady, would you like us to come help you ready for bed?”

I shake my head.

“No, you and Elizavetta stay and enjoy the evening. The maids will help me.”

She dips into a curtsy. “Of course. Have a good night.”

“You as well,” I offer, watching her walk away. I wish I could hug her, tell her that I might never see her again, and thank her for being such a good and kind friend. But I know that’s impossible. So I leave, walking down the corridor until the last of the music dies away, replaced by stillness. A hand reaches out from a dark alcove and grabs me, pulling me inside. I almost cry out, but Alexander gently covers my mouth, shushing me.