God Save the Queen (16 page)

             
I was standing there with my hair up is a curly little up-do. I touched it and found to my shock that it was harder than cement, held in with bobby pins and hair spray. My lips were coated with the reddest lipstick, and on my neck rested a string of perfect pearls. I looked down to see that I was also wearing the red Beaver Cleaver dress that I had worn the day I met Michael.

             
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet running through the house. I left the kitchen to investigate.

             
There were three little children in the living room. The first was a little boy about five, with curly light-brown hair and wearing a little sailor suit. He was chasing a little girl who looked to be about four, with short blonde hair and a dress made of the same sailor-suit fabric. Finally there was the littlest child, a boy sitting in the center of the commotion. He looked to be only seven months old and was also donning a sailor suit. The moment I stepped into the room, all commotion stopped and the children turned to face me and started running, and crawling, toward me. I thought I heard them yelling something as they ran.

             
I wasn’t even aware that I was doing it, but I found myself hugging these children. I didn’t even know who they were but I couldn’t contain my joy when I saw them. After hugging the little boy and girl, I scooped up the littlest one and held him in my arms. While I was letting him play with my pearls, he smiled at me and said, “Mama.”

             
I was just about to say something when the front door opened, and in walked a tall man in a black trench coat and a little black hat. The children turned and ran toward him screaming, “Daddy!” The man dropped his suitcase at the door and hugged the children in the same way I did. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I could see his smile, which told the world that he was a proud papa. Then, still in shadows, he got up and walked toward me. Although this man was unknown to me, I felt as though I had known him forever. He came over and kissed the child in my arms and then looked at me, smiling.

             
“Hello, honey,” he whispered before leaning in.

*
              *              *

             
I woke up with a start and bolted upright in my bed. I brought my knees up close and placed my head on top of them. Why did I wake up? It was a wonderful dream I was having, and I would have loved to--

With a lurch in my stomach I
turned to see Michael looking at me. I didn’t even want to be in the same bed with him, so I got out and walked out of the room. I really needed some water or air.

             
I heard my bedroom door reopen and I knew that Michael was close behind me. I tried to pick up my pace without being too obvious about it, but so did he. Then he grabbed my arm and twirled me around. His face showed his concern, and maybe just a hint of guilt.

             
“Are you all right?” he asked me.

             
“I’m fine,” I responded in a tone dripping with acid. I yanked my arm from his grasp and tried to walk away but he got in front of me.

             
“No, I mean, are you okay? You seem angry. And sad.”

             
Three guesses why,
I thought.

             
“Is something the matter, Anya? Have a bad week or something? You can tell me what the problem is. Is it the Kevin thing? I’ve thought it over. It’s okay with me if you want him as your escort. Really it is.”

             
How big of you.
“That’s not it.”

             
“Can’t you just tell me?”

             
I crossed my arms and stared at him. “You really want to know what my problem is?”

             
He nodded.
Okay, buster,
I thought. “Well I don’t think you can handle what it is. I just … I just don’t know how to put it.”

             
“I can handle it, An. What’s the matter?”

             
I was going to tell him right then and there. I was going to tell him that I knew about the redheaded tramp and how that caused me no end of heartache. I was going to tell him how he made me live off raw cookie dough for three days straight, and how all of my friends had to comfort me while I cried myself to sleep. I was going to tell him this, but then the thought of my friends popped in my head. I pictured them chatting amiably in the palace kitchen when suddenly a small army storms in a whisks them off to Siberia. Mari and Avery wouldn’t be able to bear one night in prison, not even the threat of it, and Kevin, Antonio and Barnes would feel betrayed. I knew then that I couldn’t tell him. I could never be as heartless as LaGard was. So I lied.

             
“I just … It’s just … I have my period.”

             
Michael not only hit his comfort limit, he soared way past it. His face squished up and he did this little fidgety dance. Then after his little dramatic moment, he just said, “Oh.”

             
I shook my head and smiled slightly. “Well, it’s not just that,” I admitted. “I’ve just been stuck here so long, and you’ve been gone so much of the time. I just need to get out.”

             
Michael smiled at me and then held me close. “Well, then, I’m just going to have to be extra-nice to you so you’ll love me again.”

             
Doubt it
, I thought.

             
“As a matter of fact, I was talking to my uncle today about getting you out of here. He said he was willing to consider it. He needs someone to go to Rome in the middle of April to have dinner with the son of someone important, and then go to Sicily for a bit. I told him that he should send you. With some other people, of course.”

             
I looked up at him. “You actually found a way to get me out of this hell hole?!” I yelled. “I’m going to Italy?”

             
“Well, he says he’ll let you go if you’re nice to the artist who’s painting your portrait in two weeks. You do that, two weeks later you’ll be in the city of love.” Then he chuckled. “However, you’ll be without your love.”

             
What love
, I thought as he held me closer. And I swear, as I looked at his right shoulder, I spied a strand of red hair clinging to his shirt.

Chapter 24

Picture Perfect

             
My finals were coming up and I wasn’t sure how I was going to pass them, so for the next two weeks I buried myself into my studies. I thought that I would do pretty well in Anatomy and History, and I was even beginning to talk to Serge in Russian. But French was going to be difficult. Just when I was starting to speak it more fluently, Monsieur Beaumont would throw me a dozen new irregular verbs. The night before my exams Kevin and I snuck into the library and he helped me cram. We studied from six at night to three in the morning, when Kevin finally convinced me to go to bed. So we decided to call it a night and made our way upstairs to our rooms. Before I snuck back inside mine, I decided to tell him the good news.

             
“So Michael won’t be attending my Coronation Ball. He’s going to Japan on a business trip.” I made air-quotes around “business trip” in case he missed the point.

             
Kevin’s face began to turn a darker shade, but I couldn’t see exactly what color because the hall was so dark. He was about to yell when I shushed him. I didn’t need him waking up Michael and the scene that would inevitable follow. He lowered his tone and murmured, “He’s missing your ball so he can go on vacation with his little redheaded … tart.” I thought it was cute he felt compelled to keep the insults G-rated.

             
I nodded and whispered back, “But it’s okay, I got my revenge.” Kevin looked at me warily as I continued. “I told him that since he was ditching my Coronation Ball, I was going to pick my own escort. I chose you.”

             
Kevin’s face lit up and he smiled wider than I have ever seen before. “Really? You chose me?”

             
“Yeah, and before you get a swelled head, you won the prize for two reasons. One, because we practiced all the dance steps together, so you’re
not
going to make me look like a complete buffoon.”

             
“Well, that’ll depend on the second reason,” Kevin said slyly.

             
I didn’t have a snappy comeback for that, so I told him the truth. “The second reason is,,, it really made Michael mad when I told him I wanted to take you. I mean, steam-coming-out-of-his-ears mad.”

             
Kevin got smug at that remark and snorted in the air. “Well I can see why. I
am
quite intimidating.”

             
I smiled and then heard something rustle inside the room. Michael must have been getting up. I quickly whispered goodnight to Kevin and tiptoed into my room.

*
              *              *

             
I was ecstatic the next day. Not only did I get an A in both my Anatomy and History classes, but I was able to pull off a B on my French exam. In my mind, if I was able to pull off a B in French, that was the equivalent of an A in any other class. I was even sure that Beaumont was getting a little misty-eyed when I was able to say, “Goodbye, sir, I will miss this class very much” in French without missing a beat. He even had the decency to say that he would, too.

             
After my classes were over I naively assumed I’d have some me-time. Only in my dreams. The next morning I was rushed into a national security meeting, and then hustled off to the new orphanage opening where I got to cut the red ribbon. But the day I was really looking forward to was the Royal Portrait Day.

*
              *              *

             
On the day that the portrait artist came, I was awakened early in the morning to get prepared. I was brought into a large room with peach-colored walls and there they were waiting for me: the fearsome gang of comb-and brush-wielding women who had practically yanked my hair out by the roots on Halloween. Ninety minutes of torture later, my skull was completely numb, but one glance in the mirror told me they had created another masterpiece. They somehow had managed to turn my a simple, low ponytail into an elegant chignon, accented with a delicate pink orchid under my right ear. I thought it was perfection, but then they had to slap on some makeup that made me look like a porcelain doll.

             
Next, I had to get dressed. The gown they had set for me was beautiful, but definitely was something I wouldn’t want to wear anywhere else outside of a painting. It was white, and the lower half flowed until it met the bottom, where it was semi-bunched and patterned with lace. The top was strapless, and the fabric was covered with intricate lace. There was a light pink ribbon around the ribcage that matched the flower under my ear, and attached in the middle was a large, almost-white daisy. For the final touch, I added one of the jewels from my collection.

             
Perfect, I told myself as I looked in the full-length dressing mirror. I then made my way to the room where the portrait would be painted. As I entered, Kevin looked up from the newspaper he was reading and gasped.

             
“What?” I asked with a giggle. “Do I look that bad?”

             
He shook his head quickly and walked toward me. “No, Anya, you look stunning. Wow, this team has the magic touch.”

             
“So you’re saying I didn’t look good before?”

             
Kevin smiled and held out his right arm. “Let’s just say they enhanced your charms. Now, let me show you to your seat.”

             
After I got situated in the throne where I would have to sit still for two solid hours. Kevin began prepping me. He went over how I had to be completely still and try not to smile. For some reason it was not proper for royalty to be smiling in their portraits. Then he added a garland thing to lay on my lap to add color and showed me where I should lay my hands--my right around the garland, my left touching my dress near the top.

             
I found all of this so ridiculous that Kevin decided I needed to practice my non-smile for the portrait, so as not to waste the artist’s time.

“No, that looks like you’re trying not to smile. It should look natural.
Stop smiling, An! You need to be serious.”

             
“Okay, sorry,” I said, but when someone tells you not to smile, it’s almost impossible.

             
“An, come on! This is serious.”

             
“But I have to smile when I look at you! You make me happy.”

             
There was an awkward pause afterwards, then Kevin laughed. “Yeah, I guess I have that effect on people, huh?”

             
Suddenly the two large doors opened and the royal portrait artist entered the room.

             
He was a small, very old man with a very bad limp. I wondered how he was going to manage to stand in front of a huge canvas for hours on end with that bad leg, while I, the pampered princess, just sat on my butt. Once he got his canvas and paint ready, he came up to my seat and dipped into a slight bow.

             
“Your Highness, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said in a thick Russian accent. I instinctively held my hand out for him to shake, and then he looked at me very closely and gasped. I wasn’t sure if I had offended him in some way, so I drew my hand back. After a moment of silence, the man finally shook his head and blinked a few times then spoke.

             
“Hmm … your husband should stand at your side with his hand on your shoulder. Right there, sir.”

For a long moment neither Kevin nor I uttered a word. Then he nearly bust a gut
laughing.

             
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” I said between gasps of laughter, “but he isn’t my husband. This is Kevin, my personal advisor.”

             
The artist did not change his facial expression and just pushed Kevin out of the way. “I see. Then may I suggest you stand over there, young man, and don’t say anything!” And that’s just what Kevin did.

             
The man started painting right away, while Kevin, Mari and Avery observed over his shoulder. I was still wondering about why I had startled this man so much. Did I look like an imposter or something of that nature? Was it just plain wrong for a princess to offer a handshake? There was a lot about protocol I still didn’t know. After wondering for the first half an hour in complete silence, the little man poked his head around the canvas and read the confusion in my face.

             
“I am sorry if I offended you, my dear,” he said, “but my father painted all of the Romanovs. He let me assist him, so I was able to see them up close. And when I heard I was painting you, I confess I was sure that you would look nothing like them. But my dear, you seem to like them in more ways than one.” He put his paintbrush down and stood next to the easel. Then his eyes got slightly misty as he seemed to recall a different time. “You are like Nicholas. A born leader. It is in your blood. You are like Alexandra, for you are not exactly from this land. You resemble Olga by being very modest, unaware of your sheer beauty. You are like Tatiana, for you know how to present yourself, royal in front of an audience. As for Maria, or Mashka, as her family called her … you are like her in that you are not able to say anything bad. Anastasia … Hmm, there are many ways in which you are like her. Not only your looks, but also your personality resembles hers. She was mischievous and stubborn, but able to make anyone smile in a heartbeat.”

             
The smile he had been maintaining suddenly vanished as his face became serious and he limped his way closer toward me. He stopped in front of my throne and looked intently in my eyes as he continued.

             
“And Alexi … you both share one common factor. Neither of you thought you were ready to be ruler.” He grabbed my chin and held it upward, examining my face. “But this is what you must know, dear. He thought he wasn’t ready, but he most certainly was. And although you do not show it as obviously as he did, you don’t think you’re ready either. However, you are more ready than you think, Anya Maria Nikolaevna Alexandrova. You will rule fine and you will be able to handle anything that is thrown at you. Even if you think you can’t, you must always say that you can. For you will soon be a tsarina, and therefore a symbol. A symbol of confidence and pride. You must never let your people down. But do not worry. I know you will not.” With that, this little man slowly limped back to his easel and began painting.

             
I sat there in complete shock as I listened to the faint sounds of brushstrokes on the canvas. This little old man, whom I had never met before, was informing me how wonderfully I would be able to rule this country. He had so much faith in me, even though he had never met me before this day. Then it hit me. He wasn’t only one. There must be more people out there who are either thinking the exact same thing, or the complete opposite. How was I going to get through all of this, when I had just found out the whole world would be judging me on my performance as their new empress?

             
Finally after another two hours, the little man was done. He whispered something to another little man I assumed was his assistant, and suddenly the painting was gone. I wasn’t allowed to see it until the day of my coronation. As soon as the assistant left the room, the little old man once again hobbled up to me and whispered, “You mustn’t worry, young one. You will do fine. Only doubt will be your downfall.” After saying these words, he slowly hobbled to, and then out, the high doors.