God Save the Queen (19 page)

             
Picking my ball gown was not so easy. The three dresses that Mari and Avery had selected were choices that I never would have picked. The first was a light blue dress that had no shape and just flowed down. There was a pattern of flowers in navy blue all around. The top of the dress was lined with white tassels and it just looked horrendous. The next dress was a light pink halter floor-length gown. The top of the gown was fitted to the waist and flowed from the waist down. However the skirt of the dress was completely made of a long feather material. It was almost as worse as the last one. The last one was a ball gown that would have been a sensation in the 1800s. The top was all scrunched up at the bottom of the three-quarter-length sleeves and slightly at the waist and made of a fabric the color of overcooked spinach. That would be placed over a white dress that would make it look as though I only had a white skirt on. What were Mari and Avery thinking?

             
Mari read my thoughts. “Don’t you like these?”

             
I stared at her, wondering if this was a joke or not. “Well, I just thought that they’d be more, um, elegant,” I admitted.

             
“We have one more,” Avery said, then whispered something to Mari, who ran off to fetch it. “This one is the one we actually chose for you,” Avery said while we awaited Mari’s return. “We wanted to save the best for last.” Then Mari finally came back, carrying the dress of my dreams in her arms.

             
It was a strapless ivory-colored floor-length silk gown. The top was a loose, almost princess-fitting top, square looking, with a drop in the waistline. It was clear that the bottom of the dress was made to be a ball gown as it started tightly in at the top and flowed out slowly. Pleating also visible as Mari and Avery helped me into the gown. At the top and bottom of the bodice and the hem of the dress there was a pattern that looked almost floral, but there was something about it that made it look like a modern French design. As I looked closer I saw that each of the designs was individually stitched and that some included crystals.

             
Once Mari and Avery got the gown over my head, I loved the way it felt and looked on me. It fit almost perfectly and only a few simple fittings had to be made. After staring at myself for another five minutes I was finally convinced to take off the dress and put on my ceremony one. It was almost time for the coronation.

             
Once I was out of it and getting into the other, Avery looked at me suspiciously and said, “You know, it’s weird that you chose that dress.”

             
I popped my head through the head hole of the red dress. “Why do you think that?”

             
She came over and helped zip the back of the gown. “Well, it’s just that, well, your mother picked this one.”

             
I looked over my shoulder at her. “What do you mean my mother picked it? That’s impossible.”

             
“Not according to Terrence. He brought this in today and told us to be sure to show it to you.” Avery came to stand in front of me to make sure the dress looked good. “Apparently, she chose it when you were about four. She was going to wear it at her coronation if she lived past your fifth birthday, but …” She broke off abruptly and her face flushed a deep crimson, no doubt realizing how casually she was speaking about my mother’s death. “Anyway, we thought you might want to wear it. It’s like you’re completing what she started.” Then she pulled me in with tears in her eyes. “And you’re going to do a wonderful job, Anya, I just know it!”

             
We stood there for a moment and then Mari came in and yelled the dreaded words: “The hairdressers are here!”

             
I looked up at her, “Can I first get a shot of morphine in my scalp?””

             
She laughed, “No time for that today.”

             
I was led to my seat and the ladies began their torture right away. Today, however, I noticed that they were being quite gentle with my hair. I wondered if that was because I was going to be empress soon and I could send the to the dungeon for ripping my hair out and making me prematurely bald. Assuming there was a dungeon….

             
It’s funny, the thoughts that run through your head when your life is about to change forever.

The ladies
lightly curled my hair, making it a little wavy but not
too
wavy so that the crown would fit snugly on my head. Then they informed me that I’d have my hair re-done for the ball.
Oh goody,
I groaned inwardly. For that, they told me, I would have my hair in a simple half-up, half-down look so that the tiara could easily be placed on my head.

             
Once they were done with my hair, it was almost eleven-thirty. I was quickly rushed to the makeup room and then outside to a limousine where Terrence was waiting.

I looked at the palace once more
as we drove off. It was a bittersweet moment. This would be the last time I would see this as a mere princess.

             
I sat silently in the car as we drove to the cathedral in St. Petersburg. When we were halfway there, Terrence started reviewing what I needed to do. “As you walk into the cathedral, nod to the two soldiers at the front entrance….”

I nodded impatiently. How many times had we gone over this?

“Then, and only then, will they allow you through the inner doors and the procession will begin.…”

             
The driver interrupted to inform us we were three blocks away from the cathedral. I quickly went over what I was supposed to say, in what order I was supposed to say them, and so on. Then Terrence took my hand and whispered, “You’ll be fine, darling. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

             
I looked over at him, tears welling in my eyes from nerves and a million other emotions all wrapped up into one tremendous ordeal. “Thank you, Terrence. For everything, especially for putting up with my temper. I wouldn’t be ready today if it wasn’t for you.”

             
He grinned, leaned in and embraced me. “I always knew this day would come. And I’m confident enough to say that you’re ready.” Then the limo came to a stop. I looked up and saw the Peter and Paul Cathedral in front of me. It looked like thousands of people were there awaiting my arrival, everyday people who wanted to be able to say they saw the Empress of Russia at her coronation. I felt my heartbeat race as I looked at their excited faces.

             
Terrence must have seen the anxious look on my face when he told the driver to let him out. “No, you stay,” he told me. “I’m getting out here at the side entrance. You’re going in by yourself. Oh, don’t worry, my dear, you can do this!”

             
Without Terrence at my side, I really did feel alone … and scared. The driver drove me to the front of the cathedral, a magnificent edifice built during the reign of Peter the Great. I was relieved to see police kept the crowds behind barriers, so at least I didn’t have to worry about being mobbed. I took a deep breath.
Okay,
I said to myself,
this is it, kiddo.

Chapter 28

Ceremonies

             
When we’re dreaming, we hardly ever wonder if we’re having a dream or not. In real life, though, we always know we’re not dreaming. Except for the moment I walked past the screaming crowd into the Peter and Paul Cathedral. All I can remember about that moment is that I wasn’t at all convinced it
wasn’t
a dream. The air of unreality was that strong.

I came to when I stepped through the outer doors of the cathedral and the Navy Band struck up the Russian national anthem. That sound would have awakened the dead. I was soon reassured when I saw the two soldiers standing guard at the inner doors.
I followed Terrence’s instructions and I nodded to them. For a split-second I was afraid that they wouldn’t know what that signal meant, or that there was a secret password I’d forgotten all about, but halleluia, it worked! They saluted me smartly and grabbed the handles of the doors. I took one last deep intake of breath as the two doors opened and I saw the altar ahead of me.

             
Walking down the aisle seemed to take forever. There was a deep red carpet runner that provided great traction, which was an unexpected bonus. At least I wasn’t going to fall flat on my face, and this wasn’t the day to do it. I kept my eyes focused straight ahead, only dimly aware of the guests that crowded the pews of the cathedral. Soon I was standing in front of the entire assemblage of dignitaries, nobility, politicians, celebrities, and the really amazing thing is that they looked just as thrilled to see me in person as I was to see them.

You’re doing fine, just keep cool,
I kept telling myself. But then I nearly jumped out of my skin when the priest yelled something in Russian. The guests all sat down. The priest came up to me with a book in his hands and began muttering some more Russian. I placed my hand on the book just as I had been taught and waited for him to address me in Russian: “Anya Maria Nikolaevna Alexandrova. Will you honor your country in the finest of manners? Will you put the concern of your people as a first matter?”

             
I nodded and said clearly in Russian, “I will.”

             
“Do you solemnly swear that your intentions will benefit your country and the people in everyway possible? That your policies will reflect those of your countrymen?”

             
“I do,” I said again. This continued for another twenty minutes. Then I had to follow the priest to light all the candles in the cathedral. Eighty-three candles, to be precise, one for each province. I slowly walked over to each candle and lit it carefully, making sure I didn’t light my hair on fire. It seemed to take forever, and once that was done, it was time for the main event, my crowning. I knelt in front of the crowd and bowed my head. I had to keep it bowed to the floor the whole time. I wasn’t supposed to make eye contact with my subjects until I was dubbed tsarina
,
which was too bad because I had a perfect view of the most important people in the world right in front of me.

I
listened to the priest mumble words together. It had an almost narcotic effect, that rhythmic mumbling, and it really threw me when I suddenly felt something heavy falling onto my shoulders--the royal red velvet robe, as I found out. After that I was handed the royal staff, a symbol of unity. Finally I heard the priest say, “In the name of the Father …” as the crown was slowly placed on my head. I stayed where I was and slowly brought my head up--not easy to do, no one had bothered to tell me! As romantic as it sounds to be crowned, it felt like a sack of potatoes on my head. I was terrified that I’d tip over before the priest finished his closing prayer. When he finally did, that was my cue. I slowly got up and faced the crowd before me. Then the priest finally shouted,
“All hail, Anya Maria Nicolaievna Alexandrova, Tsarina of Russia.”

             
Everyone erupted with shouts, which was louder in that cavernous cathedral than I’d have thought possible. At the priest’s nod, I started my return trip down the aisle. I could even hear fireworks going off outside. Bells were ringing everywhere, and sirens of police cars were going off as the windows of the cathedral were opened. Some women even set doves flying up to the magnificent mosaic ceiling. Many men threw their hats in the air. Some women were crying. I was trying not to cry myself as I bowed to my subjects over and over again. It had happened. I was now Empress of Russia.

             
I stood there for a few more moments and then made my way back down the aisle, which now didn’t seem such a long trip. People I’d never met were reaching over, trying to touch me. I just smiled demurely until I reached the doors and the two soldiers opened the doors again and soon I was rushing out into the daylight to greet the crowds.

             
Now that it was over, it sure seemed it had happened too quickly.

             
But the real party was about to begin.

*
              *              *

             
Everyone arrived at the palace at around six but I had been getting ready since four-thirty. And what a horrible experience it was. Not only did I have to go through my makeup and hair torture all over again, but my nerves got the best of me when I kept going over my dance moves in my head. I thought about the million and one ways that I could screw up and make a fool of myself.

             
The ladies made me look wonderful. Once they had put on the foundation to make my face look dewy and natural, they applied the blush which added a natural-looking glow. Then they added a small bit of navy blue liquid eye liner and mascara, then a white eye shadow to make my eyes match my dress fantastically. They put my hair half up, half down, making an intricate design with the half that was up. To hold it, they artfully inserted pearl-tipped bobby pins, and finally added a simple tiara from my closet-slash-jewelry vault. It was a simple but stunning Empire-style diamond tiara that looked so elegant, it gave me enough confidence to relax when it was time to slip into my dress.

             
It was lucky break that my dress fit like a glove when I had tried it on earlier that day. That alone saved a lot of time and anxiety. At last I was ready. Everything was perfect as I looked in the mirror--my hair, my face, me.

The
new me.

Funny, but
I had somehow imagined that the transition would happen overnight, like I would look in the mirror one morning and there would be an empress staring back at me. But of course it was nothing like that. My evolution had been gradual and began that fateful October day, seven months ago. Seven years, it felt like. I stood in front of the mirror for a final lingering look, until Mari and Avery insisted it was time for me to leave.

             
They followed me as I made my way down the long dim hallway, still trying to steady my breathing.

             
“Don’t worry about a thing, Anya, you’ll do fine.” Mari said while fussing with my hair to make sure it was right. Of course, telling me not to worry was exactly what I didn’t need to hear. Did I look worried? Was there something I should be worried about, something I’ve overlooked?

             
“Right, don’t worry about a thing,” Avery echoed as she and Mari stopped in the hallway behind me. “Knock ‘em dead.”

             
“Wait!” I yelped, stopping in my tracks. “You’re not coming with me?”

             
Avery shook her head. “No, of course not. Anya, this is your first appearance as empress. It’s strictly a solo gig.” When I didn’t answer right away she asked me, “Do you remember the plan now? Antonio’s going to waiting near the door off the small hallway--”              

“Yeah, I got it,”
I said.
Really,
I thought,
how many times do we have to go through this?

             
“All right, then. You’re all set.”

             
I suddenly found myself rushing into their arms. Not only did I need a hug for strength, I was also overwhelmed with gratitude. Really, I don’t know what I would have done without Mari and Avery helping me every step of the way. Finally, from somewhere in this smothering group-hug I heard one of them squeak, “Anya, you’re going to be late!”

             
“Right,” I said, and let go.

             
”Well, go on, then,” Avery said with tears in her eyes, “And don’t be crying at the ball tonight, okay? You don’t want to ruin your makeup.” I nodded. “Good, then go!” She pushed me toward the darkened hallway. I continued down a few steps then looked back, but Avery and Mari were already gone.

             
I continued down the hallway, still obsessively going over everything in my head--my dance moves and their proper sequence, the names of dignitaries I’d learned after hours of matching names with photos, bright things to say to the millions of reporters I’d have to face, and so on and so on. Then miraculously, the moment my foot hit the first step of the staircase, all these thoughts vanished.

             
Each step, I took a breath that was deeper than the last. About halfway up I found myself praying to my parents to root for me, to help me get through this. When I reached the top of the staircase, I walked solemnly to the door on my right. As I reached for the handle, I heard my parents’ voices echo in my mind: “We believe in you, honey!” I smiled to myself, knowing that I would have made them proud. Then I grasped my hand onto the metal handle and pushed the door open.

             
The small hallway was dark, but my eyes soon adjusted so that all I needed was the dim light that seeped from the ballroom doors. From there I could hear the commotion of the partiers over soft music. At the edge of the hallway, right where Avery said he would be standing, stood Antonio, all gussied up in his finest tux. On the other side of the staircase stood Barnes, who looked just as dashing. I walked down the three steps, slowly made my way down the small corridor, and when I reached the edge I tapped Antonio on the shoulder.

             
He looked up for a moment and did a double-take as he gazed at me. “You look amazing,” Antonio whispered, then he cleared his throat, bowed slightly, and added, “Your Majesty.”

             
I rolled my eyes. “Thank you, Antonio, but I told you, you don’t have to call me that.”

             
He smiled uncertainly. “No, you told me not to call you ‘Your Highness,’ but I read that now that you’re a tsarina, it’s a different title, ‘Your Majesty.’”

“No ‘Your Highness,’ no ‘Your Majesty,’ it’s just Anya or An or Hey You
--okay?” I looked at him with pleading eyes until he seemed to deflate.

“Al
l right, fine. God, Anya, you ruined my fun. I practiced saying it all afternoon.”

             
That made even Barnes laugh--not a mean accomplishment.

             
I gave Antonio a consoling pat on the shoulder as I peered through the gap in the doorway. “Where’s--” I began, but he already knew what I was about to say.

             
“He’s down there, standing at the first landing. He’s all set.” Antonio turned to me. “Are you?”

I nodded. As ready as I ever would be.

              Antonio made a quick signal to Terrence, who in turn signaled the band to stop playing. The moment that he did, the commotion of the party came to a sudden halt. Then I heard Terrence’s mellifluous voice on a microphone announce,
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I now present to you Her Majesty, Anya Maria Nikolaevna Alexandrova, the Tsarina of Russia.”
Then the trumpets began their fanfare. I took a last deep breath as I walked out to the top of the staircase.

             
Once I made it there I turned and looked down at the whole crowd. I felt my feet go down every step very carefully, so as to not fall. Not one of the guests had a clue how difficult it is to descend a staircase without looking at your feet. The trick is making sure they never realize for one moment just how hard it was. Yes, everyone was staring at me, but this time I was actually enjoying it! I liked knowing that this was my moment. By the time I reached the first landing, my confidence was at its peak.

             
And there stood Kevin in his tux, his hair slightly gelled back, looking at me not as if I was the Tsarina of Russia, but as if I was the only person in the room. And I couldn’t help but smile as he grinned and gave me his arm. Once I latched onto it we descended the next flight of stairs, confident yet laser-focused on each step we took. When our feet finally landed on solid floor, I knew the hard work was over and the fun was about to begin.

             
I whispered to Kevin, “I didn’t fall this time!”

             
“What do you want a crown?” he whispered back. “Oh, that’s right you already have one.” Then his smile faltered. “Quick, look serious. LaGard’s right there.”

             
When we slipped past LaGard we put on funereal faces, then dropped the act as we continued to the dance floor. The trumpets stopped playing and the whole room fell quiet as we got into position. I felt Kevin’s hand softly press against my waist as he pulled me forward. I placed one arm on his shoulder and the other in his own hand. Then I placed my body up against his and heard him whisper in my ear, “You ready?”