Queen of Someday (20 page)

I feel my face harden. Curse that red-haired trollop. I would see her head on a pike for this.

“I assure you, nothing happened with Alexander. Even the court physician tested my virtue—”

“At my aunt’s insistence. Because she knew of your shame!”

I struggle to hold my composure. Trying to think of what I can say that will calm his temper, but there is nothing, no comfort I can offer him.

“I love her,” he says plainly. “I love Elizavetta, and I will have her as my wife.”

My patience flees like a shadow chased away by the sun, and I lash out.

“What’s done is done, Peter. I am your wife now, and there is no changing that. All I can offer is a fresh beginning, for both of us. If you love her, I will… be understanding of that. But make no mistake; she cannot be your wife, not so long as I’m alive.”

He lowers his chin. Approaching me quickly, he grabs me by the throat.

“Then I will just have to kill you,” he says with a wicked smile.

“The empress will never forgive you,” I gasp. “She will declare you mad and choose another heir.”

Just as the darkness creeps into my vision and I’m sure he has killed me, he releases me and I fall to my knees, gasping.

“You are right about that much at least. She has no love for me. Only Elizavetta loves me.”

I reach forward, putting a hand on his leg.

“I could grow to love you, Peter. If we could find a way to be kind to each other…”

He looks down at me and for a moment, I think I see his face soften, then he kicks out, catching me in the shoulder, and sends me flying backwards. I curl up quickly, afraid he will attack me again.

“No, you are unworthy of me. This is what will happen now. I will not touch you, not this night or any other. I will continue my liaisons with Elizavetta. In a few months, I will go to my aunt, and explain to her that, despite my best husbandly efforts, you are surely barren and unable to provide the heir she so desperately needs. I will have you set aside, sent to a convent for the rest of your life, and then I will take Elizavetta as my wife.”

I’m so appalled that I can’t speak. Not because of his cruelty, but because of the wisdom in his plan. He could do it; he could have me declared barren. Though I doubt the empress would go to the effort to send me to a convent. She would just have me killed. But not before punishing me in any way she can think of for disappointing her.

I feel the tears slide from my eyes as he laughs and crawls into bed. He barely makes it under the covers before he passes out cold.

For a while, I just sit on the cold, stone floor, gasping for breath between sobs. What could I do now? What was I left with?

I find my feet and stagger to my window, throwing it open so the breeze can blow in. I glance over my shoulder at Peter. He’s snoring loudly in his drunken stupor. I had hoped we could at least be friends, but I see now that is impossible. We will be bitter rivals, enemies sharing the same cold bed, until one of us is dead. As I stare at his face, peaceful in slumber, I wonder if I could do it. If I could press a pillow over his face until—

No. I shake the thought away.

Don’t let them make you something that you’re not. Alexander’s words echo through my mind.

I swallow and turn back to the window, my heart heavy with thoughts of my bleak future.

Then I see him, crossing the meadow in the darkness, like an answer to my prayers. Perhaps, there is a solution after all. Perhaps, there is still hope for me yet.

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I throw on a long, white cloak from the wardrobe in my chamber and creep from the apartment. The noise from the party floors below covers my escape. I keep the hood low, my chin down, as I race through the halls. My heart races, a new vision appearing in my mind, a vision where I find my speck of happiness, where not only do I survive this dangerous game, but I am the victor.

My feet are bare on the stone floor as I head for the back entrance of the palace, waiting in a dark alcove until I see him enter, slinking in from the shadows. His dark hair is tousled, but in a handsome way, the stubble along his jaw freshly trimmed. As he passes, I reach out and grab his arm, drawing him into the darkness with me.

At first, he’s startled, then concerned.

“Sophie, are you all right? What are you doing out here?”

I pull him close as a maid passes, not seeing us.

“Sergei, I saw you from my window. Please, I need to speak with you privately. It’s urgent.”

He blinks, and then checks to make sure the coast is clear before leading me off to the south corridor, to an empty bedroom.

“What has happened?” he asks, taking my hands.

“Peter is in love with Elizavetta,” I say flatly. “He wants me to be declared barren and sent away so he can marry her.”

His face fills with confusion, then, as he works through what I’ve said, he frowns.

“What do you need from me? Should I fetch Alexander?” he asks, his voice tight with resignation.

I shake my head slowly. Alexander is married—and to my dear friend—with a child on the way. Perhaps it was not the life he hoped for once, but there is joy in it for him, and I would not take it from him for anything.

“I was not thinking of Alexander,” I answer slowly.

I reach up, taking the cord that fastens the cloak around my neck and tugging at it, letting it fall in a white pool at my feet. Standing there, the only light in the room coming from the bright moonlight streaming through the windows, in just my pink gown, I stretch my neck, showing him the marks where Peter put his hands on me.

With a gasp, he steps forward, touching my neck with just the tips of his fingers.

“Sergei, my champion, you told me once that I might find some small measure of joy in this life. And I know you are right. I feel it when we are together. When I see you, my heart feels safe. You are the only man I trust completely, the only man I wish to be with this night.”

I look up at him, allowing the truth of my words to fill my voice and shine in my eyes.

“Tell me, Sergei, will you do this for me?”

His eyelids lower just a bit, his breathing heavy.

“I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, my clever, brave Snow Queen.”

I smile slyly. I cannot imagine a better man to have in my arms or at my side as I continue on this dangerous journey. And if it should be his child who someday sits on the throne of Russia, how much better the place would be for it.

“Then kiss me now. Let this night be the beginning of our joy,” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He says nothing, but lowers his lips to mine, his stubble scratching at my face pleasantly. I feel a warmth spreading inside me, a slow boil under my skin. His kisses begin gently, but become increasingly urgent. His hand slides up my back and into my hair and I let go, losing myself in the feel of his hands, the scent of his skin like fresh pine. A familiar ache grows in my belly, and I know that there will be no pain this night—there is far too much else to feel. He lifts me, carrying me to the bed, where he sets me gently.

“Are you certain?” he asks, his voice hard, as though barely able to contain itself.

I nod and pull him to me. The last of his restraint gone, he begins to undress as I watch him, stopping him occasionally to run a hand along the muscles rippling in his stomach, back, and shoulders. When he is finally free of his clothes, he turns his full attention to me. The boil inside me becomes a torrent of pleasure and pain, and I feel myself writhe with his every touch.

Hours later, I lay in his arms, safe and content in a way I have never felt before. He traces my belly button with his finger.

“You should get back to your room before the sun rises,” he whispers.

I take his hand in mine.

“Only if you make me a promise,” I challenge.

He smiles, kissing my neck. “Anything.”

“Promise me that you will never leave me,” I say earnestly. Now that I’ve given myself to him, to my feelings for him, I never want to lose him. I never want to be alone again.

“I promise. Tomorrow, when you leave for Oranienbaum, I will be right there at your side. And every day after that.”

“And every night?” I ask coyly.

His answer is a deep, long kiss.

***

By the time the sun rises, I’m back in my nuptial apartment, packing my trunks. Peter wakes with a grunt as his servants arrive to get him dressed. I’m already bathed and in my yellow gown.

“Wake up, husband,” I say merrily as our breakfast is brought in.

He groans, staring at me with one eye open.

“Your aunt will be here soon. And the maids need to make the bed.”

He rolls out of bed, holding his head in one hand.

“Why are you so cheerful?” he demands. “I’ve not forgotten our conversation last night.”

I smile sweetly. “I know, and I’m sorry you feel that way. But I thought that perhaps, after what happened between us later in the evening, that you had reconsidered your plan.”

He looks confused. I point to the bed he’s just vacated, and to the small bloodstain on the sheets.

“I didn’t…” he stammers. “We never—”

I hold up a hand. “I know you were quite intoxicated, but don’t worry, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.” I put my hands on my belly. “And who knows, perhaps we already have a little prince or princess on the way.”

I turn to Elizavetta, who has just come into the room. She looks at the bed in abject horror, her eyes shifting to Peter accusingly.

“Please see that those sheets are washed,” I say, then blow a kiss over my shoulder to Peter, who looks as if I’ve struck him.

The empress rushes in behind her, ecstatic to see the bed in such disarray.

“Everything went well?” she asks pointedly.

I nod, tugging down my long sleeve to conceal the small cut in my palm I’d used to bloody the sheets.

“Everything went perfectly,” I say with a wide smile. For the first time, when I look at the empress, I don’t see an imposing figure or a fierce queen. I see a sad woman, terrified of losing a throne that was never rightfully hers. Her heir is a rude, cruel little boy who will never have a lick of real military or political sense. And I realize that she needs me, much more than she would like me to know. And I also realize that the power in our relationship has shifted. She must see the discovery in my eyes as I stand, unwavering, before her, because she slouches just a bit under my gaze.

I clap my hands and my ladies rush to my side, one placing my new crown upon my head. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a lesson with Sergei.”

I turn and walk out of the room, not bothering to look back.

The End: Book One

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