Queen of Someday (7 page)

Holding up his glass of wine, he says, “To Princess Sophie. The someday queen of Russia.”

The others join in and take a drink. By the time they are done, I’ve managed to recover myself, if only slightly.

“So Peter, will you stay here after your birthday celebrations are complete, or will you be off to Moscow?”

“I think I’ll remain here. My aunt has ordered the construction of a new Winter Palace. I’ve seen the plans; it makes this one look like a peasant hut.”

“That sounds amazing,” Rina says, winding a tendril of yellow hair around her finger.

“It will be,” Mikhail answers. “Would you like to see the plans? I’ve been helping the architects design the rooms. There’s one made completely of green malachite and gold.”

“That would be lovely,” she says gently.

“Have you had a tour of the palace yet?” Alexander asks, taking a bite of bread.

I shake my head, “No, and I really should. I nearly got lost just making my way to the stables this morning. Perhaps you should draw me a map.”

“I can do better than that,” Peter interrupts. “I will give you the tour today. I will show you the new theater my aunt just installed. It will be part of tonight’s festivities. And I could show you the trophy room if you’re interested.”

“That sounds wonderful. Have you added any trophies of your own yet?”

He frowns. “Most of them belong to my great uncle, but I plan to add a few of my own soon.”

I smooth my skirt. “That sounds like great fun. I do love a good hunt. Perhaps I can join you sometime.”

We wile away a few more hours in pleasant company until the sun is high in the sky and the food and wine are gone.

“I’m afraid I have an audience I must attend shortly,” Peter says, standing up and offering me a hand. “More boring treaty discussions my aunt forces me to endure.”

I stand beside him. “Of course. I’m sorry to have kept you so long,” I say with a curtsy.

He takes my hand, still in his, and brings it to his lips quickly.

“Time moves far too swiftly in your company, Princess. Perhaps I can come by later, and we can have that tour? In say, two hours or so?”

“I look forward to it,” I say honestly.

He jerks his head for Mikhail to join him, and the two walk off. Beside me, Alexander stands and offers me his arm, which I accept, and we begin walking back to the palace.

“Wouldn’t want you to get lost on the way back to your rooms,” he teases.

I sigh. “I actually have a very good sense of direction, you know.”

“Oh yes, I can see that.”

I lower my voice so the ladies following behind won’t hear. “Thank you for your advice, about Peter.”

He nods. “Anytime. I have to say, putting him off like that was brilliant. How did you know he’d come after you?”

“Just something I remember from when we were children. He always loved playing chase. And as for the ride, that was a happy accident. I really did need to clear my thoughts. That he chose to ride after me was a bit of a surprise.”

“Not much of one though?”

I shake my head. “Peter loves to play and hates to lose. I don’t think that’s changed much over the years. As you said, it’s just a game.”

“I must ask then, is your affection for him genuine?” he asks boldly.

“What a thing to ask,” I fire back. “Peter is an old friend, and possibly, might someday be my husband. Of course I have affection for him.”

“And do you love him?”

I open my mouth to say something, but come up at a loss. Do I love Peter? Perhaps. Yet when he kissed my hand, I felt… nothing. None of the longing or intensity I’ve read about in books, not even the tiny stirrings I get around Sergei and Alexander. Perhaps those things are just fiction. Perhaps love is simply trust. Alexander is staring at me intently.

“You shouldn’t ask me such things. It’s rude.”

“My apologies then.”

I lick my lips. “Besides, there are many kinds of love.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

His words are hollow, complacent. I have a nagging urge to explore the topic further, but I can’t bring myself to and I’m not sure why. Surely, he’s been in love before. Wouldn’t he know? As if sensing my questions, he continues.

“I think that love can indeed be many things. But the one thing it will never be is practical. Love is irrational by its very nature. It demands passion, fire, and no less than absolute surrender. It is a longing, a burning that consumes you, leaving you without reason, or defense. When love comes, nothing can stand in its way.”

I say nothing for a minute, letting his words absorb into my skin. Is that want I want, to be consumed by love? To have someone so desperate for me that they are beyond reason? And to be that desperate for someone else?

“That sounds… like a terrible way to die,” I decide.

Beside me, he says nothing, but we keep walking. He stops every so often to orient me inside the palace.

Finally, we reach my door. My ladies go in ahead but I stop, turning to face him. His green-gold eyes are locked on mine—full of unspoken intentions. In that moment, the distance between us seems less like a few steps and more like a great chasm, as if he were so far away that I would have to call out so he might hear my voice.

“Thank you, Alexander,” I mutter weakly.

He cocks his head to the side thoughtfully. “For what?”

My heart races again, and I am left wondering if what I felt between us had been more than just wine and dancing. Even now, here, part of me wonders what his hand would feel like on the small of my back, what his lips would taste like. I shake myself from the thoughts.

Not sure what to say, I turn and go inside without answering his question, closing the door between us. I realize that I’m flushed, breathing too quickly. It takes all my effort to drive the dark, handsome Alexander and his imaginary kisses out of my mind.

Mother is gone when we arrive. A note tells me she is in meetings with Count Lestocq all afternoon. I breathe a deep sigh of relief at her absence. The maids bring up a few bowls of hot water, and my ladies help me strip down and wash before lacing me into one of my new gowns.

“How is she creating them so quickly?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.

“The empress has an army of women down in the sewing rooms working on them,” Elizavetta says curtly. “By the end of the week, you’ll have a closet full of new gowns.”

“The empress is very kind,” I say gently.

Rina agrees. “That she is. And she’s quite fond of you.”

“Of my family,” I correct her.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s just that,” she says. “And Lord Peter certainly seems smitten.”

Elizavetta snorts, and I frown.

“Men can be quite fickle in their attentions. And quite cruel to delicate hearts,” I say, looking her in the eye. “You understand my position here, don’t you?”

Elizavetta raises her chin boldly, her words like knives. “I understand that if you are unfit to wed Peter, another must be chosen.”

I nod slowly. “And you must also realize that Peter will marry to secure an alliance, either with Prussia or Austria. Even now, there is a Saxon princess on her way to the palace to vie for his hand. Which of us wins will be determined by the empress and which country she chooses to make a treaty with. But either way, it will be one of us.”

I say the words as gently as I can, but sternly enough so she realizes she’s not a second option, but a distant third at best.

“You must understand, my lady.” Rina steps forward as Elizavetta backs away, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “Since we were children, our parents have been bringing us to court. As soon as Peter was made heir, they began grooming Elizavetta as a potential bride for him. She’s been told that she was high in his esteem. Last night at the ball, when he lavished such attention on her, she thought…”

I nod. “You thought he would go against his empress, choosing to marry for love and not politics.” I hold out my hand to Elizavetta and she takes it hesitantly, her already-round face puffy and red with emotion. “It is the dream of all women to marry a man we are deeply in love with, who is deeply in love with us. But we must also be practical.” Even as the words escape my mouth, I hear Alexander’s voice in my head.

Love is never practical.

I brush the thought aside. “Sometimes, we must learn to open our hearts and grow to love someone we think we might not be able to. It’s the lot of women, especially noble women. We are little more than property, bargaining chips, or chains that hold alliances together. That is the price we pay for our comfort, riches, and titles.”

She snatches her hand away. “But you will get both. You will get to marry a man you love, who loves you in return. What makes you so special?”

Her words are like a slap in the face. I stand and she takes a small step back, as if she thinks I might strike her.

“I assure you that if I marry Peter, I will love him because I will be his wife and that will be my duty. Not because of some silly, childish sentiment or romantic fantasies.”

She stares at me, her eyes wide.

“Then you do not love him at all.” She challenges. I’m not sure how to respond so I wave her off.

“Go down and tell the seamstress I’ve ordered you to get a new gown. Tell her you need it urgently, at my request.”

She curtsies and bolts from the room, leaving Rina and me alone. I slump down in my chair.

“I didn’t mean to be cruel,” I say softly, as Rina begins to brush my hair.

“I know, my lady. And Elizavetta will come to understand. She’s a silly girl, always imagining herself madly in love with someone or other. Once it was a stable boy named Benjamin. Father nearly had a stroke when he found out.”

“I can imagine.”

“The worst part was that the poor boy had no idea. He genuinely thought she had taken up an interest in horses.”

I laugh.

“I will try not to be too hard on her. It’s not her fault after all; Peter is a terrible flirt.”

At that, my guard enters the room. “My lady, General Salkov to see you.”

Sergei steps into the room. Though he’s only a few years older than I am, he carries himself like a true man, tall and confident. There’s a hint of stubble along his jaw still, and he bows deeply, offering me a warm smile that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners. His arms are full of books and papers.

“Princess, I thought we might continue your lessons today.”

“Of course,” I say, nodding to Rina. She takes her cue, wandering to the far corner of the room with a bit of embroidery while Sergei and I sit.

We go over a few basic greetings, he reads a few passages from Paradise Lost, and then I repeat them. He corrects me, and we repeat them again until I’ve got the pronunciation correct. When we finish, he snaps the book closed with one hand, turning his body so he is facing me, though we are sitting very close.

“It’s nice to see you, Sergei,” I say honestly. He’s one of the few people in the palace I feel like I can really trust. Even my own mother seems to be keeping something from me, not a fact, just a feeling I get when I see her scurry in and out of the chambers. But something about Sergei puts me completely at ease, as if I could tell him anything, and he would still be on my side.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but Sergei is more than a friend. He’s my ally.

“And you, Princess. I hear you’ve had an eventful morning.”

I nod. “I had a ride, and then breakfast with Peter. It was quite a surprise.” I bow my head just a bit. “And he gave me this lovely gift.”

Sergei smiles. “Good. I assume Count Lestocq told you about our expected guest from the south?”

I nod again. “He did.”

“Sophie, there are a few things we need to discuss. First, before you can marry Peter, there are a few matters you must attend to.”

“Like what?”

“Foremost, you will need to convert to the Orthodox Church.”

I feel a wave of nausea wash over me. My father is a devout Lutheran. My whole family is, myself included. It was the only thing he asked of me when he agreed to allow me to travel here, that I keep his faith. To convert would be like turning my back on him. I lower my head into my hands.

“Is there no other way?”

He reaches his hand out and places it on the back of my neck. His touch is firm but gentle, his hands soft but strong. Even though he’s very warm, the places where he touches me are chilled.

“They aren’t such different faiths. Fundamentally the same actually. I will have Bishop Todorskey come speak to you. He confesses the empress herself. Perhaps he can ease your worries.”

I look up at him. His green eyes are deep with concern.

“My father will never speak to me again if I do this.”

“And you know what will happen if you refuse.”

I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe in and out calmly. The reminder is unnecessary. I know well the cost of my failure. My family’s name, their very existence, is at stake, and it weighs on my shoulders every moment.

“What else?”

He sits back, releasing me.

“There is a matter of some delicacy in the next two things. The first is a test. The court physician must verify… your virtue.”

I feel my mouth drop open.

“Verify how?”

He flushes, looking down at his boots.

“It is a procedure that all potential royal wives must endure. You cannot come to the royal bed unless you are fully intact. I’d hoped to have your mother discuss this with you, but she seems quite occupied. It’s a simple thing, really.”

“It sounds awful.”

“Don’t be afraid, Sophie. You know I would never harm you or allow anyone else to harm you. You trust me in this, don’t you?”

I stare at him for a minute. He had risked his life to ride out and protect me, late though he was, and he was here now, preparing me for the things that must be done.

“I do,” I say finally.

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. The final thing you will do, well, they are lessons of a sort. With Madame Groot.”

“What kind of lessons? Language?”

“No. Something of a more personal nature. The empress herself has demanded it. You see, she needs not just an heir for herself, but to secure the dynasty, she needs Peter to have an heir also, and as quickly as possible.”

I blink rapidly.

“I don’t understand.”

“There are ways… for a woman to…” He stops, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. “Lord, how I wish I didn’t have to say these things—not to you. Madame Groot is going to tutor you in the wifely arts.”

At his words, I leap to my feet.

“What sickness is this? You would have me trained as a whore? Is Russian court so depraved? I will not consent. Not to this. How humiliating.”

He stands, taking my arms in his hands and stepping close.

Too close. Our bodies are nearly pressed together. I can feel his breath on my face and neck and it feels—good. Too good, I realize. I put a hand on his chest to steady myself, and I can feel his own heartbeat pick up speed under my fingers. My heart jumps as he whispers into my hair.

“Learning to please your husband is not depraved or sick. A man has needs. If you cannot meet them, he will tire of you quickly. I assure you, the lessons will be academic, not practical. Many young ladies have tutored with Madame Groot, and none have been shamed by it. But you are young, beautiful, and naïve to the wiles you possess, to the way even your subtle gestures and words affect the men around you. Your feminine nature will be one of your greatest weapons, but it must be honed, and you must be taught to wield it.”

I look up at him, our faces only inches apart. Why do all these Russian men have to be so devastatingly, frustratingly handsome?

“You speak of me as if I possess a sword, and swing it recklessly.” My voice cracks, unable to contain the tidal wave rolling in my belly.

“You are the sword,” he whispers, releasing me and stepping back. I nearly stumble, because my legs have gone weak. I have to turn away from him, wrapping my arms around myself to calm my shaking.

“Fine. See to it then,” I say, managing with great effort to hold my voice steady.

“And you will be attending the banquet tonight, I presume?”

I nod, my back still to him.

“Of course.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

I slide my hands down my bodice before turning back to him.

He hesitates, a flush rising to his cheeks. “Perhaps, you might consider the red gown this evening. The color flatters you greatly.”

“I will consider it. Thank you.”

He clicks his heels together and bows, leaving the room slowly, pausing once to glance back at me. As soon as he’s out the door, I relax and Rina hurries to my side.

“He’s right, you know, about Madame Groot,” she offers, pouring me a glass of wine and holding it out to me.

I raise an eyebrow, and she blushes. “She’s well known and very respected at court. Her husband was a great general and when he passed away, she took many lovers. Eventually, the wealthy and privileged began to seek out her counsel on everything from infertility to how to guarantee a child would be male.”

“It seems like everything here at court is managed in some way or another,” I say before taking a sip. “I dislike being managed.”

She smiles bashfully, her slender face flushing.

‘I assume you overheard everything?” I ask lightly. She blushes again and nods softly. “Good. I need someone who knows when to keep their ears open. So you know I have some competition arriving tomorrow. Princess Charlotte of Saxony. “

“And she seeks a marriage as well?”

“She does. And more than that, Chancellor Bestuzhev will be pressing for it. He is close to the empress, and she relies heavily on his counsel.” I sit and motion for her to do the same. “Of course, I have Sergei on my side, and that is a great advantage. But perhaps not quite enough.”

“Sergei has the empress’ ear, surely. They were lovers once, though now just friends.”