Queen of Someday (16 page)

When I return to my room, a gift from the empress is waiting for me. A large, sky blue box with a silver bow. For a terrible moment, I wonder it Alexander’s head is inside. My fingers tremble as I pull away the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside are two golden, oval frames, one holding a painting of myself, the other a painting of Peter. The frames are inlaid with diamonds and rubies. I stare at his image; the artist certainly captured his mischievous smile, the squint of his eyes, even the soft wave of his golden hair. I feel the anger rising up inside me again, and it’s all I can do to hold it at bay.

My valet pushes the door open.

“The Grand Duke Peter is here for you, Princess.”

I nod, and Peter steps into the room. He’s dressed in his formal uniform suit, dark blue with gold buttons and embroidery. A thick, light blue sash crosses his chest, covered in medals and pins of the finest jewels.

He bows deeply.

“Princess, you look lovely today.”

I curtsy.

“I would say the same, Peter. You look like such a handsome general; I fear I will pale in comparison standing next to you.”

He grins at the flattery.

“My ladies seem to have disappeared today,” I complain. “Would you be so kind as to help me into my jewels?”

He bows his head and I take him by the arm, leading him into my private room, where everything is laid out on the table as I’d left it.

“Would you mind helping me choose what to wear?” I ask softly.

He steps forward, picking up the tiara he gave me and setting it on my head. Then he chooses the diamond necklace and one pin, affixing it to my own blue sash. Though the jewels are minimal compared to what he’s wearing, I offer him a flirtatious smile, which he returns warmly.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, leading me back to the outer chamber.

“A bit,” I say sheepishly. “My stomach is in knots.”

That’s true. My stomach is rolling like a ship at sea, but not because I’m excited, only because I’m anxious to see if the empress has kept her word, and kept Alexander safe. My mother steps out of her chamber in a gown very similar to mine, and offer Peter a formal curtsy.

“My Lord,” she says.

He acknowledges her briefly, turning back to me.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says with a wink. “I will be beside you the entire time.”

I try to smile, to feign encouragement at his words, but inside I can’t help feeling disappointed.

Taking my arm, he leads us down the hall to where the empress waits, along with the bishop and the synod, and most of the senate, who have traveled from Moscow for the event. Sergei is there as well, right at the empress’ side. He smiles at me, an expression of pride and encouragement, as he steps in line behind the empress.

Her gown is the largest I’ve ever seen, jutting out from her hips and accentuating her tiny waist. She wears a tall crown and the imperial mantle about her shoulders. Draped in sashes and ribbons, dripping with diamonds, she begins the procession, Peter and I behind her, my mother and Sergei behind us, and the rest of the group following them. Mikhail is there, but my ladies—and Alexander—are conspicuously absent. I almost ask Peter about him, but I can’t seem to force his name past my lips. So I hold my head up, smiling softly, as we walk through the crowded halls and down the majestic staircase.

We walk through the rotunda and across the grounds, the procession flanked by guards carrying a tall, silver canopy above us as we move. The square is filled with men of the guard regiments, as well as people from the town who have come to see us and witness the news. Beside me, Peter is stoic, not a trace of humor on his face. I try to remain the same, though I do wave subtly to a group of small children as we pass, making them squeal with joy.

We reach the cathedral just as the sun begins to set behind it, illuminating the whole scene in golden light as it bounces off the tall spires. Inside, we are led down the aisle, flanked by visiting nobles on each side, and approach the red velvet-covered dais. The empress reaches out to the archbishop in his long, black robes, and sets two small rings in his hand. She then turns and takes her place to Peter’s left. Our hands still clasped, we approach the archbishop and kneel at his feet.

He begins with a prayer before reading the official announcement of our engagement. He hands Peter one ring and me the other. We say our pledges—Peter in German and mine in Russian—and take turn placing the rings on each other’s fingers. Another blessing is said and the archbishop steps aside, making room for Count Lestocq, who unrolls a small scroll and reads it aloud. It’s an imperial decree granting me the rank of grand duchess and the title, Imperial Highness. I’m not expecting the honor so I don’t look up, even when the archbishop returns, laying a hand on my head. Beside me, I feel Peter shift uncomfortably before he takes my hand again and pulls me to my feet. We turn, and the chapel erupts in cheers and clapping. The empress turns, leading us out of the cathedral and back to the palace where the musicians have already begun to play.

Long tables overflowing with food and drink fill the palace. The empress takes her place at the head of the first table, instructing Peter and I to take seats to her left and right. I quickly down a glass of wine and a plate of beef. I scan the crowd, looking for a familiar face, but find none, save Sergei, who is chatting with some of the Senators.

The empress leans over and whispers to me.

“You did well today. I have a gift for you.”

I frown, trying to look humble rather than revolted.

“Thank you, but you have given me far too much already.”

She claps her hands and the sea of people part. Alexander strides into the room, Rina at his side. They approach the empress and bow.

She stands, her voice silencing the masses.

“I am so pleased to announce the marriage of Alexander Mananov and Lady Ekaterina Vorontsova.”

She claps, and the others in the hall applaud too. I feel my face fall into a stunned expression, quickly followed by one of abject horror, all before I can recover myself.

Peter laughs, pounding the table with his fist.

“Alexander, you dog, I had no idea.”

Alexander bows his head, not looking at me.

“It happened quite quickly,” he mutters.

The empress smiles down.

“Yes, they came to me only this morning, seeking my blessing, which I gave. Of course, they wished to marry immediately, and I hadn’t the heart to make them wait, so I sent them off to a small chapel outside the city.”

She salutes them with her glass of wine.

“To the happy couple,” she says merrily.

Others join in on the toast, but I can’t move. It takes every ounce of my restraint to sit there, unspeaking and unmoving, as people around me cheer. The room spins, the air becoming hot as an oven, and I have to drain my glass of wine just to stifle the heat.

Alexander finally glances up, his eyes meeting mine, and my stomach rolls painfully, threatening to return the food I just ate. His expression is neutral, though his eyes—his beautiful, green-gold eyes—swirl like the ocean. The empress waves her hand.

“Please, indulge us by leading the first dance,” she commands. Alexander bows and takes Rina by the hand, leading her to the dance floor.

As soon as the empress sits back down, I lean over, opening my mouth to excuse myself back to my room. She looks over at me sharply.

“I have fulfilled my promise,” she mutters, taking a drink. “He is unharmed, though he will no longer be a distraction.”

I feel her words like daggers in my heart. I admit I’m relieved to see him alive but this, this is so much worse somehow. To know that she forced him to marry another, and not just anyone, but my dear friend. It’s as if my heart is cracking into a million pieces, shattered glass in my chest. If a person can die from a broken heart, surely I am not long for this world.

She drops her voice to a whisper. “Now, you will fulfill your promise. You will marry Peter and give him heirs. Because if you do not, the suffering you endure this night will seem like a fond memory. Do you understand?”

I nod.

“Should you fail or falter in any way,” she adds, nodding to where Rina and Alexander stand on the floor, arm in arm, “others shall pay the price.”

All night, I sit at that table, trying to think of some way to speak to him, to both of them, without the empress seeing. But she’s watching me like a hawk, and I dare not step a toe out of line.

When things finally begin winding down, I excuse myself to my room. By then, Peter is much too drunk to care but the empress snaps her fingers and waves to Sergei.

“Sergei, the grand duchess is tired and feeling light-headed from the wine. Would you be so kind as to escort her to her room?”

He grins and bows.

“Of course, Your Majesty. It would be my honor.”

He offers me his arm, and I take it. Alexander and Rina have long since departed and I can’t help wondering if they are together, sharing their marriage bed as we would have. I sicken at the thought.

I’m so lost in my morbid thoughts that I don’t notice when Sergei makes a wrong turn and we end up far from my room. It’s only when he pats my hand and I look up, shaken from my shallow trance, that I see where we are.

“You have ten minutes,” he whispers, leaning forward and kissing my forehead softly before releasing me.

I blink and turn around. The door to the secret room looms in front of me. My hand trembles as I reach out and push it open. Alexander rushes me, pushing the door closed quickly and pulling me into his arms. I feel myself sag against him, tears coming before the relief even sets in.

“I was so worried about you,” I say in a rush, pulling back so I can kiss his face. “I was so afraid she was going to have you killed.”

He presses his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as if in prayer.

“She sent for Rina right after they took me away. She gave us an option, either we would marry, or she would have you killed in your sleep.”

I choke on a sob.

“And she told me if I didn’t marry Peter, she’d have you killed.”

I’m shaking all over.

“Shhh, it’s all right,” he coos, holding me tightly against him. “I’m here now.”

I let him hold me only for a moment longer before I pull away, wiping my eyes with my sleeves.

“She has made it very clear what she will do to you, to both of us, if this is discovered,” I say firmly. He sits on the bench, looking so helpless and defeated.

“I don’t care,” he whispers.

“Yes, you do. And so do I. Besides,” my voice wavers, threatening to betray me, “Rina is a wonderful, kind, sweet girl. She deserves better than to be a pawn in the empress’ sad little games.”

He blinks up at me.

“What are you saying?”

I take a breath, forcing the air into my lungs like swallowing fire.

“I’m saying, she is your wife. That cannot be undone, and it cannot be ignored.”

He leaps to his feet, taking my face in his hands.

“I do not love her, you know that. My heart is yours; it always has been and it always will be.”

He sounds so determined, so sincere. I feel even more fissures crack in the seams of my heart, but I press on.

“You must be her husband,” I say sadly. “You must love her, as best as you can. She deserves happiness, no matter how small. And so do you.”

He shakes his head to protest, but I stop him with a kiss. It’s soft, slow, and full of regret. When I pull away this time, he doesn’t try to stop me.

“I can offer you nothing but misery and suffering. She can give you a life, a family. Don’t push her away on pain of my love, for I could not bear it.”

He frowns.

“And you? What will you have?”

I feel my resolve waver only for a moment, my hesitation replaced by ice and steel. I am Helen, if she had been of greater courage, and I will keep the people I love safe. Even if that means letting them go.

“I will have what I’ve always had, myself. And I will have a lifetime worth of sweet memories to keep me warm at night. Don’t weep for me, my love. Live your life in joy, and know that if I could have lived it with you, I would have.”