Queen of Someday (3 page)

“Oh,” I say flatly.

King Fredrick of Germany had been overjoyed at the prospect of my sitting on the throne when we stopped for a visit in Berlin on our way here. He sees it as a way to secure an alliance, Mother sees it as a way to regain her lifestyle, and I see it as the only alternative to marrying my Uncle Edward.

She points the feather quill at me. “Make no mistake, Sophia, this union is a political alliance sanctioned by the king himself. And if you are successful in securing the prince’s hand in marriage, our family will be rewarded with wealth enough to rival the most prestigious noble’s in Berlin.”

I freeze. The thought of facing this task alone is beyond daunting. Dread shoots up my back like spikes.

“Will you go back then? Back to Prussia?”

She pauses, then sets down the pen and holds her hands out to me. I step forward and take them. “Sweet child. I will never leave you. For as long as you need me by your side, I will remain. Even if it means living with these monstrous Russian winters.”

I smile, relief flooding through me. Mother might be shallow and, at times, callous, but what she does, she does for me and for our family. It’s easy to forget that sometimes.

She sends me off to bed; the warm blankets and soft pillows soothe me into an instant slumber. All too soon, I see the first rays of daylight sneaking through the slit in the curtains. The maid from last night rushes in and throws them open, flooding the room with warmth and light. I sit up, rubbing my eyes.

“Thank you,” I mutter. “I’m sorry; I’ve forgotten your name.”

The maid curtsies. “Isobel, my lady.”

“Thank you, Isobel. Is the seamstress here yet?”

“She only just arrived.”

“Thank you,” I say, throwing back the blankets. Isobel gathers them and begins making the bed as I step out into the foyer.

There are three trunks of gowns, all open and overflowing as Mother and the seamstress bicker. As soon as I enter, the seamstress bows her neck.

“My lady.”

I nod. “What is all this?”

“Fifteen gowns,” Mother says, throwing her hands in the air dramatically. “You are getting fifteen new gowns.”

I step forward. “That’s wonderful.”

Mother snorts in disagreement. “No, it’s barely enough to replace what we lost. And I am only getting nine.”

I don’t remind her that we only had four gowns between us, and that they were mysteriously destroyed. Or that all four were old and had been remade at least half a dozen times already.

Instead, I turn to the seamstress. “The empress is too generous. We are grateful.”

The seamstress smiles and motions for me to come to her. She appraises me thoughtfully.

“You are about the size of my daughter, lucky enough. She often stands for me to try new fabrics and styles on. And your coloring, the brown hair and dark blue eyes, you will look lovely in most colors. I’m so glad. Only last week we had to work for a lady with hair orange as fire and pale skin. There were so few colors we could put her in that didn’t make her look sick.”

She prattles on under the watchful eye of my mother as she discusses patterns, bustle sizes, and sashes. I just close my eyes, lift my arms when told to, and let them choose. There’s a sharp tap at the door and the steward comes in, a large box in his arms. He sets it on the floor and backs up.

“A gift from Lord Salkov.”

Mother shoos the steward out and opens the box, pulling out a lovely pink-and-black lace gown. The style is French, a low bodice and tight sleeves. Compared to anything else I’ve ever had, it’s downright scandalous. Yet, I remember seeing many ladies dressed in similar styles in Berlin and the idea of wearing it, looking so grown up, makes my heart pound. The notion of Sergei admiring me in it makes my heart pound harder.

Mother holds it up to herself and grins wildly. “It’s just lovely. I think I’ll go put it on.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s for the princess. See the cut of the waist? It’s far too narrow for you,” the seamstress says, not looking up from her work.

Frowning, Mother drapes the gown over her arm. “Insolent girl. The gown is obviously for me.”

I shrug, “Maybe he’s put a note in the box?”

Mother walks to the box and pulls a tiny scrap of paper out, reading it aloud.

“‘Since you have no gown to wear today, please accept this humble gift.’ It’s signed Sergei Salkov. It doesn’t say who it’s for.”

I point to her bedchamber. “You have the gown you were wearing yesterday. I have no gown at all,” I say simply.

She glares at me. “I can’t wear that. It’s filthy.”

The seamstress looks up at me with sympathy in her eyes.

“Well, then I suppose I will have to meet the empress naked. I’m sure she will understand, Mother. I mean, it wouldn’t make her think less of me—of my fitness to marry her nephew—to meet her like this, don’t you think? Yes, I’m sure she will understand.”

I hold my breath. I’ve never employed this particular tactic with her before, and I’m not sure how she will react. I’ve put her vanity against her plotting as I’ve seen my father do so many times. It’s always a risk. Sometimes, she would react with a quiet acceptance of his will. Other times, she simply tightened her mouth into a line and left, scheming behind his back until she achieved her goals.

She stares at me for a second before tossing the gown on the seat beside me.

“You are quite right, of course. A kind gift though it is, I will simply have to let you borrow it for the day. I’m sure Sergei will understand.”

And with that, she spins on her heel and heads into her bedchamber, closing the door behind her. On her knees in front of me, the seamstress smiles widely and winks at me.

The maid is helping me into my gown when the steward arrives with a request from the empress to join her for breakfast in her private chambers. Mother, dressed and leaving her room for the first time since her tantrum, accepts the invitation graciously and helps Isobel finish buttoning the dress. Behind me, Mother drapes something across my neck. Catching a glimpse of it in the mirror as she fastens the clasp, I gasp softly. It’s one of the few jewels her family passed down to her, and one of her prized possessions. A dozen black-onyx teardrops dangle from a strand of black beads at the base of my neck. The stones are warm against my skin and I wonder if she’s been holding them all this time, debating whether to put them on me or wear them herself. Apparently, her desire to put me on the throne is greater than her own vanity—which is something I won’t soon forget.

After all, Johanna of Holsein-Gottorp was born a princess, the great-granddaughter of the King of Denmark, but after being forced to marry a man beneath her rank, she lost nearly everything. The jewels were all she had, the last link to the bright future that had—in her mind—been stolen from her. Now, with an opportunity to set me on a throne, she hopes to reclaim a little bit of that future. I’m not about to complain. Not when, until the empress’ invitation arrived, she had been content to marry me off to the highest bidder, no matter how wretched the prospects might be.

And I have no doubt that if I fail in this endeavor, that is exactly the fate that I will return home to.

With that in mind, I straighten myself up, smooth my bustle, and raise my chin. Mother twists my hair into a lovely, but simple roll across my forehead and secures it with a pin. Finally ready, we follow the steward out of the room ant toward the empress’ chambers.

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The empress is surrounded by her ladies when we arrive. They are all seated around a large, mahogany table covered in food and even from her chair, I can tell she’s a head taller than the women around her are. She has wide, brilliant blue eyes, a full¸ rosy mouth, and a soft, round face. Her blonde hair is powdered not the usual white, but coal black. She takes a bite of candied pear, and my stomach turns. I realize for the first time that I haven’t eaten since the day before, and I’ve grown ravenous. As soon as we enter, Mother and I curtsy gracefully.

“Your Majesty,” we say in unison.

“Ah yes. Thank you for joining us,” she says graciously, motioning with a wave of her hand for us to take a seat. Out the corner of my eye, I see Sergei and two other men I don’t know standing in the far corner of the room. He washes a glance over me with a pleased expression, and it sends chills across my flesh. With a clap of her hands, Empress Elizabeth dismisses her ladies. I watch as the movement ruffles the large, black feather that stands upright in her hair, draping across her head and curving down the other side, caressing her pale cheek.

“I was so sorry to hear of that nasty business in on the road. I trust you are both well and unharmed?”

She glances from Mother to me, and Mother answers.

“We are quite well, Your Majesty. Though our belongings were mostly destroyed.”

“Yes, Sergei has informed me,” the empress says dryly.

I speak softly, “Thank you, Your Majesty, for being so kind as to replace our gowns.”

That earns me a slight smile as she pokes a bit of cheese with a fork and stuffs it into her mouth.

“Yes, you are too kind,” Mother adds after a moment of silence.

The empress stares at me appraisingly. Her dress is silver, trimmed with gold lace, and almost every inch of her exposed skin is covered in diamonds. Her vestige is overwhelming. It’s all I can do to meet her gaze and not look away.

“Sergei tells me you fought off the bandits single-handedly?” she asks, a wry smile turning up the edges of her lips.

Beside me, I feel Mother stiffen.

“I’m sure it had more to do with the timely arrival of your guards,” Mother offers modestly.

The empress ignores her. “Sergei tells me you fought them off with a knife? Is that true?”

I nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“That is quite—”

My mother cuts her off. “Unbecoming a lady, and I’ve told her as much. But have no worries, Your Majesty, I’m sure it was a solitary occurrence. The instinct for a child to protect their mother is a strong thing.”

The empress shoots her a withered look before turning back to me.

“I was going to say courageous. Don’t you agree, Chancellor Bestuzhev?” she asks. A dark-haired man steps forward from behind Sergei. He’s wearing a simple grey tunic, breeches with a black jacket, and a belt of gold-encrusted rubies drapes from his shoulders. It looks very similar to the blood-red stones in the empress’ tiara, a matching set of royal jewels.

He bows from the neck. “Quite courageous, Your Majesty.”

For the first time, I watch as the empress’ face softens and she smiles genuinely, sitting back and gently wiping her mouth with her linen napkin.

“And what do you have to say, Count Lestocq?”

The third man steps forward. He’s short and rotund but somehow still handsome, with flushed cheeks and warm, amber-colored eyes.

“I would say that Your Majesty has chosen well. It will take a brave wife indeed to stand next to Peter.”

His words seem to be a compliment, but there’s an underlying tone that bothers me. A feeling that the words were carefully chosen to have a secondary meaning that I do not understand.

“Yes. But of course, the decision hasn’t been made yet, Count,” Bestuzhev says curtly. “There are still many variables. The treaty for one thing—”

The empress sighs heavily and waves her hand, effectively silencing him.

“Yes, yes. The treaty. I am well aware. But I tire of politics. I want to know more about our young princess. Tell me, Sophie, what do you think of Russia so far?”

Her tone is light, but there is a weight to her words.

“Russia is beautiful, Your Majesty. I cannot wait to see it in the spring bloom. I’m sure it’s splendid to behold.”

She grins. “And do you speak Russian?”

I shake my head just a fraction. “Sadly, no. I speak German and French, and I can read and write in Latin as well. Though I hope to take up the study of the language while I’m here. My mother was just mentioning during our journey that my education would not be complete until I’ve mastered it.”

Beside me, Mother sits up a little taller, a modest grin gracing her lovely face.

“Well, it’s settled then. General Salkov can be your tutor. Beyond helping you master our beautiful language, he can also teach you the customs of court and see to your safety during your visit.”

At the word visit, Mother visibly tenses.

Just then, the door to her chamber sweeps open and Peter bounds into the room as if on horseback. Seeing me, he grins wildly, his blue eyes dancing mischievously, just as they did when he was a little boy. But his face is longer and more defined, a hint of stubble rides his jaw, and he’s gotten tall, taller than even Sergei. He bows quickly to his aunt, then to my mother, before crossing the room in two long strides and taking me by the waist, lifting me into the air, and twirling me gently before sitting me back on my feet.

“Sophie how glorious it is to see you again.”

He turns back to the empress. “I’m sorry, dear Aunt, but I could wait no longer.”

She smiles warmly and waves him off.

“How have you been? How is Prussia?” he asks quickly, ignoring my mother’s uncomfortable cough.

“Very well to both,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my face. “And you?”

He shrugs. “As well as can be expected in such deplorable conditions.” He shoots a grin over his shoulder to his aunt, who is watching us with a wistful look on her face. “I’ve had no one to play Whist with.”

I can’t suppress the laugh that follows his words.

“That’s probably because you cheat so badly.”

“I cheat quite well, thank you,” he says, combing back his golden hair with his fingers, then letting it fall back into a mound of curls.

The empress stands, and we all turn to face her.

“Tonight, there is a ball in honor of Peter’s sixteenth birthday tomorrow. I do hope you will both join us. I would be honored to introduce you to my court,” The empress offers gracefully, brushing the breadcrumbs from her bodice.

I curtsy.

“Of course, Your Majesty. We would love to attend,” Mother answers for me.

The empress turns her full attention to Mother for the first time.

“Johanna, I must admit, I was so devastated when your dear brother died before we could be wed. I have always felt that destiny was somehow subverted when our houses were not joined in marriage.”

Mother inclines her head. “I have felt that as well, Your Majesty. But I believe that destiny, and anything that is truly meant to be, will always find a way to right itself.”

Peter faces me and, bowing, takes my hand in his, bringing it gently to his lips.

“I look forward to it,” he offers with a depth in his voice, and I can’t help but wonder if he means seeing me at the ball… or something else entirely.

The empress steps forward, taking Peter’s arm, and they exit together, leaving Mother and me to return to our chambers. Within moments of returning, Sergei and Count Lestocq arrive, followed by a flurry of attendants and footmen. They bow graciously, both men looking pleased with us.

“Ladies, let me be the first to congratulate you. You have made a splendid impression with Her Majesty. She is quite taken with young Sophie,” the count offers with a grin, handing my mother a large, leather satchel.

Mother huffs, opening the sack, “Of course she is. My daughter is a rare jewel. One would have to be blind not to see her beauty and grace…” Her voice trails off as a handful of gold and silver rubles falls out into her hand. She gawks only for a moment before gathering herself, slipping the money back in the purse and looking back up at Sergei. “My daughter is worth much more than the contents of this purse.”

I blush at her words. More than once growing up, Mother had openly complained about how plain and boyish I was. To hear her speak of me so warms my heart.

“I quite agree,” the count says firmly, holding his arm out to my mother. “And I see where her beauty and grace have come from. Let me assure you, that is only the beginning of Her Majesty’s grace. Much more will follow. But for now, may I interest you in a tour of the palace, my lady?”

Her eyes light up, and then flicker hesitantly in my direction.

He continues. “Sergei is eager to begin her Russian lessons and the servants will be busy for hours preparing your gowns for this evening, far too tedious for a lady such as yourself to be forced to endure, don’t you agree?”

At his words, she tucks her chin bashfully and accepts his arm.

“You are quite right, of course. A tour would be delightful.”

As soon as they are gone, I feel the air around me thicken. Sergei is watching me with his hypnotic blue eyes and despite the other people in the room, I feel quite alone under his gaze, as if we were the only people in existence.

Finally, he raises one eyebrow. “Sophie, you are a clever girl, tell me, did you pick up on anything during your audience with the empress?”

I take a seat in the red velvet chair near the window overlooking the river.

“Well, it’s quite obvious that Chancellor Bestuzhev isn’t pleased with my arrival.”

He nods silently.

“He seems quite taken with Austria and his treaty,” I add thoughtfully. “Do you think he was behind the attack on my carriage?”

Sergei sits down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You will find there are many people here at court that fears the Prussian influence. Peter himself is so taken with King Fredrick that it’s practically all he talks about. There are those who worry that under Peter’s rule, Russia would become nothing more than a puppet to the demands of Prussia.”

I lower my chin, looking him in the eye.

“That wasn’t an answer to my question.”

He shrugs. “I have no answer to give. It’s possible, yes. I would not put it past him, but there are others as well who could have had a hand in it. I simply do not know.”

“So even here, at the palace, I’m no safer than I was in those woods. There are still powerful people who wish me gone.”

“That is true, but I did share my concerns for your safety with the empress. That is partly why she named me your tutor. I’m also your unofficial guard.”

I almost quip that being under his guard doesn’t make me feel any better, but I hold back the words because deep down, I do actually feel safer knowing he’s watching over me.

“And,” I continue as gently as possible, “it was so nice to see Peter again. Though the count’s remarks surprised me. Tell me, what kind of a man is Peter?”

For the first time, Sergei shifts in his chair, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Peter is… young. He has a great love of all things German and military. He speaks German only, so you must always address him in such, and he can be extremely short-tempered.”

I grin. “So he’s much unchanged then.”

Sergei smiles sadly. “Lestocq is right about one thing; it will take a very clever, very strong woman to rein him in. The empress knows as much. She’s not just looking for a wife for him—she’s looking for someone formidable enough to tame him.”

I take a deep breath, not daring to speak the words floating in my mind. I cannot admit, even to myself, how desperately I hope for him to fall madly in love with me. For years, I watched my parents suffer in their arranged marriage, barely tolerating each other. Is it so wrong to dream of romance and tenderness? Of love?

“And that’s not all. There are two other ladies arriving today, Lady Elizavetta and Lady Ekaterina Vorontsova. Neither is a princess, but they are from one of the wealthiest, most influential families in Russia. They’ve been asked to serve as your ladies-in-waiting while you’re here, but make no mistake, if you are found unsuitable for marriage to Peter, they will be in line behind you—and either of them is a much more suitable match for him in the eyes of the anti-Prussian movement at court.”