Queen of Someday

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Queen of Someday Page 2

by Sherry D. Ficklin


  The sound my mother makes when I step back into sight near the road is somewhere between relief and exasperation. Beside her, two royal guards are trying to reload the toppled trunks of gowns, but she turns and orders them to stop. I look over and see that each dress, so carefully refitted and repurposed, has been shredded. Surely, the bandits didn’t do such a thing?

  “Leave them. They have been utterly destroyed.” She turns to me, wearing an expression of shock and indignation, “Can you imagine? Bandits? What a dreadful thing. Thank heavens Her Majesty thought to send us a royal escort or we would both be dead!”

  Her face flushes as her voice raises pitch. No doubt, she is thinking even now how this tragedy might be used to her advantage. Her head snaps back to me, as if she’s really looking at me for the first time.

  “My heavens, Sophie! Where are your clothes? Did that horrible man…?” She doesn’t finish the sentence. I know where her mind is spinning off to. If he had touched me in any way, I would be ruined. Sullied and unfit to marry the prince.

  “No, Mother. I only fell in some thick mud. I had to rid myself of the gown in order to escape.”

  She lowers her chin and appraises me carefully, as if she could see the damaged virtue like a spot on her favorite table linen. Finally, she nods, accepting me at my word. Beside me, Sergei slips off his coat and drapes it over my shoulders. It’s warm and soft and smells vaguely like the winter pine of my homeland.

  “Here you go, Princess. You must have a terrible chill. Would you like us to make a fire for you to warm yourself before we continue to the palace?”

  His voice is tender, the way a person might speak to a child. I’m not sure why, but it unsettles me. Perhaps it is pride, but I don’t like it at all.

  “I’m quite all right, I assure you. I think my mother would be quite pleased to ride on ahead. No need to make a fuss.” I pause. “And please, call me Sophie.”

  He bows his head. “As you wish, Sophie.”

  He barks orders to his men, who form a tight ring around the carriage with their horses.

  “Are you quite certain those bandits won’t come back?” Mother asks as she hikes up her skirts and climbs back into the sled.

  Sergei smiles, winking at me behind her back. I catch his eye, and a small warmth forms in my belly.

  “I’m quite sure they are gone. And should we be set upon again, I’m sure young Sophie will defend your honor.”

  I can’t help but grin at his words. I carefully climb in behind Mother, and Sergei follows me.

  “In any case, I shall ride here with you—for your protection, of course.”

  Mother shrugs indifferently, and Sergei takes a seat beside me.

  “They destroyed all our lovely gowns,” Mother begins, not meeting his eyes. “We will need new ones. And since this attack occurred on Her Majesty’s road—”

  Sergei waves her off as if it’s nothing. “Yes, of course. I will let the empress know the situation. I’m sure she will make recompense.”

  Mother nods and sits back, closing her eyes as the carriage rolls into motion.

  Sergei leans over to me, his voice a whisper.

  “Where did you learn to handle a knife like that?”

  Mother answers, her eyes still closed, but her nose wrinkling up in disgust as she speaks.

  “Her father let the child run quite wild during our time in Settin. Too indulgent, I always told him so. Young ladies should be taught to sing and sew, not to fight and swing a sword. Still, dangerous times he would say. Posh. To this day, the girl can’t sew a straight line and her singing voice is just awful.” As if suddenly aware she was articulating all the wrong things to a man who, for all she knew, had the ear of the empress, she sits up starkly, opening her eyes. “That is, Princess Sophia’s strength lies in other accomplishments. She can play the piano quite well, she can read Latin, and she is in every way a true Lady of Prussia.”

  “I quite agree,” Sergei says gently. Mother nods and rests back again. Within minutes, she’s snoring gently.

  Even under the warmth of his coat, I’m shivering. I hope Sergei doesn’t notice the uncontrollable shaking as we bounce along. After a few minutes, he takes my hands in his. I open my mouth to protest, but he brings my fingers to his mouth and blows on them. The warmth of his breath feels so good against my frozen skin that I almost sigh in relief. He repeats the process a few times, blowing my hands and then rubbing them with his. All the while, I’m watching his face. It’s not a romantic gesture, yet it’s strangely intimate. I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this before, not by a man—and a terribly handsome man at that. My heart races in my chest, making me warm with flush.

  “Better?” he asks finally.

  I nod, taking my hands back reluctantly and folding them in my lap. “Yes. Thank you.”

  He grins. “So, tell me about yourself, Princess.”

  The muscles in my back stiffen. I wait for a moment, half expecting my mother to jump in with some nonsense about my feminine skills, most of which are blatantly untrue.

  “I like to ride,” I say weakly.

  “Do you hunt?” he asks.

  I nod. “I’m a good shot too.”

  A strange lump forms in my throat, as I realize I may never hunt with my father again.

  “Good,” Sergei says cryptically, peeking his head out of the carriage window.

  “Does that happen often? The attack, I mean. Do you often have a problem with bandits on the road?”

  He sits back, looking at me thoughtfully before answering.

  “No, never.”

  “Then why did the empress send you to escort us?” I ask.

  He’s quiet, looking lost in thought. “The empress didn’t send me.”

  I watch as an array of emotions play out across his chiseled face, worry, dread, and finally, resignation. He says nothing else, but I can read the tension in his squared shoulders, the tick working in his jaw.

  “It wasn’t a random attack, was it?” I ask boldly. “It was an assassination attempt.”

  His eyes flicker to mine. “You are a surprising creature, Princess. Clever as well as brave. Wherever did you come from?”

  I ignore the backhanded compliment.

  “Why would someone attack us?”

  He frowns, wiping his hand down his face and rubbing his neck.

  “There are those in court who are unhappy at the prospect of an alliance between Prussia and Russia, those who seek instead to fortify a bond with Austria. The empress favors you and your family, but that favor will extend only so far. If they can prove you unfit—in any way—she will have no choice but to send you away and find an Austrian princess to put on the throne.”

  I take a deep breath, drawing myself up in my seat.

  “Then I must be sure they have no complaint against me. Thank you for your honesty. I appreciate your warnings, and I will heed them.” I pause before adding, “And thank you for riding out to save us.”

  Reaching up, he picks a small clump of mud from my hair.

  “Oh, I suspect you had the situation well in hand.”

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