Queen of Someday

by Sherry D. Ficklin

  We walk slowly through the outer chamber and into the hall, down the corridor and to an area I don’t think I’ve ever seen. He carries me up a spiraling stone staircase that leads to a small door. He carefully pushes it open, exposing a small, abandoned chapel. There’s one window adorned with stained glass in a riot of blues, greens, and reds. There’s a long, red velvet bench and a small table.

  “What is this place?” I ask softly as he sits me on the bench.

  “They say it used to be Tsar Alexei’s private sanctuary, a place he would come to speak to God before battle. It was never officially christened, but it was his secret place, removed from the old palace and brought here during construction.”

  He lights the candles that sit on large sconces, flooding the room with light, before taking a seat next to me.

  “I come here sometimes when I need to clear my head,” he admits. “It’s my secret place.”

  “And you brought me here,” I say, feeling both honored and touched.

  He shrugs, not meeting my gaze.

  “Now it’s our secret place,” he whispers.

  I reach out, taking his chin in my fingertips and tilting his head up. There are so many things I want to say. Part of me is screaming that this is wrong, than I should leave now, but I can’t. Because that part of my mind is being drowned out in a storm of other thoughts, the loudest being, This is what you’ve waited all your life for, Sophie. Finally, you know what love feels like.

  “Alexander.” I whisper his name like a solemn vow. My chest rises and falls in my simple sleeping gown. I wish I was prettier for him, clothed in the finest silk, my hair pulled up in perfect curls and tied with ribbon. But I know that I’m not. I’m pale, sickly, and thin after my ordeal. But looking into his eyes, I don’t think he sees any of that. Because he is looking at me the way a man dying of thirst might look at a cask of water, as if his very life depends on bringing me to his lips. I know that being here with him is a terrible risk. I know I should tear myself out of this trance, but I can’t. I’m lost in him.

  And then he does the most dangerous, reckless thing he could have ever done.

  He kisses me.

  The moment our lips touch, the last fraying strands of my self-control snap and I reach up, clasping my hands behind his neck and pulling him against me. There’s no reason, no judgment—only gentle waves of relief. I’m lost in the ocean of his embrace, drowning in him. I could live a hundred lifetimes inside his kiss, and it would never be enough. One single thought surfaces through the tide of emotions.

  “Of the entire universe, I only wanted you,” I whisper the words against his lips, a solemn pledge.

  His hands slide up my back and into my hair, working it loose with his fingers until it falls in brown waves across my shoulders. I sigh against his mouth and he responds by pulling away just a bit, laying a kiss on the tip of my nose, my forehead, and beside my eye, before returning to my lips.

  “You have ruined me,” he whispers against my mouth, his voice thick with desire.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “And I would ruin you again,” I say breathlessly.

  He takes my face in one hand, the other running along my collarbone, brushing the hair back over my shoulder. “Her lips suck forth my soul, see where it flies. Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here I will dwell, for heaven is in these lips.”

  He leans forward, capturing my mouth with his, this time gently, reverently. He slides closer, his hand gliding down to the small of my back. A chill runs through me like nothing I’ve ever felt. It hums along my body like the strike of a piano key, music vibrating through me until it aches to contain it.

  My head spins, the room around us falling away, or at least that’s how it feels, until I hear Alexander’s voice cut through me.

  “Sophie,” he says urgently. I open my eyes and realize it’s not the room that’s falling, but me. Only his strong arms locked around me keep me from sliding to the floor.

  “Alexander?” I ask, unsure what’s happening. The feel of his arms, the warmth of his kiss, it’s all mixed and mingled in one strange, glorious blur of sensation.

  He touches my head gently. “You’re burning with fever,” he says, wiping the hair from my face. “I need to get you back to your room.”

  I clutch his shirt. “No. Please, not yet. Just hold me for a while. Just hold me and whisper to me.”

  I trace my fingers along his lower lip and he sighs deeply before pulling me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me, whispering my name over and over again.

  “Please, sweet Sophie, you must be strong now. Be strong for the promise of spring, for the chance to feel the wet grass beneath your feet once more. Be strong for the hope of joy, for the hours we can share in each other’s arms.”

  His words are paint, creating a masterpiece in my mind as I close my eyes. I can see it so clearly, us walking through the meadow, to the edge of the pond where the wild roses are in full bloom. He will take my hand, lay me down in the soft grass, and kiss me gently. Then, years later, he will put his hands to my swollen belly, a look of awe and joy radiating in his smile. I can see a tiny face, dark like his father’s, resting nestled in my arms. I see our whole life stretched out before us.

  And it’s beautiful.

  Then the dream shatters and I wake in my bed, the sun streaming through the window, and I’m alone. The pain is unbearable. I curl up my pillow and sob into it. I’m still crying when Rina arrives with the maid and my breakfast. She rushes to my side, stroking my hair.

  “My lady, what is it? Are you unwell? Should I fetch the doctor?”

  I shake my head, and she holds me while I cry.

  “Oh, Rina, it’s so awful.”

  “What is, my lady?”

  I clutch her, wiping my tears on the sleeve of her gown.

  “I never had a dream before. A beautiful dream. I was so happy…”

  She strokes me gently, “It’s the fever, my lady. It’s playing tricks on your mind.”

  I shake my head because I can’t tell her the truth. I’m in love with a man I cannot have. How cruel is fate that it would only show me the thing I want most, the thing I never knew I always wanted, only to snatch it from my grasp? Suddenly my marriage to Peter isn’t a simple fact of life… it’s the chains that bind me, the obstacle to my one true joy.

  That’s when I realize that I cannot be with Alexander. My duty is to my family and to do what I came here to do, I must let Alexander go. Being in love with him while being wed to another would be the most unimaginable torture. And if I had been well last evening, who knows how far things would have gone? Heaven knows I wanted him, and I felt that he wanted me as well. One reckless night, one unwise decision, could have cost me everything.

  Everything I no longer want.

  And how would it be fair to him? Standing so near to me, watching as I marry another, bear another man’s children. It would be the worst kind of torment.

  Finally, I sit up, wiping my eyes.

  “Rina, fetch me some paper and a quill.”

  She obeys, her face soft but concerned.

  I take them and hastily write my note before the courage of my conviction leaves me.

  Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage; minds innocent and quiet take, that for an hermitage; if I have freedom in my love, and in my soul am free, angels alone that soar above, enjoy such liberty.

  I fold the paper twice.

  “Rina, I must ask something terribly important of you. Can you, telling no one, take this letter to Peter’s man, Alexander? Please, it’s terribly important and he will know what to do with it.”

  Rina nods. “Of course.”

  I take her arm. “Please, no one can know of this. Promise me.”

  She curtsies. “Of course my lady. You have my word.”

  “Good, go now. And send for Sergei. I need to speak to him urgently.”

  As soon as she’s gone, I ring for my maids. They help me wa
sh and dress. Soon, Elizavetta arrives to help me with my hair. Though I can still feel the flush of fever gripping me, being up and dressed helps improve my mood. The maids change the bedding and by the time Sergei arrives, I’m waiting to receive him in the outer chamber.

  He bows deeply as he enters.

  “Princess, I’m pleased to see you looking so well.”

  I nod and motion for him to sit.

  “Elizavetta, please have some tea sent up.”

  She curtsies and leaves.

  “Sergei, thank you for seeing me. I wish to begin my lessons as soon as possible. With Madame Groot.”

  He sits back, a coy smile playing across his lips.

  “Really? You seemed so offended by the idea.”

  I nod. “I have decided that I must do whatever is required of me to possess the throne.”

  “You mean wed Peter?”

  “They are one and the same, are they not?”

  His expression becomes suspicious.

  “Why do you want it?”

  I rest my hands on my lap. I know what I should say—I should say that I’m madly in love with Peter and could bear no other. But that would be a lie and my heart isn’t in it.

  “My family is relying on me—on this marriage—to secure their lands and title. It is what is expected of me.”

  He shakes his head. “That’s not a good enough reason.”

  I pause, gathering my thoughts before I speak.

  “Because I cannot win. I cannot have what I truly desire—it is beyond my grasp. I realize that now. It’s sad really, to think that until I came here, I had no other dreams, no other desires but what my family wanted for me. I discovered my own mind and heart too late.” I steel myself, leaning forward. “Fate has offered me an opportunity. A crown in one hand and a husband in the other. Even if I were to throw all that away, it would still not get me what I want. It would only serve to hurt the people I care about. I would be sent back to Germany in disgrace, and my family would lose everything. There is no way to win, but there is certainly a way to lose. My choice, what little choice I have, is not to lose.”

  He frowns. “You are, as always, wise beyond your years, Princess. And, as always, you have my devotion. If it is the crown you want, the crown you shall have.”

  “And I would like our Russian lessons to be held in the library from now on. Being out of bed and moving about will do me some good.”

  The maid arrives with a tray of tea and biscuits.

  “For what it’s worth,” he says, taking a cup, “I think you are making the right decision.”

  I shrug, taking a cup as well.

  “It’s easy to make the right decisions in the light of day. It’s at night, when I am alone with my thoughts, that my emotions betray me.”

  He lifts his cup, saluting me.

  “True words. I will speak to Madame Groot today. If the physician thinks you well enough, you can begin your instruction with her tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Sergei. And how long before Peter returns?”

  “Three days. The empress has ridden off to join them. They will be back at court shortly.”

  “And Charlotte?”

  “She and her brother went with Peter and his entourage to Moscow. Though word is they will not be returning with them. The empress finds the girl pious and dull.” He laughs deeply. “And I quite agree. The Saxon princess will have to find a crown elsewhere.”