The Last Days of the Romanov Dancers

by Kerri Turner

  ‘When I was a student at the ballet school, things weren’t always … easy,’ he continued, as she’d known he would. Most people filled a silence if you let it rest for long enough. ‘You know what it’s like there for people like us. We don’t belong, but nor do we belong in our old homes any more. We betrayed our families, neighbours and friends by trading them in for a better life.’

  Valentina’s hand clenched at his mention of their similar past, but she released it almost instantly. Luka’s eyes, visible behind the mask, flicked to her own, then away over the top of her head.

  ‘But I had someone to look up to,’ he said. ‘You were just like me, yet not only had you made it into the Imperial Russian Ballet, you were becoming more famous, more accepted in that world, with every passing year. You symbolised what was possible.’

  ‘And I don’t now?’

  Valentina had worked so hard to erase her past that she’d never for a second considered anyone might not see it the same way she did—as something to be ashamed of; an unchangeable fact that would always make her an outsider no matter how hard she tried to become one of Petrograd’s elite.

  ‘No. Now I know that you didn’t get where you are by merit and hard work. You traded your way there.’

  Valentina’s feet stopped—but only for a second, because Luka curled his arm around her waist to force her to keep moving. She looked up at his masked face and wished that she, too, were wearing a mask; not a domino, but something large and ornate so she could be sure that the sting of his words wasn’t showing on her face.

  ‘I’m sorry my life has disappointed you so, Luka Vladimirovich; and even more sorry that, as a student, you gave such significance to a trifling matter. It’s an amusing connection that you and I share a similar background, that’s all. It certainly doesn’t mean we’re the same. I have to live my life the way I see fit, and you should do the same.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  Now it was Luka’s turn to stop dancing, and he did it so suddenly that Valentina had taken another two steps before she too came to a halt. His hands dropped from her and her body felt cooler without his touch.

  ‘I’ve been foolish,’ he said. ‘I apologise. Good night.’

  Deserted amid the crowd, aware of people giggling at her behind raised hands, Valentina watched him go in astonishment. Who was this young man who acted on his every feeling and didn’t hesitate to say what was on his mind? Who, even when he was angry, kept his hands on her gentle? Without thinking, she took a step after him. People were still looking at her, aghast at the sight of her being left alone mid-dance, but she ignored them. She wanted to defend herself to Luka, or perhaps prove that he hadn’t been wrong in his lofty boyhood opinion of her. She wanted to make him understand that she’d made the only choices she thought she could.

  By the time she caught up to him, they were both outside. The air felt like cool water sliding over Valentina’s skin after the oppressive warmth of the Alexandrinsky.

  ‘Malysh,’ she said, her voice an appeal that was tinged with anger she hadn’t expected. He continued to walk away from her, his long legs taking rapid strides. ‘Luka.’ With effort, she softened her voice; it was enough to make him stop.

  He turned to her and in the darkness his mask looked part of his face. Valentina took quick steps up to him, then paused. What had she come out here to say?

  ‘Will you take that domino off please?’

  Luka hesitated, then raised one hand and pulled the mask off. It had covered so little of his face that with it gone, his expression was barely any easier to read.

  ‘Don’t accuse me of not working to get where I am. It might not be the kind of work you consider worthwhile, but believe me when I say it’s still work.’

  There was a waver in her voice as she spoke; she’d been remembering all the times she’d had to deny herself in favour of pleasing others. Luka, who knew how it felt to wonder when your next meal might be or if there would be enough of it, should have understood.

  He fiddled with his domino, refusing to look her in the eyes. Suddenly irritated, Valentina grabbed the mask, forcing his hands to still. When he did raise his head, the look he gave her was reproachful, the young hopeful boy he had been staring out of a man’s eyes.

  ‘Look at what it makes you, though,’ he said. ‘I just … I don’t know how you live the way you do.’ His voice had gone softer, gently questioning.

  Valentina stared down at their hands, both still grasping the domino mask. ‘Sometimes I don’t know either.’

  The words seemed to hang in the night between them. She could almost see them written in the air, gold like the embroidery on her dress, and wished she could grab them and stuff them back into her mouth where Luka couldn’t see them.

  Slowly, Luka drew one hand off the mask. A moment later she felt it on her face. It was just one finger, resting on her chin, and its unexpected warmth made her look up at him. He was frowning, his expression one approaching curiosity.

  Valentina felt an urge to step towards him, to close the gap between them so he was forced to stop looking at her that way. She wasn’t some amusement you could see in a circus sideshow.

  She took the step.

  Luka’s eyebrows rose a little, but he didn’t move away. His hand, too, stayed where it was. The dark centres of his eyes were swelling, and Valentina thought that if she continued to look into them, they might swallow her up completely.

  She tilted her chin up. Go ahead, she thought defiantly, show me what my paid-for life can’t give me. She parted her lips, the tiniest movement daring him to be bold.

  Luka answered her invitation. He lurched forward, pressing his lips against hers, almost crushing them. The kiss was hard, too hard, and for an instant Valentina regretted it. But then his mouth softened and she was able to respond. The unfamiliarity of his lips was thrilling.

  Luka moved his hand to grasp the back of her head, pulling her closer, and his tongue darted into her mouth. A pulse swept through Valentina’s body; she knew it was desire, that eternally unsatisfied ache. Without thinking, she pressed her whole body against his, trying to feel him through the combined layers of their clothing. He was the first man who hadn’t paid for the privilege of her kiss. It gave her an excitement she hadn’t experienced before.

  When he tried to pull away for air, she grabbed fistfuls of his coat to keep him where he was. Not yet, she thought. Let this one moment of fantasy go on just a little longer.

  But in that slight pulling away, the spell dissipated and Maxim was in her head. The thrill of the kiss was already turning into heavy, burning guilt. Valentina reluctantly turned her face away. She had to be the first to speak. She couldn’t let him say something that might change this moment from what it was—a reckless impulse—into something more.

  She smiled at him, but she knew the expression wasn’t a joyful one. ‘Please don’t do that again.’ She had to force the words out. Her lips, still tingling from the touch of his, didn’t want to say them.

  ‘Why not?’

  He didn’t sound hurt or surprised, and the thought that she was so predictable made Valentina ache.

  ‘You know why. You can’t have what you don’t pay for.’ A bitterness crept into the playful tone she’d been aiming for.

  She realised she was still holding onto Luka’s jacket and made herself let go, taking a step back from him as she did. The domino fell to the ground between them. She bent to pick it up, wishing that her hair was long so it would fall forward and hide her face, giving her an instant of freedom from his gaze.

  When she held the mask out to him, Luka didn’t take it. Her hands fell to her sides, the domino resting limply in one of them.

  ‘I should go back inside,’ she said. ‘Maxim will be wondering where I am.’

  Never had she wished more for her words to be true. Her protector was probably still at Rasputin’s side, hanging on for any favour that might come his way. Valentina had to find him. She had to remind herself o
f all that she’d worked for and all that her moment of impulse could have cost her.

  Rasputin’s presence would feel all the more invasive after the warmth of Luka’s kiss, but it was a punishment she deserved.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The kiss with Valentina had aroused an unexpected exhilaration in Luka, akin to the feeling he’d experienced as a child when he’d disobeyed the school’s rules and got away with it. The memory of her lips against his; her warm body, so pliable and inviting—and how his own body had been quick to respond. It never left his mind for long, even when thoughts of Pyotr’s death sent him plummeting into bleak depression. Luka couldn’t make sense of it: how it had happened, or why; nor his reaction to it.

  The season closed—this time with his contract renewal already secured. The Hermitage performance was scheduled to take place during the off-season, but Valentina had not organised any further rehearsals. He assumed she would get in contact with him soon, although he’d not received word from her yet.

  When the off-season began, it became his habit to go for long walks around the city. He wanted to keep his muscles as supple as possible, but also couldn’t bear to be alone in his once comforting apartment with his grief and memories of his brother.

  During one of these walks, he passed Leiner’s, a cosy delicatessen whose price signs had been scribbled over more than once, each time signalling an increase that would only matter to those who couldn’t afford to eat there in the first place. As he glanced in the window, he saw Valentina sitting alone, her feet absent-mindedly drawing circles in the sawdust on the floor.

  Luka’s heart jumped into his throat. The temptation was to slowly back away. She was so deep in thought it would be easy to slip past without notice. But another, stronger temptation immediately came on the heels of the first. Not quite sure what he was doing, but unwilling to question himself, Luka walked into the delicatessen and sat down in the empty chair across from her.

  Valentina’s attention snapped back to her surroundings and her features opened in surprise. For a second, it was the Valentina he’d only ever seen once or twice. Luka wanted that Valentina to stay before him, but already she was disappearing behind a schooled demeanour.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice was careful; not loud enough to draw attention, but not so low that passers-by might think she was being clandestine.

  ‘Where’s your protector?’ The words were rude, but that was easier than telling her about his brother.

  ‘Maxim left this morning for some business in Moscow.’

  Luka didn’t care about Maxim’s work in Moscow. What he wanted was to ask her about the kiss. He wanted to know if she was as unsettled by it as he was.

  ‘He should take you with him everywhere,’ he said.

  ‘Why? Because I might get kissed by some corps dancer the moment he isn’t looking?’

  A laugh escaped Luka, the first since he’d received news of Pyotr’s death. He hadn’t expected such directness from her.

  ‘Well, that too. But I meant that if he’s so concerned with your value, it would make sense for him to keep you with him at all times.’

  Valentina pushed away her half-empty plate and wiped her hands with a linen napkin. ‘Easy to say when you’ve never had to put a price to your own worth. Trust me, Maxim knows my value, and he pays every kopeck and rouble. And then some.’ She tossed down the napkin, grabbed her gloves from the table and stood. ‘You might as well make yourself comfortable. I’m leaving anyway.’

  ‘But I just got here.’

  ‘It’s fortuitous timing then.’

  She gave him a pointed look as she did up the buttons of her gloves. Her small embroidered hat framed her face in a way that was pretty, and Luka wondered why he’d never thought of her that way before. Perhaps it was because she was always covered by expensive materials and glaring jewels—he’d never been able to see past them.

  Curious about what else he might see if he continued to look closely, he got up and followed her out of the delicatessen.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, pausing just outside. She pulled her silk dust-coat closer around her even though the air was warm, buckling it at her waist.

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘To Cartier, to pick up some jewellery? For that’s where I’m headed.’

  Luka felt himself shrink. They both knew he wasn’t able to afford such riches. He kept eye contact with her though, not allowing himself to succumb to embarrassment.

  ‘Don’t you have someone to do that kind of thing for you? Or why don’t the jewellers deliver to your house?’

  Valentina’s fair, tapered eyebrows lowered. Luka didn’t think that was the reaction she’d been expecting.

  ‘It’s a beautiful day and I felt like a walk,’ she said finally. ‘It’s not that unheard of.’

  Luka could relate only too well; in fact, he was surprised they had something so mundane in common. He didn’t say this, though. Instead he looked up at the sky, where only a thin sliver of sunlight was managing to break through the drab grey clouds.

  ‘The sun was shining when I left,’ Valentina protested, turning sharply and striding away from him.

  Luka took a few rapid paces to catch up with her, then slowed so their footsteps were in time. He knew he was being beyond rude now, and when Valentina stopped and faced him, she confirmed it.

  ‘What are you doing? I said I didn’t want you walking with me.’

  ‘Actually, I don’t think you did.’

  ‘If I didn’t, then I meant to. Please leave me alone. You could get me in trouble.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with a man escorting a woman on her errand, particularly when they work together.’ Luka could see that irritation was making her eyes narrow and he dropped the teasing edge from his voice. He didn’t want to upset her. ‘You shouldn’t carry jewellery around by yourself. Someone could steal it.’

  ‘You do have a poor idea of the city’s people, don’t you?’

  She walked off again, shaking her head. Luka followed once more, and reached out to touch her arm gently. She jumped as if he’d hit her with a cold handful of snow.

  ‘Valya, please.’ It was the first time he had called her by anything other than her full name, and they both seemed to realise this at the same moment. Luka didn’t know where it had come from, except that a spark of genuine worry had taken hold of him. ‘I know you saw that woman outside the Palace Theatre weeks ago, the one begging for money to buy bread. What do you think someone like her might do if an opportunity to snatch a fine jewel presented itself? The city is no longer the domain of only the wealthy.’

  Valentina stared at him as though taking his measure. Her carnation-pink lips pressed together and she gave a curt nod. ‘Come on then.’

  Wordlessly, Luka followed her down the street.

  ‘You weren’t truly going to carry this around the streets of Petrograd by yourself?’ Luka asked.

  ‘Hmm?’ Valentina wasn’t listening. She was holding the brooch in her hand, inspecting it for flaws she knew she wouldn’t find. ‘It’s supposed to be the white swan,’ she said. She held it out for him to see. ‘Odette.’

  It was a large piece, half the size of her palm, and studded with clear white diamonds. Its setting was pure gold, twisted into the shape of a swan, its wings weighed down by the precious jewels. Underneath, clutched in its golden feet, was a large teardrop-shaped pearl, representing the lake made of the King’s and Queen’s tears for the daughter they’d lost to the evil Von Rothbart’s curse.

  ‘Oh,’ Luka said.

  Valentina knew what he was thinking. Odette was supposed to be a fragile, ethereal thing who simultaneously hoped to be rescued and despaired of it ever happening. The glittering brooch of gold and diamonds hardly reflected that.

  ‘Maxim had it made for me,’ she said, handing it back to the jeweller to be wrapped. ‘Remember at Mathilde’s dacha, when we found that white feather? He wanted a surer sign for me, some
thing more solid.’

  ‘I thought he said you’d make a better Odile.’

  Valentina only just stopped herself wincing. She wished Luka hadn’t remembered that. ‘He says a lot of things.’

  When the brooch was wrapped, she passed it to Luka, who hid it somewhere inside his jacket. The thought of it being so close to him unsettled Valentina, and she found she could barely speak as they walked to a tram, then travelled on it together. His proximity made her anxious. Could he see the way she kept remembering how it had felt when he’d slipped his tongue into her mouth, the lingering pleasure it brought her?

  It was with great relief that she saw her own front door being opened by Madame Ivkina, her housekeeper. She halted before they entered the portico.

  ‘Thank you, Luka. I don’t need any further escorting now.’

  ‘You wouldn’t leave a man outside in such weather, would you?’ he asked.

  Valentina froze; then she tilted her head back to look at the sky. A fat raindrop landed on Valentina’s cheek, right where a tear would fall. She brushed it away, stifling a sigh as she looked across the portico at her housekeeper. She could hardly refuse Luka’s request without appearing either cruel or suspicious. And one could never be sure of one’s staff’s silence, not when roubles were always changing hands behind closed doors.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘Please, come inside and wait out the weather.’

  Valentina entered the wide foyer and began unbuckling her dust-coat with fumbling fingers, trying not to think about how odd it felt to have Luka inside her house.

  ‘Madame Ivkina, would you tell the cook to bring us something to eat? I believe my guest hasn’t had lunch yet. We’ll be upstairs in the reception room until this storm clears.’

  Madame Ivkina took her coat and hung it up in silence, then assisted Luka with his. Valentina was glad of the moment to regain her bearings. She took a stack of envelopes from a silver tray and rifled through, not really seeing them. She needed to forget that stolen kiss. It didn’t seem to be affecting Luka the way it was her, and she’d make a fool of herself if she showed how much it was playing on her mind.