I turn. “Peter, I wonder if I might keep my small guard.”
He blinks, as if he can’t understand why I’d ask for such a thing. “Just my handful of personal guards. I know they are certainly inferior in strength and skill to the new guards, but I simply haven’t the energy to learn an entire new set of names. I’ve already had to replace so many maids that I feel as if I should begin calling them by numbers.” I pause, taking a drink. “Besides, I’m sure you’d like me to take some new ladies-in-waiting from the Prussian nobles, now that they are our allies once more.”
He waves me off, already bored with the whims of women. “Of course, do as you like.”
I nod. “Thank you.” Standing, I take my leave. “If you’ll excuse me. I am exhausted from all the excitement, and I think I must turn in early.” Peter waves me off again and I offer my seat to George, who slides into it without hesitation.
I sweep a glance across the room, connecting first with Sergei, and then with Alexander. With a deep sigh, I leave the banquet with Dashka and head for my rooms. Dismissing Dash to her chamber just down from mine, I turn to Grigori. “I am expecting Lord Mananov and General Salkov. Please show them in when they arrive.” He bows and takes up his post outside my door.
Once in my rooms, I slide onto the lounge and take a sip of the vodka that has been left for me. The flavor is crisp and hot, and it settles into my fluttering belly. I can’t decide what has me more nervous, seeing my beautiful men and having to confess the truth to them, or the fact that my lecherous uncle is downstairs pouring his venomous words into Peter’s ear.
I take another drink.
My room smells of heavy rose, thanks to the pale pink bouquets recently added to the crystal vases around my chamber. The odor is pleasant, and I allow myself to be distracted while adjusting one of the arrangements. One of the thorns pricks my finger, a tiny drop of blood forming atop my pale skin. I suckle it, trying to keep the crimson from falling onto my gown. In a moment of contemplation, I hold my hands out, examining them closely. My hands are small, I realize, slender and fragile looking. How odd that God would see fit to put so many fragile things in my care. How many lives would these hands hold? How much power and respect could they command? How many hopes, dreams, and hearts would be mine to nurture or crush in these little hands?
I drop them to my sides, praying they are stronger than they look.
My door opens, and Sergei strides in. Grigori closes the door and Sergei bows deeply before crossing the room in three long steps, drawing me into his arms. I let him hold me, basking in the feeling of him for only a moment before I step back, out of his grasp.
“You asked for me?” Sergei begins. His voice is tight, nervous, as if he expects the worst. Grief washes across me like a cold wave, chilling me into my marrow.
“I did. There is something I must confess to you. While you were away, after Rina died, I…” I hesitate. The next words are forced, unwillingly ripped from my throat. “I took Alexander to my bed. I was so lost and in so much pain. He… I…”
I’m not sure what I expect. Rage, perhaps. Bitterness, at least. Anger at my betrayal. But with no hesitation at all, he steps forward, closing the gap between us, and wraps his arms around me once more, laying a kiss on the top of my head.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me,” he whispers. “Can you forgive me?”
And just like that, he has absolved me of my guilt and taken it upon his own head.
It’s far more than I deserve. Even as I cling to him, I know the blame lies squarely on my own shoulders. The door opens again, and I instinctively pull away.
“Lord Mananov,” Grigori announces, closing the door once more, leaving the three of us in uncomfortable silence.
I watch as Alexander’s face falls. The sound of his boots on the wooden floor is like a slow, measured heartbeat as he approaches us. He’d been hoping I brought him here to be alone, no doubt. I fight to hold my chin up and not wither under the disappointment in his gaze.
“Thank you both for coming. Please, sit.” I motion to the couch in the center of the room, taking my own seat in a high-back chair across from it. They obey, each holding themselves rigid, their shoulders tight, their expressions somber.
Looking at them together like this, I realize that despite their similarities, the dark hair, deep-set eyes, and the golden tone of their skin, they are both vastly different. Alexander is smooth shaven, his lips thin and his nose a narrow slope, Sergei seems rougher, a dark, well-groomed line of hair riding the curve of his jaw, his eyes rounder, more open, his face wider. My men, my loves. The two halves of my whole heart. I force myself to swallow before I speak.
“I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting, as well as for keeping you both at arm’s length these past weeks,” I begin. “Things have been… strained since Elizabeth’s death, and I appreciate you both giving me some much-needed breathing room during the transition.”
Sergei nods almost imperceptibly, Alexander presses his lips together. Neither speaks.
I continue. “Things are changing, politically, and some of those changes have me uneasy. My uncle’s arrival…” I pause, not knowing exactly what to say. “He is extremely dangerous, to Russia, and potentially, to me.” My breath catches in my throat as the memory forms, clear and sharp in my mind. George, storming from my father’s study, grabbing me by the arms, forcing his mouth on mine until I was sure my face would be black and blue from the abuse. When he finally drew back, it was only to whisper in my ear, One day, I will have you, before storming from my house.
I left for Russia the next day.
Receding from the memory, I look up. Sergei looks angry, his hands balled into fists. Alexander just looks worried, as if he wants to reach out to me.
I exhale sharply. I’m stalling, weaving my way around the truth of this meeting, as if delaying it will make it easier. But I know that’s a lie, so I summon what courage I can and delve in. “But that is not really why I’ve asked you both here. Alexander, you know that Sergei has been my—my lover—for some time.” He nods, licking his lips. “And Sergei, you know that recently, I have taken Alexander as my lover as well.” He frowns, nodding. My hands begin to shake. I clasp them together in my lap, hoping they won’t notice, but as soon as I speak again, I can hear the quake in my voice.
Do it, I command myself. If I’m to cut out all of our hearts, it’s best to do it quickly, a sharp blade to spare the torment of a slow death.
“These past weeks, I’ve been trying to do something unthinkable. I’ve been trying to force myself to choose between you. But the thought of losing either of you, it’s like carving out my own heart. I want you, I need you, both. I am a selfish, awful woman and truthfully, I don’t deserve either of you. But I love you both, more deeply than I can express. It’s not fair, and it’s not right, but it’s the truth.”
I feel a hot tear slip down my cheek, and I wipe it away quickly. “So I have done the most cowardly thing I can do. I’ve brought you here, to ask you to choose me. I have nothing to say in my defense, other than I love you, and I understand if you can’t bring yourselves to share my heart, but that is all I have to offer you. I know it will not be easy. I know it is much—too much, perhaps—to ask of you. But I’m asking nonetheless. If you love me, if you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, then choose me.”
They remain motionless for a few more heartbeats, both frozen in stunned shock at my request. It’s Sergei who stands first, rounding the couch and turning his back to me. I watch as he brings his hand to his face and holds it there. I wish, more than anything, that he would look at me, so that I might read his expression. My hands grow icy, my mouth dries. In my chest, the first fractures begin, a sharp, quick pain that I expect to get much, much worse.
Alexander stands, opening his mouth as if to speak, but then snaps it closed. I sit, still shaking from head to toe, fighting to hold my composure. I will not break down, I order myself. I will not cry, for fear
that my tears will sway them, only to have them hate me for it later.
“To be clear, you are telling us that we must share you or lose you altogether. Is that right?” Alexander rakes his hair back with his fingers, not waiting for me to respond. “You refuse to choose between us, so it is we who must suffer. We who must bend to your wishes.”
“There was no other solution I could live with. I didn’t plan on falling in love with both of you,” I say as calmly as I can manage. “But yes. Somehow, you have stolen equal shares of my heart, and if that is not enough for you, then you must go, for your own sake.”
“And are we to have equal shares in your bed as well?” Alexander snaps. “Shall we rotate days? Or perhaps we can adopt a weekly schedule? Or a code? You can wear blue when you want me and green when you want him.” He jabs a finger toward Sergei, who remains unmoved. “Or is this a test? The one of us who loves you enough to remain, even under these terms, is the victor? Should we make it so simple for you?”
I rise to my feet. “I know I have hurt you, but you will not speak to me in such a way. I am not your whore, or your mistress. You are mine—do you remember?” I let the words hang between us, invoking a promise he made me which feels like a lifetime ago. “You told me once that you would have me in any way I could give myself to you. Or was that pledge the shallow bargain of a man simply looking to get under my skirts?”
I level a flat gaze at him. “You have both pledged yourselves to me in the past, and you have both understood that I am not free to fully offer myself to anyone. There will always be others with whom you will have to share me. You will share me with my nation, with my husband, and with each other, or you will have no share of me at all. That is all I can offer you. Either it is enough, or it is not.”
Alexander looks down, his expression unreadable but his hands held in tight fists. Without a word, he shakes his head once and walks out the door, slamming it behind him. I turn to Sergei, who is still looking away from me.
“You know, I never imagined there would be something you could ask of me that I could not give,” he says slowly, turning to face me. His eyes are red, but dry, his tone melancholy. “I can’t help but wonder if I’d stayed, if I’d come back for you sooner, if you would have turned to him at all. Perhaps this is entirely my fault. If it is, I see now the swift penance I must pay.”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I think the grief broke down my walls, but as you said once, first love has a way of staying with you… even when you wish it wouldn’t. I’m just so sorry to hurt you like this. It was never what I wanted. But I know I have to be honest with you, with both of you.” I cross the room, taking his hands in mine. “All I know is that I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Please, please don’t hate me. I love you.”
He lowers his chin. “But you feel the same about him, don’t you?”
There’s no accusation in his voice, no anger. That makes it worse, I think. I can only nod.
He takes a deep, shaky breath as he brings my fingers to his lips and lays a gentle kiss across my knuckles. “Who am I to deny the heart of an empress? I’m just a man, flesh and bone, and every single piece of me belongs to you.”
Relief floods through me, weakening my knees, and I step forward into his arms. Raising my lips to his, I kiss him, deeply, urgently, with all the ferocity and passion I have been holding so carefully inside myself for so long. His hands curl around my waist, one sliding up to cup the back of my neck. He pulls back just a fraction of an inch, pressing his forehead against mine.
“I chose you. Without doubt, fear, or reason. I will always choose you,” he pledges.
With those simple words, he lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bedchamber.
I take ill the next morning. Thankfully, Sergei has long past retired to his own chamber when the vomiting begins.
This time there is no doubt in my mind what has happened.
Dashka stays with me, pressing a cool rag to my head as I lie curled on my side on the floor by the sick pan. The cool, parquet floor offers a small measure of relief. Exhaustion wracks my body, but I can’t close my eyes or the world tilts and the bile rises up again.
“Should I call for the physician?” she asks for what seems like the hundredth time.
“No, Dash, please. I’m fine.”
The truth is… I’m far from fine. I’m with child again. Only this time, there can be no doubt of the paternity. The child can only belong to Alexander, from our encounter weeks past.
One night of love. One night of passion. One night of solace.
How it has wrecked me.
When the spinning room finally stills, I sit up, leaning against Dash for support. She’s still in her shift as well. She’d come running when my guard, hearing my distress, had summoned her from her bed to tend to me. She cradles me in her small arms, rocking me gently and singing a soft, sweet tune.
The child is not Peter’s. There will be no way to convince him otherwise. He will know the truth of my latest betrayal. If he presses the matter, I could be charged with treason and adultery. The punishment is death.
I take a long, deep breath, blowing it out slowly as I force my mind to focus.
Peter and I have a tenuous peace, at best. I know he would rage at the truth, and I have no doubt he would see me hang for my disloyalty. Then, he could set Elizavetta as his queen, as he’s always wanted.
No, Peter cannot know. He can never know.
My mind churns, grasping for solutions.
There are herbs. I remember Mother speaking of them once to the kitchen maid in our old home. There are herbs that can end a pregnancy, if taken soon, before the child is strong enough to resist them.
As soon as the thought comes, I push it away. My hand cups my still-flat belly without thinking about it. I would not harm my child, Alexander’s child.
There must be some other way.
Sergei will know. The thought of bringing this news to him, especially now, makes me pitch forward and retch again. It feels as if my heart will climb up and spew out my throat with the rest of my insides. I settle back, Dash wiping at my face gently.
“What can I do?” she begs.
I shake my head. “Nothing now. Nothing but keep my secrets. This one included.” I twist my head to look at her. “Can you do that? No one must know. You will have to help me hide it.”
She presses her lips together and nods. “Yes, of course. Anything.”
“Good, good,” I murmur, lying back against her for a bit longer.
By midday, I’m mostly recovered, sitting in my chamber nibbling on some crackers between sips of lavender tea, when my guard opens my door.
“Count Mercy to see you, Your Highness.”
I nod and straighten myself in the chair, folding my hands demurely as he enters. Slipping the blue velvet hat from his head, he bows gracefully.
“Your Highness, please pardon the intrusion.”
“Not at all, please, have a seat,” I offer, motioning to the chair across from me. “What can I do for you today, Count?”
He sits, holding his floppy brim hat in his lap, squeezing it between his fingers. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes downcast, not meeting my glance.
“His Highness has withdrawn all Russian troops from Berlin. Our armies have had to abandon the city and retreat back to Austria. Empress Maria is quite displeased. News has reached her of Peter’s new treaty with Prussia, and she has ordered me back to her side.”
The news is nothing I didn’t expect. Peter is nothing if not predictable in his love for Prussia—and King Frederick. “I will be sad to see you go. You are a good man, Count Mercy, and I’m saddened that our relationship has been sullied by the change of events.”
He sits back, straightening. “I must speak plainly, for my time here is short. Austria and her allies, we have seen things here at court. Even the Russian lords and generals speak of it, of their displeasure at the new regime.”
Now it’s my turn to
sit back, taking a sip of tea to give myself a moment to compose my next words before speaking. “With any change of leadership, there will always be dissenters. There will always be those who preferred the old ways, who are resistant to change. Tides will always change, Count. Fighting against it is futile, and fruitless.”
“I think, Your Highness, it is the direction of the tide that worries some. There are rumors…”
I stop him with a gentle laugh. “There are always rumors. If I had a kopek for every rumor swirling around court, I could rebuild the Tower of Babel out of pure gold.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Of course. I only mean to say that, in my time here, and during my visits to Oranienbaum during your residence, I have witnessed what a wise, fair, and just leader you are. You are loved by the gentry and commoners alike. It is my humble observation that His Highness owes the support of his lords and his Russian army directly to you.”
I take another sip of tea. “You flatter me.”
He pauses before continuing. “I don’t mean it as flattery. It is simply a fact. Any man with open eyes can see it. It is your temperance, and your council, that keeps the throne secure.”
“One of a wife’s greatest duties is keeping her husband’s council, offering strength and support when it is needed,” I say modestly. “Are you here to ask me to bend his ear toward sustaining our friendship with Austria? Because I fear that ship has sailed.”
“No. I think you are quite right on that. I only wish you to know, that should the tides change again, and if you should ever see yourself struggling at the head of them, you have an ally in Austria, and in me.”
The blood in my veins freezes, and I have to set my cup down to keep it from spilling into my lap. I blink, reading his expression and finding only sincerity.
In one subtle conversation, Count Mercy has offered me Austrian aid, should I ever choose to usurp the throne of Russia from Peter.
The idea is as laughable as it is terrifying.
I nod and he departs, leaving me to ponder his offer and the choices that have led me to even consider it.
Queen of Always Page 6
