by E. P. Clark
“I’m so glad you’re here, Valya,” she said into my ear, her arms hugging me convulsively as her rounding belly pressed against my side. A little shiver of alarm ran up my spine. Something was wrong here: wrong with my sister and wrong with Krasnograd, and somehow I was going to have to make it right.
“I am always glad to be of service, Tsarina,” I told her. I knew that that was not what she wanted to hear, that she wanted something more of me, but it was what I had to offer and I meant it sincerely, even as the little shiver of fear ran all over my body and told me that whatever had prompted her to summon me here to Krasnograd, it was more than whatever I could have guessed back home on the steppe. My service would be more than mere words before the end, I was sure of it.
Chapter Three
The dinner with the Empress started off innocuously enough.
I had, much to Mirochka’s disapproval, steamed and scrubbed us within an inch of our lives and stuffed us both into our best sarafans, something to which she took particular offense, as at home neither of us wore gowns from one moon to the next. Trousers were ever so much more convenient for riding, and no one on the steppe would think that a princess was lowering herself by dressing like a man. But here in Krasnograd noblewomen wore gaudy sarafans that came down to the tips of their boots and held enough gold and silver to serve as armor in a pinch, and right now I was determined that we would also wear sarafans when dining with the Tsarina, distasteful as the experience was to both of us.
“My dear Valya,” said the Empress as soon as we were shown into her private chambers. “I see you have refreshed yourselves from the road, but I must apologize for the laxity of my maids. Surely they could have taken better care of your clothes. I will have new ones assigned to you immediately.”
“There is no need, Tsarina,” I told her quickly, bowing as low as I could in order to soften the refusal. “I dressed us both myself. Your maids are blameless.”
“I see. Well, in that case, my dearest Valya, you must allow me to have some of my attendants fit you with some new gowns. Is that the same one you wore when you were last here three years ago?”
“Yes, Tsarina,” I admitted. I even managed not to grit my teeth. What in another woman would have been snide was in her merely taking a benevolent interest, but here in the Krasnograd kremlin I was suddenly ashamed of my rumpled, out-of-fashion sarafan, and having it thrown in my face, even with the best of intentions, was paining me more than I thought it should.
“I take it, then, that there is not much call for fine sarafans and headdresses back on the steppe?” she asked, raising her left brow in the way that she did that was so charming, and that almost took the sting out of her question. For a moment I was distracted, jolted as I had been by our discussion of Mirochka’s appearance and her resemblance to the Empress and to Darya Krasnoslavovna, by the glint of fire in Sera’s brow, showing up as it did against her milky-white skin. Too white, I thought, and too milky. Despite all her appearance of health, the pregnancy was already starting to tell on her.
“No, Tsarina,” I admitted, forcing myself not to search her face for further signs of ill health.
“Well, and perhaps that is just as well, but, my dearest Valya, I fear that you and your darling Mirochka will have to array yourselves in our fashions, at least during public occasions. Not that either of you need any adornment, you are both so handsome, but it would please me so much to see you both looking as fine as possible. I would have everyone in Krasnograd know that you are both my most valued guests and kinswomen.”
“As it please you, Tsarina,” I said, with another bow.
“Now Valya! Please! We are sisters, you know. Enough of this ‘as it please you, Tsarina’ nonsense. I have a name, and if a sister won’t use it, who will?” She smiled at me again, and I was struck against my will by the strain behind the warmth in that smile.
“As it please you, Serafimiya Raisovna,” I said.
“Oh please! Call me Serochka, as you did when we were girls together—or the last time you were here.”
“I don’t know that we were ever girls together, Sera,” I said, choosing to ignore her reference to my last visit to Krasnograd. “Seeing as you were already a young woman when I was toddling around in diapers.”
That made her laugh, and she chatted lightly as the food was brought in and the table laid, asking me about my family and telling me about her own minor doings until her husband and three sons came in and joined us and we all sat down at the small table and ate the excellent supper. The strain behind her smile seemed to ease as she ate, and I began to hope that perhaps it had just been hunger and tiredness, which certainly plagued women with child, and that there was nothing seriously wrong with her and that I had only been called here in order to solidify the ties between us and demonstrate to the world that the steppe still stood behind Krasnograd, ready to defend but never, never to conquer.
“Now, boys,” she said as the maids were clearing away the table. “Take your sister Miroslava Valeriyevna and show her your games, won’t you? I’m sure she would be delighted to see them.” Noticing my expression at the thought of Mirochka leaving us, she patted my hand and said, “Don’t worry, my dear Valya, my boys will take care of her, and two guards and a nursemaid will be with them in case, I don’t know, an invasion breaks out or something while we’re sitting here.”
“May I go, mama?” asked Mirochka, clearly intrigued by her new brothers and the promise of new games and toys. Somewhat guiltily, I reflected that there had not been many toys and games in her life, and certainly no brothers. Not that she lacked companionship or things to do, but learning to shoot and track was not the same as carefree play with the finest toys money could buy, something that was her birthright just as much as her steppe upbringing had been.
“Of course, but,” I leaned down and whispered into her ear, “you must be very careful with your new brothers! I fear they are much more fragile than you!”
“I will, mama!” she promised, giggling at the thought of the oldest boy, Ruslan, who was four years older and more than a head taller than her, requiring delicate handling. The four of them went off, accompanied as promised by two guards and a nursemaid, to the nursery to play.
“She’s a fine girl, Valeriya Dariyevna,” said Sera’s husband, watching her go. “You must take great pride in her.” His expression was wistful as he said it, and so, for a moment, was Sera’s.
“As you must in your sons, Vyacheslav Irinovich,” I told him.
“Ah yes, our sons,” said Sera. “We do indeed take pride in them, Valya. I love them, and take pride in them, and they will never want for anything, never, not as long as any of them shall live. But they are not daughters, are they?”
There didn’t seem to be any answer to that, so I merely nodded, while the wistfulness on Vyacheslav Irinovich’s face deepened into sorrow. He had a fine, elegant, intelligent face, rather like my father’s, and sorrow suited it, but I would have rather not seen the sorrow, even so. He was, to the best of my knowledge, devoted to Sera, and she to him, and their union would have been ideal in every way, except for the lack of an heir. Three boys, and at least as many miscarriages, every one more damaging to her health than the last, and yet here she was with child again.
“Tsarina,” I said abruptly. “Sera. Forgive me, but I must speak plainly. I could not help but notice that…your condition. Are you sure it is wise?”
“Wise, Valya?” she asked with a smile. “Why would it not be wise?”
“Your health, Sera. I know how much you suffered with the boys, and how…how close we came to losing you the last time I was here, during the last…the last incident. You promised me then that that was the last attempt you would make, and I swore to you that Mirochka would be ready to take up her place at your side, if you should need to call upon her, and you promised to summon us to Krasnograd when that time came. When I first saw your messenger, I assumed that that was why you had sent for us, but now I am at a loss to explain
our presence. I know that she is not the product of a lawful marriage, and that thus far her upbringing has not been that of an heir to the Wooden Throne, but she is of the Zerkalitsa line and she and I are ready to serve you, whenever you may need us, however you may need us. Do not endanger yourself for no reason, Sera. Zem’ needs you. Surely—if you will forgive me for saying so—it is not too late. Last time you saved yourself just in time, and this time too you could end this…this madness before it ruins you entirely.” I stopped just as abruptly as I had begun, surprised to realize that my cheeks were burning and my breath was coming fast. “Please don’t do anything to endanger yourself, Sera,” I said. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”
“Oh, Valya…” She had to stop to wipe her eyes, before smiling again and continuing, “Blood will tell, will it not? I knew the moment you were born that I had been given a gift in you. Although,” she tried to smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you make such a long speech before. You’re not normally so…chatty.”
“I chat a lot inside my head. This time I just let it come out.”
She smiled and reached over and stroked my cheek. “And you meant it, did you not? You would give me yourself, and Mirochka too, if it meant keeping me safe?”
“Of course, Sera. Without a moment’s hesitation. I have already promised.”
“Yes you have. I do not forget the…the extraordinary honor you did me the last time, when you promised that I could have anything I would ask of you, including your life and that of Mirochka as well, if I would only save myself from what all agreed was my inevitable death. And so I did. I credit you with saving me: your courage, your loyalty, Valya, that are more than any sister could expect, even an Empress.
“And yet this time I fear I must go through with this, Valya. How it came about…I had not intended for this to happen, and yet I had been thinking and thinking of how cruel it was to make you and Mirochka my heirs, and how Zem’ would be thrown into disarray if…if Mirochka were to inherit. You know they might tolerate it, although I fear there would be some initial mutterings, and no small amount of opposition from the black earth princesses, but …well, perhaps they’d accept her eventually, but there would be some hard feelings because of her…situation. I even thought for a moment of making Ruslan my heir—after all, some princesses do pass on their titles to their sons, if the need is dire, or they find them suitable partners to rule with them, as was done with your father—but I fear that would throw the country into even worse disarray than handing the throne to you and Mirochka. Inheritance through the male line is much too chancy a thing to risk an empire on. Anyway. I had been thinking and thinking those thoughts, and then one day I realized what had happened, even though I had thought it impossible. I have consulted with the healers, Valya, the best Krasnograd has to offer, and they all agree that risky as it is to go through with it, ending it now would be even riskier, so I decided that perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps this means my own daughter will finally be given to me. Are you disappointed, Valya?”
“Disappointed?” I asked. “Why disappointed?”
“Because if it should be a girl, then she would come before you and Mirochka in the succession.”
“If you are safely delivered of a healthy girl, Sera, then I swear to you I will serve her for the rest of my life with joy in my heart. Nothing would make me happier. I would be the most devoted aunt Zem’ has ever seen. But…”
“But nothing, Valya. I knew I could count on you.”
“But what if it does not go well?” I continued stubbornly. “What then?”
“Then, Valya? Well, that is why I called you here. But I feel—I have a presentiment—that this time I will bring an heir into the world. At long last, an heir for Zem’, with no question of her heritage and no chance that she would cause any divided loyalties amongst the princesses. I have decided that this is one of those flashes of our foremothers’ gift of foresight, and that it will come to pass.”
“But what if…” I swallowed and then plowed on, “what if it does not go well for you, Sera?”
She looked at me. “If I must die in blood and pain to bring forth this heir, then so be it, Valya, so be it.” Her voice was not loud, but the conviction in it chilled me even more than anything else I had seen so far. I wondered how much she had foreseen.
“Please, Sera…” I said, not sure what I was going to ask but pleading with her anyway.
“It is decided, Valya,” she said, with the voice of the Tsarina. “It is decided. What will be, will be.”
“I..” I looked away, and caught sight of Vyacheslav Irinovich’s face, and wished I hadn’t. Whatever I felt about this wretched business, at least I was not directly involved in its conception. Vyacheslav Irinovich looked like a man who wished he could take back his entire life and do it over again, and I dare say that was accurate. But that was possible for none of us. The only way out of this for any of us was forward, little as I liked to think of what could be lying ahead for us. “As you say,” I said. “What will be, will be. But oh Sera! Zem’ does not deserve you!”
“Oh, whoever does?” she said with a smile. “But it has me even so. And you too, Valya, whom it deserves even less. I summoned you here for a reason, you know, even if it was not the one you expected.”
“I am ready to serve, of course.”
“And yet you doubt the wisdom of the service I will request, given what I have just told you. Oh Valya!” she said, on seeing my face. “How could I not guess your thoughts? I know you better than you know yourself.”
“No doubt that is true, Sera. But I am ready to serve nonetheless, even if I think it is folly that you ask. Although if it is folly, I will probably argue very hard against it.”
“I’m sure that is the case, Valya. Oh, and Valya, I have not forgotten all that you wrote me of in your last letters. We must discuss it seriously, you and I together, and then with the Princess Council. But, I think, it can keep, at least for a few days. I have two requests for you, you see, or maybe more, some more trifling than others, but requiring your immediate attention.”
“Which are?”
“Let us start with the trifling one, Valya. You must get married.”
“If that is the trifling request, Sera, then I fear to think what the serious request will be!”
“Oh Valya! Not that I consider marriage a trifle—but you know what I mean. You are not a love-struck young girl, your head filled with dreams of romance, who balks at the idea of a sensible marriage. You know you must get married; in fact, you promised me last time that you would if I asked it. Well, I am asking it, Valya.”
“Very well. Do you have someone in mind?”
“Several someones, in fact, Valya. I chose several suitable young princes, in the hopes that one of them would suit you.”
“That is very kind,” I said, and meant it. Many an empress would not have been so considerate. “Do these young men know what you have intended for them?”
“I thought it best to discuss it with you first, Valya. I wanted to let you make your choice, and woo him a little, and then, if he seemed receptive, we could approach the young man and his family with an offer. But until then, let us keep it between ourselves. I see no need to fuel rumor and speculation and hard feelings by letting it be known that there is something of a competition between them.”
“Certainly,” I said. “Do these young men have names? Do I know any of them?”
“Some of them, perhaps, Valya, or at least their families.”
Something about the way she said it made me prick up my ears. “I’m not going to like your choices, am I, Sera?”
“Well, you see, the thing is, Valya…”
“They’re all black earth princes, aren’t they?” I demanded.
“How did you know?” she asked, surprised for a moment out of her embarrassed hesitancy.
“Oh, lucky guess.”
“I’m sure it was more than that, Valya. You always were sharper than a
whole box of knives. I’ve always wondered if you weren’t gifted that way, even if it never seemed exactly like the gifts that usually run in our family. But if you think about it, it shares many similarities with what…”
“Yes-yes,” I interrupted her. “I see things that others don’t, just like our foremothers did, even if it’s not exactly foresight or farsight or the gift of seeing into the hearts of women, or the visions that Darya Krasnoslavovna had. I’ve had these thoughts too, Sera, and I honestly don’t know what to believe. But the issue of my possible giftedness doesn’t matter now. You want me to marry a black earth prince, don’t you?”
“Yes, Valya, I do.” She looked me straight in the eyes and said firmly, “You already bring me the steppe, Valya, so there’s no point in you marrying a boy from another steppe family, and besides, as far as I know, the steppe is peaceful—amongst itself. There is no contention amongst the steppe princesses, is there?”
“Not that I know of,” I admitted. “Everyone seems content with my mother’s rule, such as it is.”
“Your rule, you mean, Valya. Everyone knows who sits in judgment on the steppe.”
I shrugged. “I know of no discontent on the steppe,” I said.
“Not on the steppe, no, but the rift between the steppe and the rest of the country has only grown since you drove back the Rutsi and the Tanskans. Not that we are not grateful, but no one can forget that you were strong when the rest of us were weak, and standing tall when others fall breeds fear.”
“Krasnograd and the rest of the country should be down on their knees thanking us! If it weren’t for us…”
“Yes-yes, I know, I know. If it weren’t for the steppe, all of Zem’ would be the vassal of a foreign land and the slaves of the men who rule there. But reminding people of that is unlikely to endear the steppe to them. Furthermore, the steppe has always been independent, more so than the other provinces, and that is another cause for mistrust and resentment.”
