The Dreaming Land I: The Challenge (The Zemnian Series Book 5)

by E. P. Clark

  “You stop that!” Mirochka’s angry shout carried across the glade and over the sound of my running. She had jumped in front of him and was facing Princess Velikokrasnova with her hands on her hips and a look of outrage on her face. Definitely more like me than like Nika, I thought with relief, even as I ran faster in order to snatch her out of harm’s way.

  Princess Velikokrasnova’s hand drew back again. I wasn’t going to be able to reach her in time to stop her. Rage at the thought of someone, and especially her, striking my child, was almost overpowered by the exultation of the thought that if she did that, if she hit Mirochka, I could demand almost any punishment of her I could desire, and Sera would be hard pressed to refuse me.

  Ivan’s hand shot out and caught her wrist before the blow could fall. I slowed to a walking pace, curious to see how the matter would unfold.

  “How dare you!” she shrieked. “Raise your hand against your own mother!”

  “Mirochka!” I called. “Mirochka, come here!”

  “I’m not leaving him, mama!” she called back, giving Princess Velikokrasnova a furious glare.

  Ivan let go of his mother’s arm, only to have her draw back her hand and slap him again. Mirochka kicked her in the shins. Unquestionably my daughter, I thought, sparing a glance for Nika. He was watching in horrified despair, but made no move to intervene. Sera and Vyacheslav Irinovich had turned to watch the spectacle unfold, and the guards, who had been standing around the edge of the glade overseeing the children’s game, were closing in on us from all sides. Judging by their faces, they intended to overpower Princess Velikokrasnova, and Nika, and Ivan as well.

  “STOP!” I shouted.

  Everyone froze.

  “I fear there has been some misunderstanding,” I said loudly. “Something to bring about this little tiff. Marina Yekaterinovna, please accept my deepest apologies for my daughter’s behavior.” I stepped up and pulled Mirochka (despite her vehement protests) behind me, while angling myself to stand between Princess Velikokrasnova and Ivan. “She is a high-spirited and fair-minded girl, and she has already taken to Ivan Marinovich as to a brother. I’m sure you can understand her actions. Now, perhaps we should all retire for the night. Morning is wiser than evening, and I’m sure this will all seem like nothing by tomorrow.”

  “My sister is right,” said Sera, coming over to join us. The guards all hovered around her, waiting for a command to grab Princess Velikokrasnova, or let her go. “As a mother of three sons myself, I understand how feelings can become strained sometimes. Come, let us all retire. I’m sure my men will be happy to escort you back to your carriage, Marina Yekaterinovna.”

  Princess Velikokrasnova gave all of us, and especially Ivan, a malevolent glare, and then whirled around and strode off back in the direction of the stables, Nika and two guards hurrying after her.

  “Thank you,” I said to Ivan.

  “For what?” he asked. He looked dazed. There were two bright red overlapping handprints on his left cheek.

  “For stopping her from hitting Mirochka. Next time, though, you should stop her before she strikes you, too.”

  “Valeriya Dariyevna, I…” He stopped and shook his head. I wondered what kind of thoughts went through the head of a person who was hit by their mother on a regular basis. My mother had only ever struck me once. It had not gone so well for her, and she had never dared try it again. But it seemed that Ivan would just stand there and take it…perhaps it was because he was a man. Men seemed to crave that kind of thing more. But still…

  “Come, let us go back to the kremlin,” said Sera, and we all formed up and began walking down the path out of the glade. Princess Velikokrasnova, I judged, should, unless she deliberately tarried, stay just out of sight of us all the way back.

  I arranged for Ivan to end up walking with me at the back of the group once again. “Why did you do it, Valeriya Dariyevna?” he asked in a low voice, once the others were no longer paying attention to us.

  “Do what?”

  “Why did you…save her? You could have just let the guards take her, throw her in prison even, but you…I saw. You thought about something, and then you…you gave her a way out. Why did you do it? I know you have no love for her, and you were…a moment before you were ready to kill her, I saw it in your eyes. But then you changed your mind.”

  “Having her dragged into prison by the guards would serve no one,” I said. “But letting her walk free might win us some kind of favor in the future. Besides…I almost…feel sorry for her.”

  “You do?” He almost smiled. The handprints were already fading from his face. “That’s unexpected.”

  I shrugged. “I am surprised as you are,” I told him. “What can I say? Half the time even I don’t know which way I’m going to jump until after I do it.”

  “That must lead to a lot of falls,” he said, almost-smiling a little bit more.

  “Strangely, no. My feet seem to know where to go better than the rest of me does, so I just follow them.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, now actually smiling. The memory of being struck in the face twice seemed to be fading from his mind as fast as the handprints were fading from his skin. Probably because it had been such a common occurrence in his life that by now one blow just blended in with all the others. I wondered if—no, when—he would turn vicious, like a beaten dog. There had been just a hint of it tonight when he had grabbed his mother’s wrist, but that had been such a mild response compared to what some people (such as myself) would have done that it could hardly be called a sign of a hot temper. And, I couldn’t help but think, perhaps it was good that his life with his mother was not a congenial one. It was well known, and well lamented, that too many men preferred their mothers above all other women, and even when they married and became men in their own right, they longed for nothing more than to return to the time of their boyhood and their childhood home. More than one marriage had been spoilt because of the husband’s desperate wish to still be a little boy and to flee back to his mother. But in Ivan’s case perhaps that would not be a problem. Perhaps he could do what so many of his brothers failed at, and leave his mother’s home and become a man in truth. If only I could be sure of that, and also that he would he would develop the backbone he required, without the wanton viciousness that so often went with it.

  “Can I ask you something?” I said.

  “Of course, Valeriya Dariyevna.”

  “What would it take to make you really angry?”

  “I’m sorry?” he said, laughing.

  “What would it take to make you really, truly angry?” I repeated. “The one time my mother slapped my face, I broke my plate over her head and told her she was no longer my mother.”

  “Oh,” said Ivan, looking halfway between impressed and appalled. “Ah…how old were you then?”

  “About twelve.”

  “And that was the first time your mother hit you?”

  “And the last,” I confirmed.

  “You must have really deserved it, then,” he said, looking at me sideways.

  I gave him a look back. “I don’t recognize the right of other people to decide what I do or don’t deserve, or to demand things of me. Either I give it freely, or not at all.”

  “Oh. But what if it’s something you don’t want to give?”

  “I’m not afraid of pain,” I said. “If I think it’s something that needs to be done, I’ll do it, even if I don’t want to. But if someone wants me to do something I think is a bad idea, then I won’t do it, even if it’s my mother asking.”

  “And if it’s the Empress?”

  “Let’s hope she never puts it to the test,” I said lightly. “But in all seriousness, someone needs to break a plate over your mother’s head, or something. There were no further problems with my mother after that little incident. Maybe you should try it.”

  “Perhaps…” He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Valeriya Dariyevna. You see…you see, my first memory of my mothe
r…my first memory of my mother is of her screaming and hitting me over and over again, while some serving woman held me down. I was probably about three or four. Most of my later memories of my mother are of something similar, to be honest. It’s just how she is. And besides,” the smile he was smiling now held a much darker edge, “I just lived to see her humiliated by the Empress, and kicked in the shins by a girl of eight, which for her is a hundred times worse than me breaking plates and disavowing her. Now if she could just lose most of her fortune and be shunned by her fellow princesses, my life would be complete.” The dark smile slipped away, to be replaced by his normal bright and bashful expression. “I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “I shouldn’t have said that…”

  “Oh no,” I said. “It makes me think much better of you. I’ll have to see what I can do about that. And in the meantime, you returning with us to the kremlin is sure to sour her stomach.”

  “True,” he said, gloating and regret chasing each other across his face. “And…I’m certain, Valeriya Dariyevna. Even more certain than before. I want to go with you East. I want to go with you on this mission. I want to serve the Tsarina and Zem’, and…if there’s any chance that we can do anything for any of those children who were taken, then I want to be part of it. I…I’ve never done anything, Valeriya Dariyevna. Anything worthwhile, I mean, anything I could be proud of. I don’t…I’m sick of being someone everyone bows to, but no one respects. If…if I go with you on this journey and come back, then…then my mother will never dare slap my face again. She won’t dare because I won’t let her!”

  “Of course,” I said softly. “Of course you have to come with us. For that, and many other reasons. By law you will be of age at Midsummer, and can decide for yourself whether to come or stay. We set off the day after. Do you have a horse? Or horses? Traveling clothes and gear? All that kind of stuff?”

  “Some,” he said doubtfully. “But whether my mother will let me…I don’t want to leave my horse behind if I can help it, though. The gods alone know what she’ll do to him…”

  “We’ll send for him,” I promised. “And for the rest of your things. And then we’ll find whatever else you need. We’ll have a whole kremlin’s worth of goods at our disposal, so by tomorrow night you’ll be fitted out like a prince—which you are. And then in two more days’ time we’ll be on the road, and all this will be left behind.”

  “Does it really work like that, Valeriya Dariyevna?” he asked. “Can you just leave…troubles and such behind?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “But it feels like it when you first set out. And sometimes they go away on their own if you ignore them for long enough.”

  “I will be inconveniencing my mother if I leave. The betrothal…”

  “Vanya!” I said sharply. He stopped and looked at me.

  “You owe your mother nothing. You just told me that your first memory of her is of her holding you down and beating you. And now she wants to marry you off to some, some woman of dubious origin whom you don’t even know? If leaving like this will inconvenience her, then let her be inconvenienced. Let her know what it’s like to be slapped in the face in front of the most powerful people in Krasnograd. And if she attempts to take revenge on you and yours, if she disavows you and cuts you off without a grosh and takes away the Velikokrasnova name, well, let her feel the shame of seeing others take her only son into their families. No matter what happens, Vanya, no matter what you decide regarding our proposal, I swear to you, Sera—the Tsarina—will find a place for you here in Krasnograd, or if she can’t or you don’t want to stay here, then I will find one for you in Stepnoye. The Zerkalitsy don’t cast off those who have claim to us, and neither do the Stepniye. If your own family turns their back on you because you choose to become the tsarinovich’s companion and go on this mission, then you can rest assured that the Zerkalitsy, and the Stepniye, and the Severnolesniye will all be clamoring to take you in.”

  “The Severnolesniye?” he asked in confusion.

  “The tsarinovich’s father is a Severnolesny by birth. No doubt they would take you in, if you preferred to make your home in the North.”

  “I see,” he said slowly. “And if…pardon me for saying this, Valeriya Dariyevna, but if…if my mother disavows me, and I am no longer a Velikokrasnov, then what value will I have to all these great families? Will…” he blushed painfully, “will your proposal still stand? I would think that the Tsarina will want you to make an alliance with someone who still has a family.”

  “I don’t know what she will do,” I said. “But my offer will still stand. I wouldn’t…I don’t go back on my word, not on that kind of thing.”

  “Even if,” he gave me an awfully shrewd look for a young man of twenty, “the Tsarina commanded you otherwise?”

  “That would be unfortunate,” I said. “Let us hope it doesn’t come to that. I would hate to put her love of me to the test like that.”

  “I see.” The corner of his mouth quirked, and he looked…pleased, I thought, and flattered, and maybe even a little bit in love. Sometimes there was nothing like telling a man you were set on him to bring him to you. My heart made a queer jump. Had I just made a declaration of passion to Ivan Marinovich Velikokrasnov? My heart made another queer jump, like a fish trying to fight its way out of deep mud. Such an elegant image to describe its return to life after all these years.

  Chapter Twenty

  We joined up with the others back at the kremlin. Princess Velikokrasnova and her kibitka were nowhere to be seen. According to the stable hands, she had already left, although not before screaming at the stableboys for bringing the kibitka around too slowly, and then screaming and striking one of her horses in the face for looking at her as she walked by. My dislike for her rose sharply, eclipsing all the pity I had felt before and reaching new, as yet unexplored, heights of hatred. There were many things I found difficult to forgive, and striking a horse in the face out of sheer bad temper was right at the top of the list. I had listened to Ivan’s description of her mistreatment of him with rage but a certain amount of acceptance; after all, I knew that many mothers did that kind of thing, deplorable as I found it. But striking a good horse for no reason…was one of the worst things one could do back on the steppe. I was pleased to hear that Taisya Natalyevna, the mistress of horse, had witnessed the incident and had taken Princess Velikokrasnova to task so severely that, according to one of the stable hands who had seen it all, it was a wonder she hadn’t been burnt to a crisp on the spot.

  “Does she often take out her ill humor on her horses as well as her men?” I asked Ivan.

  He shrugged. “Horses, men, serving girls…Valeriya Dariyevna, if you’re not careful, I’m afraid your head will catch fire.”

  “My sister has a soft spot for horses,” interjected Sera, who was watching us with amusement. “Although in many ways it is not immediately apparent, she is a direct descendent of Darya Krasnoslavovna. And of course she is a Stepnaya as well. Her love of horses rather outweighs her love of humans most of the time.”

  “That’s because horses actually deserve it!” I said. “Unlike…” I decided not to say anything more about my opinion of Princess Velikokrasnova and her ilk in front of Ivan. I walked into the stable and found Taisya Natalyevna. “Ivan Marinovich will be relocating to the kremlin,” I told her. “He wishes to have his horse brought here too. And I’d say we should do so sooner rather than later, since he fears his mother will do something to the horse in retaliation.”

  Taisya Natalyevna, who shared my opinion about the proper treatment of good horses, narrowed her eyes and said that she and some of her sturdier lads would set off immediately to fetch the horse, and after getting a description of him from Ivan, she and three hulking lads did indeed head out in the direction of Black Earth Street. I tried to imagine Princess Velikokrasnova’s response to their arrival. It was very heartening. Then I thought about Nika, and felt less heartened. I wondered if there was anything I could do there. No, not really. />
  “You’re plotting revenge, aren’t you, Valya?” said Sera, slipping over to stand beside me and whisper in my ear.

  “As always,” I told her with a smile.

  “Oh good. And…dare I ask…” She raised a brow in the direction of Ivan, who was playing with Mirochka and the tsarinoviches again.

  “Well, he hasn’t accepted our proposal yet. But I think unless something goes terribly wrong, it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Good,” she said, with a satisfied little smile. “The sooner the better. When you fell behind us there I was almost hoping you’d…managed to convince him to…but there will be plenty of time to get him alone when you’re journeying together.”

  Now it was my turn to raise a brow at her. “Get him alone? Whatever for?”

  She sighed. “What with one thing and another, Valya, I’ve decided that I want you married and with child, or at least with child, before the summer is out.”