Satin Ice

by Iris Johansen

  Silver felt a jab of pain and struggled to keep her face expressionless. The first burning splinter had been inserted, and Natalya was eagerly searching for signs of agony.

  "You don't know that. Nicholas is not you."

  "Who knows a man better than his mother?" Natalya asked silkily. "If you care anything for him, you will go away. I'm sure he would not be lacking in generosity. However, I would be pleased to buy your passage back to America, where you're accepted."

  Accepted? Where had she ever been accepted, Silver wondered bitterly. "I won't leave. I have a reason for being here."

  Natalya's lips curled. "I'm sure you do. The dirty little savage is now a princess. A few words spoken by a priest doesn't make a princess, Indian."

  "And neither do thirty years of clawing and lies."

  The older woman's face hardened. "Leave St. Petersburg. I won't tell you again."

  Silver gazed steadily at her, suppressing shivers of apprehension. She refused to be afraid of this virago. Nicholas's mother would feed on fear just as old Snaggle-Tooth had. Silver smiled sweetly, "I cannot leave. You see, I am with child."

  Natalya inhaled sharply. "You can't be."

  "But I am. Dr. Relling said that I'm in wonderfully good health and will have a fine strong babe." Her smile broadened. "A babe with my tainted blood and your name to remind everyone that you have neither lineage nor youth." She paused. "I'm sure you can hardly wait for the happy time when you'll become a grandmother."

  Natalya's cheeks were flushed, and she seemed to be struggling to speak.

  Silver sketched a curtsy. "I believe our conversation is finished. Good evening. Your Highness." She turned to leave. "I'll send Count Stepvan to you. It must be gratifying to receive a young man's adoration at your advanced age. Enjoy it while you may. The years pass so quickly, don't they? Perhaps he will—"

  "One moment." Natalya's whisper was quivering with fury. "Have you thought how this 'tainted' child will be received by Nicholas?"

  Silver froze and then repeated Valentin's words of reassurance. "Every man wants an heir to carry on his name."

  Natalya smiled coldly. "Has he told you he will welcome a baby with mixed blood?"

  Another splinter, well placed and agonizingly sharp.

  Silver averted her eyes. "He didn't have to tell me." She heard Natalya's soft laughter behind her as she walked quickly toward the long damask-covered banquet table across the room, where Nicholas and Count Stepvan were standing.

  "You can go back to her now," she told the young count curtly.

  Stepvan smiled tentatively before hurrying across the room toward Natalya Savron.

  Nicholas's gaze searched Silver's face has he handed her a crystal cup full of punch. "Are you all right?"

  "Of course." Silver forced herself to smile. "I counted more coups than your sweet mother, I think." She took a sip of the punch. "But I doubt if she'll be persuaded to use her influence at court, unless it's to have me beheaded."

  Nicholas smiled faintly. "Even my mother doesn't have the power to have a princess executed."

  She put the cup down on the table. "Well, that's a relief. Can we go now?"

  "It's considered rude to leave before the appearance of the tsar. Don't you—" He stopped as he noticed the faint lines of tension around Silver's mouth. "Yes, we can go." A reckless smile touched his lips. "Who knows? The tsar might even be disappointed if I obeyed protocol for once." He took her arm and urged her toward the arched doorway across the room.

  Count Stepvan's gaze followed Silver and Nicholas as they moved across the ballroom. "Your son's wife is very beautiful."

  Natalya's lips thinned as she languidly moved her bejeweled fan back and forth. "You think so? I find her quite ordinary."

  The count's gaze was on Silver Savron and he failed to notice his lady's displeasure. "She has a certain ..." He tilted his head, searching for the right word to describe the tempestuous appeal of Nicholas Savron's wife, "Fire. She may well become the rage, you know."

  Natalya's grip tightened on her fan as her gaze followed Stepvan's. The impudent bitch was beautiful and her audacity might prove refreshing to a jaded court where anything different was considered exciting and seized upon with enthusiasm. If Silver Savron did become the rage, she would bask in a notoriety that would inevitably include Natalya. And when society grew tired of their new toy, they would throw Silver aside but the glare of notoriety would remain and wouldn't be easily forgotten. After that damnable duel, Natalya had been forced to fight a hellish battle to prevent herself from being exiled from court. She wasn't about to go through the humiliating experience of being an outcast again.

  Natalya turned and smiled with enchanting sweetness at Stepvan. "I have a favor to ask, chéri. Would you be an angel and find Count Peskov in this mad crush? I really must speak to him before the tsar arrives."

  "What did she say to you?" Nicholas asked quietly.

  Silver didn't answer. The only sound was the creak of the carriage and the sharp clip of the horses hooves on the cobbled street.

  "I want to know, Silver."

  Silver shrugged. "Whatever she thought would hurt me. She's a very clever woman, your mother." Silver looked out the window. "She says she knows you well. Is that true?"

  "As you say, she's a clever woman. We've come to understand each other over the years." She could feel his gaze on her face. "Why do you ask?"

  "No reason." She continued to look out the window. "She wasn't pleased about the child."

  He chuckled. "You told her? No wonder she looked like she was about to explode. My beautiful maman has no desire to appear other than perpetually young."

  "I thought she wouldn't like it." There was a thread of defiance in Silver's voice. "That's why I told her. Do you mind?"

  "Look at me, Silver." When she didn't obey, he reached out and turned her face so that she was forced to meet his eyes. "Now, listen carefully. I know exactly what my mother is and how cruel she can be. I'll never blame you for striking out to defend yourself."

  "She's your mother," Silver whispered. "Do you have ... affection for her?"

  He was silent for a moment. "I don't know. When I was a boy I loved her. Later, I hated her. We're bound together by the ties of blood and experience, but affection?" He shrugged. "Over the years the boundaries of hate and love tend to blur."

  "Do they? I never knew my mother."

  "But you had Rising Star."

  "Yes, but there was never any doubt about how I felt about my aunt. I loved Rising Star."

  "I know." Nicholas suddenly felt very old and world- weary. Everything was so simple for Silver. She saw things with a clear, shining honesty that would never become muddled with time or jaded with experience. "You were both very lucky."

  He wanted to draw nearer, not in passion, but to share the tenderness he felt for her. Yet if he did, he knew passion would soon follow. His fingers dropped away from her chin and he moved away. "Did you like Dr. Rellings?"

  She drew a deep breath and looked away from him again. "He appears competent enough, but I don't think I'd trust him if anything went wrong. He reminds me of a doctor I knew who practiced in Hell's Bluff. That old sot would go off on a drunken spree at the wink of an eye."

  "If you don't trust him, then we'll get someone else."

  "He'll do as well as anyone." Her brow wrinkled in thought. "I might decide to deliver my baby myself. I've helped with other births, and it shouldn't be difficult."

  "No," Nicholas said firmly. "We'll keep Dr. Rellings. You may not be worried, but I'd feel a great deal more secure if there were a physician attending you."

  "Would you?" She tried to hide the burst of happiness that spiraled through her. "Then we'll keep him on. It doesn't really matter."

  "I think it matters very much."

  Nicholas actually cared that she was safe and well. She mustn't become so excited; she mustn't let it mean so much to her. She moistened her lips with her tongue, her gloved fingers tightly clutching
her small beaded purse. "What are we going to do about Etaine?"

  "I was wondering when you were going to bring that up. We can obviously expect no help if Peskov decides to cause trouble."

  "I can go after Etaine myself," she said haltingly. "This isn't even your responsibility. I'm the one who promised Etaine—"

  "And I'm the one who promised you that I'd see that Etaine was taken from her father. I'll keep that promise." He smiled. "Tomorrow night, Silver."

  Her eyes lit with excitement. "Truly? How? When will we—"

  "We not going to do anything. You are going to stay safely home on Crystal Island."

  She frowned mutinously. "I'm going with you."

  "Silver, I won't permit it."

  "Permit?" Silver asked with ominous softness. "Your mother used that word with me. I like it no better from you."

  Nicholas gazed at her in exasperation. Silver's gray eyes were bright with anger and her jaw was set in determination. He could see that persuading her to stay at home was going to be a hellishly difficult task. He had a fleeting memory of the night of their marriage on the Rose, when he had told himself how easy his firebird was going to be to tame. Good Lord, he must have been mad.

  He leaned forward and began to speak quickly and persuasively. Then, as she merely stared blankly at him, he spoke more harshly, more authoritatively, ending with, "So you will not go."

  "You're not being sensible. I have friends with the circus who will be able to help us if we have need of them. It's settled. I'm going with you, Nicholas."

  "It is not settled, Silver," Nicholas said firmly, and experienced a sinking sensation even as he braced himself to resume his arguments.

  3

  Silver dodged agilely through the throng milling around the circus grounds and stopped to catch a quick breath as she reached Nicholas, Mikhail, and Valentin. "I know where she is! I just spoke to my friend, Sebastien, the knife thrower, and he said Etaine is performing in the big tent right now." Silver looked at the crowd, then sighed with relief. "I don't see Monteith. Perhaps he's not here to—" She broke off as she caught sight of the elegant gray-clad figure of Monteith leaning idly against the platform of the freak-show tent. Her heart gave a leap of sheer terror, and she drew a deep breath to try to steady herself. It was stupid to be so afraid of Monteith. He was only a man. Why did she always have this reaction when she was in his presence? "No, there he is, talking with that plump man wearing the yellow cravat."

  "Peskov," Nicholas murmured. "Which means the situation may become a bit dicey. I don't suppose I could persuade you to go back to the carriage?"

  She shook her head emphatically. "I don't know why you're so worried. We outnumber him." She gestured to Mikhail and Valentin on either side of Nicholas. "All we have to do is to wait until Etaine comes out of the cage and march in and take her."

  Silver wasn't aware of the bravado in her tone, but Nicholas recognized it as the same uneasiness that was besetting him. There was something about Mon- teith that made him tense and arch like a cat in the graveyard sensing ... What, for God's sake? He had never been one to waste time caviling before phantoms that didn't exist. With barely contained impatience, he turned toward the big tent. "Then let's go take her."

  Paul Monteith glanced up and saw them. For an instant he appeared startled and then, curiously, he smiled with genuine pleasure. He straightened and bowed politely.

  Silver clutched Nicholas's arm. "Yes, let's go."

  "Our villain doesn't seem to be apprehensive," Valentin commented to Silver as he fell into step with them. "I expected the man to be a demon incarnate from your description of him. He's actually quite a handsome fellow."

  "He is not handsome," Silver said harshly. "Not on the inside. He's ugly and slimy and—"

  "I think Valentin gets the gist of your meaning," Nicholas said as they entered the big tent. He wrinkled his nose at the distasteful odor of sawdust, sweat, and perfume. The tiers of benches were packed with a motley collection of humanity. Peasants garbed in coarse homespun contrasted sharply with elegantly dressed gentlemen and satin-gowned women. The audience in the tent had only one common, denominator, their breathless, almost hungry fascination with what was happening in the cage in the center ring. Nicholas found himself swept up in the same mesmerizing horror. "Good Lord," he whispered. "Is that your Etaine?"

  Silver nodded. "The act's almost over. There's just the last bit that's called 'The Sacrifice.' " She swallowed to ease the painful tightness of her throat. "It's terrible. I hate to watch it."

  But she knew she would watch the rest of Etaine's act. She always had been compelled to despite—or perhaps because of—the sick terror she felt for the child.

  "This is wickedness," Mikhail said slowly, his gaze on Etaine's small figure in the cage.

  Silver was surprised to see Mikhail's enormous hands clench into fists at his sides. Mikhail so seldom showed ferocity that it jarred her out of her thrall of horror. "Yes, it is."

  Etaine's silver-white curls shone brightly beneath the harsh light as she slowly crawled up onto a black marble slab resembling an altar. Two pedestals were positioned about a foot from the edge on either side and a third was set even closer to the head of the marble slab.

  Etaine clapped her hands and the two male lions bounded across the cage and leapt onto the pedestals. Then she clapped her hands again and the female lion pranced more slowly to the pedestal at the head of the altar. The lioness snarled, her yellow eyes blazing defiance as she lifted a paw to claw at the air. It took another command from Etaine to get her to leap onto the pedestal.

  Then slowly, deliberately, the child stretched out on the altar on her back.

  "My God," Valentin said, "Those lions are only inches from her."

  Etaine waited another moment and then scooted to the end of the altar so that her slender neck hung off the slab; it was suspended directly below the bared teeth of the lioness.

  "They will kill her. Why do we not stop it?" Mikhail said through clenched teeth.

  Silver shook her head. "No, if we try to interfere now, it will startle them and Etaine will lose control."

  "She doesn't look as if she has much control now," Nicholas said grimly.

  The child looked totally helpless and infinitely fragile in her pink tights and tutu as she slowly threw out her arms as if to embrace the death that surrounded her.

  Silver moistened her dry lips. "She has control. Etaine is magical with animals." Silver was reassuring herself as well as them. "She'll be finished soon."

  Etaine stayed frozen in that position for another half minute, before carefully folding her arms across her chest and closing her eyes. This was always the worst moment of the performance for Silver. Etaine looked like the effigy on a tomb, reminding everyone in the audience just how close death was to her.

  Then it was over. Silver breathed a sigh that quivered through every nerve of her body as Etaine opened her eyes and slowly, cautiously, sat up. The audience gave a communal gasp as Etaine's soft curls brushed the lioness's sharp yellow teeth.

  In another moment the child had slid to the other end of the altar, gotten down, and turned to face the lions.

  The lioness snarled before gliding down onto the black marble slab Etaine had just vacated.

  "Merde!" Mikhail took an impulsive step forward.

  But the lioness went no farther. She only stood and watched with hungry golden eyes as Etaine backed step by step across the cage toward the door.

  "If you'll excuse me."

  Silver turned to see Paul Monteith standing behind her in the aisle. "How delightful to see you again, Silver. I'd love to stay and chat, but I must go unlock the cage. Sultana appears a trifle distraught tonight, doesn't she? We wouldn't want Etaine to experience any . . . difficulty."

  Nicholas watched Monteith walk slowly down the aisle toward the ring. "He locks Etaine in that cage?"

  Silver nodded. "With great ceremony at the beginning of every act. He says it adds to the excitement
for the audience to know that Etaine can't get out of the cage."

  "I think I will break his bones," Mikhail said.

  Nicholas began to swear softly under his breath.

  Paul Monteith had reached the door of the cage and held up the key for the audience to see. Then he paused, his gaze holding Etaine's through the bars of the cage. The lions were moving restlessly behind the child, but she didn't seem to be aware of them. Her entire attention was focused on her father and the key in his hand.

  Monteith inserted the key, unlocked the door, and grabbed Etaine's wrist, drawing her out of the cage.

  The audience exploded into applause, shouting, screaming, clapping.

  Paul Monteith stepped aside and watched with a slight smile as Etaine took her bows.

  "Now," Mikhail said. "We wait no longer." He strode swiftly down the isle toward the center ring with Silver, Nicholas, and Valentin in his wake.

  Silver felt a rush of surprise. She had never seen Mikhail take the initiative as he was doing tonight. He had always seemed to prefer to fade into the background. Now he was very much in the forefront as he brushed everyone from his path and strode into the ring.

  Etaine's eyes showed her surprise as she looked up to see the mountain of a man striding across the ring, the light of the lanterns blazing on his mop of red hair.

  The audience suddenly fell silent as Mikhail knelt in front of Etaine. He smiled gently. "I am Mikhail Kuzdief. I have come to take you away. You will be safe with me. Will you trust me and come?"

  Etaine gazed at him in wonder before shooting an apprehensive glance at her father.

  Paul Monteith merely stood watching them both, an amused smile on his lips.

  Silver had finally reached the ring. "Go with Mikhail, Etaine. We'll join you in a moment."

  A brilliant smile lit Etaine's face. "Silver, you're here! She ran across the few yards separating them and threw herself into Silver's arms. "I thought I'd never see you again."

  Silver's arms tightened around Etaine's thin body. "Did you think I lied, then?" she asked teasingly. "I promised you we'd be together."