by Rena Rossner
I bow my head. “Thank you, sir.”
“That is all; you may go. I will see you,” he says to Theodora, “two days from now. At the altar. Do not be late and do not disappoint me.” He says with a straight face and then he laughs again. “But of course, I am merely jesting. I look forward to the consummation of our nuptials, my lady.” He takes Theodora’s hand in his and kisses it, then looks up. Theodora’s gaze is steady.
“Will that be all?” she says.
“Yes, future wife, that is all.”
Theodora turns to go, but when I go to follow her, as she walks out of the room and out of earshot, I hear him say, “Tya e krasiva tazi, eh?” to the guards in the room with him. He laughs that deep belly laugh again. I don’t understand what he said.
“Stanna!” he calls to me as I’m about to walk out of his chamber.
I turn back to face him.
“It doesn’t hurt that you are easy on the eyes, eh?”
“My first duty is to Theodora, your grace,” I say softly.
“Of course, and I’m glad to hear it. Go back to fussing over my bride. We will meet again.” He shoos me out of the room with a motion of his hands.
“Thank you for welcoming me into your household.” I bow my head again.
His eyes pin me where I stand and my heart speeds up. In an instant, his face changes. His mouth splits into a wide grin, but it has an edge to it like everything about him. “You are most welcome.”
I blush, but I don’t know why. I worry that I made a mistake, that I addressed him incorrectly. I don’t understand all the words he’s said, and I’m confused by the way he looks at me so intensely. I’m afraid of him. Of his power. Of what he could do to me and my family if he ever found out that I’m a Jew. What he could do to Theodora should he ever find out how she feels about me—how we feel about each other. I swallow hard.
“I will see you at the ceremony,” he says.
I have overstayed my welcome. I need to leave now. But why aren’t my feet obeying? “Yes, of course, my apologies.” I bow again and a guard appears by my side to usher me out of the room.
“You have nothing to apologize for, krasota,” I hear him say as I walk out.
Something about the way he says it sends ice down my spine.
Everything about that was strange. Every day there are new rules for me to follow. New things I must learn about court etiquette. How will I ever be able to pull this off? I wish Hannah was by my side. I could ask her what it was like with Jakob, if she felt the way I do now. But I know I’d be too afraid to ask questions that remind her of all that she lost.
“What did he want?” Theodora says. I nearly run into her, lost as I am in my thoughts as I walk fast to catch up with her.
“To say that he’s happy I’m here to take care of you,” I lie. He barely said anything to me. It was more about what was left unsaid.
The next day goes by in a blur. Guests arrive, preparations are made, and the next thing I know Theodora is dressed for the wedding, a crown of gold and coins sitting beside her.
“Come,” she says. “I wish for you to crown me.”
I lift up the large headdress. It is woven with fresh flowers, and the golden coins on it jingle as I place it on Theodora’s head. Our eyes meet. There are tears in her eyes. Something about this moment feels final. As though I am dressing her to meet her doom.
I reach to secure the crown behind her head, and she rests her head on my arm for a moment and closes her eyes.
“All will be well,” I say. But something in my heart is full of foreboding and I can’t help but notice that my fingers tremble as I affix the crown securely to Theodora’s head.
Why do I feel like everything is about to change again?
She takes my hands in hers and slips an emerald ring onto my finger. “Can you hold that for me during the ceremony?” she says. “Don’t take it off.” And I see in her eyes the words she doesn’t say. I am giving you a ring.
I hold Theodora’s clammy hand all the way to the chapel. At the doors, we are met by Basarab and Marghita, and by Nikolas and Laptitza. Constantin trails Basarab—his own personal guard. My eyes search the crowd for Anna, and then finds her: with her hair covered, she almost looks like she comes from another lifetime—one in which none of this was possible. Marghita takes Theodora’s hand from mine and kisses her cheek. “You look beautiful, fiica mea.”
I see Theodora’s shoulders tense up. She looks straight ahead. Regal and strong, ready to meet her destiny, though she’d prefer to be on a horse, galloping towards a battlefield or heaving with the thrill of the hunt, not here, in a chapel, being forced into an alliance she never desired.
Laptitza stands beside me and takes my hand. It is the second time that we have been to church. The wrongness of it seeps deep into my bones. I rub the emerald ring with my thumb.
I watch Theodora make her way down the aisle between Basarab and Marghita. Ivan Alexander stands at the front of the room, awaiting his bride. He grins at Theodora, and I can’t help but have hope that this will all work out. But then, the more I watch, I grow suddenly uncomfortable. My eyes dart from Theodora to Ivan Alexander. I try to deny it, but I can’t—his eyes are not on Theodora at all. His eyes are on me. I turn my head slightly, to make sure, but again there is no one behind me. Ivan Alexander smiles wider and winks. My veins turn to ice. Surely that was just a twitch of his eye. I look down at my hand, which holds Laptitza’s hand, and turn the emerald ring around so that the stone faces my palm. I close my hand around the stone and squeeze it so tight it digs into my skin.
I find myself wanting to say a prayer I once knew, words I would have once said during the wedding ceremony—an auspicious time to pray for the couple, but also for yourself. I mouth the words as everyone around me starts to sing. The smell of incense is thick in the air. I’ve never felt so fully out of place as I do in this moment. Bless this couple, Lord, and may they be worthy to live in love and find joy in each other. I say it even though my heart cracks. May this be a house full of God’s blessing, a house full of holiness, a loyal house built on truth. But the words feel hollow, as though they don’t belong in this place with its crosses and high ceilings.
I only look up when I hear the priest begin to chant and the guests fall silent. Theodora is now beside Ivan Alexander, and he’s looking at the priest, who is about to join Theodora’s hand with his.
I can’t shake off the chill I feel.
I wait for Theodora all night. I don’t sleep. I wait and watch the stars outside the window. When the door opens, I cross the room, but I see her eyes are red and raw. “I only want to sleep,” she says. I see the set of her jaw.
I send all the servants out of the room. “My lady wishes to sleep.” I close the door behind them, and bolt it shut.
I help Theodora into bed. I draw the blankets up and lean down to press a kiss to her cheek, but she flinches and moves her head away.
Tears fill my eyes. I watch her for a while. She does not sleep. Her body shakes with silent sobs. I want to wrap my arms around her, to comfort and take care of her like she took care of me. But sometimes the best thing to do is to leave someone be. What I want and what she needs right now are two very different things.
Soon I see the rise and fall of her chest.
I unbolt the door to ask the guards to order some tea and broth to the room, but when I open the door, no one is there. I don’t want to leave Theodora, but I am tired and hungry and if she wakes, she might be too. I decided to leave her room and find a set of guards.
“Why are you not guarding the princess’s chambers?” I say, when I finally run into them.
“We were not ordered to do so,” they reply.
“I order you to guard her chamber until I return. Do not allow anyone in besides me.”
I’m making my way down to the kitchens when I bump into Ivan Alexander. I keep my eyes cast down. I am full of rage for Theodora. She’s never been anything other than strong, full of grace a
nd charm, intelligent, witty and proud. The Theodora I left sleeping is broken.
“Your grace.” I try to shoulder my way past him, but he reaches out and takes my arm.
“You do not stop to greet me?” he says.
I can smell the spirits on his breath. “My apologies.” I bow. “I was merely rushing to get the princess some tea.”
“Princess,” Ivan Alexander spits. “That is no princess.”
I shut my eyes. This is not what anyone should feel or say on their wedding night.
“Oh, don’t worry, I knew what I was getting into,” he slurs his words. “I’d heard rumors here and there… This is a political alliance, nothing more. Follow me.”
“Your grace?” I say.
“You heard me.”
My heart is beating so fast. Why did I leave Theodora’s side? Why?
Ivan Alexander leads me into his room. I stand silently as he shuts and bolts the door behind us. He paces around me in a circle, smiling slyly. “I have a proposition for you.”
My blood runs cold.
“I’d heard that she was unconventional—dressing up in battle armor to go out hunting with Basarab’s guards. But I also knew her father, the Black Dragon. And I knew that his wife Marghita would want nothing less for their child than to rule over both Romania and Bulgaria. It was a power grab, no more than that. I am under no illusions. Marghita is a cunning woman. Perhaps her daughter is too. What I didn’t know was the way that Theodora would look at you.”
He pulls out a knife and holds the blade up in front of me.
I hold back a gasp and start to shake.
“I will keep your secrets if you help me keep mine,” he says, spinning the blade before my eyes. “I need a future for my kingdom. Do whatever you wish in the privacy of the princess’s chambers. But you—mi krasota…” He stands in front of me and puts his hand on my chin. He forces me to look into his eyes. My teeth chatter. My eyes burn with unshed tears.
“You will come to me each day and I will plant the seeds of my empire in your womb,” he says. “It is a real woman I want warming my bed, not someone with a penchant for shorn hair and dress-up clothes. And you, my dear—” He cups my breast in his hand and feels it as if he’s feeling ripe fruit. “—yes, you’ll do just fine. You will come entertain me when you are not entertaining my farce of a wife.”
He leans forwards and I cringe at the stench on his breath. He plants a rough kiss on my lips. Then he pulls his head away and licks his lips, his hand still fondling my breast. His eyes are glazed over with liquor and desire. He presses himself closer to me, then he takes my hand and places it on his cock. I can’t stop shaking. “Theodora will claim your babes as her own and I won’t ever have to spend another night with that dry cunt.” He grins. “But yours, I can tell, is nice and juicy, eh? This way, everyone wins.”
I shudder in horror, swallowing hard.
“You will not tell Theodora that you visit me,” he continues pressing himself against my hand. “Only you and I will be aware of this arrangement.”
He sheathes the knife and I gulp in a breath of relief, trying to let it out slowly. I’m doing this for Theodora, I think, as I clutch the emerald ring in my fist so tight it cuts me.
“What do you say, my little red fox?” he says, stroking my fiery hair.
I wish I could burn him with it. I wish I could set the castle on fire right now. But I can’t. In my moment of need, I cannot become the thing I need to protect me. Because I must protect Theodora. The word “fox” on his lips is like a blow. I nod shakily, my face streaked with tears. I was meant to marry a fox. Now I’ve become one.
Perhaps it is for this moment that you have reached the kingdom: I hear the words of The Book of Esther in my head.
I can be brave like she was. She did what she had to do for her people, and her children sat on a throne.
I can protect myself, my family, Theodora, my future generations. Through me, the Solomonar line can live on. It’s not something that I ever thought was important to me. But now it feels like something I can do. And in the walls of this palace, as the children of the prince and someday king, I know they will.
I won’t make another mistake. I will do whatever it takes to protect the ones I love. Even this.
“It’s rather biblical, wouldn’t you say?” Ivan Alexander continues, freezing me in place again. “You are, after all, a handmaiden? Isn’t that what they call it?” He leans forward and whispers in my ear. “I certainly hope that you are a maiden.” I close my eyes and nod.
“Oh good,” he says. “We begin now.”
In Theodora’s bedroom later, sitting beside her, I try not to cry. I don’t want to wake her. I’ll have to put on a brave face. I must do everything in my power to make sure that Theodora never finds out. But soon she wakes and looks at me and I can see in her eyes that she knows something’s happened.
“He’s been with you,” she says, voice hoarse.
I stiffen. I cannot tell her. I swore an oath. My sins stack themselves one upon the other.
“What do you mean?” I say.
“I can smell him on you.”
“What?” I get up from the bed and start to back away.
“Don’t try to deny it.”
“I had no choice.” I don’t want there to ever be dishonesty between us. It’s the only thing I can think to say that isn’t a lie.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Not with the knife,” I whisper.
Theodora reaches for me. “I should never have brought you here with me.”
I wrap my arms around my body and close my eyes. “It was the only way to keep you safe.”
I hear the rustle of the sheets, then Theodora’s presence beside me. She hugs me. I move to shrug her off, but she won’t let me.
“This is my fault,” she says. “I am so sorry.”
I sniffle and take a deep breath. “I would do it a hundred times. A thousand times if I could. If that is the price I must pay for your safety—and mine—then so be it.”
“He forced you. He hurt you.” Fire blazes in Theodora’s eyes.
“He hurt you,” I say.
“I married him. It’s different.”
“It’s not different. Nobody should ever treat anyone that way.”
“We can leave here; I can take you back home to Wallachia.”
“And then what? Bulgaria and Wallachia will no longer be allies? No. It could lead to war… People would die. If he can use me, he won’t kill me. And he won’t kill you. Let’s not speak of this anymore.”
“I will confront him. I will tell him… I can stop this—”
“Don’t tell him anything. He may not be able to hurt you, but I am completely dispensable. Let’s go to bed. Please.”
“You are not dispensable to me,” she says.
“I have a question for you. If you can transform into a bird, why didn’t you fly away?”
“You’re serious?” she says. “I should be asking you the same question.”
“I had no choice,” I say.
“And you think I did?” she says. “You decide who you allow to have power over you.” She tilts her chin up to the ceiling, defiant again.
I laugh, bitterly. “Theodora, you are of royal blood. You matter. I am nothing in this world. I am expendable, worthless. I don’t have choices.”
“I choose you,” she says, placing a hand on my cheek. “I see only you.”
“And I choose you,” I say back to her. “I chose this life. And if that means I must choose Ivan Alexander too, then so be it.”
The lies are bitter on my tongue.
Anna
21 Iyar 5123
Laptitza went into labor tonight. The months after Theodora’s wedding have been good to us. Our summer fields yielded bounty as my body grew round and ripe with a baby of our own.
It’s an unusually warm night tonight. Nothing about it made me suspect that things would end as they did, I saw no portent of evil in the sky,
felt no wrongness in the soil—sometimes that’s how the mazikim get in—when you least expect it, but I am getting ahead of myself. A maid from the palace knocked at my front door, frantic, out of breath, and told me Laptitza had asked for me.
I didn’t hesitate. I packed up a satchel, like the one I once took with me to Jakob’s home all those years ago, and I followed her to the palace.
Marghita was in the chamber with us, along with a midwife and some servants. Laptitza cried for Nikolas all night, but he’d been gone a week already. He is away. Basarab is away. Constantin is away. They are off fighting a battle near Velbazhd. It is because of Theodora’s marriage to Ivan Alexander that they are there. They are supporting the Emperor Michael, ruler of Bulgaria, in retaking the north-western and south-western lands from the Serbian King Stefan.
Perhaps things might have happened differently had one of them been home.
In the labor room, I kept wishing there was more I could do to relieve Laptitza’s pain, but I was afraid to lay my hands on her. I couldn’t cross Marghita or the midwife, who had their own ways of doing things, and I was wary of being accused of witchcraft. I knew that I couldn’t reveal too much of what I can do. But when the midwife wanted to give Laptitza a draught to help ease the labor pangs, I asked if I could give it to her. I sniffed its contents as I leaned over, placing a wet cloth on Laptitza’s forehead. I smelled hemlock. A ribbon of ice flowed through my veins as I watched a tendril of Black Mist creep out of the jar. I left my trembling hand on Laptitza’s forehead to try and take away some of her pain. It gave me a minute to think. Someone wished my sister ill. I quickly dropped the bottle.
“Oh no!” I said. “I’m so clumsy! I’m just so worried about her that my hands shook and it slipped,” I lied. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“Open the windows please!” Laptitza screamed.
Marghita said, “She’s clearly out of her mind with pain. Who knows what kind of humors and demons might fly inside and seek to harm her and the child?”