Queen of Someday

by Sherry D. Ficklin

I don’t sleep much that night. I keep dreaming that I’ve gone to meet Alexander, only when I arrive, Peter has cut him to pieces and I see only his dead eyes staring up at me. When the maid comes in with breakfast, I’m sitting up in bed, hugging my knees, my face puffy from crying.

  Rina and Elizavetta help me bathe and dress, all the while talking about how the servants were gossiping, not just about what Peter had done to the man who tried to kill me, but how I’d been so merciful and forgiving.

  Rina encourages me to eat, a few bites of honeyed biscuit and a sip of tea, before finally sending for some vodka to calm my nerves. Elizavetta hands me a small glass, taking one for herself as well. It’s bitter and strong, but I feel its affect immediately. My belly warms and my muscles relax. I smile despite myself, and she laughs, refilling my glass, which I quickly empty again.

  “The ceremony won’t be too bad,” she assures me, brushing my hair and pinning it up.

  I nod, my neck beginning to feel like jelly. Elizavetta begins reading from the scriptures. I listen in a haze of warm relaxation until Sergei and my mother arrive.

  “Are you all right?” Mother demands, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

  Rina intervenes in my behalf.

  “The princess has been fasting in preparation for the ceremony. She’s a little weak.”

  I blink, widely, nodding in agreement. Mother looks satisfied.

  “I’ve had a special gown made for you to wear today. I’m going to go fetch it.”

  “That sounds lovely, thank you,” I manage. As soon as she leaves, I burst into laughter, joined by my ladies.

  Sergei grins wildly, picking up my empty glass and sniffing it.

  “You are completely drunk, aren’t you?”

  I shake my head. “No, just a bit I think.”

  He sits beside me, looking completely pleased.

  “Well, no more of that until after the ceremony, all right?”

  I nod, and Rina takes the glass away.

  “Now, you will need to recite your vows. Do you have them memorized?”

  I take a deep breath, trying to focus. The book he’d given me to study had been more helpful than perhaps he imagined. I recite the oath in perfect Russian.

  He claps. “Well done. The empress will be pleased.”

  I stand and take a deep bow, nearly tipping forward, bringing in another round of uproarious laughter. Sergei catches me and sits me back down.

  “All right, settle yourself before your mother returns. Why, today of all days, do you choose to begin your life as a drunkard?”

  I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, holding my face in my hands. Sergei is so ruggedly handsome, with his dark, deep-set eyes and square jaw. Even the faint beard running along his jaw is so perfectly groomed that I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if I kissed him.

  “You’re very handsome when you are chastising me,” I say with a sigh.

  He sits back, a grin spreading across his face. “Then you will find me handsome quite often, I suppose.”

  I scoot closer to him, reaching out with my fingers to touch the side of his face. He captures my hand and kisses it quickly.

  “As adorable as you are when you’re inebriated, I need you to focus right now. Can you do that for me?”

  I withdraw my hand and sit up, shaking off the stupor as best I can.

  He sits back, pulling a long, blue box from his jacket and handing it to me.

  “A gift from the empress.”

  I open the box to expose two snowflake-shaped pearl pendants and a large, gold-and-silver brooch with a huge emerald set in the center. All three are so lovely that it momentarily takes my breath away.

  “Please send my thanks,” I manage finally. “They are lovely.”

  “She wishes one other thing. You could be baptized by your true name, of course. But it is often custom to choose a new name, as a way to renounce all ties to your previous life.”

  I nod. I’d been aware of it but hadn’t given it much thought.

  “Her majesty asks if you would consider taking the name Catherine, after her own blessed mother.”

  I swallow. It makes no difference now. The conversion, the ceremony, all of it is for show. Something I am expected to do. I would cancel the thing altogether if not for my desire to keep Peter firmly in the dark about my intentions till the very last possible moment.

  “Yes, I would be honored, of course.”

  When Mother returns, Sergei bows and takes his leave, giving me one firm glance before he goes.

  Mother lays the gown across the lounge. It’s similar to hers, heavy, scarlet taffeta with silver thread along every seam. Only where my mother’s gown is inset with diamonds like tiny stars, mine is simple, a slender, silver vine along the bodice it’s only embroidery.

  “If I may make a suggestion,” she offers, clasping her hands to her chest.

  I nod.

  “Consider wearing your hair down, something simple and stark. You are pale from the fasting and between the complexion, your dark hair, and bright blue eyes, the effect will be one of the utmost elegance.”

  Her tone is light, almost loving. But somehow, it isn’t enough for me to want her to stay. Perhaps there has been too much coldness between us for me to allow her into my heart now. Or perhaps, my time at court has left me jaded.

  “I will; thank you.”

  She curtsies—something she’s never done in her life—and leaves quietly.

  “Maybe she’s drunk too?” Elizavetta offers, and the laughing begins again.

  We dress and prepare to head to St. Peter’s Cathedral, where the ceremony will take place. It’s a brief walk from the palace, but the empress insists we take a carriage instead. The pins and brooch that the empress gave me are my only finery; I’ve left everything else behind. My hair hangs straight, cascading around my exposed shoulders, only a simple white ribbon holding it back off my face. I’ve put on no powder or rouge, only a bit of red wine to stain my lips. The effect, as Mother had predicted, is a bold one. As I walk into the chapel, I hear the rush of whispers around me, sighs and comments on my grace and beauty. I try to tune it all out and focus ahead of me, where the bishop awaits. From the corner of my eye, I see Alexander, but I don’t look at him fully. Beside him is Peter, who frowns and whispers to Mikhail, and beside them the empress, who has tears in her eyes as she looks down at me from her seat in the balcony.

  I walk slowly, keeping in step with the choir as they sing softly. Mother follows me, taking a seat in the crowded chapel as I reach the thick, white pillow and kneel. Over my head, the bishop recites a prayer and then begins anointing me with sacred oil. I close my eyes as he touches my forehead, both eyes, my neck, throat, and finally the backs and palms of each hand, consecrating them with oil as he prays.

  Finally, the time comes. I raise my eyes skyward and in as loud, and strong a voice as I can muster, I recite my vows, the creed of my new faith, in flawless Russian, sending another ripple of awed whispers through the crowd.

  The bishop pronounces my new name, Catherine, and the crowd cheers. He takes my hand and helps me to my feet, offering me to the masses as the newest member of God’s true church. I keep my eyes fixed ahead of me, not reacting at all to the chaos erupting around me.

  I’m ushered back to my room to dress for the feast. By the time I arrive, my head is pounding and my knees feel weak. As I’m changing, another box arrives from the empress, this one delivered by her own valet.

  I open it to expose a stunning diamond necklace and matching brooch, both of which I put on for the banquet, along with the tiara Peter had given me. I plan to leave them when I go, of course, but it seems a shame not to wear them while I still can.

  My ladies escort me to the feast. My stomach is rolling so badly that I can barely eat, and I’m glad when we retire to the ballroom for dancing and drinks. As soon as the maids set out the wine, I grab a glass, draining it quickly.

  The empress, in her wide, lavish, silve
r gown, crosses the floor to speak with me. I curtsy.

  “Your Majesty.”

  She smiles, fanning herself with a small, silk fan that matches her gown.

  “My darling, you were stunning today, truly stunning. I knew I made the right decision bringing you here.” She pauses, taking a glass of wine herself and leans forward. “And thank you for your kindness to the chancellor. He is a man with flaws, to be sure, but he is dear to me. I would hate to think what might have become of him had you not intervened.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  She flitters off into the crowd, looking for someone to dance with and finding Sergei looking roguishly handsome in his simple, well-fitted suit. Peter approaches me, his men close behind, and offers me his hand.

  “May I have this dance, Catherine?”

  I nod and curtsy before taking his hand and following him onto the dance floor.

  “You looked lovely today. I don’t know if I mentioned.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But I was a bit disturbed when news of your actions reached me. Is it true you took mercy on the man who tried to kill you?”

  I swallow at the accusation in his voice. I’d never been afraid of Peter before, but after seeing what he’d done…

  “Yes, my lord. If only for the sake of your aunt. She cares for him deeply.”

  His rebuttal is sharp, and I can’t help but flinch.

  “You need to concern yourself less with what pleases my aunt and more with what pleases me.”

  I try to keep the mood as light as I can.

  “Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

  “You undermined me.”

  “It was not my intent, I assure you. It was,” I swallow again, “so kind of you to defend me in such a way. I only helped him in order to spare you your aunt’s wrath if he should have died.”

  He takes my hand and grasps it so tightly it hurts.

  “Let me worry about the empress.”

  I smile and let him spin me.

  “Of course.”

  The music ends and he storms off the dance floor, leaving me standing there. As seems always the case, Sergei comes to my rescue, taking my hand as another dance strikes up.

  “Are you all right?” he asks as we move.

  I shake my head. “Peter is cross with me about Bestuzhev. He thinks I undermined him.”

  Sergei says, “And now he’s drinking. Not a great combination.”

  We draw close, and then back away, as the dance demands.

  “But don’t worry. I’ve had a little something slipped into his wine. Soon enough, he’ll be fast asleep and he’ll remain that way until morning.”

  I doubt there’s anything else he could have said that would have brought such a smile to my lips. Just then, I hear a crash as Peter stumbles, dropping his glass of wine and falling into Alexander’s arms, snoring loudly. I laugh loudly before I can stop myself, bringing a hand to my mouth to try and disguise it as a cough. Sergei smiles and spins me again.

  “Thank you, Sergei. Thank you so much,” I say, grinning widely as his men pick Peter up and head off to deliver him to his room. “I feel as though I’m forever thanking you.”

  He shrugs. “Then stop thanking me until you can find a more creative way to do it.”

  I cock my head, unsure if he’s flirting with me. The devilish grin on his face suggests he is. When the dance ends, I excuse myself to the empress’ table. She’s sitting, surrounded by men as always, drinking wine from a golden cup.

  I curtsy.

  “Your Majesty, please don’t think me rude, but I’m quite exhausted from the day. I think I should retire for the evening.”

  She smiles, waving me off with her hand.

  “Of course, dear. Tomorrow is a big day after all.”

  I nod and curtsy again, excusing myself back to my room. Before I leave, Rina corners me.

  “My lady, would you like us to come help you ready for bed?”

  I shake my head.

  “No, you and Elizavetta stay and enjoy the evening. The maids will help me.”

  She dips into a curtsy. “Of course. Have a good night.”

  “You as well,” I offer, watching her walk away. I wish I could hug her, tell her that I might never see her again, and thank her for being such a good and kind friend. But I know that’s impossible. So I leave, walking down the corridor until the last of the music dies away, replaced by stillness. A hand reaches out from a dark alcove and grabs me, pulling me inside. I almost cry out, but Alexander gently covers my mouth, shushing me.

  I pull his hand away.

  “What are you doing? Someone will see,” I demand, my voice tight but soft.

  He shakes his head. “Peter’s passed out in his bed, and everyone else is at the dance.”

  He pulls me close and steals a kiss that makes my stomach tighten, warmth spreading through me.

  “Peter tells me that they are announcing the engagement tomorrow?” he asks.

  I nod. “The empress doesn’t want to wait.”

  He takes my face in his hands.

  “Then we must leave tonight. Are you ready?”

  “I’ve never been more ready for anything,” I say honestly.

  He peeks over his shoulder, making sure no one is around.

  “There’s a boat waiting for us at the wharf. Meet me at the stables at midnight, after the grooms have gone for the night. We will have to go on horseback.”

  “What shall I bring?”

  “As little as possible. Once we are safely away, I will buy you whatever you need. You may be able to send for your things later…” His words linger.

  I know why he hesitates. Because he honestly doesn’t know if that will be a possibility. He once compared me to Helen and himself to Paris, now here we were, risking everything for a chance at happiness, for our love—just as they had. There is a real possibility that it may cause an irreparable rift not just between our families and the empress, but between our nations as well. A new Trojan war.

  I can only pray we will meet a kinder fate then those Greek lovers.

  I hurry back to my room and sit on the end of the bed anxiously. The maids come and I send them away, feigning a headache. Once they are gone, I take my mother’s smallest trunk and topple it on my bed. I stuff the clothes under the covers and pull the blankets up high. Then I take my two favorite gowns, the jewels Mother gave me, and one of the empress’ pins, a pearl snowflake, and set them inside. I set the rest of the gifts out on my table, admittedly sad to leave them behind. I loosen my hair and retie the simple white ribbon.

  Then I take a seat in my open window and watch the stars glisten in the sky as I wait.

  As soon as the first bell chimes midnight, I light a candle and grab my small case, sneaking as quietly as I can out my door. I hurry down the hall and to the grand staircase, now empty in the middle of the night. In the ballroom, I can hear the maids cleaning after the dance so I double back, going the long way around to avoid being seen. When I push the door open and step outside, I take a deep breath. The air is cool and crisp and holds the promise of freedom. I hurry across the grass to the stable where a single light flickers inside.

  As soon as I slide open the stable door, my heart sinks.

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