***
That night I’m summoned to the empress’ chambers. Sergei arrives and bids me come with him, though I am already in my nightdress.
“It’s urgent, and she will not wait,” he says.
Hurrying alongside him, wracking my brain to think of anything I might have done, any possible thing that might have displeased her, I nearly run to her room. The door opens and the physician is there, his expression grave.
“What, what is it?” I ask, pushing past him.
The empress is sitting in her bed. She orders everyone out, save for me. Once they are gone, I close the door and sit by her side, as she had once done for me.
“You must marry Peter right away,” she says urgently, taking my hand.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand. You said the spring. March…”
She frowns, clutching the blankets to her chest.
“No, I’ve had a vision.”
“A vision?” I ask clumsily.
“Yes, oh, I know how it sounds. But I was lying in bed, praying as I often do, and a vision came to me.”
“A vision of what?” I ask softly, wondering if I should call the physician back in. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes rimmed in dark circles. She looks quite frantic.
“Peter is sick.”
I shake my head, “No, you’re mistaken. I saw him only today. He’s perfectly well.”
She’s too lost in her own mind to hear my words.
“He’s so frail, he always has been. So sickly and small.”
I frown, but take her hands.
“You must marry him now. He must have an heir.”
I sigh deeply. “Even if we marry tomorrow, who knows how long it might be to conceive a child. Madame Groot says—”
She cuts me off.
“Yes, yes. Go see Groot for some herbs. She has herbs that can help with that; I’ve seen her give them to others.”
“But,” I begin, only to be cut off again.
“Next week. The wedding shall happen next week.”
I nod, not knowing what else to say. I stand to leave and she grabs my arm, pulling me down roughly.
“And you will conceive—and quickly. Or else.”
Her implication is clear. I nod once and leave, letting Sergei walk me back to my room in silence.
I don’t bother going to Madame Groot. We have already discussed the matter. She shares the empress’ concerns about Peter’s health. She even suggests that because of a rather nasty bout of fever he had as a boy, that he may have great difficulty conceiving a child.
Still, it will not be seen as a failure on his part, but on mine. Wives who fail to conceive—especially royal wives—do not suffer from very long lives. Madame Groot has given me two vials of herbs, one to help conception, the other to prevent it, to be used at my discretion.
The whole affair draws my mind back to that image, scarred into my memory, of Alexander’s hand on Rina’s belly.
I throw myself across my bed, unable to force it away. I ball myself up, wrapping my arms around my middle, until I finally fall asleep near dawn.
At one point, a maid comes in to tell me that I have a visitor. I tell her to send them away and fall back into my slumber. When I wake again, it’s nearly dinner and I know I must do my part, show up and, wearing my phony smile, pretend that everything is all right.
I can’t help but hope that if I just pretend long enough, maybe one day it will be true, and I won’t have to pretend any more.
My maids help me dress but before I can leave for dinner, my visitor returns.
“Rina,” I say coolly, trying to remain detached from the storm of emotions hovering around me.
“Your Highness,” she says with a curtsy.
“Might I have a word, privately?”
I nod and excuse my maids.
Once they are gone, I fold my hands in my lap, mentally preparing myself for whatever she wants to tell me.
“I want you to know,” she begins softly, “that Alexander is a good man.”
I nod, but say nothing.
“And someday, he might even grow to love me,” she continues. I feel my hands begin to shake. “Maybe even as much as he loves the ghosts in his heart.”
I force myself to relax, to keep my expression placid.
“And I hope so too. You deserve happiness.”
“We never meant to hurt you,” she whispers. “Even Elizavetta. She thought you might be in trouble; she never meant to betray you.”
I stand quickly, my tolerance at its level.
“If you believe that, then you are a fool. Elizavetta has wanted nothing more than to hurt me since she arrived, and on that, you can compliment her on a job well done.” I pause. “And as for you and Alexander, please, keep your distance. I believe you mean well, but I cannot… it’s too hard. So, if you love me, if you care for me at all, please find your happiness far away from me.”
She doesn’t move as I brush past her and gather my ladies, heading down to the banquet.
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Queen of Someday Page 26