Page 5 of My Wild Horse King

“I checked,” Boris says. “He’s not a terrible person.”

Not a terrible person.

Four words to describe the man they’re marrying me off to—hardly reassuring. I gather up my skirts and race after him. “But have you spoken to him? Do you know him at all?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Boris says.

“Why not?” I know I sound like a whining child, but I can’t help it. Boris will never have a moment in his life where critical things are being decided about him without his input—he’s a man. They get to make decisions for themselves. As my brother, I thought he might show a bit more of an interest in what happens to me.

“Listen.” Boris stops, grabbing my right arm and spinning me to face him. “You didn’t have a mother to teach you anything, and people have made accommodations for that, but you will not embarrass Father and me today. Am I clear?”

I open my mouth, and then I realize I’m not sure what to say.

He shakes me.

“You’ve made no promises to me,” I finally say. “So why should I promise anything to you?”

Boris sighs, releasing my arm. “You’re a disaster. Let’s hope Lord Engelhardt is too dumb to care.”

“I don’t see how you could not know him,” I say. “You’ve been coming to these balls forever.”

“He’s not often in attendance,” Boris says. “He happened to see you at a picnic last week, and he reached out to Father with a proposal.”

I caughthiseye somehow? But how? And when? I don’t recall ever dancing with a Lord Engelhardt.

As we pass through the open doors, Father’s already talking to someone. Someone older than he is. Someone with slate-grey hair. Someone who’s smiling—beaming, really—and gesturing in my direction.

Boris doesn’t know him, because he’solder than our father. They don’t move in the same circles—not even close. “Is that Lord Engelhardt?”I hiss.

“It is,” Boris says. “Now, be polite.”

I’ve watched, each spring, as the shepherds lead the little sheep through the gate and into the barn to slaughter them. I’ve always wondered why they didn’t struggle, or even try to flee.

Not me,I think.I won’t walk toward that man with an insipid smile on my face. Father will have to chase after me with a whip and a rope if he means to kill me for the good of his estate.

I spin on one heel and sprint to the right, colliding painfully with another person wearing a large and voluminous gown.

“Ow.” As I straighten, I realize that the blow dislodged my sash and the strain reopened the tear that was rather hastily repaired.

The woman I collided with is wearing a large headdress, and she looks angrier than I imagine my father must be. Her eyes are flashing, and her rather ample bosom is trembling with rage.

“Katerina,” a loud, clear voice calls. “I’m so sorry.”

Alexei Romanov steps closer, one hand extended. “I must have bumped you. This is all my fault.”

I drop my hand into his, which seems much larger than it was the last time I saw him, only a year ago. “Oh.”

“Come with me, and I’ll see whether Mother can find you a suitable gown to wear until yours can be repaired.”

The woman who was about to destroy me forces a pained smile. “Your Majesty, what a delight to see you. You know this girl?”

“She’s an old family friend.” His smile’s genuine.

As if I’m seeing him for the first time, I stare. His shoulders are broad. His eyes are sky blue. His brow’s wide and clear, and his jaw’s square and decisive. His hand tightens around mine.

“Let’s go,” he whispers. “Before more guests arrive and Mother starts shoving me in front of all of them.” He tucks my arm inside of his elbow and begins expertly shifting us through the crowd, acknowledging everyone, but stopping to talk with none of them.

I glance over my shoulder, and notice that my dad’s standing beside my brother, both of them scowling at me angrily. They can’t do much about the czar’s son whisking me away, though.

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