Page 19 of The Tsarina's Favorite
“May The Kind and Fair hear that prayer,” said the pearl kokoshnik lady.
“Or the Great Holy.Mikhail converted,” Drook reminded the group.
“What exactly do you believe when you convert?”asked the lady with the fan.
“I was not the most ardent pupil in my catechism.I only converted to wed, not because I found a new or better direction for my soul.”
“But isn’t that why the tsarina is punishing you?”
“My conversion was an excuse to punish me.”I lowered my voice, resigned to the facts but not proud of them.“But it wasn’t the actual cause.”
Several people raised their brows, but when I said no more, several prodded.
“You cannot say that and then not tell us the rest,” said a woman who had come out of her chair.
I did not know how to phrase it politely.Already warm beneath the layers of my costume, I warmed still further from embarrassment.
“You don’t have to be coy with us,” the pearl kokoshnik lady said.“We’re adults.We can handle it.”
I searched the gathering, examining their faces, all genuinely interested and not just hunting for gossip.I couldn’t lower my head because of the collar, but I wanted to.I lowered my eyes instead.
“I didn’t want to be trapped as her bedpartner again.”
Those of the gathering, those who heard me, silenced.The noise around us from others in the room playing cards or engaging in private conversation amplified in the stunned hush of my companions.
“You said no,” one of the men finally said.
“I said no.”
The group settled into a new stunned silence, a mix of horror and fear and awe.
“Then Mikhail is certainly the deliverer of sourness to the tsarina,” Drook announced, breaking the spell.“Kvasnik stands.”
Several of the gathered company, pulling themselves from the harsh revelation, raised their glasses.Others joined in the gesture.One of them shouted for the attention of everyone in the room.The murmurs quieted, and Drook stood from his seat, his glass raised as he indicated for others who had not yet followed suit.
“Mikhail, the prince among us fools, shall be known as Kvasnik — The One Who Said No!”
“Huzzah!”shouted a member of our group.
“To Kvasnik!”Drook downed his vodka in a gulp and held the empty glass aloft.
“To Kvasnik!”the chorus of others repeated.They too emptied their glasses.
Drook glanced in my direction, and someone handed me a drink.I raised my glass just a fraction and then downed the vodka in acceptance of their gift.
“To me.”
