Page 21 of The Tsarina's Favorite
“Of course, Kvasnik.I thought you’d never ask.”
It was a novel experience.None of us dancers was usual.The heights varied wildly between partners, the grace at an extreme between tumblers and storytellers, the shapes of us all so unlike any other that we simply made the best of it.By the third dance, I was laughing along with the others at the energetic abandon of the activity and the depraved lyrics sung so sweetly by our accompanist.And nothing mattered.Not Klessa’s hair or Agara’s height or my bulky costume.We came as we were, and that was enough.
I ended up having to sit out a few dances due to my costume’s excessive warmth.I took a place on the settee where I could continue to watch as the others enjoyed themselves.
“Kvasnik.”Klessa, from behind the settee, offered me a plate heaped with delicacies from the dining table.
I took it and set it beside me.I gestured to the empty seat on the settee so that she might share the plate with me.
She disappeared for a moment and then returned, taking the offered seat.She downed a vodka and gave me another.
“It’s warm,” she warned.
“Still better than kvass.”I downed the vodka also, indifferent to the temperature.
We both watched the dancers, picking cheese and meats off the shared plate.
“You know that’s why the tsarina had to embarrass you, right?”Kless asked half a dance in.At my confusion, she continued.“There’s not a woman here who doesn’t want to dance with you.I suspect it’s the same with your former set too.”Klessa dabbed a napkin at the corner of her mouth elegantly.“The tsarina could take away your name and your wealth, but that wouldn’t be enough, would it?”
“I don’t understand,” I admitted.“It was enough.No one from my ‘former set’ wishes to associate with me now.”
“That’s because she had to make association with you as shameful and embarrassing as she could.She couldn’t take away anything that made you who you are, so she had to hide you.”I went to protest, but Klessa gestured with her chin towards Agara.“I don’t want to hear it.Agara is one of the most cynical and hardest to win among us, and yet, you’ve won her over.She blushes and titters like a child when you’re mentioned.And maybe you didn’t notice it, but you flashed her a smile tonight while dancing, and she just gazed at you like a Kind and Fair Protector had come in the flesh to give her special attention.While she adores her husband, I have never seen her like this.”Klessa didn’t let me respond before she pointed to another woman on the other side of the room who sat the dance out too.“Grigga has loudly sung your praises to all of us.She’s witnessed your insolent replies to the tsarina, and she’s confessed that while she admires your spirit, she has feared for your life many a time in how bold you are.”Klessa leaned towards me conspiratorially.“And that’s why the tsarina had to hide you, with costumes and with shame.You have everything she wants and will never have.And despite a beak and a costume, others can still see you shine.How she must hate you!”
I didn’t know how to feel about Klessa’s assessment.Flattered?Hopeless?
“I’m off to bed.”Klessa patted her lap and then stood.“Be a dear and tell my husband.”
“Of course.”
“And,” she added, “I’m not advocating that you do anything to put yourself in greater peril with the tsarina, but there’s nothing she can do about you taking ownership of who you are, even confined to the role you must play.”
I nodded, not certain that I should respond.I wasn’t even certain what she was suggesting because, to my mind, I was only a pathetic former prince who was just managing to survive.I wasn’t anything like what she said.All the epithets and praise while possessing my titles and fortune rang hollow, given simply because I was titled and wealthy, not because they were true.
Could Klessa be correct?Could finer attributes still be seen even without the glamorous conditions of my former status?
One too many vodkaslater and only Drook remaining for company despite telling him of Klessa‘s departure, I had found a semi-less-uncomfortable position on an armchair, a pillow tucked behind my neck to ease and support the stiffness of the collar.I stared up at the ceiling, thoughts whirling about my current circumstances.I probably should have been more cautious about my intake, knowing how susceptible my forefathers had been to heavy drink, but did it matter?Did anything matter anymore?
The tsarina had always resented me.Even as lovers, it had never been anything but her satisfying her needs, and my relations shoving me in the back to regain her good opinion of the Karilitsyns.And, foolish me, I hadn’t realized there was anything else but compliance and submission.What would have happened if I had said no then?Banishment, probably.Would that have been so bad?
But I had never considered that she just outright hated me.I had been careful never to give her reason to.But if so, at least now it was mutual.
Of course, nothing would be solved by getting sloshed, but I was willing to try it.Maybe the tsarina would prefer a staggering drink-bleary imbecile who wouldn’t remember anything he had done, ridiculous or not, the next day.For the present circumstances though, my mind quieted and allowed me a moment of peace despite all.I could see how such quantities of potent drink might be alluring.If I could not change anything sober, being insensible to it offered a tempting escape.
I raised my arms above my head, stretching my shoulders in their confines.What would happen if I fell asleep here and I was not in my nest by morning?The empress had dictated my attire and my duties but not my whereabouts.She might send for me, but I couldn’t be arsed to care.
Drook lounged on the chaise, halfway between sitting and reclining in the same vodka-induced torpor.Though silent, his company provided a great degree of comfort.
Thank the Great Holy for the tsarina’s jesters.I never wanted to face the day now, but because of them, I became capable of doing so without wanting to die every moment.
Drook rolled to his side.The guttering candles offered dramatic lighting, forming a greater mountain range of his face than usual.The trim of his velvet suit twinkled in the darkened room.He stretched expansively with a yawn.
“How did you manage to end up here?”I asked, not the least bit subtle or sensitive to a possibly annoying question.
“Her uncle, the tsar,” Drook explained.“He had an unhealthy obsession with short people.He threw a wedding and invited anyone four and a half feet or shorter to attend.Many of the attendees, like me, were already performers, and he kept some of us on.It was a fortunate opportunity for us.He paid for my wedding too.The tsarina has at least maintained the tradition of keeping us well-accommodated.”
I vaguely remembered hearing about the event of the Great Tsar’s jesters getting married.Many condemned it as a ribald and chaotic affair, but knowing the tellers, they fully enjoyed the raunchy abandon of the occasion.
I asked without thinking, “Do you and Klessa have any children?”
