Page 116 of The Tsarina's Favorite
“I understand, and I will see that it is done,” she assured me, “but it will not come to that.”
Alaina’s face set so sternly and so resolutely that I almost believed her.If will alone could ensure our survival, then I would have had no doubt.
I reached out and took her hands in mine.
“Of course it won’t,” I lied.
XXXIV.
The key in the lockinspired Alaina to hold onto my arm yet again.The guard led, and I followed, Alaina clinging to me from behind.Down the mobile staircase, we ended our descent inside a courtyard of ice that led to the tsarina’s palace.
I appreciated the construction as the site of my impending death, but beyond that, I found the moniker of “palace” misleading more than anything.Ornate and masterfully accomplished, yes.I could not deny the care and attention to detail the carvers and engineers had devoted to the project.It shone like a frosted mirror in the twilight.But despite all its flamboyancy and aesthetic precision, it did not impress upon me the grandeur of a palace.Indeed, it was little more than the size of a carriage house for an up-and-coming merchant.Even the steward of my former estate lived in something that rivaled its size.
Alas, even my tomb would be a disappointment at the end of things.
“Your coat,” a guard demanded of Alaina.
I attempted to put myself between them, but someone grabbed the sable collar of my robe from behind and pulled me away.They tore the robe down the seam and yanked it over my wings, snapping several joints.The pain tore through my back and sent me to a knee.
I struggled to my feet, now devoid of any covering beyond the collar, leather bands, and ankle bells, none of which would provide warmth.
Alaina, treated more gently if not with more mercy, had surrendered her hat, gloves, coat, and satin dress.The guards allowed her to keep her stays, undergarments, and satin slippers.They had apparently drawn the line at stripping her naked, even though their confiscation of garments left her as good as.
Seeing me struggle, she came to my side and clung to my hand.
I scanned the crowd, faces peering over the line of guards at the courtyard ice walls.Too many guards, too many people creating a barrier that we could not slip into, too many people watching.Even Ivan, who might have offered some pretense at diversion, had been ushered away during our undressing.A single gaudy carriage still in the courtyard served as the last remaining vestige of the wedding processional.
Our move would have to be later.
“Your bridal bower awaits,” one of the guards said, pointing to the doors of the construct.
Others in his unit who overheard the comment sneered.
“That’s disgusting,” said one of them.
No one laughed.
