Page 119 of The Tsarina's Favorite
Alaina sat up and held her hands out in front of her, palms full of feathers.
Alaina loved me.And it was the worst possible time for her to declare it.
“We have to leave now,” I told her, projecting an air of calmness in the midst of my panic.
“Why now?”
The wing that separated her from the ice melted into a flurry of feathers.My shoulder slid down the wall, no longer supported by the other wing.I struggled against the bunched-up summer cloak beneath me, fumbling with the leather gloves as I tried to unclasp it so that I could straighten myself out.I couldn’t feel my toes in the boots.
Alaina screamed and shoved me back.She launched herself off me, fleeing out into the demolished ice bedroom.She waited in the corner like prey, deciding if she needed to prepare another attack or if she could safely run away.
I couldn’t blame her.I probably looked a mess.
I slid myself off the ice bed and stood on numb legs, no longer accustomed to how my old body moved and still accommodating wings and talons and tail feathers that were no longer there.
“I cannot keep you warm anymore, Alaina,” I said, holding out a gloved hand in her direction.
She stared at me for hours, days, lifetimes.Precious moments, perhaps life-saving moments, slipped by as she stared at me in my thin black clothing.
I couldn’t wait for her.I grabbed the cloak and approached her, throwing it over her when I was close enough.
“You’re Finist the Falcon?”she asked, only now beginning to put it together.
“No.”I knelt to clasp it for her.“Just Kaylay.”
The cloak dragged on the ground, but it would have to serve.
“We need to leave,” I said again, this time my voice more confident, command built into the suggestion, so that I could override any of her lingering stupefaction.I stood and moved toward the doorway, stumbling several times on the ice debris, the frozen bells around my boots silent even in my missteps.I held my hand out to her again, pleading with her to join me, glad it was gloved and more like what she expected than a naked human hand.“Alaina, please.”
She took a deep breath, hiked up the cloak, and then joined me as we crossed into the entry.
“What’s the plan?”she asked, clearly over her moment of disbelief.
“I need you to lie convincingly,” I told her.“Scream at the door.Cry.Plead.Beg.Whatever you need to do to get the guards to listen.Tell them I’m dead.Tell them anything.Just get them to open the door.”
She nodded, her face set, hard, and determined.She gathered herself up and released my hand.She flew at the doors.She threw herself bodily against them multiple times, wailing and screaming for help.
I took position beside the doors, shivering when the ice wall touched my back.I did not tell her my part in the escape.I did not think she would approve.But I had grown vicious in my captivity, and survival, her survival anyway, meant that I could retain no scruples or high-handedness.If I had to kill to keep her safe, so be it.
“The creature is dead,” she cried out, “and I am not far behind.Please!”She clawed at the door and pounded her fists.“I’ll give you my pearls,” she shouted.“I’ll give you anything!Anything!”She gave one last burst of pounding before she sank into a pile on the floor and wept.Loudly.
If I had not told her to put on an act, I would have certainly mistaken it for sincerity.Such emotions were likely not far from the surface though.She had managed stoicism so far with grace.
Nothing happened.No sounds from the other side, no answers in return.Were the guards debating the wisdom of opening the doors?Were they loyal to the tsarina to the point of turning down the princess’ jewelry?Had they fallen asleep?Were there even any guards out there?
Alaina’s gaze met mine.Unspoken fear and doubt passed between us.After a moment, she made a move to rise, but I held up a hand.
The doors shuddered as the bolt slid out of position.
Alaina perked and then melted back into her position of abject defeat.
A single door swung outward.A guard, backlit by a fire from without, stood in the opening.
“He’s dead,” Alaina repeated, pointing towards the doorway opposite the bedroom.She lifted her chin, her face tragic and pale in the dim light.“Spare me, I beg.”
Another guard joined him at the doorway and looked her over.
“Please,” she fumbled at the teardrop pearl necklace at her throat.“It was my mother’s.A coat is all I ask.”
