Page 32 of The Tsarina's Favorite
I hated the flutter of hope that brushed my insides.“Alexei?”
She offered me an indulgent look, one she might have given a particularly stupid child.“As if a younger brother would petition on behalf of an older one when that brother’s absence grants him the entire power and property of his family.”
Not Alexei.
“Amazing how silent they stayed when you could still offer them amusement.”She gave the piles one last look before rising from her chair.“I’ve had to reconsider what to do with you.”
“You could exile me from the country?”
“If I wanted to,” she agreed.“But I thought of something better.Follow me.”
I followed her as she left the room, not seeing another choice.I gritted my teeth, remembering this walk.From the receiving room, through the sitting room, little dining room, Kilikwa dining room, drawing room, then to the monarch’s corridor.To her bedroom.
I stopped outside.
“I said no,” I called out, my throat hoarse but my will solid.
“You don’t know what I’m offering,” she said as she returned to the doorway.
“I can guess.”
“How little you know me.”She reached her hand out for mine.“I had a bath drawn for you.”
The unexpected offer of a bath overrode my other misgivings, and she caught my hand without me pulling away.I did not resist when she led me in, my curiosity requiring the substantiation of her claim.Self-serving, perhaps, but a bath encompassed the pinnacle of all physical comforts I could request in my current state.
The metal basin rested in front of the fireplace, the steam rising from the water twisting and curling in an enticing, sensual dance.I could not remember the last time I enjoyed a proper bath.I had long given up hope of ever being clean again.
“A bath for my submission?”
“A bath because you are filthy,” she said.
“What do you get from this?”
“I get to watch.”She released my hand.“You have been most amusing as my chicken, but we both know that isn’t what I wanted you for.”
“Watching also isn’t what you wanted me for.”
“Do you want the bath or not?”
I refused to let her know how much I wanted it, so I asked, “Do you propose I take it in costume?”
“I planned on letting you out of it.”
“For how long?”
“What if I tell you that I never expect you to wear that costume again?”She wandered around the basin and picked up an item from the low table with toiletries, towels, and folded black fabric.“I have something finer for you.”
Despite my mistrust, I could not see her advantage.There had to be one.She would not offer any of this if she had no motive, and yet, I did not see a gain except for mine.
“I accept the bath,” I relented.
She held up the object in her hand as she approached, a miniature set of scissors in the shape of a bird, the blades its beak, the fingerholds its legs.Embroidery scissors.
“They are accustomed to undoing mistakes.”She crossed behind me and began working on the stitches that kept the costume fastened.“You see, I am not so much the villain you think I am.”
I nearly scoffed at her calling my deliberate humiliation a mistake, but I clamped my mouth shut.I would wait until I was out of the costume.I would wait until I luxuriated in a bath.I would wait, but only until I could make a viable attempt at escape.
My shoulders relaxed as she cut the stitches.The weight of the costume shifted and then fell away.The stench overpowered my relief, and I gagged as it assaulted me.I picked at the undershirt plastered to my torso by sweat and body oil, crust falling away as I pried it up.I tore it off only when I ensured it would not take skin with it.My tights and shoes too joined the pile of discarded clothing destined, I hoped, for a fire.
