Page 33 of The Tsarina's Favorite
Although wishing to revel in my freedom, my filth tainted any fleeting notion of celebration.I launched myself into the bathing tub, submerging my head and resurfacing only to wipe water and hair from my face, careful around the sores from the beak mask.I leaned back against the basin and stretched.
“You look terrible,” the tsarina said as she took a chair that afforded her an unobstructed view of the basin.
“I wonder why.”
“It didn’t have to be like this.”
Refusing to dignify her statement with a response, I turned my attention to the table beside the basin to review the offerings.I lifted a small bottle, hand-blown, with only a third of the contents left.Her own toiletries.
“Couldn’t find anything less dignified for me to use?”I asked.
“I wanted you to smell like me.”
I set the bottle down and retrieved one of the towels instead, determined to scour myself until I bled in my bid for cleanliness rather than resort to using her items.While she said nothing, pretending to ignore her required more concentration than anticipated as I rubbed my skin raw.I had never successfully ignored the possessiveness of her gaze, although I succeeded in hiding the shivers it inspired.
“Do I get to shave?”
“As if I would trust you with a razor right now.”
I grabbed one of the small towels, wet it, and laid it over my eyes.I slid down into the water up to my chin and marinated.
“Aren’t you going to ask about what I have planned for you?”
“And ruin the fleeting pleasure of a bath?Not likely.”
Maybe I should want to know what my future held.Maybe, if she told me, I could find a way out of whatever nefarious plan she had.But the future would come no matter what it held for me, and I could not endanger my fragile momentary delight for a miserable inevitability.
I only contemplated leaving the basin when the water chilled beyond tolerance.Even then, I delayed, unwilling to abandon my place of relative safety for an ominous unknown.When I finally rose from the water, the tsarina too rose from her seat, retrieving the final towel before I did, which she held out for me.
I tore it from her hands and began drying off.
“You said watch, not touch,” I reminded her.
“So I did.”
I toweled my hair off last, dismayed at its length and tempted to try the embroidery scissors on it.
“Your clothes,” she said, gesturing to the pile of black fabric now revealed with the removal of the towel.
“Mourning for my own death?”I didn’t dislike the color, but it boded ill given my situation.The clothes were little more than suggestions of a shirt and trousers, threadbare, patched, and more mending than material.“Couldn’t find anything worse?”
“I can always have you sewn back into your chicken costume.”
I heaved a sigh and began dressing to cover up the visceral fear of her doing just that.If it had been an endurance test, perhaps I could have done it again, another few months, and then freedom and a forever farewell to Ilyichia.But the only sure end to such torment would have been to outlive her, and I could not spend years trapped in a costume I could not remove.For all my resilience, that would break me.
She crossed over to the door that led out to her balcony and pulled on a blue summer cloak and white kidskin gloves.She gestured towards another cloak waiting for me.
“Don’t want me to die of cold?”It wasn’t cold enough outside to kill me, not yet, but my clothes were thin and I was disinclined to be civil.“Wouldn’t that spare you from having to issue the order yourself?”
“You’ll die when I see fit and not before.”She gestured at the cloak and gloves again.“Put them on.I don’t want you losing any fingers that I did not order to have cut off myself.”
I pulled the sumptuous cloak on, enjoying the softness of it as I secured it around my shoulders.Fiery embroidery in the design of a firebird trailing feathers trimmed the edges.The black kidskin gloves that accompanied it fit like a tailor used my measurements.
“They were Pytor’s,” she explained.She looked me over approvingly.“You can use them for the game I have planned.”
“I will not play any game with you,” I told her.“You would never leave it up to chance with me.Therefore, it is a game I cannot win.”
“You’re clever.”She stepped out onto the balcony and moved across it towards the stairs on the far side.“You might surprise me.”
