Page 54 of The Tsarina's Favorite
She swung herself out of bed by the rustling of bedsheets and blankets.Then she toed my hood.“Are you awake?”
“Call a jester if you require entertainment,” I said, pulling away from her.“That is no longer my title.”
“Not this early in the morning.”
“Is it morning?You’ve kept me blinded for weeks.I no longer have a sense of time.”I did keep time, of course, by visits and routines, but I didn’t need to let her know that.
“Is that what’s bothering you?”She heaved a sigh and sat down beside me.“If you didn’t have to go and do something as ridiculous as hurt yourself — again!— I would never have had you wear it.But I can’t trust you!”
I wished the hood were the only thing that bothered me.How far could I get into a list of irritants, complaints, frustrations, and miseries before she struck me or kicked me?How much of a morning would we have before she took me in her hands and mounted me?
“How are you healing?”she asked when she realized I wasn’t going to respond to her.
“You don’t care, so please do us both the courtesy of not pretending.”
“You don’t understand.It seems you never did.”Her fingers brushed over one of my wings in the wrong direction of the feathers, and I shivered.“I have always cared about you — even when you didn’t care about me.”
It took all my willpower not to rebuke her or call her out on her abhorrent behavior.
She lifted my head and then set it down, by the shape and firmness beneath it, in her lap.The braces on the hood loosened one by one.Then light assaulted me when the hood came off.I turned my face to shield my eyes, but the beak prevented it, and so I scrunched my eyes all the harder.
She ran her fingers through feathers in place of hair, gentle in her motions as she found several injuries.
“They are healing nicely.”Her fingers brushed over the wounds.“Some scabbing, but that’s to be expected.Head wounds always bleed so much, even when they are but little.”
“When do I get my arms back?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“The muscles are going to atrophy since I can’t use them, if they haven’t already.”
“You need to re-earn my trust.You’ve broken it so many times.Maybe I’ll only let you have them back once they’re completely useless.”
I didn’t have the energy to persuade her otherwise.She would do what she wanted when she wanted to do it.My resistance gave her thrill, and so if I stopped resisting, she would grow bored.She already had if I could go by her morning declaration.
“I’ll release them just for the time you’re with me,” she said after a moment, “to give you something to look forward to when you come visit.”She stroked my head again.“Don’t make me regret it, my dear.”
It wasn’t like I could run away with my ankles kept in bands and jesses, but with my arms unbound, I might have a chance to undo them.Still, what would that accomplish?I was tired and weak and kept weaker by the restraints and the limited meals.Even with free legs, I did not think I would have any greater chance at escape now than before.And if there were no chance, I would not dare risk losing something else that I did not realize I could lose until she took it from me.
“Sit up,” she instructed as she pushed me out of her lap.
When I righted myself and put my back to her, she untied the bindings between wrist bands.My arms and wrists barely registered their new freedom, but my shoulders screamed in pain as my arms fell to my sides and released the muscles in my back.I could barely wiggle my fingers, and it took a monumental effort to set my wrists on my thighs.Long leather straps dangled from each wide leather band.I did not miss the width of the leather bands either, wide enough to prevent me from making another assault on my own wrists.
The tsarina placed her hands on my shoulders and began rubbing.
I almost jerked away from her.Almost.I managed to bear her touch only because any perceived rejection now would cause her to retaliate.But I didn’t want her touching me, not when she had been the cause of my suffering.She wanted to be my solace now, my comfort.Her kindness was almost worse than her cruelty.And for all the disgust and revulsion I had for her, I had to endure it if I wanted any small measure of freedom in my current degraded state.
“You’re so tense, my dear,” she said as she focused on muscles that had spent the last few weeks building up knots.
Her thumbs worked between and under the feathers, traveling up my neck into what should have been my hair.She tilted my head from side to side to stretch muscle and tendon.Then she slid her hands back down and rubbed at the muscles between my wings.
“Why a bird?”I asked, proud of how unemotional I sounded about it.
“Why not?”
“Don’t play coy.You dressed me like a chicken first and then gave me real feathers.Why?”
She dropped her hands and moved away from me.Then she stood and began unbraiding her hair.“You had the audacity to fly away from Ilyichia — fromme— and nest with a Varnasian whore that took your fancy.”
