Page 88 of The Tsarina's Favorite
But Alaina was going to know tomorrow because I was going to tell her.
“I know it’s you, Mikhail.”
My public name, after the private, struck me like a musket ball, and I took a step back as if it truly had weight and force behind it.This wasn’t a servant slipped a few coins to prod at me.This was personal.
I shook my head and fumbled for the lever handle of the door.When it clicked open, I shouldered my way into the apartment and closed it on the woman before she could say anything else.I leaned back against it to ensure she would not follow us in.
My heart raced.My hands shook.
Why wouldn’t that woman just let Mikhail be dead?
Someone in the palace knew me, and she could tell others.She could humiliate me all over again by forcing me to bear the shame that came before in addition to the shame of now.She could tell the tsarina who would blame me and kill half a dozen others to keep it quiet.Worst of all, she could tell Alaina, and Alaina would abandon me.
Hadn’t that been what I was planning to do anyway?
Having my old name waved in my face showed me the painful idiocy of that impulse.
I couldn’t tell Alaina.I couldn’t own that life anymore because it wasn’t mine.I wasn’t Mikhail.Mikhail was dead.Executed in disgrace.I was Kaylay, nothing but a sad Otherland creature in captivity.
Was it truly a lie of omission if I didn’t tell Alaina?Would that make me dishonorable for not being upfront about my disowned history if I expected to wear feathers the rest of my days?In the end, it didn’t matter.So long as I was not Mikhail ever again, I could never burden her with my humiliation.Even if it meant I had to continue to lie about everything to everyone, I would do it.And I could live with that.
I just needed that woman not to tell anyone of what she thought she knew.Alaina hating me now would be the most painful punishment I had yet endured.
XXVII.
Ihad long ceased staringat the fire, opting to close my eyes and absorb her words.Like the warmth of the flames, her voice washed over me, offering comfort and safety and peace.The pressure of her leg through her skirts against my shoulder kept me grounded and mindful of her soft company.
If I could be assured that this could be the rest of my life — quiet, peaceful evenings by the fireside with Alaina reading to me and the occasional excursion outside her apartments — I might be content.It wasn’t the life I wanted or expected to have, but it could be worse than this.It had been worse than this.
Alaina paused in her reading, tucked in a ribbon to mark her place, and set the book on the side table.She stood from her chair and stretched.She looked down at me and smiled.
“I need some tea.Can I get you any?”
“No, thank you.”
She crossed over to the samovar.
