Serpent and the Throne (Fedosian Wars #1)

13. A Lot of Things

thirteen

A Lot of Things

Sofia picked out a maroon velvet dress from the manor’s wardrobe. The hem had gold thread embroidery depicting feathers, perhaps signifying the mythical firebird, and the deep red train dragged on for days.

“I believe it fastens over here.” Aleksei folded and tied the train to the back of the dress. It had been designed that way, and Sofia thought it may have been his mother’s. That or some courtier he’d been with. He seemed to know the particular attire well.

The dressing room had a red wool carpet, a vanity, and a painting of Duke Burkhard with his hunting dogs over the mantle of the fireplace. Probably the painting of the duchess had been there and had been removed since her fall from grace.

“You look a lot like your father,” Sofia said. Aleksei was behind her, tying the laces on her back.

“I’ve heard that,” he said. “Is this too tight?”

“No, it’s all right.” Sofia turned and kissed him. She’d gone hours without it. Sleeping had been a waste of time when they had so little of it together. “It’s not your mother’s dress, is it?” she breathed as he picked her up.

He sat her on the vanity table and kissed the exposed part of her chest. “No.”

“Then have me in it.”

He was in between her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around him.

“Why don’t you ever wear anything?” he whispered. “Knowing it will drive me mad every time I see you.” His hand was inside her dress, finding her pleasure.

That took a good while and they shattered the mirror of the vanity by knocking into the wall, and the whole time the portrait of the dead duke watched on.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he begged.

“Tomorrow is Day Solis, I have to attend church,” she whispered. Still seated on the vanity table, she held him as the last of the shivers passed through her. “For all the saints, what am I going to tell my family when I get back?”

“I forgot to tell you, I suppose.” He stepped away from her, pulled up his trousers, and spoke as he fastened the many buckles. “You were with Countess Katya last night. You were invited to a card game, and she should have sent word to Pyotr Guard. They know each other. I’ll drop you off at her house when I take Niko back to Raven.”

“A friend of yours, is she?”

“It’s not like that. She owes me a favor.”

“What for?” In all honesty, it was none of her business. But she couldn’t help asking. She hated the idea of anyone else touching him and that was the truth, a disturbing one.

“Her husband was going to divorce her and marry his mistress, then he died. An unfortunate accident, of course,” he said.

That was the favor, she supposed, the ‘accident’, and replied, “Of course.”

He tipped her chip up and held her gaze. “Thank you for your kindness this morning. If I frightened you last night, forgive me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” She took his hand and touched her lips to his knuckles. They were rough but his skin was warm. “We should get out there. The prince is waiting for his dance.”

“Yeah,” he said. “He can’t dance very well, by the way. Please go easy.”

“I’ll be sure to point and laugh.”

He growled and snapped at her with his teeth. She hissed at him with an open mouth. He grabbed her hair and now it was going to be another while.

The room with the piano had blue walls with white plasters smeared to look like clouds. Apparently the décor hadn’t been part of the original manor, but remodeled later for some countess’s party, for it had garish gold colored , not gilded, furniture which Aleksei and Eugene moved out so Sofia and the prince had room to dance.

The moody grey weather hadn’t lifted, and the white veils over the tall windows fluttered softly in the early spring breeze. They’d opened the door to the garden because the prince enjoyed the whispering sound of the soft rain. He was a romantic at heart.

Eugene had been playing the piano but had stopped so the prince could hear Sofia’s, “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

As Sofia taught the prince the Fedosian waltz, Eugene lounged on the piano stool and lit up an opium pipe. The herb he’d laced it with was sweet and the smell mixed with the scent of rain and wet earth coming from the garden.

Before Sofia could dance with the prince, Aleksei had checked her hands, gloves, dress, and had removed her choker and hairpins. He’d asked her not to wear any jewelry, but she hadn’t taken him seriously. The choker had been beautiful with the off the shoulder dress.

‘Niko has a blood illness. One, he can’t touch gold. Two, even if he gets the tiniest prick, it won’t stop bleeding, and he can die from it,’ Aleksei had explained when he removed her jewelry.

‘Why don’t we make a pamphlet and hand it out at the town square, Aleksei?’ Eugene had asked. ‘Oh wait, if we do that, the Guards might miss it. It’s better just to tell a Guard directly. So, they know.’ It made sense why he didn’t have any sharp metal on him, and though he huffed and puffed much, he watched over the prince like a hawk, a one-eyed hawk. The white eye was blind.

About that, the prince had whispered, ‘When a sentinel gets maimed like that, they put them in the incinerator. Lose a hand, a foot, an eye, anything really, and the queen kills them. That’s why I chose Eugene. So she doesn’t kill him. He’s my friend.’

“Imagine you’re walking around a crate,” Sofia said. “We’re tracing a square, all right? Back, well to you, go forward, then to the side, back for you, and forward for me, all right?”

“I’m confused,” he said.

“It’s all right. You dance however you want. I’ll follow you.”

“But I want to dance properly.” He frowned.

“However you dance is the proper way, Your Highness. That’s your first lesson about Fedosian court.” She smiled. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Aleksei watching.

“Eugene says you’re married. Is that true?” asked the prince.

“Sadly, he’s right,” Sofia said as they danced.

“That’s all right. You can get a divorce. When I’m coronated, I mean to dismiss Aleksei. Eugene is going to be my captain, if he wants. Then you can marry my broth… cousin.”

“No, I want to be minister of coins,” Eugene said.

“Do coins have a minister?” the prince asked.

“Everything has a minister,” Sofia said, looking down because the prince just stepped on her foot again. “Even the city sanitation.”

“Eugene, you can be minister of brothels. You like those,” the prince said. “Dominik says it’s funny because women usually pay sentinels, but Eugene is so ugly he has to pay women, lowborn ones, whores,” he elaborated for Sofia’s benefit.

“No, it’s because I hate highborn twats,” Eugene said. “And tell Dominik I said, suck my enormous cock.”

“Minister of brothels is it,” the prince said. “Aleksei just wants to be free. So he’ll be a minister of nothing.”

“I think you’re ready for music, Your Highness,” Sofia said. “Eugene, please play something slow. ”

And of course, he didn’t. He started with a folk song, which was way, way, way faster, and a whole new dance which Sofia had to teach the prince.

It was nightfall by the time they headed back to Krakova in a coach. Eugene drove, and Aleksei rode alongside to escort. The royal carriage Eugene had brought to save face, was grand. It had leather seats and a table between Sofia and the prince.

The cabin had three paneled glass windows instead of wooden shutters, and the red curtain over them was drawn. Silhouettes of trees passed by the window as they rode through the forest, and the rain trailed down the glass. The seats were equipped with a quilt and a pillow, and the swaying was incredibly gentle, like the calm ocean.

Pulled by six horses, the hooves knocked rhythmically as Sofia enjoyed a glass of wine, the compliments of the prince. It was by far the nicest carriage Sofia had been in and she wondered why the Guards didn’t have similar ones with all the money they had.

“Your uncle is the archmage?” the prince asked.

“Yes.”

“Is he nice? Mother tells me no but she’s not always truthful.”

“The queen is right. He’s not nice.”

“That’s sad,” the prince said. “Why can’t we be nice to each other?”

“You tell me.” Sofia sighed into her wine. She looked out the window and didn’t see Aleksei. He was either leading or guarding the rear. “May I ask you something, Prince Nikolas, and you won’t tell Aleksei?”

“You can call me Niko. I like you.”

“All right, Niko. May I ask you something in confidence? Do you know what that means?”

“Yes.”

“Aleksei sleepwalks, do you know that?” she asked.

“He’s not sleepwalking. He’s redlining. Well, not completely, but he does that when he’s distressed. Why?”

“He hurts himself.” Sofia glided her finger along the rim of the wine glass. “You do know that?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about.” He became sad. “It will be better when I’m tsar.”

“You’ll be a good tsar.” Sofia smiled, reaching across the table to take the prince’s hand. “Duke Burkhard was your uncle. Remember that, always.”

“Because you’re so nice I want to tell you, but I can’t tell you.” He shook his head. “No, shouldn’t. I promised Aleksei.”

“Then, don’t,” said Sofia. “It’s very important you learn to keep your promises.”

“I hope to see you again, someday, Sofia Guard.”

“Me too… There isn’t a way for you to attend the Royal Cup? You can just not speak to the archmage, which you shouldn’t anyway.”

“Grigori says I can’t go anywhere Viktor is.”

“Woah!” Sofia laughed. “You don’t refer to the archmage by his given name. It’s considered blasphemy.”

“Oh, all right. Mother calls him vermin.”

“Should you see him, refer to him as the archmage,” Sofia said. “And when you address him, you say, ‘Your Grace’, all right?”

“All right.” He pouted. Then perked up, remembering something. “Why does he have snakes? No one believes me. Do you?”

“I know he has snakes,” she said. “It’s part of his alchemy. You also can’t tell him you see them, all right?”

“So many things I shouldn’t tell him.” Then he proceeded to count with his fingers as he listed them. “Don’t tell him my father was Burkhard. Don’t tell him my mother is mad. Don’t tell him she calls Aleksei by Father’s name in her bedchamber. Don’t tell him Mother is fighting with Uncle Rodion. Don’t tell him we have no soldiers because of Rodion. Don’t tell him the throne is bankrupt. Don’t talk to him about Grigori, and don’t tell him I drowned… That’s a lot of things!”

“Yeah,” said Sofia. “You should never speak to the archmage. And… why does she call Aleksei by his father’s name?” She bit her lip.

“Because he looks like Burkhard.” The prince frowned.

“If that’s all, then why aren’t you supposed to say it?” she pressed.

He thought for a while, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Aleksei just—” He gasped and covered his mouth. “Oh! I wasn’t supposed to tell you that! He specifically asked me not to tell you that! Oh, I forgot!” He slapped himself, and Sofia caught his hand so he’d stop doing it.

“It’s fine. I won’t tell him,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.” She gestured sealing her lips and throwing away the key.

Again, the affairs of the royal family weren’t her concern… or so she told herself.