Rasputina and the Witch's Tsar

Chapter Eleven

Alexei feels well enough today to play with his brothers and sisters. I watch my charge carefully, ensuring he didn't gain any potentially lethal gashes or bruises. Like a glass doll, a single fall could break him entirely. His siblings were mindful of his illness, to the point the poor boy shuffled his feet, alone, in the corner.

"Come, little one," Alexei's holding back tears as I sat him on my knee. He was getting heavier. Still a scrawny thing, but at least the size of my youngest child now. "What is the matter?"

"They know how to dance." He sighs, nestling his nose in my curls. "But the dance instructor never got to teach me. Papa forbade it."

"Papa isn't here." I wink conspiratorially. "Maybe I can teach you."

"What do you think you're doing?" The children's peals of laughter went silent as their father strode into the room. Alexandr, wearing a black coat with tails that brushed his ankles. Sand-brown hair brushed back. Face freshly shaven and scrubbed clean with oak-scented salts. "Alexei should be resting."

"If he rests anymore, he'll be little more than a dummy with a beating heart." I get to my feet, dipping low into a curtsy when I see the fire in his eyes. Remember my position and swallow my anger. "I'm sorry, Tsar Alexandr. It's only..."

"Only what?"

"Only..." I turn to Alexei, who grips my thumb feebly with his cold hand. "Alexei wanted to learn how to dance."

Alexandr searches my gaze, softer eyes clashing with mine. I reach out to his mind with a touch of magic. See something there. Something the color of lavender, of a pulsating hum of music. Like a ballet in a tin soldier's hat, trying to play at war like it was just another dance. A poor pretender. A thin façade.

He bows, back completely straight, and holds out his hand. When he looks back up, he's winking at Alexei. "The best way to learn is by observation first, isn't it?" When he turns to me, the smile dims. Eyes guarded, but his palm is still outstretched. "Would you do me the honor of this dance, Ms. Rasputina?"

I do a mediocre curtsy, though I've improved slightly. I don't make a total ass of myself in etiquette. Balance is better saved for other occasions. "You do me the honor instead."

I take his hand. A shock as his skin is so warm while mine is freezing. The children gather: little Alexei, coiffed and poised Olga, pretty Maria, the angelic Anastasia, and the immensely clever Tatiana. They giggled and clapped as Alexandr walked quickly to the center of the room. He kicked aside a wooden horse with his bootheel, causing us all to erupt into laughter. Something about a jaunty king kicking aside a doll. The utter domesticity and drollness of it all, done by someone so royal. Someone so regal, with Queen Victoria's blood in his veins.

He pulls me to him, our feet set only breaths apart. "You ought to know this one, right?"

"Of course," he inhales sharply as I swan past him in a twirl. "I've done this dance plenty before."

"When?" He sways to the invisible rhythm of the song, eyes lost in some land of imagination. The laughter fades away.

I swallow, glancing at our feet. My plainer leather shoes. His polished bootheels. "My wedding to Paraskevas."

He frowns at that. "You're married?"

I raise my head higher, my hair falling back off my shoulders, brushing his hand at my waist. "Does that change anything?" I run my thumb over his shoulder, watch his jaw tense. "Change any of this at all?"

He pauses for a moment, the dance slow. Our voices hushed as the snow falls outside.

Another moment, and he starts the dance again. He shakes his head slightly, so slight only I catch it. Only I can believe it's true.

No.

And we settle into the dance. The dance that tastes slightly of magic, smells of lavender. The dance that wraps me up in Alexandr's arms. A peasant madwoman and a fragile foreigner king. What a pair we made. The unheard song went on. The beat of our hearts.

The hush of the snow, falling over us all.