Where The Spirit Meets The Bone

Nine: Alina Starkov

Nine

Alina Starkov

Alina woke to blinding light and the sound of the curtains opening. "No, no, no," she shouted, "it's summer, Dad, let me sleep."

"You've a wedding dress to decide on," a voice she barely recognized as Baghra's said, "the designer is in the parlor waiting. She made a house call. Typically, she doesn't do this sort of thing but considering who her client was she made an exception. You'll find that using my sons name sparks fear in the hearts of many and will make things go faster."

"I never would have guessed," Alina said, "can't I---can't I have a moment to get dressed?"

Baghra turned then shook her head. "There's no need. After all, you're going to be in fittings all day. They'll have you change out of your nightgown and you'll stay in your undergarments all day long in between."

"But that's...um.... that's awkward."

"Welcome to your new life, my dear girl. You are going to be the wife of Lord Morozova, one of the most feared and powerful royal advisors in the Ravkaan court. There isn't a single bit of it that won't be awkward, speculated about, or torn to pieces. At least, though, you'll get to enjoy the finer things in life. Now come."

The only thing Alina had found to sleep in had been a white nightgown that barely covered her legs. She wasn't exactly a prude, but it felt strange, being dragged through the house in only that.

"Mother have you seen----" Aleksander Morozova walked down the hall, wearing slacks and a white dress shirt with a black tie that hadn't been done yet and his arm sleeves pulled up just to the elbow.

Alina knew she was in her pajamas, but she suddenly felt compelled to cover herself with her arms.

Lord Morozova paused and looked her up and down. "You're an early riser, I see Miss Starkov. It also appears that my Mother gave you a nightgown."

She scowled at him. "Yes, well, I was rudely forced out of my home by an irreprehensible bastard so I didn't exactly have a whole lot of clothes with me."

"I gave you time to pack," he said.

"You gave me twenty-four hours," she said coldly.

"Yes, well. Did you sleep?"

"Something like that," she said.

"Good. Then you should be well rested for the day. I've given the stylist specific colors to work with. I hope you don't mind."

"Black. I know. I was told at the first fitting. Why does it have to be specific colors?" Alina said.

"Black is my color, Miss Starkov, and you'll find it will be yours too."

"A black wedding dress?" Alina said. "Isn't it supposed to be white?"

Lord Morozova shook his head. "White, in war, is the color of defeat. We have no defeats here. Only wins. Oh, and mother?"

"Yes, my brute of a boy?" Baghra said.

"See to it that Alina gets a whole new wardrobe, not only the wedding dress."

Baghra smiled. "I will take care of everything, my son. Including the trousseau."

Alina blushed. "Trousseau? As in for the---"

Lord Morozova walked over to her, and leaned in close, whispering in her ear, "For the wedding night, Miss Starkov. Surely you didn't think that this would all be about bickering and separate rooms, did you?"

She scowled at him. "I wouldn't touch you if---"

"Don't keep promises you can't keep, Sun Beam," he said, and he reached out and brushed a stray strand of her dark hair from her eyes behind her ear. His thumb grazed her forehead as he did it. The slightest touch of his left her shivering. Alina was lost in the nearness of him. No one had ever touched her like that before. Not even Nikolai, with all his charm and bravado.

A shiver ran down his spine. "Fight me all you want, Miss Starkov. But I'm a military man. I win fights, I don't lose them, and I will win this one too. Eventually, you'll give into me. Sooner rather than later. Count on it."

He kissed her cheek, and Alina shivered again. "Enjoy your dress fitting, Little Wife. I shall see you this evening."

"Where are you going?" she demanded, still dazed by everything that had just happened. "I'm not quite finished yelling at you yet."

He chuckled. "I have work. You know. Countries to help rule. Wars to help win. That sort of thing. Good day, Miss Starkov. Good day, mother." He kissed his mother on the cheek too, and then bounded down the stairs, whistling to himself.

When he was gone, Baghra turned her head and looked at Alina with wide eyes. "My dear girl, are you quite certain you aren't a witch?"

Alina laughed. "Positive. Why do you ask?"

"Because that is the most affection my son has shown me since he was a boy. I daresay it's magic. Or..."

She laughed again. "It's not love. He doesn't even know me. He's only marrying me because he knew Nikolai was going to propose and he knows I'm a bastard and he thought I'd be a risk to the country. He wanted to take me away from the Prince, that's all."

"That's all indeed," Baghra huffed, "come along. Let's go get you fitted for that wedding dress. If this is how my son acts when he's engaged, well one can only imagine what he will be like once he's married."

 Still an absolute monster, Alina thought, but she didn't want to ruin the older woman's happiness. Reluctantly, she let herself be dragged to the parlor. It was there that she was fitted for her wardrobe, including a custom-made black wedding dress. It was embellished with diamonds to make the silk fabric it was made from look like stars, and in the center was a golden, glittering sun burst.