Ruslan Bogdanovich Makarov's spoiled, twisted family is desperate to retain their power, but refuse to name him Tsesarevich, the crowned prince or heir apparent, because of his birth gender. Instead, they've welcomed Alexander Vissarionovich Sokolov...
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Nikolai paced the hallway just outside of the ballroom that had been converted overnight into a luxurious wedding venue for him and Ruslan. Inside, most of the family was already seated and waiting, along with the entire court, and many other noble lords and ladies of note. Ruslan was still getting ready, or, at least he hoped that was the case.
He still had this nagging feeling that Ruslan would somehow slip from his grasp again... No.There was nowhere for Ruslan to run now, he told himself.
"No need to be nervous," the cleric beside him offered, "This is a joyous occasion."
The old fool had no idea how Nikolai felt. How could he? But Nikolai gave him a nod and a confident smile anyway. Just after was when he noticed a servant rushing down the hall toward them. It was the last thing he wanted to see, and he could hardly contain the sneer on his face as she reached them.
"M-my lord! My lord! It's Lady Ninochka! The Tsar's mother ! I-I-I just went to check on her! She was just having some tea before! She was fine! Just fine, and now-"
"Calm yourself, woman," the cleric hushed. "What are you saying?"
"She's dead!"
SMACK!
...Nikolai's strike was so swift that it took the poor maid off guard completely.
"Don't say a word! NOT ONE WORD to anyone! Am I clear? I'm not letting you or anyone else ruin this for me!"
"B-b-bu-"
"Hush!" the cleric urged, stepping forward, and taking the arm of the lady's maid into his hands before muttering, "This is terribly inauspicious timing... Who else knows about this?"
"The uh-uh-one of the laundry maids. Her, and the girl I sent to fetch the doctor."
"Go back to her room and keep silent, as his lordship said. Don't let anyone enter. I'll notify Cleric Stanislav after the ceremony. Go. Go!"
The frightfully pale maid nodded, shakily rushing away back down the hall. The cleric gave Nikolai a grim and fearful look, but both of them remained silent until the sound of fabric, movement, and lowered voices could be heard approaching.
"Go in," the cleric said quickly. "It's bad luck to see the bride before, and I'm certain that's her coming."
Nikolai nodded and straightened his coat before doing as he was told, but the look in his eyes was distant and distracted with the news. Of course, Ruslan's grandmother was elderly and fragile, her death had likely been natural, but he couldn't shake the concern that she had been a victim in another possible murder...
When Nikolai's betrothed turned the corner, just as the cleric had suspected, she looked every bit the royal bride, befitting a fairy tale book. A cluster of maids surrounded Ruslan, carrying his train and sleeves, along with bouquets of fragrant flowers, meant to keep the bride safe from evil on her journey to her betrothed.
