Bloodlines

Chapter I: The House of Special Purpose

They came for us at midnight.

We were suddenly roused awake by someone knocking at our door. Joy leaped off the bed and ran to the door, barking and wagging his tail. I sat up in my bed and rubbed my eyes, watching as the door slowly creaked open. The dim hallway light spilled on to the floor of our bedroom and I heard mama gasp quietly. A man was standing in the doorway, casting a long shadow on the floor. As my eyes focused, I realized that it was just our family physician, Dr. Botkin.

"Get up and get dressed!" He ordered. "They'll be coming to get you soon."

"Why? What's going on?" Papa asked. I heard the bed creak under his weight as he tried to get up.

"Yurovsky told me to wake you. There's apparently been sounds of artillery fire in the forest nearby." Dr. Botkin replied. "He's worried that the White Army will arrive soon and begin their attack on the city. We're going to be moved to a safer location, tonight."

A safer location. Ever since papa abdicated, we no longer felt safe anywhere. Our captors, the Bolsheviks as they were called, would constantly move us from place to place whenever it seemed like the rioters posed a threat. First, we had been prisoners in our own palace, surrounded by the familiar faces of servants and the comforts of home. Things hadn't seemed so different even though papa was no longer the tsar. My sisters and I would play together in the gardens while mama and papa looked on, smiling and laughing, their hands intertwined. Then, when we were sent to Siberia to live in the old Governor's Mansion at Tobolsk, everything changed. There was no more freedom. We were surrounded by guards every moment of the day, constantly being watched. Papa wasn't allowed to wear epaulettes anymore and after a few months, we had to part with ten of our servants and give up butter and coffee. It was terribly boring and cold with nothing to do. Finally, we were sent here to Yekaterinburg.

"Where are they taking us?" Mama interjected.

Dr. Botkin shrugged. "The commandant did not say. Only that he would come to collect you soon."

In the light of the hall, I saw mama look towards papa. He met her gaze and nodded reassuringly. "Very well, we'll get ready." Papa turned back to Dr. Botkin. "Have you told the others yet?"

"No, not yet. I was told to wake you first." He stole a glance over his shoulder. "Now, quickly! Yurovsky and his guards will be coming to fetch you any minute. You mustn't keep them waiting." And with that, Dr. Botkin left, shutting the door behind him.

Our bedroom was dark again so papa got up and began to light the few oil lamps strewn around the room. Unlike our palaces, there was no electricity here. Joy had leaped back up onto my bed and laid his head on my lap. I patted his head and stroked his shaggy black coat, smiling to myself. He had been a gift from papa for my tenth birthday and was my constant companion ever since. When we boarded the train that would take us here, I was worried that Joy wouldn't be allowed to come with us. Ever since I hurt my legs sledding down the staircase in Tobolsk, I was stuck in a wheelchair and hadn't been able to do much. Joy kept me entertained, sleeping at the foot of my bed and playing along with Tatiana's dogs in the small garden out back.

I looked over at mama who sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes closed and hands clasped in together in prayer. In the dim light of the oil lamps, I noticed just how much exile and captivity had changed her. It had worn her down and made her appear older than she actually was. Her once copper hair was streaked with grey and her bright, pensive light blue eyes were dull and rimmed with dark circles. Deep lines were etched into her face, giving her a gaunt appearance. How quickly things changed. A few years ago, she was the proud and beautiful Alexandra Feodorovna, Tsarina of Russia and granddaughter of Queen Victoria. Now, she was almost unrecognizable.