The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

Council

Anastasia stared out the open window, the chill, night air blowing through. Well, the shattered window. The man who'd been in charge of following the strange servant had told her everything: about how he'd questioned him about why he was following, and had, without so much as a hint of hesitation, jumped into the window, shattered it, and fell to the ground below. And, seeing as nobody had actually found the man, he'd managed to get away, somehow.

"I'm sorry, your grace," the soldier said as Anastasia looked out over St. Petersburg. "I should've-"

"Nothing," Anastasia interrupted. "You did just as you were commanded: you followed, and you reported it the moment he did something to arouse your suspicions."

"But-"

"If you'd jumped from this window, I'd be dealing with an injured man as well as this breach in security," Anastasia said. "Don't be angry with yourself."

I'd rather have men that obey orders healthy and ready to fight than men that disobey orders healthy and ready to fight. But, of course, she didn't say that out loud: she didn't need to have her men knowing about the mutiny rising in her own ranks.

"Yes, your grace," the soldier said. "Thank you."

"Now, go inform the commander of the watch," Anastasia said. "I need you to tell him to look out for a man fitting of the description you've just given me. Understand?"

"Yes, your grace," he said with a quick bow. "Right away."

He ran off down the hallway, leaving Anastasia behind.

Anastasia didn't move: she just continued to stare out at the city. She couldn't believe it, how far things had gone in such a short amount of time. Everything just... felt like it was spiraling out of control. Beyond her capability to get it back under control.

Was this how her father had felt when Lenin and his Duma came after he abdicated, when they placed him under house arrest? It was the worst feeling in the world, watching everything go to shit and knowing full well that there was very little she could do about it.

"So, it's exactly as I've heard."

Anastasia finally managed to tear her eyes away from the scene and turned around.

Sure enough, Zelenko was standing there, his hands shoved into his pockets. He didn't looked surprised, worried, or... much of anything, really. He had that look on his face he'd always had: that near smirk that made her think he knew something he wasn't telling her.

He'd always had his secrets, though. And she didn't enjoy the fact that he kept so many of those secrets to himself, especially when most of them were about things that concerned her and her soldiers.

"And what have you heard, commander?" she asked.

"That a man jumped through a window," Zelenko said. "Why are you so suspicious? You make it sound as if I shoved the man though the window."

"All I did was ask what you've heard," she said coldly. "You're the one talking about shoving men through windows. And the fact that you seem to think that I think you're hiding something tells me that you are hiding something."

He didn't deny it: "I'm the commander of the Okhrana, your grace: my job is to keep secrets. To keep your secrets. And if I may be so bold, I think I've done that quite well."

A little too well. She didn't like the idea that her own commander was keeping secrets that she didn't even know she had.

"I don't suppose you know anything about the man that jumped through the window, do you?" Anastasia asked.