Morning Glory-Francis (Reign)

Chapter Seventy

It had been too long since I had attended a Russian ball. The evening of my return to Moscow, the throne room was flooded with nobles all dressed their best to greet their new Tsar. Though he wouldn't be officially crowned for about a week, when Pope Paul could travel to Moscow for the ceremony, he was stepping into his duties now.

Francis and I were both thrilled when the Pope would still come to ordain Francis, considering the lack of support in the Vatican for the Tsardom.

The only damper on the evening were the looks I received as I moved through the crowds. Everyone bowed to me respectfully, but then their eyes traveled down to my waist, that was still just as thin as ever, concealed under my corset. I didn't have to ask to know what they were thinking. I wasn't pregnant.

Francis seemed to be adjusting well to the new Court. He was making his rounds, doing his best to speak to everyone. He and I had discussed that since he would not be acting only as a consort, he would have to have an active stance in the political nobility of Russia. Since my parents' assassination, I had severely cut the influence of the nobles, but still, several of them clung to the power their families had had a few years ago.

I made sure to keep to the sides of the room, as to not pressure Francis into dancing. I had tried to teach him some of the dances we did here in Moscow, and he was a good student, but we didn't get very far. That's why I was so surprised when Francis approached me, and held out his hand for me to dance.

Smiling though, and hiding my surprise, I walked with him out onto the dance floor, as the music was about to start. Russian dancing was not as formal as French dances, a little faster, more dramatic, more intimate. Francis must have been watching the other couples before inviting me to dance, because we fell into the movements easily, matching the intensity of the other dancers.

Each loud chord in the music was met by a dramatic pose, and each drawn out note was matched with a long spin. Our dancing wasn't made for discussion or chit chat, it was made to move. Francis and I didn't need to talk as we spun around the floor, staring into each other's eyes. It had been a long time since I had danced like this. In fact, I don't know if I had ever danced like this.

When I was still an unmarried woman, I was confined to the less extravagant dances, the imported ones made for talking politics. Or courtship as my parents often preferred. While they never forced me into an engagement, it would be ridiculous to say they didn't want me to marry. Still, as Francis and I danced in the golden light of the Moscow throne room, I felt my parents watching me with smiles on their faces from the thrones at the front of the room where they should still be sitting.

After our dance was over, Francis and I were both panting, and retired to a small couch on the side of the room to enjoy some wine. We could have sat at the thrones as the front of the room, but I felt like a power move like that would put a damper on the evening. The side couch was much more conducive to conversation and gaiety.

"I like it here," Francis whispered in my ear, as another courtier passed by.

"I'm glad," I answered back, leaning momentarily into his shoulder before returning to my straight posture. "Hopefully we'll get to spend some time here. I'd like my children to know this place as at least one of their homes."

"That sounds like a fantastic idea." Francis murmured against my ear. A light shudder ran through my body, and I quickly took a sip of my wine to hide it. Francis laughed, before taking a drink of his own wine. "Your council is good. Loyal and savvy."

"I'm lucky to have them. And they're your council too."

Francis sighed. "I know that. And I know that I'm going to be the Tsar and all that. But I don't want to take any of this away from you."

"Francis," I groaned. This was not the place to be having this conversation. "I gave you the Crown Matrimonial willingly. Besides, Russia needs the protection of a strong house like the Valois behind it."

"Still. I will do my duty, because you asked it of me and I love you. But I don't know how I could do any of this without you."

"You could do it without me, Francis." I sighed, rubbing his arm comfortingly. "You'd have to." My mind briefly flashed to the now long healed scar on my side.

"Don't say that." Francis's tone dropped to a serious one, before set down his glass. "Now, how about another dance?" He asked, pulling me up from the couch. "I quite like the style of these Russian dances." He commented as we walked back to the floor. "It allows me to hold my beautiful wife quite close."

We easily fell back into the dancing pattern, weaving and dipping around the other couples. I wasn't sure what had gotten into Francis, but every now and then, he'd lean a little bit closer and plant a kiss on my shoulder or my neck, or wrap his arm a little bit tighter around my waist as he spun and dipped me.

I welcomed the touches, and returned a few of them, sliding my hand that was on his shoulder, up to the back of his neck, and holding myself a little closer, so that our chests were just barely touching. As I spun to face our backs together, I tipped my head up, to lightly brush my lips over the side of Francis's neck, and smirked as I felt his arm squeeze my waist a little tighter.