Rasputina and the Witch's Tsar

Chapter Thirty-Six

"Irina?" I bow my head low as soon as I realize the misstep. "Forgive me, Princess Irina, for my familiarity. It's been so long since I've been in St. Petersburg. My manners—."

"It's perfectly fine when nobody's watching, Maria." The striking noblewoman turns as soon as she sees me, hair pulled upwards and neck covered in a thick muffler. A white jacket presses around her shoulders, mittens lined with thick wool. "Titles are like appearances. Just that. A flicker and they're gone." She laughs, turning towards the Neva. Cheeks bright from the cold. "Forgive me. The cold puts me in a sour mood."

I turn around, searching the riverbank for any sign of an entourage. "Where's the prince?"

She smirks, still facing the waterfront. "Don't look now, but they're a while behind us. Riding in a carriage with bells on it, if you'll believe it. I told them carriages make me sick."

"Was that true?"

She turns to me without moving her head, her eyes resting on mine. "You're not the only one with tricks, magician." She laughs, throwing her head back. Her hood falls, and I go to right it. I'm careful with her coiffed curls. The air stings my hands immediately when they leave the safety of my pockets. She presses her hands against mine, so they stay a moment longer beneath her hood. "You're freezing."

I pull away, wondering about this game she's playing. "I should go."

"Why?" She tilts her head at that, a smile dancing in her eyes even if her lips have tilted into a false, pouty frown. "Wait until the carriage comes along. I think even my dear cousin-in-law, Alexandr, might have taken it."

I pause a moment, my tongue fumbling for an answer. "I—."

She swivels around, kicking up snow with her boots. "You hesitated."

Hell. Черт.

"Keep up this conversation, and we can make all of them jealous. The pretty tsar. My husband. They'll want to be in on all our splendid jokes."

"I..."

Just as I'm about to leave, the sleigh rides up beside us. The horses stand proud and tall, the blinders embroidered in braids of silver. The sleigh itself is polished, fine craftsmanship from the city's artisans. Whorls of oak and metalwork along the edges. The seats are plush pillows of wine-colored velvet. Irina steps up gingerly, reaching a hand back for me.

Duke Dmitri's dark eyes bore into mine as Irina sits between him and a thin-lipped Prince Yusupov. That leaves the seat that tsar Alexandr reclines on empty. As I sit beside him, he respectfully moves over. It doesn't help much. It's maddening, being this close to him.

"Miss Rasputina." He nods, eyes just to the left of where my gaze actually is.

I bow low. "Blessings be upon you, your Grace."

"God be good to you, as well, miss."

I repeat the same, banal pleasantries to the Duke and Prince. Irina's smile never leaves me. Those still-laughing eyes.

The sleigh sets off again, the horses keeping time against the steel-gray sky with their hooves and snorts of breath. The city grinds beneath their steps. And still, time passes on even as the winter seems to freeze it.