Chapter 27
XXVII.
I had long ceased staring at the fire, opting to close my eyes and absorb her words. Like the warmth of the flames, her voice washed over me, offering comfort and safety and peace. The pressure of her leg through her skirts against my shoulder kept me grounded and mindful of her soft company.
If I could be assured that this could be the rest of my life — quiet, peaceful evenings by the fireside with Alaina reading to me and the occasional excursion outside her apartments — I might be content.
It wasn’t the life I wanted or expected to have, but it could be worse than this. It had been worse than this.
Alaina paused in her reading, tucked in a ribbon to mark her place, and set the book on the side table. She stood from her chair and stretched. She looked down at me and smiled.
“I need some tea. Can I get you any?”
“No, thank you.”
She crossed over to the samovar.
If I still had a proper mouth and not the damned beak, I might have accepted.
A warm drink sounded delightful. To partake, I envisioned having to go over to the samovar, turn the spigot, and let the tea pour directly into my mouth like a savage.
My pride, reduced to ashes at this point, still would not grant me such abandon.
“Why don’t you tell me a story?” Alaina asked as she returned with her teacup and resumed her seat. “I tire of my own voice.”
“Because all my stories end unhappily.”
“Do you only know Allemandian tales then? Those are all dreadfully depressing.”
“Many Ilyichian tales are also dark.”
“Surely, you can think of one that isn’t.”
“In a certain tsardom, in a certain country,” I said, “there was a princess who befriended a strange creature. And they remained friends all their days. The end.”
“While I like that one very much,” Alaina grinned, “that was too brief. What about folktales and such? Fairy tales?”
“They’re called wonder tales here.” I considered for a moment.
“There’s the scarlet flower, where a merchant with three daughters asks them each what they want before he sets out on a voyage.
The older two ask for splendid things. The youngest asks for the most beautiful scarlet flower in the world. ”
“There is a Jeanvian story that is similar.” She said something in Jeanvian, presumably the title of the story, that I could only half translate. “Except the merchant in that one loses everything. Continue.”
“Although the merchant sees many beautiful scarlet flowers on his journey, none is the most beautiful. On his return trip, he is set upon by bandits and finds shelter in a magnificent palace where he is restored to health. And there, in the courtyard, is the most beautiful scarlet flower in the world, so he takes it.”
“Does a terrible creature appear and demand that one of the daughters come to live with him?”
“I see you know this story already. What need have you of me to tell it?”
“Don’t be like that. I’ll try not to interrupt.”
“Try,” I warned her. “And so the youngest daughter goes to the palace where she is treated like a princess and given every comfort and luxury she could imagine.” I paused because this seemed like a moment when Alaina would interject. “Any commentary?”
“No.” Then she asked, “What does she think of the creature in this tale?”
“He hides so that he cannot frighten her. If she knew what he was, she would not want him. And yet, despite his precautions, he is revealed to her eventually. She finds him horrific and returns home.”
“Is that all?”
“No. I’m just giving you ample opportunity to contribute so that you are not speaking over me before I go on.”
“How considerate. Do continue.”
“At home, she is surrounded by people who treat her poorly and who wish to hurt the creature that has been looking after her. She returns to him, and when she agrees to marry him, he transforms into a prince. All very routine and maudlin.”
“The Kind and Fair are in the Jeanvian one, but it ends the same.”
“There’s another called Finist the Falcon that starts similarly, where instead of a scarlet flower, the youngest daughter asks for a feather from the famous bird prince, Finist.”
“I don’t know that one.” Alaina sipped her tea. “Tell me.”
“Her father finds it and gives it to her. But Finist, now that the girl has possession of his feather, can begin to visit her. He comes with the aid of a magic ring each night to woo her and share her bed. But her sisters get jealous and injure him on one of his visits. And then she leaves to find him and marries him to see him healed.”
“Is he a bird who bears the title of prince, or a shapeshifter, or a prince who has been transformed into a bird?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Finist the Falcon or any other tale of transformation. They suddenly all seemed a little too telling. Had others endured my fate for there to be stories about it?
“It all depends on the teller of the story,” I said. “They’re good for children, but princes are boring when you live at court.”
Indeed, good for children. At my age, I expected to be telling wonder tales to my own. Now, I would never have any.
“The stories are just downright cruel,” Alaina said. “If you’re a princess and told growing up that you’ll find love, especially when that’s the least likely scenario possible, it sets one up for a lifetime of disappointment.”
Love was definitely a precious commodity between nobles. And even if you were fortunate enough to have it, as I had been, the price could be dear, which I also found out.
“Are you a prince, Kaylay? Is that why you’re so unique?”
“No,” I said honestly. I hadn’t been reinstated. I wasn’t a prince. Not anymore. “I’m an amusement.”
“So you aren’t Finist the Falcon or the keeper of a scarlet flower? If you tell me that you are a prince in the Otherlands, I won’t be surprised.”
Like the creature of the scarlet flower, I did not want her looking at me too closely. Not that I thought she ever looked that closely at me when I was Mikhail, but if she saw me, truly saw me as that unknown woman had, Alaina would leave me too.
“I am Kaylay, not Finist,” I said, “and I have no magic rings or flowers, scarlet or otherwise.”
“But you gave me one of your feathers,” she said. “And here you are, with me every night. Is that what I need to do, Kaylay — agree to marry you?”
“I would never ask so high a price as marriage.”
“I would never be at liberty to give you such a price if you demanded it. Only the tsarina could form such a match while I am here in Ilyichia.”
“Or your brother, if you were in Altania?”
“I am above the age of needing his consent.”
“Then you might agree on your own behalf?” I asked, more than a little surprised. “I hope not. You should not sell yourself so cheaply.”
“Well, no,” she said. Then she added, “But I would still be open to being wooed.”
I didn’t know how to take that statement, which should have been spoken more like a confession, and yet, she said it proudly, boldly, no trace of shame.
“Are you absolutely sure you’re not one of these folklore legends?” she asked again. “I think you would make a fine candidate.”
“I’m supposedly the firebird. Or have you forgotten?”
“Oh yes! Tell me about the firebird?”
“The firebird doesn’t have its own story. It’s just a device to tell the stories of others, much like I will be when biographers write about you, if I am mentioned at all.”
“You might be a little too fantastical for anyone dull enough to write a biography about me. I’m just a little princess in a country that doesn’t want me but refuses to give me up.”
“The tsarina was a little princess too, in Talvia, once, and now she wields more power and influence than most monarchs.” I gazed up at Alaina, reassessing, and then I nodded.
“There is greatness in you. I can see it plainly. I think there was greatness in her too, but she let bitterness gnaw it away.”
“Maybe she wouldn’t have, if she had her own Kaylay to remind her who she was in Talvia.”
“You need to remember the lessons you learned here when you are queen of Altania. Don’t rule as she does. There’s a reason they call her The Terrible even while she lives.”
Alaina blushed, betraying her knowledge of the tsarina’s nickname.
“She pulled me aside today,” Alaina said, her voice a whisper. “She wanted to know why I keep bringing you to entertainments.”
Had that woman who recognized me that night said something to the tsarina? Was talk circulating, enough that even the tsarina took notice?
“I told her that, ordinarily, I wouldn’t, but she seemed to have made such strides in training you that I was confident you could be trusted to join me without disruption. She keeps telling me to take care of you, and yet, when I do it, I don’t think she likes it.”
“She wants to be the only one to command my obedience.” I sighed and settled my head on Alaina’s lap. “I’m sorry if I’ve made things more difficult between you. Maybe you shouldn’t bring me anymore.”
“But you enjoy it!” She stroked my head gently. “And I don’t want anyone else’s company but yours, even if we cannot speak in public.”
“If she questioned you today, she is going to want to reassert her power over me soon, even if it’s just a few hours, to remind me of my true master.”
“Do you think she would take you away from me?” Alaina’s hand stilled. “I couldn’t bear that.”
“I will not tell you that it is impossible. Like you, I don’t think she wants me either, but she will not let me go. So we must tread carefully. Leave me behind the next few events, and if she asks, tell her I’m being difficult.”
“I don’t like it.” Nonetheless, Alaina resumed petting me. “We need to leave Ilyichia soon. We need to go somewhere she can’t touch us.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” I didn’t see it as a realistic possibility. If the tsarina would not let Alaina leave, then she was stuck here. And if she was stuck, so was I. “Maybe someday.”