Chapter 34
XXXIV.
The key in the lock inspired Alaina to hold onto my arm yet again. The guard led, and I followed, Alaina clinging to me from behind. Down the mobile staircase, we ended our descent inside a courtyard of ice that led to the tsarina’s palace.
I appreciated the construction as the site of my impending death, but beyond that, I found the moniker of “palace” misleading more than anything.
Ornate and masterfully accomplished, yes.
I could not deny the care and attention to detail the carvers and engineers had devoted to the project.
It shone like a frosted mirror in the twilight.
But despite all its flamboyancy and aesthetic precision, it did not impress upon me the grandeur of a palace.
Indeed, it was little more than the size of a carriage house for an up-and-coming merchant.
Even the steward of my former estate lived in something that rivaled its size.
Alas, even my tomb would be a disappointment at the end of things.
“Your coat,” a guard demanded of Alaina.
I attempted to put myself between them, but someone grabbed the sable collar of my robe from behind and pulled me away. They tore the robe down the seam and yanked it over my wings, snapping several joints. The pain tore through my back and sent me to a knee.
I struggled to my feet, now devoid of any covering beyond the collar, leather bands, and ankle bells, none of which would provide warmth.
Alaina, treated more gently if not with more mercy, had surrendered her hat, gloves, coat, and satin dress.
The guards allowed her to keep her stays, undergarments, and satin slippers.
They had apparently drawn the line at stripping her naked, even though their confiscation of garments left her as good as.
Seeing me struggle, she came to my side and clung to my hand.
I scanned the crowd, faces peering over the line of guards at the courtyard ice walls.
Too many guards, too many people creating a barrier that we could not slip into, too many people watching.
Even Ivan, who might have offered some pretense at diversion, had been ushered away during our undressing.
A single gaudy carriage still in the courtyard served as the last remaining vestige of the wedding processional.
Our move would have to be later.
“Your bridal bower awaits,” one of the guards said, pointing to the doors of the construct.
Others in his unit who overheard the comment sneered.
“That’s disgusting,” said one of them.
No one laughed.
“Go on,” said the initial guard, gesturing for us to head into the building of ice, hand on the hilt of his sword in case we did not comply.
Alaina took the lead, our hands still clasped. Together, we entered the building. We turned to look upon the crowd one last time.
The carriage, now at the gates ready to leave, had the curtains drawn back. I met the tsarina’s empty gaze. Never breaking the stare, I pressed Alaina’s hand to my chest and put my other hand over it.
The tsarina’s Allemandian companion looked out over her shoulder.
Guards swung the double doors shut. A bolt fell moments after.
“At least we’re out of the wind,” Alaina said, releasing me, her breath fogging the air. “Are your wings all right?”
They hurt beyond expression, and my back cried out with shooting pain, but the sensations would be temporary. The cold, however, burned my feet and my fingers. I puffed up as much as I could and stuffed my hands under my arms to keep them functional.
“They will manage,” I assured her.
Alaina surveyed the palace interior with a scowl. She crossed the room and disappeared into a doorway. A few moments later, she came back through the foyer, crossed to the other side, and again disappeared into the other doorway.
“Some palace!” she cried when she returned to me. “There are three rooms.”
“Any windows?”
“None.”
I stamped my feet to maintain circulation.
Alaina glared at the entry hall table, also carefully carved from ice, with three playing cards frozen into the table top.
“I hate her,” she said. She grabbed the table and threw it against the wall with all the rage her little frame had bottled up. “I hate her! I hate her so much!”
Alaina then went off and proceeded to smash ice chairs, ice birds, ice console tables, ice curtains, and every other decoration that came into view until the foyer was littered with ice debris from once carefully sculpted ornaments.
I did not discourage her. Her fury and activity would help keep her warm. I hoped her rage would last all night, although if it did, she would run out of things to destroy before much longer.
“There’s a bedroom,” she spat as she came toward me, pointing in the direction of a doorway.
“She thought of everything. Even little ice caps and ice nightshirts and ice quilts. Ice everything.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me in that direction.
“You need to see it. You need to see what she thinks of us.”
I didn’t need more proof of the tsarina’s resentment, but I let Alaina bring me into the room designated as the bedroom. When I just stood there and gazed upon the artifacts Alaina pointed out, she screamed and threw another side table against the wall.
“See?” she shouted.
“She hates us. I know.”
“Why are you so calm?” Alaina crossed back over to me. “This is a nightmare.”
“This is a wonder tale.”
“An Allemandian one, maybe,” she grumbled. “How can you be so calm?”
“I’m not calm. I hate her more than you could know.”
Alaina grabbed one of the ice nightcaps and thrust it at me.
“Throw it,” she instructed. “It will make you feel better.”
It didn’t even though the dramatic smash against the wall should have been satisfying.
Several more pieces from Alaina followed, and though her breath came out in puffs, her cheeks reddened with exertion.
Her manic, raging glee offered me a measure of hope I did not have prior.
In encouragement, I pointed out other decorative elements for her to destroy.
By the time she was finished, nothing but what had been built into the walls had survived. And those not for lack of trying.
She screamed at the walls several more times for good measure, and then, drained of all her furious energy, she came back to me and buried herself against my chest. I wrapped her up in my arms and rubbed her back and shoulders. She gazed up at me after several long moments.
“I’m so tired,” she said.
I gathered her up in my arms again and headed back to the demolished bedroom.
The alcove in the wall where the sculptors had placed the ice garments upon the ice bed offered the only pretense of shelter.
I carried her into it and arranged my wing and tail feathers so that she would not have to sit or lean directly against the ice.
I surrounded us both with the other wing, containing the heat of our breaths and our bodies in the confined space.
I barely registered the pain of their injuries, half-numb with cold and insensible to any discomfort that might impede my ability to protect Alaina.
She tucked her hands into my feathers under my arms and kept her slippered feet beneath my legs. She shivered and pressed herself into me. She nestled her face against my neck.
“I don’t know why I’m so tired,” she lamented.
“Sleep if you need,” I told her. “I’m here. I’ll keep you warm.”
Eventually, her grip loosened and her breathing evened. I shifted her so that I could get my damaged wings in a more comfortable position. The bells on my ankles echoed in the empty room.
This was it.
I dug into the leather band on my wrist, pulled out the wedding ring, and slipped it back onto my finger.
I was tired too. So tired. I would sleep like her. I just did not know if I would wake back up.
“Kaylay?”
I might have dreamed my name, whispered and light, the connection to wakefulness as fragile as crystalized breath.
I sank back again into the welcoming darkness, no awareness of my physical being.
I longed to put distance between us again.
That’s where pain and emotions lived, where I had to have an identity and a purpose, where hardships awaited. Why would I want to go back?
“Kaylay,” she repeated, this time imbuing her invocation with urgency. She coupled the word with action, pressing her hands to my chest and shaking me. “Kaylay!”
Despite my desire to remain blissfully unaware of my state, her voice reminded me that she was still alive and well and, if she still needed me, then I should be present for her. I blinked frost from my lashes and groaned.
“Thank the Great Holy,” she murmured as she moved back from me to let me shift my position.
Moving proved more difficult than merely assuring her I was still alive.
My left cheek had been pressed against the ice wall of the bed enclosure, and I could not feel it.
My left hand too had been folded under me, and I could not move my fingers.
My legs shifted, and pain shot up through my left knee.
And the wings screamed with every small adjustment, their injuries now more apparent in the fullness of time rather than in the after moments of stunned horror.
“I thought....” She stopped speaking and shook her head.
Frozen channels of tears stained her cheeks, and I reached out for her with my right hand to rub them with my thumb.
“You’re not alone,” I assured her.
“It’s not about being alone.” She pushed my hand aside as she wiped at her eyes. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to be without you.”
That certainly complicated my plans.
“You will feel differently when you’re back in Altania,” I said. “You have people who love and care for you there, and you won’t need me anymore.”
“I would rather die, here, with you, than face a future without you in it.”
Her sentiment silenced me. No one had ever given me such a gift as that.