Mikhail felt his blood pressure rise, ready to clear the gap between him and the Tsar - to send him falling to the floor. It was Anastasia’s hand on his back that made him stand down, as she took a step towards her father.
“Best of luck finding someone more powerful than me to accomplish that,” she said primly. “You are dismissed frommychambers.”
Mikhail’s jaw dropped as he watched Tsar Nicholas the II stare down his daughter — and relent. He simply adjusted another brooch, dropped his hands to his side, and walked towards the door. Before he shut it behind him, he turned to look at his daughter.
“This is war,doch.”
14
“Ican feel your anxiety from out here,” Mikhail groaned, leaning back in his chair. He was sitting in an overstuffed chaise in the salon of Anastasia’s suite.
She had barricaded herself in her bedroom, fetching for one of her lady’s maids — who was shocked to have been called for — to help get her dressed. Tonight was one of the infamous Romanov masked balls, and they were making an appearance.
After her father had declared war upon them both, they had entered a deadly stalemate. The Tsar and Tsarina were afraid to go after Anastasia and Mikhail directly while the extent of her power was unknown to them.
Likewise, neither Anastasia nor Mikhail had a plan for going after the Tsar of all Russia, understandably. It was clear there was now no love lost between them. The whole situation was rushing towards a head that Mikhail knew would end in bloodshed.
Over the past few years, the Tsar had executed over three thousand people labeled as terrorists, and their religious fervor had only grown.
Mikhail could sense the dark magic in the palace’s halls at night whenever he left Anastasia’s rooms, hooded figures perpetually slipping in and out from behind paintings, processions with lit candelabras and incense burners… all of which put Mikhail on edge.
He and Anastasia had decided that their next move was to find allies. The two of them couldn’t possibly begin to go up against her parents — or the entire Romanov dynasty — by themselves.
They stood a better chance if they could move some of the boyars anddvoryanstvoto Anastasia’s cause. Anastasia complained that they didn’t evenhavea cause yet, but Mikhail pushed back on the semantics, saying that’s what the politicians could figure out.
The important thing was seeing the iron grip on the country end, through whatever means: be it revolution or reform. To find allies at court, they needed to beatcourt.
Anastasia hadn’t made an official court appearance in fifteen years, the rumor mill around her existence still as alive as ever. The pair had decided that it would be best to wait until one of the more grandiose weekly events, the masquerade ball held every Tuesday.
They would arrive unannounced, giving her parents no time to plant any seeds of propaganda around her whereabouts, which brought Anastasia to call on her lady’s maid to help her dress for such an event.
Despite never being at court, Anastasia’s closet was stuffed to the brim with appropriate attire — all outcasts from the Tsarina’s tailor when he had run out of storage.
Mikhail waited for them to finish, all but feeling the nervous energy radiating off of Anastasia. He was flipping through a book when the lights flickered like they were confirming his thoughts.
“Your magic, Anastasia!” He called out through the bedroom door, knowing it slipped when she felt out of control.
Mikhail had decided that he wouldn’t go in priest robes. He hated them. He also wasn’t a priest, something he always had to remind Anastasia of.
‘There’s enough religious fervor in the court,’ he had suggested.‘We’ll get cooler heads to prevail if I present simply as your tutor.’
He wore a light-blue silk shirt, a corded golden belt, dark-blue velvet trousers, and leather boots. He had put on two large, golden cuffs, both of them carved with the Romanov double-eagle, and had tied his hair up in a tight knot, keeping it tactile.
He ran his finger over the golden cuff, getting lost in his thoughts as he waited for the Grand Duchess, despising being out of his own clothes.
The lady-in-waiting appeared and cleared her throat softly, getting Mikhail’s attention. He looked up, glancing at the clock on the wall.
They had a short window to arrive while the coachman was still announcing names, but most of the guests had already entered. It had been selected for the most dramatic effect.
“Are we ready then?” Mikhail groaned again, getting impatient. “I don’t see what could be taking… so long…” Mikhail trailed off as Anastasia entered the sitting room. Her hair had been done up in an elaborate braided crown around her head, flecked with diamond pins.
The dress that she was wearing had silver brocade, trimmed with ermine and gold thread. There was a diamond-studded bodice, that when she moved, made her look like fire and starlight.
Mikhail’s heart stopped.
“Well, I don’t enjoy this,” Anastasia snapped, flustered and misreading his expression, “Appearances areeverythingto these people. We have a part to play.”
“And what part is mine, exactly?” Mikhail crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Anastasia tried to keep her pulse steady as she observed him in court attire… her mind stuck on the gold cuffs at his wrist.
