That’s my Anya. You don’t even need me here, do you?
“Your Grace,” the old man coughed, shrugging as his eyebrows waggled mockingly, “I’m simply suggesting that if you do not have the power to kill him outright, you might need to fuck your new husband… for theelement of surprise, of course.”
The Tsarina flinched at the description but made no noise; the Tsar dared to look bored.
Anastasia looked at the man in shock, surprised that he had enough courage to spell it out for her. Her father turned his head in the subtleness of nods, urging the man to continue and seemingly permitting him to speak further.
“If you are unwilling or, perhaps, frightened by the idea,” the smile that spread across his face was like snake oil, “There are always ways to… practice, Your Grace.”
Mikhail’s reaction was immediate.
He burst past Anastasia, grabbing the man by his collar. He held on tight to the smaller man, looming over the lord by a head.
Mikhail lifted the man by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Thedoryantsvo’seyes went wide, and he began shaking, kicking his feet as they came off of the ground.
“Address her one more time,” Mikhail growled, “And I will personally tear you limb from limb forpractice.”He slammed thedoryantsvoagain, driving the point home. Near them, a painting fell to the floor with the force of Mikhail shoving his body against the wall.
The Tsarina shrieked and moved over to a corner, clearing the path between the Tsar and Mikhail.
Thedoryantsvowas a small, older man, but the Tsar was still in relatively good shape for all of his overconsumption. His perceived control over the situation snapped, and the man’s rage came bubbling up towards the surface.
The Tsar turned on Mikhail, pulling a pistol from the depths of his jacket while Mikhail was distracted with thedoryantsvo. It took Anastasia only mere moments to react. She turned on her father, throwing her body weight against him as the shot rang out… and missed.
The sound ricocheting off the walls broke Mikhail’s focus as he dropped the man, who hit the ground like a bag of sand and spun around on his heel.
“Youstupid girl,”the Tsar hissed, turning around and striking Anastasia across the cheek. “You will learn to obey me yet!”
Mikhail saw red. He crossed the room in two steps, coiled his hand back, and pummeled the Tsar in the face. The man sputtered — never having been struck before in his life — and recoiled before falling on his ass, blinking rapidly as his nose started to bleed.
Mikhail stood above him, his chest heaving and knuckles split, his broad shoulders tensed in a challenge.
“You touch her again,” Mikhail’s voice sounded like fire and brimstone, “and you’ll die.”
“Mikhail,” Anastasia’s voice was quiet as she stood a few steps away. “I’m okay.” Her voice snapped him out of his haze, and he turned to face her. Her cheek was red, her hair mussed, and he noticed the slight tremble in her hands.
“Anya,” his voice changed into something deep and soft that made Anastasia’s shoulders relax — and other parts of her tense — all at the same time. He walked over to her and gently cradled her face in his hands, cringing when his thumbs smeared some blood on her cheek.
He chuckled quietly and wiped it off with a devilish wink that made Anastasia forget about the chaos that they were standing in. “Are you okay?”
Anastasia nodded, the adrenaline beginning to fade as she surveyed the room behind him. Thedoryantsvolay passed out on the floor while the other one and her mother had fled in the chaos.
The Tsar was beginning to stand shakily, all parts of her father gone and a furious ruler rising in his place.
16
“You have lived a sheltered life,doch,”the Tsar’s voice was rough, spitting blood. He began waving his hands around manically. “You have no idea what we are dealing with! If you think you do, you have been severely misled by… by this… priest.”
“I’m not a priest,” Mikhail’s voice had turned again when he looked at the Tsar, “But I will lead a holy war against you if that’s what it will take.”
His arm slid down to Anastasia’s waist and pulled her closer to him. Somewhere in the corner, thedoryantsvostirred, slowly rising to his feet.
“He’s a cursed man,” he spat. His voice sounded cracked and hoarse, the bruising already beginning around his throat from where Mikhail had held him up against a wall. “Cursed!”
He began fumbling around in his overcoat as the Tsar wiped the blood from his lip, again leveling the pistol at the both of them. A few seconds later, thedoryantsvodid the same — Anastasia and Mikhail pushed up against one another, each staring down the barrel of a gun.
“This won’t get you what you want,” Anastasia hissed, looking at her father. “Do you really want this? If you kill us now, you’ll get nothing.”
“I’ll have a threat eliminated.” The Tsar’s eyes were almost entirely black as he stared them down, looking like the commander in chief that he was. The last semblances of a fatherly facade had been ripped away.
