The tsar turned to address his son. “What happened on your grand tour with Tino? Your mother and I sent you on that trip—at great expense, I might add—because you wouldn’tstop mooning after Alix after she left St.Petersburg last year. You were supposed to pay court to foreign princesses, to get this”—he waved a dismissive hand in Alix’s direction—“thisinfatuationout of your system.”
Oh.A tiny corner of Alix was pleased to learn that Nicholas had been thinking of her all last year, too. His feelings must have troubled his parents greatly if they’d sent him on a trip with Tino—who supposedly had no problem sowing his wild oats over multiple continents—to erase the memory of Alix from his mind.
Nicholas’s jaw clenched. “I am nothing like Tino.”
“To my eternal disappointment!”
The tsarina cut in, angling her body between Alix’s and the two men as if steering her toward the door. “I’m sorry, Alix, but I think it’s best you return to the party.”
Alix cast a helpless glance back at Nicholas, but he had crumpled forward in defeat. Feeling her gaze, he looked up, and the hopeless expression in his eyes broke something inher.
“I know this may seem harsh to you,” Minnie was saying, “but I promise that it’s for the best. Moving to Russia, assuming the duties of a tsarina: it’s not for everyone, even princesses who have trained to rule. Russia is a harsh land, full of violent contradictions and complicated history.”
“I could learn,” Alix said softly. She was a granddaughter of Victoria Regina; of course she’d been raised to manage palaces, to help her husband rule.
“I’m afraid not, my dear. If you persist in trying to marry my son, it will only end in heartache and disaster.”
The words fell from Minnie’s mouth like heavy stones,like the ominous pronouncement of some ancient prophetess. They made Alix shiver.
She grabbed her skirts in both hands and began running back toward the ballroom, no longer caring about appearances. Her slippers tripped on the scrolling carpet; she nearly tumbled to the floor, but caught herself.
It didn’t matter where she went, as long as she gotoutof here—away from these heartless people, from the cruelty and ambition and callousness that was at the heart of every royal court.
She tried not to think about the fact that her body, falling into a panic, was proving Sasha right.
Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be Empress of Russia.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Hélène
“ALL RIGHT, HÉLÈNE. WHAT’S TROUBLINGyou?” Her mother cast her a long, slow look, studying her in the way that only mothers can do.
“Nothing!” Hélène tore her gaze from the entrance; she’d been watching the arrivals of the various royalty and high-ranking aristocrats, keeping an eye out for May of Teck. Sensing her mother’s skepticism, she added, “I’m just tired from the journey.”
“We both know it’s not that. You’ve been acting strangely since last week.” Marie Isabelle put a hand on one hip, causing her bracelet to glitter. Tonight’s reception at the palace in Athens was merely a prelude to the main event, so she’d worn only the single strand of diamonds on one wrist. Tomorrow, at the wedding, was when the tiaras and jewels and military medals wouldreallycome out, all the guests subtly vying to outdo one another.
“Are you and His Royal Highness in some kind of lovers’ quarrel?” her mother pressed when Hélène didn’t answer.
“No. I just…” Hélène caught a glimpse of ash-blond hair and drew in a breath, only to realize that it wasn’t May, just another of the seemingly endless cousins in attendance.Probably the girl was named Victoria—weren’t they all?—but Hélène couldn’t remember what ridiculous nickname this one went by. Ducky, Moretta, Mossy?
“I imagine the secrecy is weighing on you!” her father cut in, a bit gleefully. “How difficult to be at a wedding and not be able to share your own big news! Has Her Majesty decided when you’ll be able to make an announcement?”
“I’m not sure,” Hélène said vaguely.
Philippe grinned, oblivious to her anxiety, probably envisioning the support he would be able to muster—the monarchists who would rally to his cause—once his daughter had married into the greatest royal family of all. The Third Republic might even reconsider his exile once the British had declared themselves, at least implicitly, on the Orléans side.
If only Hélène shared his confidence.
Ever since she’d read May’s letter, she’d thought of nothing else. Her mind was consumed by endless fears and what-ifs.
“Hélène. May I have the honor of a dance?”
For once, she didn’t smile at the sound of Eddy’s voice behind her. She’d known that he would find her tonight, the way he always did. What she didn’t know was what she would say once she saw him.
She put her hand carefully atop his, but instead of leading her to the dance floor, Eddy started toward the terrace.
This palace was small by royal standards, but damn if it didn’t have the best view Hélène had ever seen. She took a few involuntary steps toward the limestone railing, which looked like part of the landscape itself, as if it had sprouted from the ground like a flower. The city of Athens spilled out before her, colored roofs and dusty streets giving way to thegleaming white Acropolis and, beyond, the blue haze of the ocean.
