"Again,"the weaselly voice of the tutor came suddenly from behind her, and she shrieked when the switch came down hard on her knuckles. She jerked her hand in a sudden movement to get away from the stinging pain, the fifth strike that day, finally breaking the skin.
Anastasia watched as the ink jar spilled — no,exploded?—all over the desk and glass shards went flying. Her face went white, and she leaned as far away from the table as she could.
The ink spread over the papers in front of her like an ominous tide. It looked like the table was bleeding, just like her hand. Anastasia had to fight the urge to gag when she realized that it wasn't ink she had been using but blood.
She couldn't remember hitting the inkwell, didn’t know what had caused it to topple over as the tutor watched it pool all over her forgotten lessons in disgust.
"What is happening?" Anastasia felt tears rushing to her eyes, overwhelmed with a sickening sensation, a cold, creeping feeling that snuck up her spine and began to twist her limbs to her sides. It was like an invisible rope was being wound around her body and pulled tight.
She began struggling violently against unseen restraints as the tutor stared at her with beady, yellowed eyes and muttered something under his breath.
Anastasia tried to gasp and turned to look at her mother, begging that she would finally put a stop to this. The Tsarina sat unmoved, like one of the many marble busts she loved so much.
"I don't know if it was enough," she explained coolly. "She should have written out the binding spell ten times in totality. It was only five."
The tutor stopped his useless sputtering and adjusted the fur cap he was wearing before pulling indignantly on his oversized robes.
"It will work! Look at her now, Tsarina. You were correct. The spell wouldn't have taken hold if she didn't have any of the Romanov curse —"
"Never say that out loud again, or I shall have you hung outside and pecked by birds," the Tsarina spat, her voice sharp and unforgiving.
Anastasia felt the telltale signs of panic threatening to sweep her up as she struggled to move her muscles. She was paralyzed in her seat and forced to watch as the blood began dripping off the table and into her lap.
There was a sudden banging noise that got everyone's attention before the doors to the Tsarina's chambers flung open.
Anastasia would've sagged in relief if she could as she watched Asya burst into the room, an expression like hellfire on her face. She watched her adoptive mother survey the room, taking in the scene as if confirming her suspicions.
"How dare you attempt these things you knownothingabout!" Asya's voice was a war cry, and Anastasia watched as the lady-in-waiting shook her finger in the face of the Tsarina of all of Russia.
"How dare I? I'll do whatever I see fit with my daughter,andyou cursedwhores of Satan!" The Tsarina stood up and slapped Asya across the face hard enough to make her fall without a moment’s hesitation.
Anastasia watched her beloved surrogate mother fall to the ground and felt something like electricity rushing to her fingertips.
The bonds that had held her tight seemed to be loosening as the panic turned to rage, boiling over with a vengeance. She watched as the Tsarina turned around and grabbed a small butter knife from the tea set.
"Fresh blood is always best for binding spells," she hissed at the tutor, nodding in the direction of Asya. "She can finish it off with the essence of her preciousnanny."
"If there's any magic in her blood, it will make the spell stronger," the tutor agreed and moved towards Asya as if to hold her.
Anastasia could barely grapple with reality for another moment longer as the wicked tableau spread out in front of her. Her heart was racing, and the blood was loud against her eardrums as she watched the inevitable play out in front of her; she watched her mother move towards Asya like she was about to slit her throat.
The fear of losing the closest thing to a loved one she’d ever had gripped her tight, and she let out a wicked scream.
Three things seemed to happen all at once.
Anastasia's bonds cracked. Instead, the binding spell found the priest, locking him in place as she pulled her arms from their stationary position.
Her magic came rushing out of her fingertips with her pitiful cry, shattering every light in the room and descending the scene into darkness as the Tsarina barked commands. And as Asya had foreseen it, the spark that would dismantle the Romanov Empire was set free.
???
Anastasia woke slowly and then,all at once. Her vision was blurry, and she struggled to sit up. She immediately was sent into a state of panic as she thought about the last moments she remembered.
As she came to, she sucked in a sharp gasp of air and pushed herself back against the headboard, coming to an understanding she wasn’t alone in her room. The realization sobered her.
Anastasia’s vision cleared as she sat, staring down the Tsar, the Tsarina, her tutor, and three lords whom she had often seen walking around with her father. Her heartbeat picked up as she tried and failed to get a grasp on the small crowd; they were all staring at her, unflinching. She looked around helplessly, trying to find Asya in a panic, remembering the Tsarina walking towards her with a knife mere moments ago, and a new panic gripped her. Asya wasn’t there.
It was highly inappropriate for anyone other than the Tsarina to be in her rooms. The Romanovs had always upheld the strictest rules of propriety — thought that casual nuance was for the poor.
