Read Online The Gathering Storm by Robin Bridges - Free Book Online
Authors: Robin Bridges
Ads: Link
I insisted. “I’ll be fine.” I cleaned myself up and walked over to my wardrobe. Anya had already laid out my silver court gown trimmed in pearls and Venetian lace.
I splashed cool water on my face, and Anya helped me get dressed. When I looked at my reflection in the mirror, the bags under my eyes were a somber reminder of my miserable night. I could not see my own cold light, but I imagined it to be shimmering brightly, with Death looming close by. After such a dream, how could it not?
Anya arranged the velvet
kokoshnik
on my head, watching me in the mirror carefully. She was still afraid of me, I realized sadly. My strange behavior that morning had done nothing to allay her fears.
“Katiya?” Maman’s voice floated down the hallway. “Are you finished getting ready? We have to leave soon for the Winter Palace! Anya, where are my gloves?”
Anya turned away from me and nearly ran from the room. She was grateful for the interruption.
I took a deep breath, preparing for the day ahead.
It was a short sleigh ride from our house to the palace, which was situated at the end of Millionnaya Street. The morning was sunny, but freezing. Crowds were already gathering along both banks of the frozen Neva River as we went inside to the palace’s Grand Chapel for the divine service.
The chapel was hot and crowded with all St. Petersburg’s aristocracy. They all wore their finest court attire. The heat from the candles and the packed bodies made the ceremony almost unbearable. I had to remember not to lock my knees so I would not faint.
After the prayers, I followed Maman in the long formal procession through the palace from the chapel to the Jordan Staircase, leading outside to the snow-covered riverbank. The procession was silent except for the quiet swishes of the women’s elaborate court dresses. The empress and the grand duchesses wore long heavy trains that had to be carried by their pages. My mother’s page looked as if he were no older than I was.
Hundreds of servants in smart crimson liveries stood at attention along the magnificent staircase. I lifted my skirts slightly, praying I would not trip as I descended the stairs.
When we reached the ground floor, many of the empress’s ladies-in-waiting remained inside the enfilade, along with the entire Diplomatic Corps, watching the ceremony fromthe grand windows. Maman and I followed the procession outside to see Papa and Petya. I was happy to breathe the frigid air, even though it hurt my lungs. After the closeness of the chapel, it was fresh and bracing.
The metropolitan stood in front of the Imperial Pavilion, his silver-and-gold robes blazing in the pale sunlight. He prayed silently over a small hole that had been cut into the ice. The waters of the Neva, warmer than the ice above it, caused steam to rise out of the hole.
We stood behind the pavilion, next to the beautiful young grand duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna and her husband, Grand Duke Serge Alexandrovich, one of the tsar’s uncles. The grand duchess turned to greet us. “Katerina Alexandrovna, you attend the Smolny Institute, do you not?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” I tried to curtsy, and wobbled slightly on the frozen, uneven ground.
“And you have already been presented to court?” Her breath fogged in the crisp winter air.
“Just this past summer, Your Highness,” Maman answered. “I believe you were in Darmstadt at the time.”
The grand duchess ignored my mother and kept her unsettling eyes on me. Both of her eyes were grayish blue, but one had a circle of brown. “You must be the same age as my sister, Alix. She is coming to stay with me this winter. I hope you will get to meet her.”
“I’d be honored.”
Tall and slender, the grand duke Serge leaned over and whispered something to his wife. “Please excuse us,” she said, following him to the Imperial Pavilion, where the tsarand empress stood with their younger children. Their older sons sat astride their horses in full
I splashed cool water on my face, and Anya helped me get dressed. When I looked at my reflection in the mirror, the bags under my eyes were a somber reminder of my miserable night. I could not see my own cold light, but I imagined it to be shimmering brightly, with Death looming close by. After such a dream, how could it not?
Anya arranged the velvet
kokoshnik
on my head, watching me in the mirror carefully. She was still afraid of me, I realized sadly. My strange behavior that morning had done nothing to allay her fears.
“Katiya?” Maman’s voice floated down the hallway. “Are you finished getting ready? We have to leave soon for the Winter Palace! Anya, where are my gloves?”
Anya turned away from me and nearly ran from the room. She was grateful for the interruption.
I took a deep breath, preparing for the day ahead.
It was a short sleigh ride from our house to the palace, which was situated at the end of Millionnaya Street. The morning was sunny, but freezing. Crowds were already gathering along both banks of the frozen Neva River as we went inside to the palace’s Grand Chapel for the divine service.
The chapel was hot and crowded with all St. Petersburg’s aristocracy. They all wore their finest court attire. The heat from the candles and the packed bodies made the ceremony almost unbearable. I had to remember not to lock my knees so I would not faint.
After the prayers, I followed Maman in the long formal procession through the palace from the chapel to the Jordan Staircase, leading outside to the snow-covered riverbank. The procession was silent except for the quiet swishes of the women’s elaborate court dresses. The empress and the grand duchesses wore long heavy trains that had to be carried by their pages. My mother’s page looked as if he were no older than I was.
Hundreds of servants in smart crimson liveries stood at attention along the magnificent staircase. I lifted my skirts slightly, praying I would not trip as I descended the stairs.
When we reached the ground floor, many of the empress’s ladies-in-waiting remained inside the enfilade, along with the entire Diplomatic Corps, watching the ceremony fromthe grand windows. Maman and I followed the procession outside to see Papa and Petya. I was happy to breathe the frigid air, even though it hurt my lungs. After the closeness of the chapel, it was fresh and bracing.
The metropolitan stood in front of the Imperial Pavilion, his silver-and-gold robes blazing in the pale sunlight. He prayed silently over a small hole that had been cut into the ice. The waters of the Neva, warmer than the ice above it, caused steam to rise out of the hole.
We stood behind the pavilion, next to the beautiful young grand duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna and her husband, Grand Duke Serge Alexandrovich, one of the tsar’s uncles. The grand duchess turned to greet us. “Katerina Alexandrovna, you attend the Smolny Institute, do you not?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” I tried to curtsy, and wobbled slightly on the frozen, uneven ground.
“And you have already been presented to court?” Her breath fogged in the crisp winter air.
“Just this past summer, Your Highness,” Maman answered. “I believe you were in Darmstadt at the time.”
The grand duchess ignored my mother and kept her unsettling eyes on me. Both of her eyes were grayish blue, but one had a circle of brown. “You must be the same age as my sister, Alix. She is coming to stay with me this winter. I hope you will get to meet her.”
“I’d be honored.”
Tall and slender, the grand duke Serge leaned over and whispered something to his wife. “Please excuse us,” she said, following him to the Imperial Pavilion, where the tsarand empress stood with their younger children. Their older sons sat astride their horses in full
Similar Books
