Rasputina and the Witch's Tsar

Chapter Thirty-Three

"Are you an angel?"

"No, child," I press my hand to the little tsarevich's forehead, feeling the fever rushing with the blood beneath his papery skin. "Something else entirely." I pause for a moment with my hand on his head, his tiny smile matching my own, before turning to the lady dressed in heavy robes embroidered with gold. Her hair in a skillful coif above her head. "Lady Vyrubova, you may take me away now. I only wanted to see if Alexei was improving."

Anna Vyrubova, the precious confidant to the tsar and tsarina, like a cousin to Alexandr, does a brief curtsy. "Of course, he is. It's quite remarkable. But why do you speak so? You are not a prisoner here."

"No. Not quite an exile, but not quite a guest either, eh?" I laugh it off, and as most people do in awkward situations, she laughs too. "I apologize. Too long in Siberia must have left me in shambles. The cold takes a toll on you. Alongside the isolation."

"It is good you're back then in society." She smiles at me, ducking her head shyly. "Is it true you work wonders?"

I wink at her. "For you, milady, anything."

She giggles when Prince Yusupov walks in, his face a sickly shade. "I ordered a driver to take you to your apartments, Ms. Rasputina." The prince speaks in a stilted manner. I wonder if he always spoke so stiffly, or if life beat it into him.

I nod to him, another brief curtsy. "Of course, my prince."

Just as I pass him, a brief moment where he grasps me by the elbow. "Familiar are we?" I ask, one eyebrow raised.

"So, you've finally returned."

"Yes, from the hole you placed me in."

"I wanted... to apologize." He grits his teeth as he says it. A man who sees the walls crumbling before him, the army at his gate. "You obviously mean something to the tsarina."

"Thank you, I'll remember that during our discussions." I pull my elbow from his grasp. "I'll remember everything though, won't I?"

As I walk past him, I feel as though I am outrunning a storm. A storm darkening these royal halls, where all glitters, yet like a witch's ring, also falls to ash and nothingness upon closer inspection. A glittering illusion. All come crashing down.