Lisa Kleypas Stokehursts 02 Prince Of Dreams

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After an hour had passed, a servant came to inform him that two agents of the Secret Office had arrived.
The Secret Office, established by Peter, had been given jurisdiction over all crimes that threatened the
stability of the tsar's government.
The agents had entered the house and followed the servant directly to Nikolas. One of them was quiet
and deferential in manner, while the other, a blade-faced man with a shock of oily black hair, wore a
trace of a taunting smile.
Prince Nikolai, the blade-faced man said, I am Valentin Necherenkov, and my companion is
Yermakov. We've been sent by the Secret Office because of an incident that was reported tonight
Yes, I know. Nikolas moved toward a silver tray and indicated the bottle of chilled vodka. A
refreshment, perhaps?
Necherenkov nodded. Thank you, Your Highness.
Carefully Nikolas poured three glasses of the vodka, and joined them in a drink.
Necherenkov stared at Nikolas consideringly. Your Highness, we've come to speak with Princess
Emelia.
There's no need for you to see her.
Oh, there is, Necherenkov assured him. She was reported to have made treasonous speeches within
earshot of the tsar tonight. And her background is by all accounts a suspicious one
She's no threat to the tsar, or to anyone, Nikolas broke in with a gently persuasive smile. An
attractive woman, but not too bright, you understand? A simple peasant girl, incapable of forming her
own opinions. I'm afraid she was just repeating things she had overheard. In the interest of justice, you
should hold the real culprit accountable.
And who is that, Your Highness?
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Nikolas's faint smile vanished. Me, he said bluntly. Even the most casual investigation will reveal that
I've had a falling-out with the tsar. Everyone knows it. The lifeblood of the country has been drained for
the sake of Peter's self-image I haven't hesitated to say this even in his presence.
Necherenkov regarded him thoughtfully as he downed more vodka. We'll still have to question your
wife, Your Highness.
It will be a waste of your time. Discreetly Nikolas fished a black velvet bag from his pocket, hefting its
satisfying weight in his palm. I'm sure you're a very influential man& I hope you can see fit to arrange
things so that she is forgotten.
Receiving the bag from Nikolas, Necherenkov opened it and tilted some of the contents into his palm.
The bag was filled with a fortune in perfectly cut and faceted diamonds, most of them fifteen to twenty
carats each, a few of them even larger. They glittered in Necherenkov's broad palm like a pool of white
fire. Nikolas resisted the urge to smile grimly as he heard the breathing of the two agents quicken.
Necherenkov spoke quietly. If she is, after all, a stupid peasant woman, there would seem to be no
point in questioning her.
I'm glad we agree.
Necherenkov met his gaze directly. But in clearing your wife of suspicion, you've taken all the blame on
yourself, and we're obligated to bring you to the Kremlin for interrogation.
Of course. And in spite of the dark certainties facing him, Nikolas heaved a great inward sigh of relief.
For three days Nikolas was the resident of the Beklemishevskaya Tower, one of a line of Kremlin
strongholds on the bank of the Moskva River. The stone fortification was dank and cold, and Nikolas
saw his breath in the biting air of his cell. Strangely, no one came to question him. All he could do was sit
and wait in silence. Twice a day he was given water and a bowl of boiled wheat. There was no furniture
in the cell, not a pallet or even a pile of straw. He had two cellmates, both of them with empty eyes and
blank faces. They didn't exchange names or make conversation, except to reply to Nikolas's comment
that they should at least have been supplied with a blanket.
No comfort of any kind is to be given to us, one of them said dully. The crimes of a boyar are much
worse than the rebellion of a peasant, because the tsar expects so much more loyalty of his boyars.
The other man, who remained silent, was clearly ill. The cold, damp air of the tower was making his
condition worse, causing him to cough and shiver violently. On the third day the two men were taken out
of the cell and never returned. Nikolas heard the distant sounds of someone being tortured, the inhuman
cries of pain, and he wondered if it was one of them.
He began to remember what it was like when he had been tortured, and for the first time he began to be
afraid, the haze of resignation fading a little. He couldn't go through it again. The damage to his body had
scarred over and healed. But the damage to his soul& no, he wouldn't survive a second time. Huddling
on the bare floor, Nikolas braced his side against the cold wall. He had never felt so alone.
After another day or two had passed, he knew he had fallen ill. He became cold and feverish, his
thoughts no longer seeming to make sense. Wrapping his arms around himself, he shivered, slept, and
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finally let his tears fall. In some moments of his delirium he saw ghosts visiting his cell& Tasia& his
father& Jacob& Misha, his dead brother, who regarded him with a soul-weary face. He shrank from all
of them, but sometimes he asked for Emelia& Emma& who did not come. He was going to die, he told
the ghosts; he wanted his wife, wanted to lay his head on her lap and fall asleep forever.
During one of the periods when Nikolas was lucid, he received an unexpected visitor, the tsar himself.
Huddled in a corner of the cell, Nikolas watched as the gigantic figure ventured into the dark,
foul-smelling quarters.
Nikolai, Peter said, his deep voice rumbling against the stone walls. They told me you were ill. I
decided to visit you.
What for? Nikolas asked, the words rasping in his dry throat.
Peter regarded him as a parent would an errant son. I wanted to see if some sense could be talked into
you. This isn't like you, Nikolai. You haven't been yourself for months. The love you used to have for me,
the deep loyalty& what happened to all of that?
Nikolas turned his face away, not bothering to reply.
You've let a woman ruin you, Peter continued quietly. A mere peasant woman. She influenced you to
turn against me. She wrought some kind of spell on you. Otherwise she never would have taken the place
of everything you once loved.
A fit of trembling took hold of Nikolas, and he gathered himself more tightly in the corner. I never loved
anyone or anything until her.
The tsar sighed and squatted before him. And now she has led you to ruin. Do such destruction and
waste come from something that is good?
I haven't betrayed you, Nikolas said.
Perhaps not yet, but the seeds are there. AndI must be the most important being to you, no one else.
Not even God. That is what I need in order to mold Russia into the country it must become. Peter gazed
intently into Nikolas's averted face. Even now, he remarked softly, you are one of the most beautiful [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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