The Gathering Storm by Robin Bridges

well, with obvious dismay. He took a break every now and then only to scowl at me.
    Xenia and I had fun racing back and forth from one end of the pond to the other. Our cheeks were red and chapped before long, our breathing heavy from the vigorous exercise and from laughing so hard. My ears were so cold they hurt. Xenia, of course, beat me every time, even without her fey gift. I was not destined to be an artist on ice, ever.
    We stopped after what seemed like hours and sat down at the pavilion in front of the samovar the servants had brought with us. Instead of tea, we had steaming cups of hot cocoa with freshly baked pastries.
    “Will you be coming to the ball at Anichkov Palace next week?” Xenia asked me.
    “Yes, Your Imperial Highness,” I said. I took a sip of cocoa. “I will be attending with my parents.”
    “Wonderful!” Then she pouted. “Maman says I will be able to attend for a little while but will not be allowed to dance.” Xenia still had a few years before she would be old enough to be out in society.
    “But you will have a wonderful time nonetheless,” Elizabeth said. “You will get to wear your beautiful dress and hear the music. And you will see Alix in her lovely Worth gown.” Elizabeth looked at the tsarevitch over her cup of cocoa. “Alix looks lovely in lavender, don’t you think, Nicholas?”
    “Oh, yes,” Nicholas said dreamily.
    Alix blushed and smiled shyly.
    “Have you ever written a love poem?” Xenia asked me in a whisper.
    I smiled and shook my head. “No. I’ve never met a boy that inspired any poetry,” I whispered back. “Have you?”
    She nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Many times! I adore poems!” She sipped her cocoa and looked at her brother thoughtfully. “Do you think Alix might write a poem for Nicky? They seem to like each other a lot, but Nicky is twenty. She is closer to George’s age.”
    I almost choked on my pastry. A poem to the tsarevitch, I could understand. A poem to his surly brother, I could not. Everyone looked up at me. I could feel my face flushing. Why was I so socially awkward?
    Grand Duchess Ella hurried to refill my cup. “Here, drink this, dear.”
    I stopped coughing long enough to swallow the cocoa.
    “Thank you.”
    Xenia had turned to ask her aunt if she had a favorite poet. They were discussing French and English Romantics.I looked at Alix and Nicholas, still in their own little world across the table from us. Grand Duke George Alexandrovich would never do for her. I glanced over to see him staring thoughtfully at his brother as well. I could see the concern in his eyes. Xenia still believed in love. George was old enough to understand that tsarevitchs were not allowed to marry for love. And neither were most grand dukes.
    The string quartet began to play again, and Alix and Nicholas stood up to return to the ice.
    One of the imperial guards approached George Alexandrovich and bowed. “Your skate has been repaired, Your Imperial Highness.”
    Grand Duchess Elizabeth smiled. “Excellent! Now you can skate a turn with Katerina Alexandrovna!”
    It pained him, I could tell, but he put on his skates and bowed to her, then offered his arm to me. “It would be an honor, Your Highness,” he said.
    I stood up and curtsied and took his arm, much to Xenia’s merriment. I heard her giggling as we glided out across the ice. The grand duchess skated with Xenia so she would not feel left out.
    The grand duke was silent as we completed our first circuit, his arm stiffly linked with mine. Ahead of us, Alix and Nicholas were smiling and chatting gaily in English.
    We managed to make our spins around the pond with no body contact other than our linked arms—something I was grateful for, but also a little sad about at the same time. “How kind of the grand duchess Elizabeth for organizing a pleasant afternoon for us,” I said finally, to break the silence.
    “Are you truly enjoying yourself? Is this your idea of a pleasant afternoon?”
    I