Chapter Two

      The Winter Court was in full swing. Lavish drapery in silver and ivory hung from tall windows. Wreaths adorned with red and gold decorated every windowsill, and candles set in red glass spheres of varying sizes hung from the ornate ceiling. Court jesters clad in Christmas colours performed flips and cartwheels among the mingling courtiers dressed in all their finery.

      And at the centre of it all, on a ridiculously gaudy throne on a raised platform, was the Empress Anna.

      Ekaterina gritted her teeth as she glided through the hall, her golden fan clenched in a death grip and her lips a line of thinly veiled displeasure. This should have been a joyous Yuletide celebration. Oh, there were cakes shaped into Christmas trees and presents wrapped with shiny bows aplenty. And the spiced wine was flowing freely into greedy glasses. But still her aunt’s tastes ran towards the vicious and distasteful.

      In one corner of the magnificent hall stood a giant Christmas tree that was completely lit up with candles. But at the foot of that Christmas tree was a small group of nobles, dressed fabulously but walking about barefoot...on a thick carpet of sharp pine cones.

      It was a punishment her aunt had thought up the night before, specifically for an aristocratic family that she felt had snubbed one of her current lovers. They grimaced and pretended to smile as the sharp edges of the dried cones pierced the tender soles of their feet, forced to pace as her aunt watched in morbid amusement.

      And that was only the least of the macabre displays in the great hall.

      Ekaterina bit her tongue and exhaled slowly, desperately trying to tamp down her rage at the indecent and cruel party amusements. It was wrong. It was horrible. It was definitely not behaviour worthy of an empress.

      She chastised herself inwardly, gently tapping the tip of her closed fan against her chin. Such thoughts were dangerous. If ever voiced, those words would earn her not just humiliation but a secret and painful execution.

      ‘My lady Ekaterina. You look absolutely beautiful tonight!’

      At the sound of the voice Ekaterina turned suddenly, her satin skirts swishing. An eligible aristocrat stood in front of her, his cheeks flushed with drink. He leered at her. She snapped her fan open, hiding her face. She knew his type. He was her aunt’s favourite type of courtier: dumb, loud, money grubbing and abusive. He was after status and power, and he would do anything to rise in Empress Anna’s favour.

      ‘I’m sorry, Your Excellency...?’ she said, arching an imperious brow.

      ‘Please, call me Vladimir. I said you look beautiful,’ he repeated with a grotesque smirk.

      ‘Do I, Vladimir?’ she asked, her tone superior.

      ‘Yes, you look radiant,’ he said, his lips smacking together hideously.

      ‘Well, then,’ Ekaterina said crisply, ‘that’s a shame, as you do not.’

      With that she spun on her heel and marched away—only to be stopped a few seconds later by another tipsy social climber. Alternately ignoring and insulting her would-be suitors, Ekaterina slowly made her way to the edge of the room. She paused to press her gloved fingertips to her throbbing temples. She hated these royal functions; the decadence gave her a headache and the false smiles made her cheeks hurt. But most of all she hated, hated the fact that she was being dangled like a prize—a treat to reward the courtier who managed to impress her aunt the most.

      Her jaw clenching, Ekaterina hazarded a glance over her shoulder.

      Her aunt was doubled over in obscene guffaws of laughter as two miserable women—no doubt suspected of some trivial slight—were subjected to a humiliating face-painting. They were already smeared from head to toe with filth, and scraps of old food clung to their skin.

      Ekaterina looked away, troubled and disgusted. Shaking her head, she edged nearer the exit and slipped around the ornate doors into the corridor. She quickly paced down the hall, lifting her skirts as she practically ran away.

      Just a few moments, she told herself sternly. I just need a little bit of air.

      Sure that her absence would be noted sooner rather than later, she quickly ducked around a corner—only to slam face first into a muscular chest. She looked up, eyes wide in panic.

      ‘A-Andrey!’ she stammered out in shock. ‘What are you doing here?’

      * * *

      Andrey stared back at her, his jaw slack in surprise. Here was his mystery woman, his muse. But she no longer wore a simple cotton shift and a rough coat. Here she was, decked out in the most gorgeous finery, her hair up in ringlets and her face subtly painted according to the fashion of the day. She wore a simple yet elegant gown, with a gold satin corset top and full, voluminous skirts.

      ‘Ekaterina,’ he said, ‘what are you doing here?’

      ‘I’m...’ She paused, her mind racing. She wasn’t ready for him to find out who she really was. ‘I’ve been forced to attend.’

      ‘Forced to attend a Christmas ball?’ he asked incredulously.

      ‘Yes,’ she rushed to say. ‘I’m here for the Empress’s amusement.’

      Andrey’s suspicions melted away into concern. Even he knew what type of amusements pleased the Empress. She was cruel to excess, and he despised her every smirk. He did not want to see his sweet Ekaterina fall prey to her sick games. No, he must not let her fall into the Empress’s pudgy hands.

      He took her by the hand and began to drag her away.

      ‘Let’s go,’ he commanded briskly.

      ‘To where?’ she asked, trying to pull her hand from his. ‘What do you think you are doing?’

      ‘We have to get away from here,’ he said grimly. ‘You do not want to be at the Empress’s mercy.’

      ‘What?’

      Frustrated