Turrets of Turbulence: Kremlins, #0.5

By K.L. Conger

Love in the Kremlin is not all it's cracked up to be....

 

Yehvah is a young, no-nonsense maid working in the Kremlin palace. She has no desire to become the mistress of some handsome courtier.... Until Nikolai Petrov looks her way.

 

Nikolai wants to be out from under his father's oppressive thumb, and Yehvah is drawn to his ambition. But will he be strong enough to throw off his father's yoke?

 

Yehvah must rise above tradition and the politics of the Russian court if she wants to secure her happiness with Nikolai. If she doesn't, she may fall prey to the dangers of the imperial court. Or worse, spend her life beside, but not in the arms of the man she loves.

 

A prequel to the Kremlins trilogy, this is a self-contained story, but is continued in the trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liesel Hill
• Release date: Dec 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393456599

Book preview

Chapter 1

Moscow, January 1530

The spot of brown tarnish glared at Yehvah from the neck of the delicate silver goblet. Small, no bigger than Yehvah’s pinky fingernail, it nestled on the underside of the goblet’s bowl. If the goblet merely sat on a grand tabletop, no one would notice the tarnish. The instant someone raised it high in a toast, however, they would see it instantly. The Grand Prince’s goblets must be pristine.

It wasn't the spot itself bothering Yehvah. She'd tried to get rid of it for three days. She’d scrubbed and polished with her cloth. The stain refused to budge. She’d never in all her eighteen years met such a stubborn spot of tarnish.

You’re putting far too much contemplation into that goblet, girl, Lada said, sweeping into the room.

Yehvah swiftly shaped her mouth into a smile and went back to polishing. If Lada found out about the tarnish, Yehvah would spend the entire afternoon removing it with sand. Not a chore she looked forward to.

Lada held out her hand, palm open. Well, let's see it, then. What's the problem?

Yehvah polished faster. Nothing, Lada. I was only—

Lada gave her an impatient look and waggled her extended fingers.

With a sigh, Yehvah handed over the goblet.

The other woman snatched it from Yehvah and brought it under her own thin, bony nose. She narrowed her wrinkled eyes to scrutinize it. Lada’s hair turned white long ago. She still moved around the palace on her own, but with less and less ease. Still, the tarnish spot would be plain to anyone looking directly at it.

Hmm, Lada said critically. Looks like I'll be sending Bogdan for some sand. If we don’t rub out the tarnish, it will spread over the entire piece. This silver is far too valuable to allow that to happen.

Yehvah’s heart sank. She’d known it would come, but still didn’t relish a long afternoon of difficult and mundane work.

Lada glanced up and seemed to read the thought in her face. Oh, perk up, girl. You’ll not be doing the scrubbing on this one. I'll need you to serve in the Great Hall tonight.

Yehvah felt a thrill of excitement. Maids generally did not serve in the Great Hall. Men strong enough to carry heavy trays of food to and from the kitchen, who wore expensive livery, served.

They needed extra help tonight, though.

The Grand Prince had announced a great gathering this evening. The announcement came only this morning, and for him to demand a feast so quickly meant the news must be important. Summons were sent to all the boyars in Moscow to come to the palace for supper.

What do you think it's all about, Lada? Yehvah couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. Do you think the Grand Princess has at last conceived?

Hold your tongue girl, Lada said sharply. We don't know what the Grand Prince will say and shouldn’t presume to guess. It’s not our place. Such things only lead to disappointment.

Yehvah put her eyes down demurely but didn’t bother to hide the smile playing at the corners of her mouth. This morning, she'd overheard Lada speaking with the steward, Boris, about this very thing. Even no-nonsense Lada failed to keep from gossiping about it.

And why not? Unless the Grand Prince had decided to embark on some new war—doubtful, given the state of the Royal coffers—this is the only thing they would call all the important Muscovites together for. The Grand Princess had tried to conceive for years now. If she’d finally succeeded, God had smiled on Mother Russia.

What do you smile about, girl? Yehvah could tell Lada attempted to sound stern, but only halfway managed it.

Yehvah glanced up to see a certain amount of concession in Lada’s gaze. Yehvah grinned. It's so exciting Lada. Everyone thought when the Grand Prince put Solomonia away for being barren, perhaps God was displeased. Everyone assumed that’s why Elena hasn't conceived yet. You think God has forgiven the Grand Prince?

Lada gave Yehvah a fond and patient smile. That's between God and the Grand Prince, girl. All we need to worry about is serving the Grand Prince and Princess at supper tonight. Come, we must get you ready.

Yehvah followed Lada out of the room and through the corridors of the Terem Palace.

The palace’s high ceilings and wide corridors breezed by in Yehvah’s periphery as the two women walked. The corridors felt downright frigid in winter. Intricate pictures carved into the brilliant white stone always reminded Yehvah of embroidery, if stone could be said to be embroidered. Color tapestries and mosaic tiles also cut the clean white stone in a beauty and luxury few in Russia dreamed of.

Yet Yehvah had seen it every day for years. Her mind remained on the Grand Prince and Solomonia.

Lada, why can men put their wives away, yet we can’t do so with our husbands?

Because they’re men, dear. They rule the world. We’re at their mercy.

Yehvah glanced sideways at Lada. You're married. Aren't you afraid your husband will do it to you?

No, Lada said firmly. She glanced over at Yehvah and her shoulders relaxed. "I suppose legally he could, but he won’t. He knows if he does, there will be no more—" she cut off and shot Yehvah a suspicious look, as though Yehvah had made her reveal something she hadn't meant to.

Yehvah giggled.

Lada sighed. The best thing a woman can do in this world is make herself indispensable to a man. Solomonia couldn’t bear her husband sons. That made her dispensable.

That isn’t her fault, Yehvah objected. She’d have given him sons if she could. Maybe it was God's will.

Exactly, Lada said. Which is why Solomonia accepted her fate without a fuss.

Yehvah gave Lada a sidelong glance. She didn't have a choice, Yehvah muttered.

Lada returned the sidelong glance. That's very true.

Yehvah sighed. I’ll never give a man power of that sort over me. I wouldn’t want to live in a nunnery. It sounds boring. You’d only ever talk to a bunch of old women who pray all the time.

Lada whirled so sharply, hands on hips, that Yehvah nearly plowed into her back. Bite your tongue, girl! Real anger filled Lada's eyes. Do not speak ill of the Sisters. They are godly women and should be revered, not criticized.

Yehvah studied her feet, feeling genuine remorse. She spoke without thinking and realized now that what she said had been blasphemy. If anyone else heard her.... But she and Lada stood alone in the corridor.

After a moment, Lada stepped forward and lifted Yehvah’s chin with one finger. Yehvah stood a head taller than Lada, and the elderly woman forced Yehvah to look into her eyes. Her face looked more concerned than angry now.

Listen to me child, she said gently. You're young and passionate, as all young women are. I understand. But I worry about you. You’re so headstrong and always say what’s on your mind without considering the consequences. She dropped her hand from Yehvah’s chin. You’ll be in charge here when I’m gone. Of that, I’ve no doubt. But someday something will happen to you to make you learn your place. When it does, you'll understand why the Grand Princess accepted her fate with dignity. I only hope when your time comes, the consequences won't be more than you can live with.

She gazed up into Yehvah’s face for another moment with concern before turning to resume her brisk walk down the corridor. Come. We have much to prepare for.

Yehvah hesitated only an instant before following Lada. She’d felt momentary shock when Lada proclaimed Yehvah would be in charge. Why her? Many other maids stood above her in knowledge and seniority. Surely someone else would take over when Lada passed. Lada must be mistaken about that.

Yehvah knew one thing for certain. She never wanted to be put away like the Grand Princess. Lada could say what she wanted, but Yehvah couldn't imagine any woman ever truly accepted such a thing. Perhaps the Grand Princess went because she saw no other choice, yet nothing would convince Yehvah the woman truly felt good about such an outcome. She’d been married to Vasily for twenty years. Human emotion simply didn't work that way.

Chapter 2

Yehvah threaded her way through the crowded hall, placing her feet carefully and cursing the large, oblong tray she balanced on her shoulder. She wasn’t meant to carry trays this large. After the Grand Prince’s announcement, the boyars became boisterous. The serving staff barely kept up with their demands.

Throughout the evening, Yehvah merely carried pitchers of mead to refill Boyer's goblets all evening. Now the serving grooms struggled to keep up with the boyars’ used dishes. The kitchens couldn’t wash them fast enough to get new, clean ones when the boyar men wanted another course.

So, Yehvah had been sent out with the tray to collect the soiled tableware. Tables filled the Grand Hall below the dais where the Grand Prince and his now-pregnant Grand Princess sat in splendor.

Indeed, the gossip proved correct. The Grand Prince called for the feast to announce with triumph that Elena had conceived. God had smiled upon Russia and Russia—or the Kremlin, at least—wasted no time in celebrating.

Yehvah did her best to balance the heavy tray on her right shoulder with her right hand while picking up empty platters and bowls with her left and placing them on the tray.

Many of the boyars turned as she passed, slamming their own used dishes down onto the tray. In their drunken states, they probably fancied themselves helpful, but the weight bearing down on Yehvah from all sides nearly knocked her over.

She struggled along the thin path between benches of rowdy men, dressed in rich fabrics with thick cloaks and embroidered boots.

Just as she reached the end of her gauntlet, where the tables ended a stone’s throw from the passage to the kitchens, a drunken boyar stuck his leg out in front of her.

Someone at his table must have told a joke or humorous story. The boyar, a large man with reddish hair, swinging jowls, and shoulders as wide as Yehvah was tall, threw his head back and laughed as though no man had ever said anything funnier.

Unfortunately for Yehvah, not only his head fell back, but his entire body. He knocked a thinner boyar beside him clean off the bench, and one leg kicked out into the aisle where Yehvah attempted to walk. She stopped abruptly, trying not to trip over the man's massive boot. Her stop came too abruptly and the dishes on her tray kept sliding forward when she pulled up short.

Yehvah saw the catastrophe coming, with no way to stop it. She envisioned dishes crashing into the aisle between the tables. In their drunken state, the boyars might even claim the serving wench tried to kill them. Horror overtook her and her life flashed before her eyes.

Abruptly...the tray balanced on its own. The dishes stayed in place. Yehvah couldn't understand how, until a handsome face appeared directly in front of her. A young boyar about her age, with white-blonde hair and a flat, very Russian face came into view.

Yehvah didn't