Heart of Iron - Ekaterina Sedia [44]
“He’s in Alexeevsky Ravelin.” Eugenia shook her head, troubled. “So many good people have perished there—I only thank God there weren’t more. Every time I think of your father and his friends’ rebellion, my heart almost stops when I consider what could have happened. Can you imagine what would become of them if they had failed?”
“Ravelin,” I guessed. “How am I getting there?”
“I’ll hire you a coach—unless, of course, you would like me to come with you. Or do you have another escort?”
“I think I should go by myself,” I said. Anastasia had finished her preparations for tea, and Eugenia and I drank with great enjoyment, trying to chase away the bitter, wet cold that settled deep into our bones.
Eugenia drank in large gulps. By all rights the scalding hot tea should have peeled the epithelium right off her esophagus, but she had apparently trained it to withstand temperatures hot enough to melt lead. “Is that so? Still enjoying solitude?”
I blew on my tea and waited for it to cool down. “I think that a young woman alone tends to invoke the instinct of protectiveness in men—and I am assuming that I will be dealing with the guardsmen and the commandant of the fortress. I do not want them to wonder about my purpose, I just want them to be concerned and to want to help me.”
Eugenia gave a short incredulous laugh. “Oh dear niece. Not even three months you’re away from home, and already you’re plotting and calculating like a government official. This city has bureaucracy in the bones, and black ink for blood.”
“When is my appointment?” I asked.
“Tomorrow,” Eugenia replied. Before I could object, she held up her hand, commanding. “I know, I know, you haven’t missed a day of classes yet. I’ll send Anastasia to your professors so they know we had an urgent family affair only my heiress could deal with. And I’ll make sure those friends of yours come for tea after and tell you everything they learned. Which probably won’t be much, what with the way they’ve been filling their heads with dresses and men and nonsense, but enough to get you by. You’re so much smarter than any of them, I swear.”
I knew my aunt well enough to recognize this praise as disguised question—she wanted to know whether I was filling my head with nonsense. I suspected that dresses she wouldn’t have minded so much, but Jack must have been a concern to her. I still had not told her about her expected role in my designs, reasoning that the less time she had to contemplate my request, the less likely she would be to decline it. Despite her many eccentricities, Aunt Eugenia was not insane. Rather she possessed the courage and iron will to stand up to the emperor or anyone in his court. But she lacked the ability to ignore the facts and barrel through—her hope hitched to that least reliable of movers, expectation of luck and simple refusal to think through one’s actions and their unavoidable outcome—against all odds.
If I were to think everything through as thoroughly as Eugenia, I would not go to the Petropavlovsk Fortress, or made plans to travel to China. My ignorance and optimism sustain me when sober reason fails; I am not convinced that I like this conclusion, but I cannot deny it. Whatever the case, I had decided to conceal my intentions from Eugenia for as long as my conscience would allow me—and it was proving to be surprisingly robust.
Eugenia touched my hand. “What are you thinking about?”
I realized I hadn’t answered her question, so I laughed. “Rest assured, Aunt Genia, I am not interested in dresses or men. Or rather, I am interested in the man in Alexeevsky Ravelin, but my interest in him in strictly political.”
Eugenia smiled with visible relief.
I shrugged. “I have my education to worry about.”
Eugenia had never been stupid, and she sat up, looking at me