It was Christmas Eve, and the Empress was hosting a grand ball in the newly unveiled Hall of Light. Ekaterina wandered through the crowd of guests, completely surrounded yet completely alone. She didn’t really mind. She was content to bask in the beauty of the fruition of Andrey’s planning and hard work—his ultimate creation.
During their few and precious stolen moments together he had alternated between lavishing her with sensuality and describing his ongoing project. Rastrelli had given him free rein, and Andrey had created this pinnacle of beauty in the Catherine Palace. Ekaterina’s heart swelled with pride; this hall would be a place remembered for generations to come.
True to its moniker, the hall glowed golden with reflected light. The walls and ceilings were covered in mirrors, each framed in polished gold. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the floor was of two-tone marble. It was a masterpiece of architecture.
Ekaterina aimlessly admired each gilded frame, unique yet unified in design, and marvelled at the attention to detail. Besides, it distracted her from the spectacle at the other end of the hall.
Her aunt sat poised on a golden throne, and Andrey was seated on a cushioned stool to her right. Ekaterina tried to avoid sneaking glances their way, only slightly mollified by Andrey’s stiff composure. She gritted her teeth and turned away once again as her aunt continued to fawn all over him. She couldn’t be angry with him, since neither really had a choice in the matter. When the Empress called for his company, he had no choice but to attend to her. So far he’d been able to fend off her amorous advances, but there was no telling when her aunt would tire of the endless game.
* * *
Meanwhile, at the head of the Hall of Light, Andrey was fighting the urge to slap the Empress’s hand away. She was clinging to him once again, and he felt nothing but revulsion for this woman who so tormented her subjects. But there were niceties to be observed in order to stay alive, so he managed a few tight smiles and curt nods to satisfy her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a woman.
Ekaterina.
She was clad in a stunning scarlet gown trimmed with gold, her midnight hair tumbling freely over her pale shoulders. He subtly followed her movement across the hall, watching as she paused before each of his individually inspired creations. Sometimes she would reach out to run a fingertip over the design, her blue eyes awed. It gratified him to watch her admiring his work, making the evening somewhat bearable.
The musicians suddenly struck up a familiar tune. The guests hurriedly rushed to take up dancing positions at either end of the hall.
Ah, Andrey thought, here is my chance.
He stood and offered his hand to the Empress.
‘Would you care to dance, Empress?’ he invited with a bow.
‘Oh, no,’ she answered with a pout and a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘I prefer to watch these types of things.’
Of course you do, he thought rather uncharitably. You can hardly walk since gorging yourself silly.
‘Then let me entertain you,’ he said instead.
Andrey hurried to take up a dancing spot, trying not to appear overly eager to get away. He caught Ekaterina’s eye from across the hall, where she had also sneaked into position. He risked a quick wink. And then the dance began.
It took a while for them to reach each other, but when they finally did they enjoyed a few moments of sheer bliss. Their eyes met, their hands touched and they swayed around the ballroom, all of a sudden in a world of their own. Andrey discreetly bent forward to brush his lips across the shell of her ear, clasping her fingers tightly in his. She smiled as they shared a lingering look...and then the moment was over as the song ended.
Ekaterina dropped gracefully into a deep curtsy, acknowledging Andrey’s formal bow with a slight tilt of her dainty chin.
Andrey could not look away, much less step back. He knew he should return to the Empress’s side; he knew he should tear his eyes away; he knew he was courting trouble just by being within a few feet of the Empress’s niece. But, with an electric tingle singing in his ears, he dared to take a step forward instead of back.
Ekaterina’s head shot up, a clear warning in her worried eyes. Andrey simply shook his head and held out a hand...just as the band began to play another waltz. Ekaterina hesitantly stepped back into his embrace, pressing her slender fingers into his palm. He whirled her around the room in time to the music, his heart pounding in his ears. He ached to pull her closer, but etiquette dictated that they keep their distance as they danced. And so he focused on her tiny hand in his and on the feel of her arm lightly resting on his shoulder as they swayed to the sweet music.
His eyes traced the gleam of her hair, the elegant sweep of her pale neck and the slight heave of her chest. He wondered if she was feeling the same rush of adrenaline and desire that he was. He risked a glance at her face; she was flushed, her eyes bright. He smirked.
‘Ekaterina,’ he murmured under his breath, ‘do you see the mirrors between the windows?’
She glanced around and gave him a quick nod. There were large oblong mirrors edged in gold all around the hall.
‘I want you to look straight at them all. What do you see?’
Ekaterina frowned, her eyes darting from mirror to mirror. It was strange...when she looked head-on into each mirror she didn’t see herself. No, instead she saw the reflection of part of the ceiling. How odd, she thought to herself. She wondered if Andrey had tilted the mirrors to accentuate the light.
‘The ceiling?’ she whispered back.
‘What in the ceiling?’
Ekaterina’s brows knotted as she tried to focus on the reflection in each mirror. Each was exactly the same. Her eyes widened as recognition dawned.
Every mirror reflected a golden sculpture of lovers entwined in a sweet embrace. But it wasn’t just any pair of lovers; no, she saw her own face in the golden statuette. Hers and his. Andrey had immortalised their secret kiss in the ceiling of the Hall of Light.
Ekaterina could not contain her gasp of surprise and delight.
‘What have you done?’ she breathed, feeling both flattered and terrified.
‘I have made us untouchable,’ he replied quietly, meeting her eyes defiantly. ‘And you will always remember what we have together when you come to the Hall of Light.’
‘You daring, clever fool,’ she whispered. ‘You take too many risks!’
But even as Ekaterina reprimanded him she felt a surge of exhilaration and desire course through her veins. She considered his square, determined jawline and his serious eyes. She wanted to show him how much she appreciated this clever gesture of devotion, this subtle rebellion against the Empress. But what could she do? Certainly not a kiss, nor a hug. Perhaps...
Her heart swelling, Ekaterina squeezed his hand. Then, with the hand that lay on his shoulder, she slid her palm up so that she could gently stroke his neck with the tips of her fingers.
* * *
Andrey stifled a groan and a shudder. It wasn’t much, but this brief illicit touch in the centre of the Hall of Light gave him strength—strength enough, perhaps, to survive the night.
At least that was what he believed—until Empress Anna rose and clapped her hands, ending the dance abruptly. The courtiers spun to a halt, all eyes on the Empress. A feeling of dread knotted in Andrey’s stomach as he watched her rise from her chair, a cruel smirk lifting her lips. She beckoned to him with one curling finger, and he fought the urge to stay rooted to his