The next morning she awoke stiffly.
The bed she’d been given was more comfortable than sleeping on the ground as they traveled, but the ceramic headrest was decidedly not to her liking!
If the Emperor was stern it was likely because he had an eternal crick in his neck from these infernal ceramic pillows, she thought to herself.
Before she had her bearings the door slid open and the room filled with palace maids.
She sighed.
Privacy was a commodity in short supply here.
She rose from the bed and they began to primp and pull at her.
This time instead of dressing her like the Russian aristocracy, they dressed her like a Chinese consort.
Layers of silk.
And her hair was waxed and piled high, then long, ornamental pins were shoved in place.
She huffed in dismay.
They painted her face in cosmetics again and dabbed perfumes and oils on her.
Then they brought out the most outrageous shoes she’d ever seen.
“I can’t walk in those!” She protested.
They didn’t understand her Russian, so they put them on her anyway.
Katya had no idea the maids were talking about how monstrously huge her feet were.
Russians did not bind their feet, after all.
They shoved and pushed until they had squeezed her into them.
They were tight, uncomfortable, and hard for her to balance.
The maids grabbed either arm and guided her along.
Still, she felt her legs wobble precariously.
Surely if they’d wanted her to make a good impression they should’ve at least given her a few days of walking lessons, she thought resentfully.
Zhao Siyan, or as he was now known to the world, the Emperor Wenzong, sighed impatiently.
His ministers were presenting memorials to him this morning as they did most mornings, but currently they were out of sorts.
Half of them, along with his army, supported a military campaign to conquer new territory to the North.
The other half strongly opposed the idea, claiming it would lead to a war they could not fight.
One of his ministers, Li Yuan, requested the speak.
He motioned for him to come forward.
“Bixia, if it pleases Your Majesty, the Russian Ambassador is here to present gifts to you.” He said.
Emperor Wenzong sighed softly.
He knew Li Yuan was on the side of peace and keeping the borders as they were.
Li did not favor Northern expansion.
While Emperor Wenzong had all but decided to invade, he felt obligated to give face to the ambassador face and allow him to approach.
He stretched out his hand, indicating that the ambassador could enter the sacred throne room.
Vladimir Muscovich whispered in Katya’s ear, “Remember, do not speak.
Unless the emperor addresses you directly.
If he does, which is doubtful, you address him as Bixia, do you understand?
And do not look him in the eye.
Keep your head low.
Be graceful and demure.
Remember that you represent your Motherland and that the future of your family and village rests on your shoulders.”
Katya nodded shortly.
As if she’d speak to the tyrant who would be her prison warden!
She didn’t know the language even if she wanted to speak!
They waited outside of two ornate wooden doors for several minutes before the palace guards opened them to allow them entrance.
Vladimir followed a government minister and Katya followed Vladimir and the convoy.
They convoy carried trunks full of gold and other precious treasures.
They walked down an aisle between many government officials and Katya felt their eyes on her.
She could hear their sudden whispers.
However, her eyes locked on the emperor sitting on his ornate throne.
Her curiosity could not help it.
She completely forgot the instructions to keep her head lowered.
He may have been old enough to be her father but she realized that he was strikingly good looking for his age.
She also took in his stern visage and felt a tremor run through her.
The closer she came in her approach, she saw into the depths of his eyes.
Eyes that seemed to be fathomless.
Eyes that held her gaze?
Katya realized with startling certainty that he was returning her perusal, and staring into her eyes like he could see her to the depths of her soul!
To her surprise she did not see anger at her breach of protocol there, but rather her own curiosity mirrored with the addition of what seemed to be a look of wonderment.
A government official began to speak to the Emperor and she watched as he seemed to distractedly pull his gaze from hers to the man speaking to him.
Then Vladimir began speaking in the strange language she didn’t understand, and opening the trunks to show them to the emperor.
The emperor nodded in acceptance.
But then Vladimir grabbed Katya by her arm and led her forward, still speaking.
She knew, though she had no translator, that this was the moment that would decide her fate.
This was the moment she was being given away like a piece of property or trunk of gold coins.
Katya felt a blaze of anger and wave of hopeless despair well up in her simultaneously.
Before she had time to reconsider and think twice, she broke away from Vladimir and ran towards him, half kneeling and half falling, (thanks to those infernal shoes!) at the foot of his throne.
“Please, please, set me free!
I come from the land you want to invade!
I beg you to show mercy!
Please don’t hurt my homeland or my people!
But please don’t make me stay here!
I’m not a piece of property.
I’m not a bag of gold or a horse.
I’m a person with a family.
Please, Your Majesty, let me go home!” Katya cried.
The room erupted into noise and Vladimir surged forward to grab her.
The Emperor spoke one, booming word, and everything and everyone went silent.
She closed her eyes.
This was it.
He would have her executed.
She would die for her outburst.