Two - Memories and Dreams

Rosemarie's POV

After delivering Rhea, Vasilisa, and Jillian's overwhelmingly heavy suitcases, I went upstairs to my bedchamber. My pale blue dress was dark from nearly being drenched, and the fabric irritated my skin, as if it was viciously glued to me. My poor stockings were ripped, my sturdy shoes were squishing with rainwater, and my beautiful hair was so wet and tangled that I just wanted to pull it out.

Sad and frustrated, I yanked off all my clothes and laid them out on my ebony bedframe to dry. I pulled off my shoes and sat them in an empty corner near my polished bookcase. The only things left were my undergarments—a solid, white brassiere with lace-edged bloomers. I quickly got out of them and grabbed a satin robe, one I hadn't worn since Mother died. It was colored a rich purple, and it actually used to belong to her. Sometimes, it felt like I could smell her scent, as if she was still alive and here with me.

Tears gathered in my eyes, but I forced them away and exited my bedchamber to take a bath. The wide hallway was dark and cold underneath my feet as I walked. The entire floor actually sounded quiet, and I smiled in relief because it meant that Father was at peace or my wicked stepfamily wasn't pestering me. Yet, when I reached the bathchamber, the ivory door was locked.

I waited a few seconds before knocking. "It's me, Rosemarie. I really need to take a bath, so can you please hurry," I informed nicely. My eyes didn't have any time to blink, for the lock clicked and the door opened to reveal Vasilisa, her angelic hair wet and pale green eyes furiously annoyed.

She scowled at me. "Go to another bathchamber. Can't you see this one is clearly occupied?"

Before my stepsister could close the door, I countered levelly, "I know, but you've probably been in here for a while, and other people need to use—"

Vasilisa raised a porcelain hand to interrupt me. Her gem-like eyes sparkled with interest as she stared at my robe. My heart instantly dropped. "Where did you get that?" she wondered, almost entranced.

I unconsciously caressed the material with my hands. "It was my mother's," I fiercely answered, hoping to rid Vasilisa's attention, but it only increased it as she saw how valuable it was to me. A devious glimmer dominated her gaze.

"Give it to me," she ordered.

Stepping back, I crossed my arms over my chest, really wanting her to leave it alone. "Absolutely not!"

She glared ferociously at me and immediately, I felt myself succumbing, weakening. Vasilisa came closer, leaning out of the doorway. "Give. It. To. Me," she pressed, taking advantage of my submissive state.

I was about to obey when I remembered that I was naked underneath. Surely, this evil girl wouldn't be so cruel as to take my robe and leave me bare. Right? Killing the doubt, I argued, "I have nothing on under the robe." She considered my words for a few moments, studying my body like some specimen. It almost felt violating.

Finally, she backed away…but held her ground. "Prove it," she taunted, a mischievous look crossing her pretty face.

Sweat beaded on my forehead while my heart thundered against my ribcage. Was she serious? I had just told her the truth; why didn't she believe me? I was no liar. Why would she do this?

Because she hates me and enjoys seeing me suffer.

The mental warring was so much that I just decided to dissipate the thoughts and physically answer her question. Closing my eyes, I opened the neckline of the robe just enough to show that I was indeed naked. Vasilisa gave a sinister chuckle, one that sounded identical to Rhea's. I shivered. "You can open your eyes now, you putrid prude," she coldly said.

Slowly, I did as she said then averted my gaze, too embarrassed and disturbed to look at her. However, I could still feel her villainously penetrating glare. "Give it to me after you take your bath. I want you to bring it to my bedchamber, understand?"

I nodded silently.

"Good. Now get out of my sight," Vasilisa hissed.

Without a word, I turned on my heel and sped to another bathchamber, hearing the door shout behind me as it was rudely slammed.

I sat beside Father in a sapphire-blue dress that had long sleeves and fell to my ankles. My hair was worn loose and hung in soft waves down my back. As always, no jewelry completed the attire, but this time, I decided to wear matching heeled shoes. Rhea sat on his left side with Vasilisa and Jillian sitting across from us. The three of them all had on ruby-red, emerald-green, and royal purple gowns littered with embellishments, their hair in all kinds of styles.

We were eating dinner—salad, soups, meat, and desserts littered the cherrywood table. I'd had to prepare the entire meal, thanks to Rhea, and now it was late into the evening and I was exhausted. No one else felt tired, though; they were just really hungry, and stuffed themselves like pigs. Or, more truthfully, I did.

My mouth was full of chicken as my stepfamily scrunched their faces in disgust. They stared at me expectantly for so long that Father tapped my arm and whispered, "Rosemarie, I know you're hungry, but please eat like a lady. You're repulsing them." Feeling ashamed and a little humiliated, I nodded and slowed my eating.

Rhea smirked before asking me, "You attend Fairston Academy, correct?"

"Yes, madam," I replied before I ate a piece of French bread.

She watched me closely in silence. Rhea shared a look with her daughters before saying, "You know, that's quite a prestigious school. I hear that the most privileged families enroll their children there." I looked up from my plate, curious with where she was going with this. Rhea stirred her tomato soup. "Do you find it difficult? Does it seem too advanced for you?"

Vasilisa gave a harsh laugh, nearly spitting out her clam chowder. "I think so. She rarely has excellent grades, and she's probably struggling to pass her classes," she bullied.

Father looked at me, his dark chestnut eyes wondering if it was true. Jillian chuckled while Rhea reveled in a triumphant grin. I felt so small…I wished I could just crawl into a corner.

Stabbing my salad with a fork, I said, "I'm doing just fine."

A worried look crossed Father's face. He touched my arm. "Are you sure, Rosemarie? If you're having trouble with school, you know you can come to me for help."

Jillian decided to add, "She also doesn't really fit in. Since very privileged kids go to Fairston, they naturally socialize, look wealthy, and act important. Rosemarie just wears simple clothes and only has a few friends." I sent her a hard look, which made her look down at her apple pie, light brown hair covering her face like a curtain. Though, I could see a smirk pulling Jillian's lips.

"Who are her friends?" wondered Rhea, still stirring her soup.

"Mason Ashford, Edison Castile, and Mia Rinaldi," Vasilisa quickly answered. Her pale face frowned and her jade-green eyes seemed to darken. "Their fathers are also lords, but they don't act like they should," she continued a disapproving tone.

Father sipped some red wine then tensed as he gave Vasilisa a chastising look. "It doesn't matter if they don't act like what their status implies. They're good people and they've been Rosemarie's friends ever since she was a child," he defended me.

There was a deafening silence after that and soon, everyone finished eating. I cleared the polished table without any help and thought about how I had just gotten degraded in my own home, right in front of my father. How dare they think that I didn't belong at Fairston and was too dumb for the courses—I was a great student and still dressed finely, just not as outlandishly as them.

My mind was fusing by the time I placed the dishes in the deep sink and washed them clean. They're not that perfect, themselves. They're just as human and imperfect as everyone else. Those bigoted, light haired, green eyed hypocrites!

When I finished, I clenched my fists and marched up the wrought, iron staircase. All I wanted was to fall asleep and forget everything that had happened today. I was so tired and felt so horrible…I wished that Mother was here. Once I reached my bedchamber, I closed and locked the door before heading over to the ornate bed. I lifted up the soft mattress and retrieved my red velvet journal with a gold lock.

The matching key was always hidden in my favorite book on the bookshelf. I ran over to it, removing it from the dark shelf and lifting the cover. It lay in a dent of cut out pages that matched its shape. I took out the gold key, put the book in its respective spot, then unlocked my precious journal.

Inside it were my memories and dreams—memories of all the times I'd had with Mother and dreams of becoming a princess, maybe even a queen. It had always been a fantasy of mine, beginning when I was only a little girl. Father used to take Mother and I to the kingdoms of Europe—England, France, Germany—to show us where royalty lived and what palace life was like. It had been absolutely stunning!

A few years ago, we had travelled to Russia. I witnessed the marvelous greatness of the czars—their architecture, achievements, and absolute power. Father had said that the Russian monarchy ruled with a strict hand to keep the country stable and successful.

Currently, the Belikovs ruled Russia, and from what I remembered, Cesarevich Dimitri, the only male heir, had to find himself a bride and become the czar, so his mother could retire from the throne. No one was sure about what had happened to his father, but some claimed that he disappeared…or perhaps even died.

Now that I was almost eighteen, I felt like I could have a chance at becoming his bride. I was beautiful, intelligent, and came from a great family. However, there were other girls just like me, from all different countries, yearning to capture his heart. Also, Rhea was probably going to do everything in her power to have Vasilisa or Jillian become Cesarevich Dimitri's wife.

Not to mention, I was getting treated like a servant in my own home and accepted it, even though I was a prominent lord's daughter. Cesarevich Dimitri wouldn't want his future queen to be someone like me.

I went to my bed and sat down, grabbing a quill from the ebony nightstand. I turned to a blank page and started making an entry, releasing the negativity I felt.

"September 27th, 1685

Today, Lady Rhea Dragomir and her daughters, Vasilisa and Jillian, moved into the manor after she married Father. I don't like them as my stepfamily—they treat me as someone below them and are controlling the manor, as if it belongs to them. They made me carry their luggage, cook a gigantic dinner, belittled me, and Vasilisa even took Mother's robe away from me and slammed a door in my face.

I wish that Mother was still alive so that I wouldn't have to deal with this. I don't deserve it, and while no one should be treated this lowly, they need to experience what I'm going through and learn a lesson. I hope that tomorrow will be better, but knowing them, that might not happen.

And knowing me, I will obey and attend to their every command, no matter how absurd or cruel.

Until next time,

Rosemarie Mazur (hopefully Czarevna/Czarina Rosemarie Belikova)"

I closed the journal and locked it, setting the quill back on the nightstand before placing the journal back under the mattress and the key into its hiding place. I went to my drawer and changed into a silk, white nightgown, then went to lay down. The purple and white comforter felt cold beneath me. My exhaustion was beginning to take over.

Yawning and curling into a fetal position, I closed my eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of what my life would be like as a czarevna or czarina of Russia.

Vocabulary: Cesarevich means "crown prince", Czarevich means "prince", Czarevna means "princess", and Czarina means "queen/empress" in Russian.