Page 82 of A Queen's Match
As if on cue, his two older brothers barreled in from the kitchens and began attacking the pillow fort with loud hollers. Erik laughed and joined them, kicking pillows to the floor, apparently eager to destroy what he had just so painstakingly built.
Victoria started toward her sons as Maximilian came to join Alix. He’d gone to swim laps at the baths very early that morning. Now that she stood closer, Alix realized that his beard and hair were still damp, curling softly around his ears, his lips.
“I didn’t know your hair was so curly,” she breathed.
“That’s because you’ve never seen me bathe.” Maximilian instantly seemed to realize what he’d said, and flushed. “I mean—that is, it gets this way when wet, and I was up so early…. I’m afraid I’ve never been a late sleeper….”
Alix could see the pulse at the center of Maximilian’s throat. She imagined she could smell the thermal springs on him, the mineral scent of the water mixing with a warm scent that was purely Maximilian. His eyes darkened, and she knew he felt it too—the pulse of attraction between them.
Then he took a step back, seeming to collect himself. “Are you ready to visit the Trinkhalle? The morning rush should be slowing by now.”
She nodded, allowing Maximilian to lead her out the front door and into a carriage. “I’m excited to see it. I’ve never taken the waters before, not even at Bath.”
“Do not mention Bath here, or you will find yourself quite unpopular,” Maximilian teased. “We in Baden-Baden think that Bath is by far the lesser spa town.”
The Trinkhalle was a massive neoclassical building, with thermal baths in the basement where men and women could—separately, of course—immerse themselves in the natural hot springs that had made Baden-Baden so famous. But most of the grand structure was taken up by the fountain room.
It was an enormous hall, all white columns and marble floors. Morning light spilled in through the skylight, falling on potted plants and sofas arranged in small clusters. Side tables held stacks of newspapers and magazines; and though a few visitors did recline to read, most were walking—strolling with their friends, exchanging gossip, all clutching the same metal cups filled with the healing Baden-Baden water.
Maximilian and Alix went to fill their own cups from the tap. Maximilian watched as Alix took a careful sip.
“Well?” he prompted.
“It’s not what I expected.” Not salty, exactly, but it didn’t taste like any water Alix had consumed before.
“That would be the high mineral content. It is said to cure many ailments: gout, rheumatism and joint pain, rickets…”
“Can it cure me?”
Alix asked the question in a whisper, but Maximilian huffed out a breath.
“There is nothing wrong with you, and your episodes are not something to be ashamed of. They are at most an inconvenience,” he declared. “I will keep telling you this as many times as it takes, until you believe it.”
“I…thank you.”
Alix drank again from the metal cup. Already she felt calmer, more centered. Maybe the waters really were curative; or maybe it was this time with Maximilian, who accepted her as she was. It was so nice, not trying to hide her condition.Letting go of the anxiety that had strummed through her blood for so long, as frantic as a second heartbeat.
Maximilian started to lead her toward the mosaics on one wall, but Alix’s steps faltered. Her entire attention focused on the older couple walking toward her.
It was the Tsar and Tsarina of Russia. Nicholas’s parents.
They must have been traveling incognito, because they weren’t surrounded by their entourage of servants and footmen; and they were dressed in clothes that, while well cut and clearly made of expensive fabric, were unembellished. They looked like any other aristocrats on holiday. To add to the disguise, the tsar had shaved his famous beard. He looked thinner without it.
Alix saw the moment that Minnie caught sight of her—how she grabbed Sasha’s elbow and hissed something under her breath. Then the two of them started toward Alix with obvious intent.
“I seem to have spotted an old acquaintance,” Alix told Maximilian over the pounding of her heart.They can’t hurt me anymore,she reminded herself.
As they approached, Alix began to sink into an instinctive curtsy, but a quick hiss from Minnie recalled her. She paused, letting the tsar set the tone of things.
Maximilian stepped forward first, holding out a hand to shake.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” he said. “Welcome to Baden. I’m Maximilian.”
The tsar looked at Maximilian’s hand with evident bewilderment, as if someone had offered him a dead animal. Then he seemed to remember what to do, and shook it.
“I’m the Grand Duke Ivan, and this is my wife, Natasha. We met Alix when she was last in St.Petersburg, visiting her sister.”
So they were pretending to be Russian aristocrats. That made sense; it would have been hard to convince people they were from anywhere but Russia.
