Since she couldnʼt find peace in sleep, Rasputina decided to check out the selection on the bookshelf of the drawing room, eventually picking a short story to read. She sat languidly in the armchair under the ghostly lamplight, resting the new book on her thighs. Its title was something along the lines of Lustful Scenes from a Harem, which immediately aroused her curiosity. 

“In a few short moments his kisses and his tongue threw my senses into a complete tumult and an unknown fire rushed through every part of me, hurried on by a strange pleasure…” She flipped to the next page, lifting her hand to her lips and sucking her fingers into her mouth until she got them good and wet. Though deep inside she knew it was morally wrong to read such a deviant story—especially when she had the image of a pure and innocent Saintess to uphold—the temptation was simply too much to resist. 

“All my loud cries dwindled into gentle sighs, and in spite of my inward rage and grief, I could not resist—”

The door to her compartment was suddenly thrown open; a dark figure stepped in, his breathing laboured and ragged. He carried with him the smell of sweat and rain, as if he had been running through the downpour outside all night. 

“Theo?” she murmured, hastily closing the book on her lap before standing up. “What are you doing here?” 

“Shut up, whore,” he said, testily. “You are such a whore, arenʼt you? Seducing Machel like that when your body already belongs to me.” 

“H-huh?” She looked up at him with bewildered eyes. “Theo, w-whatʼs wrong with you all of a sudden??” 

“Rasputina, I own you, donʼt I?” He smiled excitedly at her as he came a little nearer. “I’ve come to finally claim you for myself.” 

She had known Theo for so long—but in this very moment, it was as if Rasputina was face-to-face with a complete stranger. A stranger who was utterly scaring her shitless. She only watched him with wide, troubled eyes, and did not say a word. 

“So grateful you can’t express your thanks, my little Saintess?” he asked, flashing a dangerous smile. “Silent means consent, you know?”

And he laughed eerily, an eager look blazing in his feral eyes. He came forward and jerkily put his arm around her. 

“S-s-st-stop it…” Rasputina stepped back to get away from him—but found herself pressed against the wall instead, with nowhere else to move out of his way.  

And again he came nearer; his smile widened into a grin as he began to unbutton his waistcoat, his breath hot against her ear. 

She desperately tried to push him off her, but he seized her arms and locked them above her head firmly. He was angry, but his anger quickly turned to something else. 

“I won’t undress you,” he whispered roughly. “I’ll make you bend to my will. I’ll make you want me, Rasputina.”

An intense sensation suddenly flooded her body as he leaned over and traced his tongue leisurely down the column of her bare neck, while his other hand reached up to twine his fingers in her hair. 

“You will submit your body to me, won’t you?” he demanded in a harsh tone, gripping her waist before moving up to cup her taut breast. 

“N-no, st…” Her words became a gasping moan as his thumbs stroked and tweaked her nipple through the thin layer of silk. 

“You naughty girl,” he said, bending his head to lick and suck her nipple tenderly. “Say that you want me now, darling.” 

She ought to stop him, Rasputina thought hazily, but a consuming need enveloped her as her body responded with burning fervency to his kisses, to his touch, to the hardness of his arousal. This was insanity, the very last thing either of them should be doing, but…

“Y-yes, I want you,” she gasped, arching her back in pure ecstasy as his hand slid up her nightgown, stroking lovingly between her trembling legs. 

“Say it louder, my love,” he whispered huskily. 

“I…want you in me—!” 

A quick, sudden jerk forced her heavy eyelids open. 

“Rasputina, Rasputina, oiii,” Anastasia spoke in her ear as she shook her shoulders repeatedly. “Wake up, we’re going to be late for breakfast!” 

The princess’ voice disoriented her for a brief moment; pressing her hand to her forehead and rubbing it slowly, Rasputina slowly sat up on the bed, blinking rapidly in order to clear her blurry vision. 

“…a dream?” she muttered, noticing the sunlight pooling on her sheets. There was not a hint of rain in the cloudless azure sky. 

“A pretty nice dream you had there, I can tell,” Anastasia said jokingly. “Do you want me that badly?” 

“…l-let’s go for breakfast now!” Turning her face away to hide her flushed cheeks, Rasputina jumped to her feet and shoved Anastasia out of her room; she hurriedly changed into a simple morning dress and sprayed some of the eau de toilette on her wrist and neck before rejoining the amused princess in the drawing room. 

“You’re not going to wear a corset?” Anastasia asked, smirking teasingly. “It took me only ten minutes to lace mine up this time, I’m sure you can do it much faster.” 

“I don’t need a stifling steel cylinder to maintain an hourglass figure, it’s fine,” she huffed as she twisted her hair around her silver hairpin in a casual chignon and showed it to Anastasia. “How does this look, Anastasia?”

“Let me see.” She smoothed back a piece of loose hair and adjusted the chignon bun to hide the ends. “There you go, much better. Ah, can you help to see if mine’s okay too?”

“Mm, sure…” Rasputina turned back and looked at her beautiful rose-tinted hair pulled back in a braided ponytail; though she thought it was an unusual style, she found the way her ponytail bounced as she moved oddly entertaining

“Is there something wrong?” Anastasia asked bashfully, her hands clutching her polonaise skirt. 

She smiled and playfully twined her fingers in her hair. “Nothing’s wrong, I was just admiring how stunning you look today, Anastasia.”

Her eyes widened and she blushed. “I…o-oh, I think I hear the breakfast bell ringing. Shall we get going then?”

 

---

 

Voiture-Lit 2nd Classe № 9 ﹠ 10

Theo reluctantly woke up to the sound of a bell ringing. Noticing the sunlight streaming in through the window, he figured it must be time for breakfast in the dining car. 

“Good Lord, it’s so hard to fall asleep with all the background noises going on constantly,” he muttered, rubbing his bleary eyes. Getting up to his feet, he stretched his arms till he heard a satisfying pop. “Ah, that felt wonderful…huh?” 

He glanced at the top berth where the gentleman from Astria had slept on last night. It was empty. The sheets were neatly tucked in, and his hat and coat were missing too. He wondered how he hadn’t heard Alphand getting ready in his sleep. Shit, was he that tired?

Stifling a yawn, Theo washed his face in the toilet sink and lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag from his stick, knocked the ashes out the window and gazed up at the bright sun peeking through the mountain ridges. As though the thunderstorm howling throughout the night had never happened. 

Maybe the heavens answered your prayers, Fedya. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. It was happening again. An image of a ghost flickered into his mind, someone he had travelled with on the Orient Express long ago. He had not heard her voice for so long, he thought he had forgotten her completely. So why now? 

Muttering a hiss of frustration, he crushed the cigarette into the ashtray and grabbed his morning coat. Just as he swung the compartment door open, he heard the click of a door closing shut beside him. 

“Desculpe—er, pardon. Bonjour, monsieur.” A girl about Maria’s age met his eyes shyly. “C’est une belle journée.” 

He glanced at the door plate of the compartment she had just come out from. 

Voiture-Lit 2nd Classe № 11 ﹠ 12

Theo returned his gaze to the girl and awkwardly nodded his head. “You speak the Luso dialect…are you from the Rhineland?” he asked. She didn’t seem to quite understand him, so he tried asking formally. “Tu viens de l’Oeste?” 

“Oui, monsieur.” She visibly relaxed and gave a demure smile. “Eu vim da Lusitânia com meu pai.” 

‘Pai’ meant father, he remembered, so she should be sharing the compartment with her dad. He glanced around at the empty hallway. “E…onde está seu pai agora?” 

“Lá.” The girl pointed in the direction of the dining car. “Qual o seu nom, monsieur?” 

“My name?” He averted his eyes away for a moment. “Cath.” 

“Senhor Cath…” She quietly repeated his name as if trying to remember it, then looked at him while pointing a finger at herself. “Angela. Angela Burdett-Coutts.” 

Her surname sounded oddly familiar to him—but he couldn’t recall where he’d heard it immediately. “I, uh, forgot my hat in my room. Chapéu. Você pode ir em frente, Angela.” He gestured for her to move past him down the corridor. 

She hesitated, giving him a confused smile, before nodding her head. “C-claro…adeus, Senhor Cath.” 

Theo watched her leave and glanced back at her compartment. Where had he heard the surname Burdett-Coutts before? Was it in the newspapers recently? He frowned, furrowing his brow. 

It’s no use to ponder on an empty stomach. 

Another one of her sayings surfaced in his mind. Sighing deeply, he returned to his compartment to find his top hat.