Neither girl was smiling. Both looked at the crown prince with icy disdain.
“Your Royal Majesty, may I present my cousin Dariya Yevgenievna and one of our fellow students, Aurora Demidova? This is Danilo of Montenegro.” I looked at Dariya a little guiltily and added, “Elena’s brother.”
“Enchanté, mesdemoiselles,” the crown prince said, bowing gallantly with a click of his heels.
Dariya and Aurora both curtsied politely. “How are you enjoying St. Petersburg?” my cousin asked.
“I am enjoying it very much,” Crown Prince Danilo said, staring at me. I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “But perhaps I have monopolized your beautiful cousin for too long?” He turned his dazzling smile on Dariya.
She must not have been quite so immune to his charms, for she finally smiled. “There are so many other girls here tonight eager to dance with you, Your Majesty,” she said.
“Then I would not want to break their hearts. Katerina Alexandrovna, I regret that I must leave you now.”
I curtsied to the crown prince as he gallantly kissed my hand once more and disappeared back into the throng.
Dariya linked her arm with mine, saying in a low voice, “Really, Katiya! What were you thinking? Elena’s brother!”
I sighed. “He’s so much nicer than she is.” I caught myself searching the crowd for him. I couldn’t help wondering who he was dancing with now. Was she prettier than I?
“Elena poisoned me!” Dariya whispered. “And Aurora and who knows how many others at Smolny. Now she wants her brother to get to know you? What do you think her motives are?”
I shrugged, but I promised my cousin that I would be more careful around Elena and her handsome brother. Aurora accepted the hand of a Serbian prince for the next dance, so Dariya and I went in search of refreshments. We ran into my mother and the grand duchess Miechen.
Maman did not look happy. “Please do not cause a scandal tonight, Katiya. Princess Radziwill and the rest of the gossips are already talking about you and that young man. Two dances? Really!” She shook her ebony-handled fan in agitation.
The grand duchess said nothing but looked down her nose at me with her violet-blue eyes. I was certain she already knew my mysterious partner’s identity. She probably also knew whatever it was his family wanted from me.
With a heavy sigh, I decided to be prudent and dance with as many different eligible bachelors as I could the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, none of them were terribly ugly. Or terribly poor.
When it was time for dinner, I was not at the same table as my parents but seated instead with my older cousins the grand dukes Nicholas and Peter Nikolayevich, and the princess Cantacuzene. Elena was the only other young person seated with us.
“Whoever made the seating arrangements should be exiled to Siberia,” Elena said, pouting. She gazed longingly at the imperial table several times as the tsarevitch frequently laughed at his brother’s jokes. George Alexandrovich, I noticed, never looked my way once throughout dinner. The grand duchess Elizabeth and her husband were seated at the same table as Tsar Alexander and his wife. The grand duchess’s father and brother were seated at the same table as my parents and Petya. Dariya was seated with them also and laughed as she spoke with the Hessian prince. She looked up at me and gave me a little wave.
I told Elena to hush; our fate could be much worse. At the table next to us sat at least seven elderly dames, all shouting and grumbling loudly because they could not hear each other speaking.
Elena rolled her eyes but kept her peace.
The meal was delicious, served by men in crisp black liveries. Even the china was a formal mourning pattern, with a wide black band around the imperial crest. Elena was silent through most of the meal, as was I, for we were not seated next to each other and had little to say to the older grand dukes.
Princess Cantacuzene fussed over her vegetables and complained that her meat was overcooked. She was favorably impressed with the dessert course, however, and tried to eat the grand duke Nicholas Nikolayevich’s sorbet when she had finished her own. I sighed, thinking she truly was senile. I decided to ignore her dire warnings about the handsome crown prince of Montenegro.
Elena and I were grateful to escape when we saw the tsar and the empress stand at their own table. With relief, we hurried back toward the ballroom.
“So what do you think of my brother?” Elena said. She had been bursting to ask me this all night.
I could feel my cheeks growing hot. “I think he is very nice. I am glad he came to the ball tonight.”
Elena laughed. “He thinks you are very nice too.”
I cannot explain the way my heart made a funny little jump when she said that. Perhaps I was having a palpitation? I placed my hand over my chest to calm it down. “Will he be staying in St. Petersburg long?” I asked her.
“At least for the next month. He is going to visit our sister Zorka and her family in Geneva at the end of February.”
The orchestra began to play again, and I danced the rest of the night with young officers in Petya’s regiment. They were all very handsome and very respectful, but none danced quite as well as my first partner. By the end of the evening, my skirt had several tears where their spurs had caught the hem. Elena complained that her dress shared a similar fate.
I remembered my promise to Petya and danced the last dance with him. Despite his protests, he had overcome his reluctance and had danced with several beautiful princesses and countesses. It did not appear as if any young lady had caught his eye, though.
“Your heir of Montenegro seems to be meeting with your approval after all?” he said, nodding toward the crown prince, who was dancing with his sister Militza.
I blushed. “Perhaps I was too hasty to judge him without meeting him first.” But it was as if a fog had lifted once I was away from the crown prince. He did not seem quite so irresistible anymore. “He is handsome enough. But I don’t trust him or his family,” I whispered. “Princess Cantacuzene said they are blood drinkers. Vampires.”
Petya laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. She is a senile old woman with a wild imagination.”
I glanced around the room, startled to see the elderly princess staring straight at us—as if she could hear my brother and me talking in the middle of the dancing crowds.
“I’ve heard nothing about him, good or ill, but I can’t say the same for his sisters,” Petya went on. “Perhaps you should stay away from that whole family.”
“Elena was the one who poisoned Dariya. I’m sure of it.”
My brother looked at me in surprise. “You have proof?”
I shook my head. “Of course not,” I said. “She’s too clever for that.”
“Then leave it alone. Elena is the daughter of a king. All the more reason you should not be encouraging the crown prince’s attentions.”
“I wasn’t!” I protested. But I saw that Petya was only half serious, and I pretended to pout. “Maman will be so disappointed. I am sure she is already planning my wedding to the crown prince.”
Petya rolled his eyes. “She has been plotting your wedding since before you were born.”
“Before I was born? With whom?”
My brother’s grin was wicked. “The Archduke of Bohemia.”
“The prince who is always digging in his ear with his pinky finger?” I asked, cringing. I was glad I’d heard no mention of this growing up.
As the ball ended, I did not see the prince Danilo but found myself a little sad he had not bid me good night. Petya and I found our parents and we slowly followed the crowds down the long grand staircase outside to wait for our carriage. Le Bal Noir had been an amazing success, and now the full moon shone brightly across the snow-covered streets, casting a ghostly light.
“Your Highnesses,” Princess Militza said as she bowed to my parents. The Montenegrins were standing behind us as they waited for their own carriage. I saw Elena smile and wondered how they had managed to push their way through the
crowd.
I introduced my parents and my brother to the crown prince, and my mother hurried to invite him and his sisters over to the house for tea the next week. Petya was polite but cool as he shook Prince Danilo’s hand, as was my father. I was thankful no one would notice my blush even in the bright moonlight. A huge full moon had risen high in the clear winter night sky.
Papa did not seem to be impressed one way or the other with the Montenegrins as we chatted, but on the ride home he spoke up. “I hope that young scoundrel does not expect you to live in Montenegro if you marry him,” he said.
“Papa!” My voice, to my dismay, was much higher than normal. “No one has said a word about me marrying the crown prince.” I settled back into my seat, wrapping my cloak tighter around me. “Besides, I would never leave the two of you, even if I married the Prince of Wales.”
My brother snorted at that. He quickly regained his composure as Maman shot him a look that we both could see, even in the dim carriage.
“Let’s not be too hasty,” Maman warned my father. “I hear Cetinje is a beautiful city.”
“I just wanted to make my feelings known on the matter,” Papa said gruffly.
I patted his hand. “Do not worry about such things, Papa. It will never happen.”
As we made our way down the Palace Embankment, the horses reared, and the carriage shuddered and stopped.
“Good heavens!” Maman said, crossing herself. “What is wrong with those beasts?”
Petya stuck his head out to speak with the driver. He agreed to get out and help calm the horses. As I looked out my window, I saw a silver blur streaking past. “A fox!” I said.
Papa leaned over. “Too big. It looks like a wolf. No wonder the horses are spooked.”
It was a beautiful creature, whatever it was, running across the frozen city at midnight.
What surprised me most was the creature’s cold light, trailing behind it. I’d never seen an animal with a cold light before.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Balls, balls, balls! I am sick to death of balls!” I let out a large breath as Anya helped me undo my dress and corset and freed me from the elegant torture device. “Much better,” I said with a deep sigh. I could finally breathe again.
I had attended three balls in the past two weeks, not to mention a ballet and an opera. I was exhausted. I had an essay on Pushkin due first thing Monday morning, as well as a chemistry test, and I had not studied for it yet. And the winter social season still had two months to go.
“Anya, I’m going to move to Siberia and live in a hut!” I was lying on my bed at home, staring up at the ornate gilded plasterwork on the ceiling. No more balls for me.
“I thought you wanted to be a doctor, Duchess,” Anya said, carefully folding my ball gown away. “What about medical school?”
“No medical school in Russia will admit a woman,” I said. “But I could go to Paris. Or Switzerland.” I sat up. “Anya, let’s run away together.”
She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Oh, no, Duchess. We’d get whipped by your father, for sure. Maybe you could marry a doctor and help him out in his office?”
“I don’t think I could ever be happy just being a man’s helper. And I doubt any suitable husband Maman picks out for me would be the progressive sort who would allow me to attend medical school. No, I think I must run away.”
I was only half serious, knowing it would throw Anya into fits. Still, I did worry that my dream might never come true. To enter the University of Zurich’s program, one had to prove proficiency in Latin and Greek. I had doubled my efforts in my Latin studies. Madame Orbellani had also found a beginner’s Greek textbook for me. It was more difficult than Latin, but I was struggling through it. I was determined to succeed.
I’d seen the handsome prince Danilo and his sisters several times over the past weeks, dancing with him often at the balls. He had been a perfect gentleman and did not act like a blood-drinking vampire at all.
I mentioned the prince to Princess Cantacuzene when Maman and I were invited to a small dinner party—“small” meaning only one hundred or so guests—at the Vladimir Palace. All members of the Dark Court, of course.
“He has not reached the age of his ascension yet,” the princess Cantacuzene told me. “When does he turn eighteen?”
“This June,” I told her. We strolled together through the great hallway from the grand Russian-styled dining room to the more intimate and more exotic Persian room. “But what if he doesn’t turn into anything? I do not want to kill anyone, Your Highness.”
“Are you willing to lay down your own life, then? For he will surely kill you. Or worse, turn you into one of his undead mistresses. You put others at risk as well. Your servants, your family, your children, even.”
“Children?”
“If you marry the Montenegrin prince, you will be required to produce heirs for him, Katerina Alexandrovna. Your daughters will become witches, and your sons will become blood drinkers upon their eighteenth birthday. Will you condemn your own children to such a life?”
She stopped walking and grabbed my hand. “You are not wearing my ring! Mon Dieu, child! You will not be able to resist his charms if you do not wear the ring!”
The old woman was mad. Even though I suspected the Montenegrins of black magic, I found it difficult to believe Prince Danilo could be capable of any evil. Even Dariya had warmed to him a little, and no longer frowned when she saw the two of us dancing together.
The old woman grabbed my chin with her cold hands and snorted. “Bah, I can see it in your eyes,” she said. “You are already in his thrall.”
I did not want to believe it. The thought of being under someone else’s control frightened me. I promised her I would wear the obsidian ring from then on.
“Do not eat or drink in the Montenegrins’ presence. They will trick you with one of their herbal potions. They put something in that poor man’s sorbet at the Anichkov Ball.”
I stared at Princess Cantacuzene in shock. Her supposed senility that night had been just a ruse to protect the grand duke! It would not surprise me at all if the Montenegrins had been trying to cast spells on many eligible bachelors that evening. I hoped the tsarevitch was safe. And his brother. I’d not seen Grand Duke George Alexandrovich at any of the recent balls. Of course, we had not attended any that belonged to the Light Court.
But Princess Cantacuzene was still talking about Prince Danilo. “Before his ascension, he is merely a mortal and can die easily. After his ascension, he will not be immortal, but more difficult to destroy. You will have lost your chance.”
If only I had some proof that the ancient princess was telling me the truth. My troubled thoughts kept me awake for hours that night. Think rationally, I told myself. How would I find scientific proof that my handsome prince was going to turn into a blood drinker on his birthday?
I thought about my dreams.
Dreams are not proof, I reasoned. But Princess Cantacuzene’s words had frightened me. I got out of my bed, poked through my jewelry box, and put on the obsidian ring.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was a quiet week at Smolny. There were no social obligations, and I had time to think about Princess Cantacuzene’s words. On a cold and gray afternoon, while the others were huddled in the warm parlor, drinking hot tea and reading Pushkin’s fairy tales, I stayed in the drafty library with my anatomy book. But the tiny print was giving me a headache and made it difficult for me to concentrate. I needed fresh air. And solitude.
Grabbing my cloak, I persuaded the elderly doorman to let me out into the snow-covered gardens, and went for a walk to clear my head.
But I did not stay on the school grounds. I did not pay attention to where I was headed. I ignored the passing sleighs and carriages. I walked past the Tauride Gardens and along the frozen Neva River. The bitter winds swept across the ice and stung my face. I pulled my cloak closer around me. As much as I loved winter and its late-afternoon opal-colored skies, I would be h
appy to see the spring return.
I took the shortcut through the thicket back to the gardens. In the winter, the trees were bare, and the forest was not so dark. I heard no sounds but the crunching of my boots in the snow.
And then I heard another set of boots crunching behind me. Slower, heavier footsteps than mine.
I stopped behind a tree, holding my breath to listen more closely. I could hear my heartbeat thumping in my throat.
Slowly, the footsteps got louder. The person was getting closer, and soon I could hear a soft grunting.
Mon Dieu! I looked around, realizing I was still in the middle of the thicket, too far away to run in any direction. And no one would hear me if I screamed for help.
“Duch-essss,” a young man’s voice whispered. His footsteps were right behind my tree. “My mis-tressss.”
I peeked around the tree at him. I felt sick as I recognized him. It was the soldier who had fallen at the Blessing of the Water. Count Chermenensky. His face was ashen, his eyes a milky white. “Oh, no,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It cannot be.…”
“Duch-essss,” he said, holding a frostbitten hand out to me. “Help meeee.”
“What has happened to you?” I whispered. I wanted to run, but I was so scared my legs refused to budge. “You were dead.”
He bowed his head. Some of his black hair had fallen out.
“You called me.”
“No,” I said hoarsely. I felt like retching. “No.”
“My mis-tressss, please help meee.”
This could not be happening. I was going to hell. This was much worse than reanimating a dead cat or an insect. “What can I do for you?” I asked him. “How can I help you? I’ll take you back if I can only figure out how.”
He moaned. It was a horrible, painful moan. “Pleasssse! Do not send me back! There are … terrible things there.…”
I did not know what to do with him. I didn’t even know how I had summoned him, though I vaguely remembered wishing that he had not died. Could one be a necromancer and not consciously work at it? I wanted to scream and cry and run away, but I felt sorry for the poor soldier. And responsible. He had been one of my brother’s best friends. Who could I turn to for help?
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