CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I followed Petya around the house like a puppy, waiting for a chance to talk to him about the Inner Circle of the Order. He was keeping odd hours, sleeping all day and staying out past the early hours of the morning. I did not know if he was working on things related to the Order or just having fun with his friends. It was the holiday season, after all. He was evasive when I asked him.
Dariya and her father and stepmother came to our house for Christmas dinner after the mass. Aunt Zina smiled at me over the dinner table and kindly asked how my heart was. Maman and Papa both looked at me curiously. Dariya too.
“It’s as healthy as ever.” I did not look at her again for the whole meal.
My uncle discussed the plans for the new medical institute with my father. They had begun construction on the building, and Papa hoped to have the Oldenburg Institute of Experimental Medicine open sometime in the coming year. I sighed, poking at my Christmas pudding halfheartedly. I wished I could be one of the physicians working at his institute. I wanted to treat patients as well, but researching cures for deadly diseases would be fascinating.
After dessert we went into the drawing room and opened presents. Papa had given me a set of Greek and Latin books, and from Maman I received another Marie Corelli romance. I gave them each a scarf that I had knitted.
Maman gasped with delight when she opened Aunt Zina’s present: a book written in French on communicating with spirits. As if my mother needed any more information on that subject. I glanced at Dariya, who shrugged as she stroked Sasha’s ragged ears. The cat purred even as it glared at me. Dariya did not seem to notice anything wrong with the rotting animal that was purring unsteadily in her lap. She had never been interested in the spiritism parties my mother held before, but now that she was considered a young woman, she was admitted to all the best social gatherings in St. Petersburg, and she’d been to several of Maman’s séances. With Aunt Zina.
I’d received several letters from Dariya over the past few months while I was at Smolny, and they’d all described fancy dinner parties and séances that she’d attended. Dariya was now obsessed with finding a rich and handsome husband. Aunt Zina was attempting to keep her allied with the Dark Court and Grand Duchess Miechen. I hoped that my cousin would find a handsome, foreign prince and move far away to somewhere much safer.
“Oh, Katiya, look at this! What a treasure!” Maman exclaimed, smoothing the black leather cover of her book. It looked ancient, but well cared for. I would have loved to know where Aunt Zina had gotten her hands on such a volume. And why was she so interested in Maman’s séances?
“This gift is for you, dearest,” Aunt Zina said, handing me a brightly wrapped package.
“Merci,” I said, unwrapping it warily. It was a book about magical orders: L’histoire de l’ordre du Lis Noir. The History of the Order of the Black Lily. “You are too kind,” I said, wondering how she knew I would be interested in such things.
“I hope you enjoy it. The Grand Duchess Miechen and I were shopping for Christmas presents, and she said it looked like something you would appreciate.”
A chill slid down the back of my neck. Miechen. It made me nervous that I could not guess the dark faerie’s motives. I knew I owed her a debt for my Christmas holiday. Would I owe her another debt for this book? Or was it somehow linked to the way I was to repay the grand duchess? I would read it as soon as everyone left.
My brother prepared to leave not long after we finished opening presents. “Where on earth are you headed?” Maman asked. “Petya, it’s Christmas!”
He was dressed in his regiment uniform. “I have to go, Maman. I’m sorry.” He kissed her on the cheek and then bowed to the rest of us in the room. “Happy Christmas, everyone.”
I was disappointed. Each night I had tried to stay awake and catch him when he came home, but I kept falling asleep. My holiday would be over soon and I would have to return to Smolny. I would never get a chance to talk to my brother about the Order of St. John.
Aunt Zina and the others left not long after Petya. Dariya gave me a hug, thanking me for the diary I’d given her. “I hope to see you when the winter season begins. Will your mother let you come home from school to attend a few of the balls? And the ballet?”
“We shall see,” I said, giving her an optimistic smile. I had no doubts that the empress wanted me locked up at Smolny as soon as possible. But when would she be willing to release me again? When the tsar needed me to summon the bogatyr? I could not wish for such a thing.
As soon as our guests left, I kissed my parents goodnight and took my Christmas gifts back to my room. I curled up with the book from Aunt Zina, not even bothering to change into my nightclothes.
I read about the first Russian grand master of the Order, Tsar Pavel, and his ties with a society of magicians in Paris. Pavel had allowed the magicians a safe haven in Russia after the terrors of the French Revolution. The court magicians of St. Petersburg learned much from their French counterparts and reorganized their coven based on the French order. The Russians called their grand master the Koldun, or the Sorcerer, who was the leader of the innermost circle of the Order. The outermost circle was made up of the tsar’s most elite soldiers, who did not learn magic. Their mission was to protect the inner circle and its secrets. The middle circle consisted of several wizards who aided the Koldun. They studied alchemy and other forms of magic, all supposedly for the glory and advancement of Russia.
Surely it could not be the same group after all of these years. Unless some of the magicians were immortal. I shuddered, wondering what kind of power Konstantin would have had if he’d studied the secrets of the Order after his father. He would have been able to easily take the tsar’s crown away from his brother Nicholas. Especially with a vampire as his consort.
The text was tedious, and despite wanting to learn all I could about the Order, I found myself nodding off again and again. With a sigh, I regretfully put the book away and prepared myself for bed. Anya came in with the hot-water bottle as I crawled into bed. She blew out the lamp as she withdrew, leaving me in the dark.
I had snuggled down into the warmth under the blankets when an odd thought popped into my head. If George was studying to be the tsar’s sorcerer one day, who was the Koldun now? Suddenly, it seemed important to know.
The question kept me awake for hours. I hoped I would hear Petya returning home, so I could ask him. It had to be a member of the imperial family, a Romanov. One who was gifted in magic, like George. Whoever it was, he kept his magic a well-guarded secret.
It was long after midnight when I heard my brother’s soft footsteps in the hall. I had drifted off to sleep and had been dreaming about Vorontsov Palace, the headquarters of the Order. I had dreamed I was dancing with George in the Great Hall in front of the portrait of the Tsar Pavel.
I jumped out of bed and threw on my dressing gown before opening my door. “Petya?” I whispered.
I had surprised him. It took a while for his eyes to focus on me in the dark hallway. “What the devil are you doing awake?”
He smelled like wine. Which surprised me. “Petya, are you all right? I need to talk to you. You promised.”
He shook his head. “Please leave me in peace, Katiya. I don’t want to talk about the Order. I don’t even want to think about the blasted Order.”
“Petya, just tell me one thing.”
He opened his bedroom door. “Not tonight, Katiya. My head is killing me.”
I put my hand on his coat sleeve. “Who is the Koldun?”
Petya stopped. He turned to me, his eyes flashing angrily. “Katiya, why do you ask me such forbidden questions? It would be dangerous for me to know, and even more so for you. Do not try to find out on your own either.”
“But—”
“Good night, Katiya.” He entered his bedroom and shut the door.
I should have realized Petya was not high enough in the Order to know these types of secrets. He was an officer in the imperial gu
ard. Part of me was thankful he knew nothing of the Inner Circle’s ceremonial magic and alchemy. But I was still worried for George. It meant that he needed to keep his own magic training a secret from the rest of St. Petersburg. How many people knew he was a wizard? Who was he training to replace? And what kind of awful magic were the wizards in Paris teaching him?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The next morning, I accompanied my father on his visit to the Oldenburg Hospital, where he needed to drop off some paperwork for Dr. Ostrev, Anya’s brother. Dr. Ostrev had worked hard to fill Dr. Kruglevski’s shoes at the hospital, but he was still young and did not have Dr. Kruglevski’s years of experience. I knew my father missed his old friend even more than I did.
Dr. Ostrev looked weary. Gray hairs had already begun to invade his head. He shook Papa’s hand warmly and bowed to me. “I hope you have had a blessed Christmas, Your Highness,” he said to Papa. “My sincerest thanks for the books you sent.”
Papa smiled. “Not at all, Doctor. I was hoping to discuss the latest on the new institute with you. We have highest hopes for our laboratory. Have you heard about Dr. Koch’s experiments?”
“With tubercle bacilli. Of course.”
“I am hoping he is close to discovering a cure.”
“That would be wonderful news indeed.”
Just as their conversation had grown interesting, they drifted into more mundane topics, such as administration and bureaucracy. One of the kind nurses took our coats and another entered the doctor’s office with a tea tray. It was Sister Anna, from Smolny. She smiled sincerely. “It is wonderful to see you, Katerina Alexandrovna. Is your family well?”
“Yes, Sister. Do you spend all of your holidays here at the hospital?”
She nodded, folding her hands humbly. “Of course. It is the Lord’s work. Would you like to accompany me on my rounds? I think it would be an enlightening experience for you, dear.”
I’d followed the nurses around the hospital too many times to count. I knew everything they did, from bathing patients to feeding them and redressing wounds. And it was a noble job. I was very grateful for the work these tireless sisters performed. But I wanted to do so much more for the sick. I wanted to heal their diseases. I wanted to find cures for the worst illnesses. I wanted to perform surgery and prescribe medicine. To research and discover new medicines. With a smile, I nodded and took the stark white apron that Sister Anna offered me.
“A good nurse provides comfort for her patients, as well as cleanliness.” The sister handed me a bowl of water and some clean rags. “We should start with the young man on the end, there. Captain Troubetsky.”
The captain had been hospitalized after falling from his horse in a training accident. I could not help being reminded of Count Chermenensky. The young man shivered with a fever, and moaned in a restless sleep. He was in severe pain.
I took the captain’s pale hand gently. I could see his cold light unwrapping, rapidly slipping from around him. The young man was dying. What if it had been Petya there in the bed? I would not let anything happen to him. Slowly, I uncoiled my own cold light and used it to grab hold of the young man’s. I had to bind his cold light back to his body, or he would be gone. He moaned softly, and began to tremble.
I panicked. What was I doing? In all of my medical journals, Latin books, the literature of esoteric mysticism, I had never come across any sort of information that offered enlightenment regarding my dark ability. Princess Cantacuzene could have taught me, I’m certain, if I’d been willing to be her pupil. And Dr. Badmaev had hinted once before of a more academic, if unorthodox method of harnessing my powers. No matter how desperately I wanted to help this patient, I knew experimenting on him was dangerous. And very, very wrong. With a sigh, I placed his hand back on his chest. I crossed myself and said a prayer for mercy to be granted him. I took a wet rag and dabbed his forehead, hoping the fever would break soon.
His moaning increased. Sister Anna came over to the bed and poured out a teaspoon of laudanum for him. “Give this to the captain,” she said, handing the medicine to me.
“Take this; it will help you rest,” I said, coaxing the soldier to take the elixir. The thick green liquid smelled like anise, but he swallowed it without complaint. The patient fell back to sleep almost immediately.
“You would make an excellent nurse, Katerina Alexandrovna,” Sister Anna said.
“That would be a waste of her talents,” Papa said as he and the doctor reached the patient’s bed. “She will be a brilliant doctor someday. Think of the discoveries she will make in her lifetime!”
Sister Anna scowled. “ ’Tis not natural for a lady to learn such things. An overeducated mind is open to too many temptations.”
“There are lots of women who have become wonderful doctors, Sister,” I said.
“Witches and harlots,” she hissed. Sister Anna grabbed the washrag away from me and began roughly wiping down the soldier.
Dr. Ostrev tried to spare me the older woman’s lecture. “Will you see to the dirty linens, Sister Anna?”
“Of course, Doctor,” she said, bowing graciously. With a swish of her skirts, she and the bundle of bed linens were gone.
“I apologize for that,” Dr. Ostrev said. “But if you are serious about becoming a doctor, you must get used to hearing such sentiments. I knew a young woman from Odessa who gave up on her dreams because she couldn’t bear the way the older nurses treated her as a young female doctor.”
Papa looked at me and nodded. “He has a point, Katiya. Sister Anna is not the only one who will try to discourage you.”
“I understand. It truly does not bother me,” I said with a smile. But I wondered how long my dedication would last if I had to continually endure such negativity.
I took the basket of fruit that Maman had sent and followed Sister Elizabeth, who was much kinder than Sister Anna, into the women’s ward. At the end of the long row of beds, I was startled to see a familiar but sad face: Madame Metcherskey. She had lost weight and looked even paler and more severe than before. I gasped.
“Poor dear,” Sister Elizabeth said, straightening her blankets. Madame Metcherskey coughed, but did not open her eyes. “She has a failing heart. She is dying.”
“Dying?” I whispered. I could not imagine anything ever striking down the indomitable and strong woman. This was not the same woman who had terrorized the girls of Smolny into studying their history. This was only a hollow shell of the woman she used to be.
Slowly, Madame Metcherskey opened her eyes, fixing her stare on me. Her wits were still with her. She recognized me immediately. “Katerina Alexandrovna. The troublemaker,” she croaked.
When I took her cold hand in mine, her fingers clutched mine instantly. Her grip was still strong. “Madame. I’m so sorry for causing you such grief.”
“Never mind about that.” She tried to pull me closer to her. Her voice was raspy and hoarse. “Don’t let the other girls repeat your mistakes.”
“Which mistakes?” I whispered. Goodness knows I’d made too many over the years. Especially in her eyes.
“All light is not good, Katerina Alexandrovna,” she said, letting go of my hand and closing her eyes. “And all shadows are not evil.”
“Madame?” I looked up at the nurse in alarm as she checked Madame’s pulse. “Is she dead?” I whispered. Her cold light was blinding white and stinging my fingers.
Sister Elizabeth shook her head. “She’s just sleeping again.”
Madame Metcherskey drew in a rattly breath just then, as if to prove to me it was true. Her breathing became shallow, but steady. Sister Elizabeth smiled kindly at me. “She needs her rest now, dear.”
Madame’s words frightened me. All light is not good. Could she have seen her own cold light? I’d never known anyone who was able to see it. But I’d never known anyone who was dying either. I reached down and gave Madame’s fingers one last squeeze and left her to rejoin my father.
How much simpler my life had been years
ago when Madame Metcherskey, glaring at me for running in the halls, was my worst nightmare. Now the nightmares were so much worse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It was not long before the end of the holidays was upon us. I was to return to Smolny the day after the Blessing of the Waters, an annual tradition that brought all of St. Petersburg to the frozen Neva River. Since it was to be my last day of freedom, I planned to make the best of it. I dressed warmly, with an extra layer of stockings and petticoats under my woolen dress. Anya looked at me suspiciously as she fixed my hair. “Don’t go looking for any danger, Duchess.”
“I promise I’ll be careful, Anya. But there are some things I must take care of before I go back to school.”
I rode with Maman in our handsome black carriage. Papa and Petya would be there already with their respective regiments. This was a military as well as a religious ceremony, where the tsar cut out a piece of the frozen Neva River and lifted up a cup of water from below for the metropolitan of St. Petersburg to bless. There would be thousands of people there, and I hoped for a chance to slip away without Maman realizing I’d left.
The sky was gray and mournful, as if in memory of the tragedy surrounding last year’s blessing, when Count Chermenensky had been thrown from his horse. Every year we prayed the running of the troops would be free of accidents. I worried most for my father and brother.
Aunt Zina and Dariya were waiting under a fur-lined tent that was close to the Imperial Pavilion. I did not see George standing up there with his family. My heart sank a little. I wanted to ask him about the current leadership of the Order, and wasn’t sure who else would know. The membership of the Inner Circle of the Order was a closely guarded secret. Not all of St. Petersburg was aware the Koldun existed.