Aunt Zina waved to attract Maman’s attention. Thousands of troops were assembled smartly across the river, their horses stomping in the snow impatiently.
“Hurry!” Aunt Zina called. “The ceremony is about to start!”
I could see Grand Duchess Miechen standing opposite the empress under her own pavilion, draped in midnight-blue silk. She did not usually attend the blessing. I wondered what had drawn the Dark Court to make an appearance on such a dismal and cold day? Grand Duke Vladimir, the grand duchess’s husband, and brother to the tsar, stood with her. His steely gray eyes looked colder than the frozen river.
I shivered as the grand duchess’s gaze swept across the crowd, and she caught my eye with a small, regal smile. I wished with all my heart that I could swear total allegiance to the Light Court and rid myself of my debt to Miechen. But my family would still have ties to her court, and I could not leave them unprotected. Bitterly I wondered how different my life would have been if my parents had been aligned with the Light Court all along. It was no use wishing, however. I did not believe in fate, but somehow, I knew my life was following some dark design.
I touched Maman’s shoulder. “There is an old friend I must greet.” I slipped back into the crowd, not bothering to wait for a reply. She would worry, and I would get into trouble, but the Dark Court has a saying: It is easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.
I hurried through the crowd, pushing against the townspeople that crowded the riverbank hoping for a glance at the tsar. Some looked at me as if I were insane, trying to get farther away from the Imperial Pavilion. Others ignored me, and pressed closer.
I broke into a run when I reached Nevski Prospekt. My destination was not far away: Lazarev Cemetery. I had my respects to pay. I spent the last of my Christmas coins on a small bouquet of violets from a street vendor and entered the cemetery. Even the crunch of the snow beneath my boots did not disturb the peace I felt as soon as I passed the cemetery gates. The trees were barren, of course, but the tombs were still difficult to read. It had only been a few months since Dr. Kruglevski’s funeral, but it seemed to me like a lifetime had passed since then. I made my way to his grave and brushed the snow aside to lay the flowers there. I crossed myself and said a short prayer for my old friend.
“You still feel responsible for his death, do you not, Duchess?”
I jumped up, startled. I had not seen anyone else in the cemetery. “Dr. Badmaev.” I curtsied, shaken by the way the Tibetan doctor seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
His face was kind. “It was not your fault, Your Highness. It was the doctor’s fate to die on that day. Vampire or no.”
“But I should never have left him alone with Princess Cantacuzene. I was the only one who knew how dangerous she really was.” The only one besides Grand Duchess Miechen. And Queen Milena of Montenegro.
“Let go of the guilt, Duchess, or it will keep you its prisoner. Dr. Kruglevski would not have wanted that. What do you think he would have wanted you to do?”
I smiled sadly as I idly rearranged the flowers. “He would have expected me to attend medical school and become a brilliant doctor.”
“But the tsar will not let you leave the country.” The Tibetan doctor stood calmly with his hands clasped in front of him. The cold did not seem to bother him in the least.
“How do you know this?” When he showed no hint of replying, I sighed. “Of course not.” Despite what George had told me back in August, the tsar did not believe in women becoming doctors.
“There are other paths of medicine, Duchess, that do not require the tsar’s permission.”
I looked at him skeptically. “What do you mean?”
“I am offering you the opportunity to learn the secrets of Eastern medicine. Become my pupil. I have seen your gift, and I believe you would become an excellent doctor.”
I laughed bitterly. “My gift is unholy. I could not routinely return the dead to life. It would not be right.”
He shook his head with a smile. “I did not mean your dark ability. I know there are many who would use your gifts for unholy purposes, but I speak of your healing ability. It is related to the other, with your gift to see cold light, but it is important on its own. There are always two sides of every coin, Duchess. Light and dark. Day and night.”
“East and West?” I asked, and he nodded. “I’m sorry, but Eastern medicine consists of folk medicine and herbal remedies. I need to study the most modern research. Western medicine is more effective. One way or another, I must go to Zurich one day and become a proper doctor.”
His smile was still kind. “I will not withdraw the offer, Duchess. Come and visit me when you are ready to unite both sides of your own nature.” With a polite bow, Dr. Badmaev left me standing in the cemetery.
I was ashamed. I had insulted not only the man, but also his own country and beliefs. Even his own education, which I was certain had been just as intensive as Dr. Kruglevski’s. But if I wanted to earn the respect of other doctors, I would need a respectable degree. One day.
I shivered and drew my cloak around me more tightly. It was time to return to my mother. I took one last glance at Dr. Kruglevski’s grave before leaving him. What if I’d used my dark gift to bring him back? He would have been a monster, like Count Chermenensky. To bring someone back like that was not a kindness.
But what if I could find a way to perfect my gift? Retrieve someone from the dead and restore them to their previous life? Would it be possible? Would it be right? To defy the natural order of things would be unholy. Wouldn’t it? To deny the dead their eternal rest was a blasphemy. Would God have mercy on my own soul when my life was over? I was filled with dark thoughts as I hurried back through the cemetery.
The Tibetan had caused me to question my own motives for becoming a doctor. Was it truly a desire to help people or to express some suppressed desire to tamper with death? Perhaps my heart did belong with the Dark Court after all. Because it appeared to me that I certainly did not have a soul.
I hurried back through the cemetery only to stop and stare in shock as I saw a fresh grave, with several frost-covered bouquets wilting on top.
NATALIA MAXIMILIANOVNA METCHERSKEY
BELOVED TEACHER AND FRIEND
31 JULY 1819–30 DECEMBER 1889
Beloved? I shook my head. I wondered who had ever loved this brittle and coldhearted woman. Madame Metcherskey had always been nasty to me, as well as to the rest of the girls at Smolny. Still, I felt bad about her passing. I crossed myself and said a short prayer for her before continuing on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Going back to Smolny was not as bad as it had been in September. It was even worse. I knew it would only be a few more months before the winter term was over, but I was determined to deal with the young ghost. I was surprised to find myself almost happy to see Alix and Aurora and the Bavarian princesses again. Elena would not stop talking about her new baby brother. Erzsebet and Augusta would not stop talking about the upcoming St. Petersburg winter season. “There will be ballets and operas, and so many balls! Our cousin has finally been presented to the empress and she will be attending all of the festivities! She’s promised to write us daily and tell us everything!”
Princess Alix unpacked her small suitcase and stayed silent. When the princesses asked about her holiday, she only smiled and shrugged.
“She tries to be so mysterious, when there is nothing to be mysterious about,” Elena whispered to me later, as we walked to the dining hall for dinner. “She is so dull!”
“Then why does she bother you so much?” I asked.
Elena sighed, frustrated. “I suppose part of it is the way the tsarevitch looked at her when they danced at the Smolny Ball.”
I found myself feeling sorry for the Montenegrin princess. I squeezed her hand. “He’s not for you, Elena.”
She pushed my hand away. “What do you know of it? He has always belonged to me!” Tears formed in her eyes.
“Elena—?
??
With a cry, she stormed past me, back to our room. I watched her leave with worry. I was starting to believe she really loved Nicholas Alexandrovich.
I sighed. And what if Alix had done more than just catch the tsarevitch’s eye? She was the granddaughter of Queen Victoria, but not someone his parents would approve of for such an important alliance. Elena was the daughter of a king. Even if he was a poor king. He was still a very powerful man. And a dangerous one at that.
“Are you coming to dinner?” Augusta asked as she met me in the hall. “There is a new cook, we heard. He used to work for the Yussopov family.”
I smiled. Maman and Papa both had commented several times before on the splendid dinners they’d had at the Yussopov Palace. Princess Zenaida Yussopova was the richest woman in St. Petersburg, with more wealth than the imperial family. I was sure the cook was used to a kitchen pantry stocked with the freshest and rarest foods. What culinary magic he would be able to perform with our simple Smolny kitchen, I couldn’t wait to discover.
As I passed the library, I saw something moving from the corner of my eye. Something dark and large and fast. I stopped and peeked inside. Of course there was nothing. No one was in the tiny reading room, alive or dead. My heart beat wildly, but I took a deep breath and hurried on to the dining hall. I needed a good supper and then a good night’s sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I slept very well my first night back at Smolny, after a wonderful dinner of potato and cabbage soup. No tossing or turning, and no strange or frightening dreams. I awoke the next morning feeling better than I had in months. Everyone seemed to be in brighter spirits, even the Montenegrin princess. Elena smiled at me and Aurora both as she hopped out of bed and got dressed. And Aurora smiled back.
Even with our brief memorial service honoring Madame Metcherskey, the somber mood at Smolny seemed to have changed. Madame Tomilov and Madame Orbellani were smiling at everyone over breakfast as well. There was a lightness to everyone’s mood. Sister Anna decided to sing our morning grace before breakfast. Her voice was a very sweet, pure alto.
We ate warm, fluffy biscuits with raspberry and strawberry jam. A special treat, thanks to our new cook. Outside, it was a gloomy winter day, but inside the Smolny Institute, one would have thought it was sunny spring.
Even the oldest students skipped to their classes. And I skipped right past the library, wondering what had happened to our ghost. Had Madame Tomilov done something to get rid of her over the holidays? Was that the reason for the dramatic change in mood? I let the Bavarian princesses go on ahead and turned back to investigate.
“You won’t find her in there right now,” Alix said, as she walked down the hall in her calm, dignified manner.
“What is going on?” I asked. “There is something not quite right this morning.”
“What could possibly be wrong?” Alix’s mouth twitched. She was trying very hard to hold back a smile.
“Are you feeling all right?” I asked her.
She pulled a leftover biscuit out of her pinafore pocket and stuffed it into her mouth. She licked the jam off of her fingers. “I’m feeling wonderful, Katerina!” She giggled as she skipped off to class. I watched as Elena linked arms with her and off they went together, like best friends.
I sighed. There was definitely something wrong at Smolny. Why did I think the biscuits were to be blamed?
Of course it wasn’t my place to look into this, but I had to. Instead of going to class, where I knew I wouldn’t be able to learn anything anyway, what with all the skipping and singing, I slipped downstairs into the kitchen, where the staff was washing the pots and pans from breakfast.
They were singing in the kitchen as well. Joyful French love songs. Mon Dieu! It was too early for such impropriety.
I found the cook, a youngish-looking man, peeling apples by the window. I couldn’t help gasping as he looked up at me and smiled. His eyes were so blue, it hurt to look at them. I could do nothing but smile. I couldn’t stop myself.
“Oui, Mademoiselle?” he asked. He tossed the apple into a large bowl with the others and wiped his hands on his apron. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
I shook my head. “No. I mean, yes … I should, but I needed to ask you …” What had I wanted to ask him exactly? It seemed no amount of glamour could hide what he was from me. He was beautiful. Too beautiful to be human. Too beautiful to be harmless. “Why did you come to Smolny?” I asked. “What have you done to us?”
His clear blue eyes blinked. Then he grinned, showing the faintest flash of his sharp, tiny teeth. “I serve at the will of Her Imperial Majesty. She has been informed that there is an unfortunate lost soul that has been trapped here within her spell. I am here to make sure that it does not harm anyone.”
“Do you know who she is? Can you get rid of her?”
“Sadly, no. I’m afraid even Her Imperial Majesty does not know who this lost soul is. And no, I cannot do anything to expel it. Only a necromancer such as yourself could do that.” He searched through the cupboards for something.
My jaw dropped. In a most unladylike manner. “But I’m powerless under the empress’s spell here. How can I do anything?”
He began to roll out a piecrust with his marble rolling pin. “It is true. There is nothing you can do, while the empress’s spell remains. That is why I am here. To make sure everyone forgets about the ghost.”
“How does your magic work, then?” I asked. “Is it stronger than the empress’s spell?”
“Of course not. My fae glamour inserts itself within the fabric of the empress’s fae spell. The glamour is only an illusion. Nothing more. And all the more pity for you, since you see through it. The lost soul will still be able to affect you with its malicious tantrums.” He was making apple turnovers. It smelled heavenly when he sprinkled the cinnamon and sugar over the apple pieces. It brought a smile to the corners of my lips.
“Here,” he said with a dramatic sigh. He reached over into the picnic basket on the kitchen table and pulled out two blueberry muffins. They were still warm. “These should keep you protected until lunchtime. But stay away from the library.”
“Merci, Monsieur …” I smiled helplessly, realizing I did not know his name. It would be helpful if I did.
He grinned his wicked grin again. “Oh no, you’re not getting that out of me. You may call me Sucre. That is the name Madame Tomilov knows me by.”
“Merci, Monsieur Sucre.” I curtsied politely, afraid to eat the tempting muffins. They smelled divine. Their sweet scent rose up out of my hands, like a whisper. I knew it was only an illusion. The glamour, the fae called it. Would it hurt me to not see reality for a little while? It would be so nice to not worry about the lost soul, as Sucre called her. “Have you seen her? The ghost?”
The cook scowled and spat on the floor, muttering something in a language I’d never heard before. Definitely not French. And not Russian. “No, and I hope that I do not.” He opened the large oven door and placed the tray of turnovers inside. “Now, it is time for you to go, Mademoiselle. I cannot let you see all of my tricks.”
“But—”
His eyes flashed. The blue was unbearable. “Now, Mademoiselle.” His voice was soft, but deadly.
I curtsied again. “Of course. Thank you once again,” I said, waving the muffins at him as I turned to go.
“And tell your Bavarian friend she should not be wandering into the kitchen late at night. You would not want her to eat something that disagreed with her.”
My skin turned cold. Would he really dare to harm one of us? “Of course not, Monsieur.” I gritted my teeth and left, not bothering to glance back at him. I hurried outside into the frozen courtyard and tore the blueberry muffins into tiny pieces, scattering them into the wind. I’d let the rest of the students skip and sing along with the beglamoured instructors and Sister Anna. I wanted to be able to see the evil things that were stalking us at Smolny.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The apple t
urnovers were a special treat for dessert that night after huge bowls of belly-warming cabbage stew. Sister Anna brought out her ukulele and even persuaded Madame Tomilov to sing with her. Madame Orbellani had a bright blush in her cheeks as she danced a polonaise around the dining room with Elena. I pushed my turnover toward Augusta’s plate. She gobbled it happily.
I could not understand why the empress wanted everyone so giddy. Of course she wouldn’t want everyone sleep-deprived and pale, but this much happiness was abnormal. And definitely not healthy. Monsieur Sucre. I frowned. I began to wonder if it was indeed the empress who had sent the fae cook, or someone with mischief in mind. Would Miechen have even told the empress about the ghost? Or did Miechen send the cook herself?
“Dance with me, Katerina Alexandrovna!” Elena said, trying to pull me away from the table. She was laughing and out of breath.
Sister Anna was now playing an old folk ballad based on the tale of St. George and the dragon. In her song, St. George actually turned into a dragon to fight the evil one. It was an interesting version of the story. I smiled and shook my head at Elena. “Dance with Erzsebet. I have studying to do.”
Augusta was laughing. “Can you imagine turning into a dragon?”
I shrugged, but Alix looked fascinated with the idea. “Yes,” she whispered. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Augusta laughed again. “I would be the dragon princess and you would be the dragon queen.” She took Alix’s hands and they swung around the table, just like Elena and Erzsebet.
I left the dining hall and passed the library on my way back to our room. I paused, remembering Sucre’s warnings, but I needed to borrow the German text of Faust for our upcoming German exam.
I peeked into the library, seeing nothing unusual. Cautiously, I stepped into the room and approached the bookcase. The temperature in the room dropped suddenly to below freezing. I could see my breath as I gasped.