Anya jumped up and darted off, too shy to be in front of so many people. I noticed Grand Duchess Miechen and Maman sitting down beside Aunt Zina. An older woman with white hair and enormous green eyes leaned forward to whisper in Maman’s ear. She looked up at me and nodded. Surely they couldn’t have been talking about me. I had never seen the woman before in my life.
“Katiya!” my cousin whispered. “Are you ready?” She held her harp out, eager to begin.
“Of course,” I said, tearing my gaze away from my mother and the stranger. As Dariya plucked her harp, I began to recite my lines. Iphigenia was a Greek princess whose father, Agamemnon, had been told to sacrifice her in order for the Greeks to win the Trojan War. But the goddess Artemis rescued Iphigenia at the very last moment and hid her away in Tauris, the land now called the Crimea.
Iphigenia became the priestess in charge of ritually sacrificing to the bloodthirsty Artemis any foreigners who landed on the shores of Tauris. Then fate caused her brother Orestes to shipwreck at Tauris. Iphigenia was unknowingly about to sacrifice her last remaining sibling on the bloody altar. The Greeks loved irony in their plays.
The garden room was crowded and there was little breeze. I soon felt myself growing warm and faint. I heard a soft buzzing in my ears, but I couldn’t let it distract me from my lines.
But the strange visions which the night now past
Brought with it, to the air, if that may soothe
My troubled thought, I will relate.
I cast a quick glance at the small audience and saw them bathed in a faint light, but it wasn’t cold, as it should have been. It seemed to be radiating white-hot. I tried to take a deep breath, praying for a soothing breeze. I felt a tightness in my chest. What had happened to everyone’s cold light?
With relief, I finished the scene of Iphigenia’s gloomy dream and curtsied to the crowd. Dariya ended her song on the harp with a flourish and joined me. Everyone stood up and clapped, but I only wanted to get out of the room. No one seemed to be in distress besides me. Grand Duchess Miechen fanned herself lazily with a delicate ivory fan, but did not seem to notice anything unusual happening. I half suspected her of being the cause.
“Katiya, what’s wrong with you?” Dariya hissed in my ear. “You’ve gone completely pale.”
“I need some fresh air,” I said. After one last curtsy, I grabbed my cousin’s hand and led her away from our makeshift stage and through the glass doors into the courtyard.
It was still hot under the late August sun, but at least there was a sea breeze outside. I closed my eyes and began to feel better immediately.
“What is it?” Dariya asked. “What’s happening? Did the grand duchess do something?”
“And just what do you think I would be doing?” Miechen’s voice startled both of us. The dark faerie had slipped out onto the terrace behind us without making a sound. Dariya sank into a brief but perfectly executed curtsy before escaping back inside. The coward.
My heart was pounding in my throat. “Your Imperial Highness, did you not feel the change in the air in the garden room?”
The grand duchess shrugged elegantly. “Such things happen when you invite a striga to your villa. Her name is Madame Elektra. She is a local witch, of sorts.”
“A striga? And Maman invited her here?” I asked.
“Your mother and Madame Elektra have been friends for many years, Katiya. It is strange that you two have never met.”
“I think I would remember meeting her,” I said, frowning. “She seems to suck the cold out of the room.”
“Strigas are blood drinkers. More powerful than any veshtiza or upyr. But no danger to you.”
“Does Maman know?” I asked, growing indignant. “She has told me repeatedly that vampires no longer exist!”
Miechen shook her head, smiling. “Elektra is not a vampire. She is much older and more powerful than Princess Cantacuzene ever was. If she truly wanted it, she could take the vampire seat of power away from Militza of Montenegro.” The grand duchess flashed her fan and sighed. “It is a pity Elektra hates St. Petersburg.”
“But what she did in that room,” I said. “Surely she’s causing harm to everyone in there.”
“The heat was caused by the reaction of the cold light itself with her own powers. She does not steal cold light. It shrinks away from her.”
“Where does it go?” I asked.
“It will come back, when she is gone. Most of the people in your mother’s garden room did not even notice the change. They only felt a slight discomfort. And perhaps they will blame that on your cousin’s atrocious harp playing.”
I ignored the dark faerie’s catty remark. “Does the empress know about the striga?”
“It’s one of the reasons your mother and the empress are no longer as close as they used to be. Marie Feodorovna can be terribly narrow-minded sometimes.”
I shuddered. “Why is my mother friends with such a creature?”
“Madame Elektra saved your mother’s life many years ago. But perhaps this is a discussion you should have with your mother.” Miechen continued fanning herself and turned to go back inside. “I can tell you this, Katerina Alexandrovna. You have nothing to fear from Madame Elektra.”
CHAPTER SIX
I could not help feeling nervous around Madame Elektra. She made the servants uneasy as well. Anya said our villa’s cook had crossed herself and spit over her left shoulder when she heard Madame Elektra was attending the afternoon’s entertainment.
“The local people think she’s a witch,” Anya whispered when she caught up with me in the garden. “They hide their children when she goes to the marketplace. The cook said she curdles the milk and keeps the bread from rising.”
“How ridiculous,” I whispered back.
“She was at your mother’s séance last week,” Anya pointed out. “I remember her pale green eyes.”
I found it difficult to breathe around the striga. But Miechen had assured me it was safe. A striga only drinks the blood of other vampires. They cannot tolerate human blood.
“She can’t hurt you, Anya,” I told our maid. “She is not like the Montenegrins.”
Anya shuddered. “Are you certain?”
I wasn’t, but I had to believe Miechen. Maman had many friends in her social circle who were dangerous. Of course, she had a daughter who was dangerous as well. I bit my lip. “Perhaps it’s best if you stay away from Madame Elektra.”
“Of course, Duchess.” Anya curtsied and hastily disappeared back upstairs.
Dariya found me and pulled me into the parlor. “Did you see Prince Kotchoubey? He said he liked the music I played! And he brought me the sweetest nosegay!” She held out a small bouquet of the palest pink roses.
I smiled at my cousin. “You really like the prince, don’t you?”
She blushed prettily and held the roses up to her face to breathe in their scent. “Don’t you think he was the most handsome young man at the dance the other night? And his grandmother is a friend of Miechen’s. So my stepmother approves.”
She pulled the flowers away from her face with a pout. “They are fading already. They don’t live for very long, do they?” She laid the tiny bouquet down on the garden bench and left me to find her stepmother.
I picked up the bouquet and touched the brown edges of the petals. With only the faintest wish from me, the brown disappeared and the roses once again looked crisp and fresh. I could see faint slivers of cold light slipping away from my hands as I did so.
It was a foolish thing to have done.
“Such a waste of your talent.” It was a voice I did not recognize.
I was so startled I almost dropped the flowers. “I’m so sorry, I was just …”
Madame Elektra stood in the doorway, her enormous green eyes glittering dangerously. Her snow-white hair was swept into a braided bun at the nape of her neck, but she lacked the fashionably short bangs favored by my mother and the St. Petersburg set. She was dressed in a simple gray gow
n, similar to those my instructors at Smolny had worn.
The old woman smiled at me, and I felt an oppressive heat rising up in the space between us. It stole my breath away. “I was just teasing, my girl. Sometimes it feels good to use your powers after hiding them for so long, yes?” she asked.
I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but she spoke the truth. I frowned. “It doesn’t seem like such a terrible gift just now.”
She cackled. “It just might come in useful one day.” She patted me on the arm like a kindly grandmother would. “Take care, Katerina Alexandrovna,” she said before leaving the doorway and returning to Maman’s parlor. The moment she left, I was able to breathe again.
I hurried to find my mother. But she was saying goodbye to Grand Duchess Miechen and Aunt Zina. Dariya was following behind them.
“You forgot your flowers,” I said, holding out my cousin’s bouquet.
“Merci, Katiya!” She snatched up the bouquet and embraced me.
“How lovely!” Maman said. “Were those from a beau?”
Dariya blushed as Aunt Zina told her about Prince Kotchoubey.
“If only Katiya had a beau.” Maman sighed. “Someone to make her forget all about the crown prince of Montenegro.”
Dariya glanced at me and tried not to giggle.
“It wasn’t as if he jilted me, Maman,” I said, glaring at my cousin. “I turned him down.”
“Of course you cannot marry him now, dear,” Maman said. “Besides, his mother is angling for Princess Hélène of Orléans.”
“Really?” Miechen asked, her violet eyes glittering with interest. “But will her parents let her convert?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Maman said as she went with the grand duchess and Aunt Zina to the front hall to see them out.
Dariya and I followed them. “Was that about the French princess having to convert from Catholicism to marry Danilo?” I asked her.
“No, silly, she’d have to transfer her allegiance from the Light Court.” My cousin smirked. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before departing with her stepmother and the grand duchess in Miechen’s carriage.
Dariya was learning so much about Dark Court and Light Court intrigues now that she was a lady-in-waiting. I only hoped she would be able to stay out of the intrigues herself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next week there was to be a late-summer ball at the imperial palace of Livadia. It was held every August for Grand Duchess Ekaterina Mikhailovna’s birthday. The ancient woman was a great-aunt of the tsar, and Dark and Light Court members were not invited; they were simply obligated to attend. Everyone, from the youngest maidens to the elderly matrons, wore dazzling white dresses and their most brilliant diamonds.
I had not seen George again, and I assumed glumly that he’d decided it would be better to leave without saying goodbye. I was not looking forward to the ball.
Dariya tried to cheer me, instructing Anya to fix my hair in a new style that night. My dull wheat-colored hair had a golden cast to it in the candlelight at the ball. Maman looked pleased. “All of the young men will be eager to dance with you!” She kissed me on the forehead.
Papa was still in St. Petersburg, so we were escorted by my uncle Evgene Maximilianovich. Aunt Zina fussed with the rose in his lapel during the entire carriage ride to the palace. “Those petals are faded around the edges! It looks so shabby! You must replace it with one of the empress’s roses as soon as you can make your way to the gardens.”
“Yes, dear,” Uncle Evgene said meekly.
Dariya clutched my hand tightly as she stared out the window, eager to catch a glimpse of the rest of the aristocracy arriving at the palace. I tried to ignore the conversation between my aunt and uncle. I would not be so foolish as to meddle with dead flowers tonight.
“There’s the princess of Greece!” my cousin whispered. “And I think her brother is with her. Do you think his parents are still planning to marry him to the Swedish princess? I know the families are related.”
Most of Europe’s royalty was related. We shared one large, twisted and tangled family tree. I could claim ties with most likely all of the people dancing inside the palace. I was related to witches and fae and, quite possibly, even a few wolf-folk. There was at least one other necromancer, if my cousin was to be believed. Dariya’s mother, who died several years ago, had shared my talent.
However, I knew of no blood drinkers in my family, thank God.
The Montenegrins were the first guests we ran into after we were announced in the Livadia ballroom. Princess Elena and her older sister, now Duchess Anastasia of Leuchtenberg, were whispering together when they spotted us. “Katerina Alexandrovna, what a wonderful surprise!” Anastasia said. She was my aunt now, after her marriage to Maman’s youngest brother, but I refused to dutifully kiss her on the cheek.
“Stay away from me,” I said as quietly as I could.
“No hug for a dear friend?” Elena said, reaching forward to embrace me. She made my skin crawl. I did not raise my arms to embrace her back, but instead waited for her to let go of me. “Danilo sends his love,” she whispered in my ear.
“I have nothing to say to you, Elena. Or your brother.” I just wanted the crown prince to leave me in peace. It would be nice if his sisters would do the same.
“Take a turn with us in the gardens?” Aunt Anastasia asked, her cold hand gripping my arm painfully. She would not be refused. I glanced around, torn between calling for help and not wishing to cause a scene.
Maman and Aunt Zina and Dariya had already been swept up into the dancing on the marble terrace. Aunt Zina was merrily waltzing with the tsar’s youngest brother, the flirtatious Grand Duke Alexei Alexandrovich. Handsome young Prince Kotchoubey had claimed Dariya’s hand. Uncle Evgene had quickly disappeared, either to steal one of the empress’s roses or, much more likely, to join the other men in the card room.
Brightly lit luminarias dotted the grounds, and a string quartet played Tchaikovsky’s latest waltz from the rose-covered gazebo. The sea breeze cooled the garden and carried the heavy scents of jasmine and roses across the night.
Anastasia and her sister steered me away from the dancing crowds, into the mazes of rosebushes. Hundreds of blossoms in every color bloomed with a vengeance. The perfume hung in the air, too sweet for me to breathe.
Far off in the darkness, we could hear the raspy call of an owl.
Elena grabbed her sister’s arm, looking slightly panicked. Then she smiled at me sheepishly. “Did you know there are some blood drinkers that can turn into owls? They only drink the blood of other vampires.”
“Indeed?” I asked, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. I wondered if they knew about Madame Elektra. I wondered why Miechen had not told me the green-eyed elderly woman could change shapes.
“You know that is only a rumor,” Anastasia said. “Most likely.”
“And where is Militza?” I asked, wondering why she hadn’t been present to ambush me as well.
“She is still on her honeymoon with Grand Duke Peter Nikolayevich,” Elena said. “They’re visiting Egypt to see the pyramids.”
“How wonderful,” I said, truly thankful that she was not with us. Of all the daughters of the Montenegrin king, Militza, now a grand duchess and leader of the St. Petersburg vampires, frightened me the most. “And your parents are well?” I could be polite with the Montenegrins as long as they did not try to drink my blood in the empress’s garden.
Anastasia stopped to inhale the scent of a dark-red damask rose. “The queen is well. She awaits the birth of her next child in the fall. Our father is ecstatic.”
Of course. I’d noticed Queen Milena was pregnant when I was abducted to the Montenegrin palace earlier that year. The queen would be giving birth to one more blood drinker. I could not be any less happy for her.
“Your aunt was telling us that you visited the Massandra caves last week,” Anastasia said. “Did you enjoy them?”
I did not wish to discuss the
caves with the Montenegrins. “What do you want from me? Why have you brought me out here?”
Anastasia shuddered delicately, pulling her lace shawl over her shoulder. “Every time I’ve been to the Massandra estate, I have a terrible feeling, as if something very bad has happened there.” She looked at me very intently. “Did you feel anything strange, Katerina?”
“Of course not,” I lied. I wondered how many people knew of the throne room inside the caves. Did the Montenegrin princess know about the strange cold-light realm?
“Are you as anxious as I am to be returning to Smolny?” Elena asked. “I have missed everyone so.”
I shook my head and smiled. “I will not be returning this fall.” I was so thankful I would be safe from Elena’s mischief. I was filled with relief that I would no longer have to sleep in the same room with her. “I will be attending medical school in Zurich.”
Anastasia rolled her eyes and stopped to sit down on a marble bench. “Why on earth would you want to do such a thing?”
Elena looked at me with reproach. “That is terrible news. You and your cousin will both be gone, then.” She sighed and glanced at a moth that was fluttering around one of the luminarias. “Oh well, I shall still have the Bavarian princesses to talk to.”
“Please give them my regards,” I said. They would continue to be vulnerable to Elena and her veshtiza poison. But surely the empress had some way to protect the students since she was allowing Elena to return to Smolny. I could not find it in my heart to forgive the Montenegrins for kidnapping me and using me in their brother’s blood ritual. Or for poisoning my cousin.
I was almost certain there was nothing they could do to me here, at the empress’s palace, but still I felt anxious and did not want to be alone with them any longer than necessary. I wished I could escape from the princesses and return to the ball. Not that there was anyone there that I wished to dance with. Where could George Alexandrovich be? What was so important that he was allowed to miss his great-aunt’s birthday party?