The Gathering Storm (13 page)

I stared at him, horrified that I could have said something so stupid to the tsar’s son. Why did I always seem to lose all sense of reason when I was around him?

Fortunately, he looked amused. “You are such an odd girl,” he said, taking my arm again and coaxing me to skate forward. I relaxed a little, knowing he was not taking my inappropriate jest seriously. “Be careful, though, Duchess.”
His voice was hushed, but icy in my ear. “They still burn witches in Russia.”

I couldn’t keep myself from shuddering, though whether it was from his threat or just from the closeness of him I couldn’t be sure.

I tried to steer our conversation away from witches. “Anyway, I do not believe the Hessian princess conceals anything, except her own shyness,” I said. “Her infatuation for your brother shines on her face.” I saw nothing unusual in her cold light. It was the same intensity as the tsarevitch’s.

“Perhaps,” George said as we made one last turn around the pond. Alix and Nicholas had already returned to the pavilion, and they waved to us. “But I see a soul in despair when I look at the princess.”

“She lost her mother when she was eight, did she not? As well as her younger siblings? Surely that would cause a lasting despair.”

“Perhaps.”

“Your sister likes her,” I pointed out as Xenia and her aunt skated toward us.

George frowned. “Xenia is a hopeless romantic.” His sister’s eyes flashed again as she broke free from Elizabeth and sped past us in a silver blur. “And extremely irresponsible,” he added with a sigh.

The grand duke led me gracefully back to the pavilion, one of his hands barely touching the small of my back. “That was most enjoyable, Your Highness,” he said, lying beautifully.

“My pleasure,” I answered with a quick curtsy. I could
sense his relief that our skating had come to an end. His rigid posture seemed to relax as he sat down close to his brother and the German princess.

I felt the same relief as I sat near his sister. Xenia was pouting at the table, holding a cup of cocoa.

“I wish I could have skated longer, but Aunt Ella thought I was getting too cold. You two looked lovely together. Did you see Nicky and Alix?”

“They skate together beautifully,” I said wistfully. They did make a handsome couple. I envied the German princess just a little, because she belonged here so much more than I did. I would never be accepted by the Light Court. Not with the darkness inside me.

The servants were gathering up our things as we took off our skates. Grand Duchess Elizabeth was already in her fashionable footwear and was speaking with Alix by the park gate, where Elizabeth’s imperial carriage waited beside the impressive black imperial carriage, with its golden crest of a double-headed eagle on the door.

“Thank you so much for coming!” Xenia said to me. “We shall see you next week!”

I made one last quick curtsy to her and her brothers before following Elizabeth and Alix into Elizabeth’s carriage.

Alix seemed to relax on our drive back to Smolny. Her smile came a little easier when I asked if she’d had a pleasant time. “I love being outdoors, especially in the winter,” she said.

“Will I see you at the Anichkov Ball next week?”

“Of course, my dear,” the grand duchess said, though I could have sworn I saw Princess Alix frown.

And then it was gone and she smiled again. “I am looking forward to it. I have only attended a few balls in Darmstadt.”

“Au revoir, Your Imperial Highness,” I said to the grand duchess, as I got out of the carriage at the Smolny gate. “Auf Wiedersehen, Your Highness,” I said with a final wave to Princess Alix.

Elena pounced on me as soon as I returned to our room. “Did the tsarevitch ask after me? What did you tell him? What did he wear? Did he skate with you?”

I ignored her until I could hear from Augusta that there had been no further word from the hospital on Dariya’s condition. Augusta pointed out that that was a good sign. We’d have heard instantly if Dariya had taken a turn for the worse.

She was right. Reassured, I patiently told my friends everything about the outing and everything I knew about Princess Alix of Hesse. Except for the grand duke’s suspicions. The girls immediately seized on my description of how well Alix and the tsarevitch had gotten on together. Elena’s dance with him at the Smolny Ball was long forgotten.

Elena was not happy. She threw her hairbrush across the room, and it hit the wall with a loud thud. “No!” she cried. “He belongs to me!” She flung herself down on her bed and sobbed.

I looked at Elena, then at the other girls, who quickly left our room. I hoped Elena would not make a scene at the Anichkov Ball. Or cast another spell on the tsarevitch.

S
everal mornings later, the Smolny dining room was buzzing over breakfast with alarming news. Crown Prince Rudolfe of Austria had killed his lover and himself! Although no one knew the whole story, rumors were flying throughout the school.

The Bavarian princesses sobbed as they packed their trunks and were hastily dispatched back to Austria-Hungary for their uncle’s funeral. Erzsebet was upset she would miss the ball. “I didn’t even like the crown prince,” she sobbed as she and her sister, Augusta, climbed into the carriage to take them to the train station. “Please write and tell me all about it,” she called out the window. Elena and I both promised.

“There may not be a ball, girls,” Madame Orbellani said as we all walked back inside after seeing them off. “St. Petersburg should go into mourning out of respect for the Austrian emperor and his wife.”

“No ball?” Elena cried. “That would be horrible!”

Madame Orbellani shrugged. “What if it was your own brother who had died in such a tragedy?”

“He would never do anything so dishonorable,” Elena said, stomping off to the dance hall.

Madame Orbellani sighed as we followed her. The servants had already draped the front parlor with black crepe.

“Does anyone know why he did it?” I asked her. I couldn’t imagine killing someone you supposedly loved, then killing yourself.

Madame Orbellani shook her head. “No one knows. I am certain we will hear many stories, though, in the weeks to come, before anyone ever discovers the real truth. It is not your concern. You have other responsibilities. Now hurry along, or you’ll be late for dance lessons.”

“But if there’s not going to be a ball, why do I need lessons?” I protested. I had a new medical journal from Papa that I was eager to read. An article about the circulatory system looked particularly interesting.

“There will always be balls, Katerina Alexandrovna. Perhaps not this month, or even the next, but soon St. Petersburg will dance again. And my girls will be the best dancers there.”

Mon Dieu
, she spoke as if it were our patriotic duty to dance. I thought about it and sighed. Perhaps it was. It was certainly one of the things most expected of us.

Madame Metcherskey handed everyone a black armband. Then she played a waltz by Strauss in honor of the crown prince. So much for our remembrance of the dead.

Elena looked as if she’d been crying heavily. Her eyes
were puffy and red. “What if there is no ball?” she whispered to me. “Do you really think the empress will cancel it?”

“It would be the right thing to do,” I said.

“Yes, but the empress hates the Austrians. Do you remember last year when the tsar’s great aunt died and the Austrian ambassador held the ball the night of her wake? The empress was furious. She will not forget their callousness.”

“But this was the heir of Austria-Hungary! And she is the empress—not some mannerless ambassador.”

Elena shook her head, trying to keep time in the waltz. “I hope she is vindictive. I know I would be if I were empress.”

I sighed inwardly, praying I would never see the Montenegrin princess as empress of all the Russians. Elena could be extremely vengeful indeed. The very thought of her with the full power of the Russian throne behind her frightened me. It would not be bad just for me—it would be bad for all of Russia.

There was one bright spot on that dark day. My cousin Dariya had returned that afternoon from the hospital. She looked much thinner and paler than ever before, but I was relieved to have her back at Smolny again.

She smiled as I hugged her, but seemed distant. She was anxious to talk with Aurora Demidova, however. After saying hello to everyone else, she disappeared with Aurora for a walk in the gardens.

The dinner hall that night was somber, even though the
servants had not bothered to drape it in black crepe. Everyone was depressed and worried that there would be no dancing, no ballets or operas to attend.

“
Mon Dieu
, there is more to life than dancing,” I said over our bland and watery vegetable soup.

“Oh, no, Katiya, surely you are joking!” Aurora said from the end of the table.

“The Anichkov Ball was the only thing that gave me hope while I was lying in that dismal hospital,” Dariya said. “I might as well have died if there won’t be a ball.”

“Dariya!” I said. “Don’t even joke about that!”

She laughed. I took it as a sign of recovery and let the moment pass.

In the few hours since Dariya had returned from the hospital, she and Aurora had fast become close confidantes. They sat together now, whispering and giving Elena dark looks. But neither one dared accuse her of anything openly. I felt left out, even though I realized that both girls had been poisoned, and I had not. It troubled me that so much had changed between my cousin and me in such a short time.

That night, Elena stayed up late, reading what looked like her book of French poetry. But I heard her mumbling softly by candlelight as I drifted off to sleep, and the words she chanted were not French.

W
hatever dark magic Elena had worked during the night, if it had involved the ball, it appeared to have been successful. For the next morning, everyone at Smolny knew that there would still be an Anichkov Ball. Empress Marie Feodorovna insisted that it not be canceled, but that everyone come dressed in proper mourning attire—all black. Women were not to wear colored gems, but only diamonds and pearls. Elena was ecstatic. Her sisters brought a seamstress by that afternoon to take her measurements for a proper black ball gown.