The Gathering Storm (16 page)

“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.

I
t 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 happy 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?

There was only one person I could think of, the only person who knew what I was and had not judged me. I knew I was taking an enormous risk. But the poor count had to find somewhere safe to hide.

“Let’s get you out of the cold. We can find you something warm to eat.”

“Eat? Am I … hungry …?”

The Cantacuzene Palace was on Millionaya Street, only a few blocks away from my family home. But it was a good distance away from the woods, and of course, I did not have any rubles to hire a carriage. We would have to walk.

It was already starting to get dark. I would be in trouble when I did not show up for dinner at the institute.

I began to hum as we walked, a piece of melody from the polonaise Prince Danilo and I had danced to the week before. It seemed to appease my new friend’s moaning.

We had gone a short distance when I heard silver sleigh bells approaching behind us. Suddenly, I felt alarm. How could I explain walking unchaperoned with this unkempt-looking young man?

“Duchess von Oldenburg?” I heard a familiar voice in the carriage as it slowed to a stop beside us.
Oh, merde
.

It was the grand duchess Xenia and her brothers, the tsarevitch and Grand Duke George. Princess Alix and her brother were with them. Everything would not be all right.

I curtsied, trying to stay calm. “Good afternoon, Your Imperial Highnesses. How are you today?”

“Good Lord, is that poor creature with you?” the tsarevitch said, standing up in the carriage.

“Yes, Your Imperial Highness. I found him in the woods and I need to get him to the hospital.” My swift change of plans was necessary. If I asked to be brought to the princess Cantacuzene, I knew I would arouse suspicion. And perhaps Dr. Kruglevski would be able to deal with an undead patient. I prayed so.

Grand Duke George stepped out of the carriage to check on Count Chermenensky. The count moaned softly to himself, since I was no longer humming. “Sir, are you all right?” the grand duke asked. “Can you tell me your name?”

Before the count could say anything, I responded quickly, “The poor man does not know his own name. I think he has a fever.” I hoped no one would notice the count’s lifeless eyes. Or the slight smell.

“He is as cold as death!”

“No, no, I am sure he has a fever, for he is delirious,” I insisted.

“And you are a medical doctor?” the grand duke asked arrogantly.

Before I said something that would land me in Siberia, I bit my tongue. “Your Imperial Highness, would you send for a carriage to take this man to the Oldenburg Hospital? I would be eternally in your debt.”

“The military hospital is much closer. We are just down the road.”

“That will do fine, then.” As long as the military doctors did not recognize the dead count. Or ask questions I could not answer. “We can walk from here. I thank Your Imperial Highness.” I offered my arm to the count, and said, “Come along, sir. It is just a little bit farther.”

“Heavens, Georgi, we must not let them walk,” the tsarevitch said. “Duchess, please let us take you and your companion to the hospital. There is plenty of room in our carriage.”

“You are too kind, Your Imperial Highness.” I curtsied, wishing their carriage hadn’t stopped at all. “It will be all right, sir,” I said to the count. “These people are going to help us.”

The count moaned softly but allowed Grand Duke George to help him into the carriage. He behaved until he saw Princess Alix. Then something strange came over him. He began to sniff her.

“Sir!” The tsarevitch tried to push the count away from Princess Alix. “You must not come any closer to her!”

Princess Alix gave a cry of shock.

Count Chermenensky moaned louder. “A … monster!
Like … me!” With a moan that turned into a growl, he leapt at her. The carriage erupted into chaos.

The Romanov sons pulled the count off the princess and wrestled him out of the carriage. Grand Duchess Xenia and I slid over to comfort Alix.

“I am so sorry, Your Highness,” I said. “This is all my fault.”

“How could you have known?” the grand duchess asked. “You were only trying to help the poor creature.”

Outside the carriage, I heard the tsarevitch and the grand duke struggling with the undead count, who was shouting bizarre things.

“Unnatural! Smelled … her skin!”

“He called me a monster!” Princess Alix was pale and trembling. She was descending into hysteria fast.

“Your Highness, take deep breaths for me,” I said. “You are not a monster. No one believes that poor, deranged man.”

The footmen helped the Romanovs subdue Count Chermenensky. He howled as they tied him up with a belt. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard a fist connecting with a head. A deep thud. Could an undead person be knocked unconscious? Was he truly conscious to begin with?

“You, send for the imperial guard,” I heard the tsarevitch order in his calm, quiet voice. “Have him taken to the hospital and question him after he is seen by the doctor.”

Princess Alix was shaking, as if to stop herself from crying. “Please breathe, Your Highness,” I said. “Deep, slow breaths.”

Grand Duchess Xenia was beginning to look scared. It was easy to forget that she was just a thirteen-year-old and had probably never witnessed such an altercation before. Or a hysterical princess who’d been accused of being a monster. For that matter, neither had I.

I grabbed hold of both Xenia’s and Alix’s hands. “Grand Duchess, why don’t you take a few deep breaths with us? Slowly, slowly breathe in—that’s good—and now slowly, slowly breathe out.”

We kept taking deep breaths, and I was starting to feel a little light-headed. The tsarevitch stuck his head in the carriage. “All right there, ladies?”

Grand Duchess Xenia giggled. “My head feels funny, Nicky.”

Princess Alix was still pale but she had regained her self-control. She nodded shyly. “May we go back to my sister’s palace soon?” she asked. “My head is beginning to hurt.”

“Yes, of course,” the tsarevitch said. “Are we finished here?” he asked his brother.

Grand Duke George nodded. “Nicky, you can ride back with the ladies. I’ll stay here with this poor fellow until the guardsmen arrive.”

“No!” I shouted, climbing out of the carriage. “We mustn’t wait for any guards. Let me take him to the hospital. It is not much farther down the road.”

The grand duke looked at me. I could tell he suspected something. And he was right, of course. This was all my fault. Not that I compelled Count Chermenensky to attack Princess Alix, but still, I felt responsible. I had to make it up to the princess. And to the count.

“Please, Your Imperial Highness,” I said quietly. “I must see this through.”

He nodded and told his brother to go ahead and leave us. “We shall be fine. Send the carriage to the hospital to pick us up.”

The grand duke had a hand on Count Chermenensky’s arm and was already leading him down the street. “Sir, can you tell me your name? Where do you live?”

“I think he has amnesia,” I said again, over the count’s incomprehensible moaning. At least, I hoped it was incomprehensible. Would the grand duke remember the name of the soldier who had died at the Blessing of the Waters?