The Gathering Storm (38 page)

M
y brother was right, of course. It had not taken much for Maman to descend into hysterics. Convinced that I was in danger of being compromised by the crown prince, if indeed I had not already been compromised, Maman took to her bed before the end of the evening. Both Petya and Uncle George apologized extensively but insisted that we return to St. Petersburg the coming morning. The Montenegrins had no choice but to let us leave. They had accomplished everything they had hoped for.

Danilo kissed my hand as our families said their goodbyes. “We will be together again soon. And then it will be forever.”

Maman and I argued the entire trip home. She insisted that I be married at Peterhof with the Montenegrin princesses. Uncle George was delighted at the thought of sharing his wedding day with his niece. At least my brother was on my side.

“She is only sixteen, Maman,” Petya said. “Let her finish school, at least.”

“For what? As young girls grow older, they begin to get strange ideas in their heads. And no man wants that in a wife.”

“Oh, Maman.” I could not believe she was saying this. She had always prided herself on her education. She was always reading and trying to improve her mind. “Papa does not feel that way,” I said, crossing my arms.

But when we returned home three days later, Maman and Papa had the most dreadful of arguments. Maman would not be talked out of a hasty wedding.

There had been no sign of Konstantin. The attacks on the Order stopped, and everyone seemed to relax a little. However, there were several undead members still left unaccounted for. Whether Konstantin had found them and was preparing them for battle, no one could say.

Danilo arrived back in St. Petersburg not long after us and came to visit my father.

Papa wanted Danilo to promise him I would be allowed to attend medical school, but the crown prince refused. Danilo smiled and dazzled Papa with his new and improved Vladiki charm. By the time Danilo left my father’s study, even Papa was joyfully handing over large sums of money to Maman for my trousseau. There was no talking my parents out of this marriage anymore. To cry off now would cause an enormous scandal and no suitor
would ever offer for me again. As if that mattered to me at all.

The weddings were to be at Peterhof, the grand summer palace of the imperial family, twenty miles outside St. Petersburg. The grounds were beautiful, especially in summer, with several elaborate fountains over a hundred years old. I had been to Peterhof for the grand duke Serge and Princess Elizabeth’s wedding when I was ten. I had fallen into the lion fountain.

The imperial family was currently visiting the empress’s family in Denmark. They would return to Russia in time to attend the weddings. I dreaded seeing George Alexandrovich again. He would never forgive me for releasing Konstantin. And he would have every reason to hate me.

I did not cry when the wedding gifts began to pile up in our parlor. I did not cry when Madame Olga came to the house to fit me for my wedding gown and yelled at me to stand still. I did not cry when I saw Papa’s sad face as he gazed upon the wedding gifts. He may have been won over by Danilo’s powerful charms, but my father did not want his little girl to grow up and move so far away. My heart was breaking.

I did not cry when we visited Dr. Kruglevski’s grave and I laid a rose on it. Papa squeezed my hand. It was my fault that he had lost a very dear friend. He had already asked Anya’s brother Rudolf to take Dr. Kruglevski’s place as head of the Institute of Experimental Medicine. But Rudolf did not have Dr. Kruglevski’s years of experience.

“Papa,” I said, grasping his arm on the carriage ride home. “Are you terribly disappointed in me?”

He looked surprised. “Katiya, you could never disappoint me. Whether you become a queen or a peasant, as long as you are happy, I will be happy.”

I hugged him. “Thank you, Papa.”

“Prince Danilo makes you happy, yes?”

I was glad he couldn’t see my face. “Of course, Papa.” It would make me happy if we were all safe from Konstantin and the Dekebristi. I prayed for Petya and his men as they searched St. Petersburg for them.

Before returning home from the cemetery, we stopped in front of the Tibetan doctor’s pharmacy. Papa smiled and squeezed my hand.

I remembered the last time I had been here, with the grand duke. I hoped he had discovered something useful when he’d talked to Dr. Badmaev. What had he thought when I had disappeared? Surely by now he had heard of my trip to Cetinje. And my wedding plans.

The Tibetan doctor smiled when he saw us, and gave us a respectful bow. “It is good to see both of you.” His empty shop was heavy with the scent of incense.

“Any new information about our friend?” Papa asked.

Badmaev shook his head. “I am sorry. He does not seem to be affected by anything I give him. It is most puzzling.”

“Has he been violent?”

“Of course not. He does not seem to want to leave this area. He doesn’t say much—only calls sadly for his mistress.”

I’d had no idea whom they were speaking of until that moment. “Mistress?” Surely they couldn’t be talking of … “Where is he?” I rushed toward the back, behind the beaded curtains.

“Katiya, wait!” Papa called after me. “This patient has some unknown disease. He may be contagious.”

“Please, I must see him.”

“It is strange,” Dr. Badmaev said, looking at me curiously. “This man did show up the same day the grand duke was here asking about hemlock antidotes.”

“Which grand duke?” Papa asked.

I pushed past both of them into the tiny courtyard in the back. Badmaev had made a sleeping area for Count Chermenensky, who did not seem to enjoy being inside.

“His Imperial Highness the grand duke George Alexandrovich,” the doctor said. “He was investigating the death of Princess Cantacuzene. He seemed to recognize our patient here. In fact, he asked me to take care of him here rather than send him to the hospital.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks. “Count Chermenensky?” I whispered. I did not want Papa to know his name yet if he hadn’t already realized who the undead soldier was.

The count looked up at me with glassy eyes. He had been washed and someone had given him clean clothes. “Mistress? Back?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I am so sorry I left.”

The count remained huddled in his sleeping box, rocking back and forth. “Bad people took you … could not save you … Forgive …”

“No, Your Highness. I must beg your forgiveness for leaving you. Everything is going to be all right now.”

“Mistress not safe … hunted by shadows.”

“Katiya?” Papa stood in the doorway of the courtyard. “Step away from that man, my dear. He is deranged.”

“It’s all right, Papa. He won’t hurt me.” I reached out and placed my hand on the count’s. “Your Highness, what shadows do you speak of? What can you see?”

“Shadows with wings,” he muttered, still rocking back and forth. “Must protect mistress.”

“What is he talking about?” my father asked.

“Count Chermenensky, do not worry. I want you to stay here with the doctor. He is trying to help you.”

“I’m not sure I can help him, Duchess,” Badmaev said softly.

I nodded. What could modern medicine do for the undead?

“Mistress,” Count Chermenensky whimpered. “Must protect you.”

“I’ll be safe,” I promised him. With a pat on his shoulder, I turned to follow Papa back to our carriage. Ancient medicine was what the count needed. The Egyptian necromancer. Perhaps there was still an undiscovered ritual in
A Necromancer’s Companion
that would help him. But I was running out of time. After the wedding, I would be taken back to Cetinje and would never be able to help the count, or my family, again.

And Konstantin was still out there somewhere, biding his time. Had he found the Dekebristi and persuaded them to follow him? Or did Princess Militza control them?

“That was quite amazing how you soothed that creature,” Papa said on our ride home. “You have a healer’s touch, Katiya. A gift you are wasting.”

I wanted to laugh. Hadn’t Badmaev said the same thing? But the life I brought to the dead was not a gift. It was not
life at all. Perhaps that was the true reason I’d wanted to be a doctor all those years. I wanted to ease people’s suffering and prevent death altogether.

Papa sighed when I did not answer him. “All right, Katiya. I only want you to be happy.”

Q
ueen Milena and her daughters arrived at Peterhof to prepare for the wedding festivities, and Grand Duchess Miechen held a ball in the Montenegrins’ honor. All the members of the Dark Court would be in attendance. Dariya told me the gossip she’d overheard from her stepmother as we got ready for the ball in my family’s nearby dacha.

“Militza has succeeded in dominating the St. Petersburg vampires,” my cousin whispered. “She will take Princess Cantacuzene’s place as the head of the House of Bessaraba in Russia. As Cantacuzene’s niece, she has a legitimate blood claim.”

“But her sister Zorka is older,” I said. “Wouldn’t she be the rightful heir?”

Dariya shrugged. “Militza has persuaded her sister to support her. She alone knows the secret hiding place of the undead Dekebristi. She believes she can control them with
the Talisman of Isis—the same one that was mentioned in your book—and keep them out of Konstantin’s hands.”

It would make Militza almost untouchable.

“Besides,” Dariya said, “the tsar now knows that Cantacuzene broke the treaty of 1825. Miechen thinks Militza will try to renegotiate that treaty with him once she has the undead army in her power.”

“I don’t think there is anything that Miechen can do, other than smile graciously and dance the polonaise with the King of Montenegro,” I said. I hoped I would get a chance to speak with the dark faerie queen at the ball.

“What is the grand duchess thinking?” my cousin said. “She is too far along in her confinement to be dancing in public!”

“Nonsense,” I said. “Princess Yussopova danced all night long at one of her own balls and gave birth to her son the very next day. With no difficulties.” I looked up at my cousin in the mirror and smiled. “And with no scandals.”

Dariya sighed. “I suppose it would be a worse scandal if the King and Queen of Montenegro were snubbed by the Dark Court of St. Petersburg. I do hope you are careful tonight. If only there was a spell you could invoke to protect yourself from the crown prince. I kept searching that book of yours, but I could not find anything that looks practical.” She looked at me pointedly. “Nothing that does not involve raising your own undead army.”

“That is out of the question,” I said, my hands trembling as I fastened pearl earrings in my earlobes. “I couldn’t possibly do such a thing.”

“But you do have the curse, do you not?” Dariya asked soberly. “Why else would Cantacuzene give you such a book? And the moth at the Smolny Ball. That was something you did, was it not?”

I did not know what to say. How long had she known? “But I didn’t want you to think I was a monster!”

“How could I? My mother had the curse as well.”