The Gathering Storm (42 page)

T
he grand duchess Miechen was dying. She was bleeding heavily from the miscarriage of her twins. Even Dr. Badmaev was worried that he would not be able to save her. My mother stayed at her bedside for two weeks, giving the grand duchess the herb-laced potions the Tibetan doctor had prescribed for her. I stayed at home to take care of Papa and my brother.

Princess Anastasia of Montenegro married my uncle George of Leuchtenberg, and Princess Militza of Montenegro married my cousin Grand Duke Peter Nikolayevich. The double wedding had taken place secretly during the confusion immediately surrounding the battle with Konstantin. The couples had left on their wedding trips and the Montenegrin king and queen had swiftly returned to Cetinje with their son. The tsar’s friendship with King Nikola turned frosty when he heard about Danilo’s ascension ritual and Militza’s new position as ruler of the St. Petersburg
vampires. He would not be willing to discuss any treaties with her when she returned from her honeymoon.

I breathed a sigh of relief, praying I would never have to see the Montenegrins again.

Papa found me in Maman’s parlor, staring out the window into the courtyard. The roses were just beginning to bloom: deep crimson reds and the palest pinks. I’d brought several of them inside to fill the parlor with their heavy scent.

“Katiya, you have been moping around this house for too long,” Papa said. “There will be other handsome young men to catch your eye. I believe the crown prince’s proposal was only the first of many for you.”

He would never know of the grand duke’s offer of marriage. I tried to force a smile. “You truly think so? What if I said I preferred to stay here with you and Maman and never marry?”

His eyes twinkled. “I’d be delighted, but I believe your mother has other plans for you. Plans that involve grandchildren for her.” He sat down in the chair next to me with a letter in his hand. “Katiya, the time has come for you to make serious plans about your future. It appears that your years at the Smolny Institute are almost over.” He handed me the letter. It was postmarked from Zurich. “You must have applied to the university some time ago?” he asked.

Nodding, I opened the envelope and read the letter. “It’s an acceptance from the University of Zurich,” I said, stunned. “They have an opening for me in the fall. I’ll have to take a course in natural sciences before my anatomy classes begin, but … I would be on my way.”

Papa looked at me cautiously. “We have a family town house where you can stay, if you like. Anya could go with you. And your mother and I would come to visit often.”

“Oh, Papa!” I threw my arms around his neck. I was torn. I wanted to accept, but I hated to leave Russia. Everything I loved was here.

And everyone.

I shook my head. “What about the tsar?” I asked. “Will he allow it?”

Papa released me and looked down at me. “Katiya, you know I was proud to serve the tsar in the Order of St. John when I was younger, and I am proud of Petya as well. I even served a term within the Inner Circle.”

I looked at him in shock. “You? A wizard?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Not at all. Only the Koldun has the authority to study the arcane magics. The other members of the Inner Circle are merely loyal members of the Order who show a talent for channeling magic to the Koldun. I helped the Koldun raise protective wards around the city after the assassination of Alexander the Second. What I am trying to say is the Oldenburgs will always perform our duty to the tsar and to Russia. You have a unique opportunity to serve him with your … gift.” His face looked troubled as he searched for the right words. He took my hands in his.

I sighed. This was the conversation I had been dreading ever since George had spoken to Papa at Peterhof. I pulled my hands away and moved to the window. “I didn’t want you to know,” I said, looking down at the rosebushes below. “I never wanted anyone to know.”

“I will admit, your gift is frightening, and there are many who would try and force you to use it for evil.”

I turned to look at him. “Like the Montenegrins. The tsar is a good man, and I will always help him, but I don’t want anyone else to find out, Papa.”

“I think that is wise. Your brother and I will keep your secret. And perhaps one day, we will tell your mother.” He smiled. “But I believe you would be safer abroad. The tsar can always send for you in Zurich whenever he has need of your talent.”

“What about Konstantin? He is still out there somewhere.”

“The Order is searching for him as we speak. Once they find him, the Inner Circle will be ready with a ritual to banish him permanently from our world.”

“They won’t need the bogatyr to fight him again?”

Papa sat down on the velvet settee and beckoned for me to join him. “Katiya, I do not believe our tsar has the physical strength to become the bogatyr again anytime soon. The Inner Circle must find a way to defeat Konstantin without the bogatyr.”

I was filled with fear for the tsar. “Perhaps I should stay here, then. I could protect the tsar with the shadow spell. I could look up more spells to keep him hidden from Konstantin.”

“Do you really think the tsar is the kind of man who would hide from his enemy?” Papa laughed. “Katiya, do you want to remain forever in the dark ages with us, or do you want to embrace the new world of modern science? Let go of superstition and backward folk magic.” His
eyes grew sad. “Your future lies in Zurich, not here in St. Petersburg.”

I nodded, realizing he was right. But why couldn’t there be a balance? Of old ways and new ways? What would become of the old ways if we forgot them? What would become of the bogatyr? And what would become of me?

My great-grandparents on my mother’s side owned a bakery in Ukraine and came to America in 1912, before the revolution. I grew up listening to stories about the bakery and about the family samovar, and I fell in love with the late imperial period of Russia—the years of Fabergé and Tchaikovsky and Tolstoy—as well as the old Russian fairy tales. I wondered what life in the late nineteenth century would have been like if tsars had possessed magical powers like the tsars of the old legends. Katerina’s story grew out of this wonder.

So many talented people who have helped me and Katerina along the way deserve tons of thanks and chocolate. Two crit partners who have been with me since the earliest drafts, Mandy Morgan and Jill Myles, are more precious than any Fabergé jewels. Ilona Andrews helped with Russian details that I could not find in any of my many research books. German professor Franziska Rogger helped me get Katerina accepted into a nineteenth-century medical school. The amazing people at the Alexander Palace Time Machine shared history and beautiful old photos of the Romanovs. My undying gratitude to everyone at Ethan Ellenberg’s agency—Ethan, Evan Gregory, and Denise Little—as well as to my wonderful editor, Françoise Bui, and the rest of the staff at Delacorte Press. Thanks to my family for putting up with a nocturnal mom/wife and for supporting my Diet Coke habit.
Spasibo
, everyone.

By day, Robin Bridges is a mild-mannered writer of fantasy and paranormal fiction for young adults. By night, she is a pediatric nurse. Robin lives on the Gulf Coast with her husband, one soon-to-be teenager, and two slobbery mastiffs. She likes playing video games and watching Jane Austen movies. (Alas, if only there were a Jane Austen video game!)
The Gathering Storm
is her first novel. You can visit her at
robinbridges.com
.