The Unfailing Light (10 page)

I wandered the halls until I found myself in the library, which was nothing more than a drafty parlor with one small bookcase stacked with books. I’d read the hundred or so books over and over again in the years since I’d begun attending Smolny. It was not a large collection, but then, ladies of the aristocracy were not generally encouraged to read too much. Or to improve their minds. There were plenty of the classics here for Madame Tomilov to ensure we were exposed to fine literature, but that was enough for her.

I passed over the poems and stories of Alexander Pushkin, which I had read so often I could quote them by heart, and settled down in the chair with the tattered copy of Euripides’s plays to reread
Iphigenia in Tauris
. I wondered if Madame Orbellani could find a copy of the play in its original Greek for me. I was anxious to practice my Greek and Latin once more. Especially after meeting Dr. Bokova. I’d always known the medical courses would be difficult, but I did not want to be remiss in any of my preparations. And since I had a year to wait, I decided I was going to make the most of it.

I heard a whisper, or maybe it was just the exhalation of a breath behind me. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. I jumped up out of my chair, and looked around the room. No one was there with me. And yet I could feel a presence. The person was very close. Too close. I shut the book and placed it back on the shelf, feeling compelled to leave.

Was it the empress’s spell? Did she know that I had tested her magical barrier? I felt a horrible sense of guilt, but the presence did not feel like fae. It felt cold, like death. But ever since returning to Smolny, I could no longer see anyone’s cold light.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, the strange feeling passed. I looked into the empty library again, almost curious enough to reenter the room, but I felt a strong resistance.
There was something in that room that did not want me in there.

In all my years at the Smolny Institute, I had never encountered anything like this before. It was a presence, but did not seem like a person. It was cold, but gave off no cold light that I could see. My heart started to pound in my chest. I wondered if Konstantin had been able to get past the empress’s spell somehow. What could I do?

As I hurried away down the hall, I felt a little bit foolish. There was no reason for the lich tsar to come looking for me here. And no reason for the empress’s spell not to hold fast. Still, I was spooked, and did not want to be alone anymore. I decided to join the others for dinner.

I noticed Princess Alix limping slightly as she headed toward the dining hall. “Are you all right?” I asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “I’m fine. I was just taking a walk on the grounds. I think I overtired myself.”

“I’d be happy to help—”

“I said I’m fine. Please forget it.”

I took my seat next to Elena at the dinner table without another word to Alix.

Alix sat down across from us and began eating in silence. The Bavarian sisters joined us as well. Augusta dug into her food as Erzsebet leaned over toward Aurora.

“May I borrow your notes for the Domestic Arts examination?” she asked.

“Why must they test us after only one day of class?” Elena moaned.

Domestic Arts had been my least favorite class last year. Who knew there could be so much to learn about running a
household? It seemed ridiculous to me to be examined on the most efficient way to manage servants or how to plan a menu.

“Of course you may.” Aurora nodded haughtily to the Bavarian princess, her spoon poised over her mushroom soup. “I do not have many notes, however. My grandmother taught me everything I shall need to know.”

Elena rolled her eyes. In a low voice, she whispered to me. “I hope her grandmother taught her how to survive a veshtiza’s kiss. I am looking forward to the next full moon.”

The gleeful malice in Elena’s voice alarmed me. Even if she was a little snobbish, Princess Aurora had done nothing to Elena. “You mustn’t,” I whispered back. “You’ll get into trouble.”

“No one will ever know. Unless you tell them, Katiya.”

I fretted. What would Elena do at the next full moon when she discovered she could not change? At least Aurora and Alix and the rest of the Smolny students would be safe from veshtiza poison.

That night, I had a chance to speak with Elena alone. “Must you change into a moth every month? What happens if you do not turn?”

Elena’s eyes narrowed. “You know many of my family’s secrets, but I will not tell you all of them. Not until you are one of us.”

I sighed. “That will never happen. I will never marry your brother. Ever. And my family supports my decision.” At least, my father did. Maman would have been delighted to see me as the crown princess of Montenegro. She had dreams of seeing one of her children sitting on a European throne one day.

“But you and Danilo are already bound. Your blood is a part
of him now. You cannot ever break that bond.” Elena smiled. “Don’t you see?”

I could not fall asleep that night, and I laid awake for hours worrying about what she had said. The bond I had with the crown prince was indeed still there, just as it had been ever since the ritual in the Black Mountain temple. That was the night when the crown prince drank my blood. The night when the lich tsar was released by the Montenegrins.

At times, I could swear that I felt Danilo’s mind reaching for mine. It was frightening, being connected in such an intimate way to someone so dangerous. To someone I loathed. I wondered if he could read my mind just as George could. I needed to find a way to be completely free of the crown prince. Only then would I be safe from the rest of the Montenegrins as well.

CHAPTER TWELVE
 

I
slept fitfully that night, and the next morning felt horrible as I dressed and dragged myself downstairs with the other girls to breakfast. The sleep I had managed to get had been full of strange, tiring dreams that I could not even remember. Just annoying wisps and fragments that made no sense remained.

Madame Orbellani passed out our mail in the dining hall that morning, and I received a letter from my brother, Petya. He had written to me from Moscow, where his regiment was training. There was no news from him of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, and I knew I should not have even expected any. My brother would not think it proper to tell me what went on inside the ancient order assigned to protect the tsar.

I sighed. It was a letter full of brotherly duty, saying he missed me and our parents, had experienced treacherous weather during his train ride, had seen a pair of gloves in a Moscow shop that he thought I would like, and that he
looked forward to seeing me at Christmas. My brother was not the letter-writing type. It was strange to receive such a long, rambling note from him.

There was an odd scribbling at the bottom of the letter—a hastily written number three next to a symbol that looked like the Maltese cross. The symbol of the Order of St. John. Had he wanted to tell me something but changed his mind? Had the Order found the lich tsar? I felt so frustrated not knowing what was going on outside the walls of Smolny.

Augusta looked as sleep-deprived as I did. Her pretty blue eyes looked sunken and her face was paler than usual. “Are you feeling well?” I asked her. Pushing her bowl of oatmeal aside, she put her head down on the table.

Her sister Erzsebet looked worried. “She was awake moaning and tossing restlessly all last night.”

Madame Tomilov hurried over. “Augusta, are you ill? Get up and see the nurse at once.” She looked around at the rest of us. “Is there anyone else who is not feeling well? The nurse has already seen several girls this morning.”

I looked at Elena, accusingly.
Mon Dieu
, not again. It was not the full moon, and she did not look any pinker than usual. Surely she could not have turned into a veshtiza last night? She looked at me with an innocent, questioning look.

“Katerina, you do not look well either,” Elena said, sounding terribly concerned. “Madame Tomilov, perhaps she should also go and see the nurse.”

Madame nodded in agreement. Before last year, the headmistress would not have been so quick to monitor our health. We would have been told that suffering builds character and not to complain. But a number of parents threatened to pull
their daughters out of Smolny after many girls had been mysteriously poisoned.

No one knew the true story, of course. Who would accuse a king’s daughter of turning into a poisonous, blood-sucking moth? I had no idea what the doctors told Madame Tomilov. Did she know the truth about Elena? The empress knew, and surely she would have sent Elena back to Montenegro if she felt the princess was still a danger. But the empress believed her spell was strong enough to protect us all.

I helped Augusta stand up and together we went to visit Sister Anna, a nun who had been sent to Smolny by the empress to minister to the sick girls. Sister Anna had little medical training, and instead believed that all illnesses could be cured by fasting and prayer. I worried that Augusta would not be strong enough for any fasting. Or for kneeling on the cold floor for any length of time. What we both needed, in my opinion, was either some strong tea or a long nap.

Sister Anna was sitting at her plain wooden desk, writing in a large journal. She smiled when she saw us. “Good morning, girls. What brings you to see me this beautiful day?” She was a small woman, dwarfed in her white woolen habit. She wore a very severe black wimple that hid all of her hair.

“Madame Tomilov sent us, Sister. She said there are many of us that have been feeling poorly today.”

Sister Anna shook her head, her thin lips pinched together. “A bunch of nothing, I believe,” she said with a heavy peasant accent. “Let me have a look at you.” She gestured toward the hard wooden chair next to hers.

I nodded at Augusta to sit down first. I was already starting to feel a little better. Not quite so achy and tired anymore.

“Hmmm,” the sister said, as she felt Augusta’s wrist for a pulse. “Open your mouth.” Augusta did so obediently, with a bewildered glance up at me.

“Nothing more than a guilty conscience, my dear. What have you done?”

Augusta looked frightened. “I am so sorry, Sister. Please forgive me.”

Sister Anna nodded and patted her hands, encouraging her. “What do you wish to confess?”

Augusta’s shoulders sagged. “I sneaked into the kitchen last night and found the basket of cherries meant for today’s dessert. I ate half of the basket all by myself.”

I sighed. No wonder Augusta looked awful. She’d been up all night, overeating.

“Gluttony is a terrible thing, Augusta. I want you to go to the chapel and pray for two hours.” Sister Anna turned to me. “And now, let me look at you.”

I took the tiniest of steps backward. “I am feeling much better already, Sister. I thank you so much.”

“Wonderful. Off with both of you, then.” She picked up her pen and returned to her writing.

I walked with Augusta to the chapel. “Are you really feeling better?” she asked me as we turned the corner and got out of the sister’s hearing.

“I’m just tired,” I said. “I had difficulty sleeping last night.”

The Bavarian princess grabbed my sleeve. “Me too! That’s why I went to the kitchen to begin with! I kept being awakened by something. And it wasn’t Erzsebet’s snoring.”

That strange, cold prickle on the back of my neck returned. “Did you find out what it was?”

“No. It must have been hunger. Oh Katiya, those cherries were delicious. I hope the cook has more. I hope there is pie for dessert tonight!”

Augusta went off happily to the chapel to pray for her bellyache, and I hurried on to arithmetic class.

In class, I took the letter from Petya out of my pinafore pocket and carefully placed it in my textbook, rereading it instead of listening to Madame Orbellani’s lecture. I stared at the number three at the bottom of the page. Was it a key to a code? Petya had always been interested in secret codes when he was younger. I overheard Papa discussing it with him one day, saying that the Order would have a perfect use for his talent. I glanced up at the front of the classroom, at Madame Orbellani. She had written several numbers on the board in an equation and was crossing out digits on both sides of the equal sign.

It gave me an idea. Starting with
My Dearest Katiya
, I crossed out every third word in my brother’s letter. I hoped that it looked like I was doing my arithmetic problems diligently. It worked perfectly. The words I crossed out sent a chill down my spine when I read them together:

Mon Dieu
, what kind of danger threatened the tsar? I’d never even heard of the Order having an Inner Circle. I gasped out loud.