“Let’s not be too hasty,” Maman warned my father. “I hear Cetinje is a beautiful city.”
“I just wanted to make my feelings known on the matter,” Papa said gruffly.
I patted his hand. “Do not worry about such things, Papa. It will never happen.”
As we made our way down the Palace Embankment, the horses reared, and the carriage shuddered and stopped.
“Good heavens!” Maman said, crossing herself. “What is wrong with those beasts?”
Petya stuck his head out to speak with the driver. He agreed to get out and help calm the horses. As I looked out my window, I saw a silver blur streaking past. “A fox!” I said.
Papa leaned over. “Too big. It looks like a wolf. No wonder the horses are spooked.”
It was a beautiful creature, whatever it was, running across the frozen city at midnight.
What surprised me most was the creature’s cold light, trailing behind it. I’d never seen an animal with a cold light before.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Balls, balls, balls! I am sick to death of balls!” I let out a large breath as Anya helped me undo my dress and corset and freed me from the elegant torture device. “Much better,” I said with a deep sigh. I could finally breathe again.
I had attended three balls in the past two weeks, not to mention a ballet and an opera. I was exhausted. I had an essay on Pushkin due first thing Monday morning, as well as a chemistry test, and I had not studied for it yet. And the winter social season still had two months to go.
“Anya, I’m going to move to Siberia and live in a hut!” I was lying on my bed at home, staring up at the ornate gilded plasterwork on the ceiling. No more balls for me.
“I thought you wanted to be a doctor, Duchess,” Anya said, carefully folding my ball gown away. “What about medical school?”
“No medical school in Russia will admit a woman,” I said. “But I could go to Paris. Or Switzerland.” I sat up. “Anya, let’s run away together.”
She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Oh, no, Duchess. We’d get whipped by your father, for sure. Maybe you could marry a doctor and help him out in his office?”
“I don’t think I could ever be happy just being a man’s helper. And I doubt any suitable husband Maman picks out for me would be the progressive sort who would allow me to attend medical school. No, I think I must run away.”
I was only half serious, knowing it would throw Anya into fits. Still, I did worry that my dream might never come true. To enter the University of Zurich’s program, one had to prove proficiency in Latin and Greek. I had doubled my efforts in my Latin studies. Madame Orbellani had also found a beginner’s Greek textbook for me. It was more difficult than Latin, but I was struggling through it. I was determined to succeed.
I’d seen the handsome prince Danilo and his sisters several times over the past weeks, dancing with him often at the balls. He had been a perfect gentleman and did not act like a blood-drinking vampire at all.
I mentioned the prince to Princess Cantacuzene when Maman and I were invited to a small dinner party—“small” meaning only one hundred or so guests—at the Vladimir Palace. All members of the Dark Court, of course.
“He has not reached the age of his ascension yet,” the princess Cantacuzene told me. “When does he turn eighteen?”
“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.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It 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.