“Indeed?” the grand duchess asked. “Where did you hear such a thing?”
I did not think the grand duke George would want me to let Miechen know exactly how I had come across that information.
Miechen’s violet eyes narrowed like a cat’s as she stared at me. “Then you do not know that one of Princess Ruxandra’s ancestors was Vlad Dracul of Wallachia.”
I almost dropped the cup of tea she had given me. “No,” I whispered. Princess Cantacuzene was a vampire. She was their leader. “You have been protecting her secret from the tsar?”
Miechen nodded. “I am bound by an oath. But now you have discovered it on your own.”
“Why would she want members of the Order dead?”
“She must believe them some sort of threat. She and I will discuss this. I will not allow it to continue.” The dark faerie’s face was grim.
“She wanted me to kill Prince Danilo.”
“So you told me before. It would be the most prudent way for her to deal with the Montenegrin threat. They are close allies of the tsar.” Miechen stirred her own tea thoughtfully. “And Princess Militza is an ambitious young blood drinker, who wants to rule the St. Petersburg bloodline.”
“But what about Princess Elena and the tsarevitch?”
“Somehow, I do not see that union coming to pass, no matter how fond the tsar is of King Nikola. Elena is still a blood drinker, and the Romanov line cannot be tainted with their like.”
I must have breathed a sigh of relief, because Miechen smiled. “You perhaps thought of marrying the tsarevitch yourself?”
“Mon Dieu, no!” I said, blushing. “I would never want to be empress.” I shuddered, imagining the burden. “Besides, I believe the tsarevitch has already found his bride.”
Miechen smiled. “Do you have a touch of the faerie sight as well? You have a precarious situation, child. Your future is very unclear to me. I wonder what you will do with your gift.”
“Why does the tsar allow the Romanian vampires to live in St. Petersburg?”
“A truce that his grandfather Nicholas made with the most powerful vampire house. The House of Bessaraba is strong enough to keep the other houses in line.”
“How many houses are there? Does Princess Cantacuzene rule the Dekebristi?”
Miechen shook her head. “The Dekebristi minions do not exist anymore. But the House of Bessaraba has absorbed many of the smaller families, especially the Bulgarians and the Moravians. There is a small family of upyri in Siberia, but they are watched carefully by the Old Believers. And there are the houses in Rome, India, Egypt.”
I shuddered, wondering how many blood drinkers there were in the world. I had heard before of the Old Believers, who kept to the beliefs of the Byzantine Orthodox Church. “Princess Cantacuzene told me about the Dekebristi,” I said. “She said the wife of Grand Duke Konstantin Pavlovich was a vampire and had created the Dekebristi from members of the Order of St. John.”
Miechen nodded. “But I imagine she did not tell you Konstantin’s wife, Johanna, was also from the House of Bessaraba.”
“She was related to Princess Cantacuzene?” A chill slid down my spine.
“Distantly, or so she has told me. Johanna was defeated with the Dekebristi by Tsar Nicholas.”
“He had summoned the bogatyr,” I guessed. Why did they not teach us the true version of history in school? It would be ever so helpful.
“Yes, and that is why you have become so valuable, Katerina Alexandrovna. Only a necromancer can evoke the bogatyr for the tsar. The Koldun is forbidden from performing such rituals. The Dekebristi would kill you to prevent the bogatyr from being summoned. If they still existed.”
Now I did not know who to fear more—Princess Cantacuzene or the Montenegrins. Or the Dekebristi. I had planned to visit Princess Cantacuzene, to say goodbye to her before we left for Biarritz. I had never felt threatened or in danger when I was with her. I could not imagine the aged princess drinking someone’s blood. She was too elegant. Too delicate. And yet I remembered Princess Cantacuzene’s tale of the veshtizas. They were beautiful women who turned into insect-like creatures and sucked the blood of sleeping victims.
My breath caught. How could I have forgotten? Flying insects, like moths.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I decided not to visit the princess Cantacuzene, and returned home instead. There was a carriage with the imperial family crest in front of my house. As I walked inside past Papa’s study, I heard a familiar voice. Grand Duke George Alexandrovich. I swallowed back fear and a little bit of irritation.
I went to Maman’s parlor and started working on a piece of embroidery, something to keep my fingers occupied, even though my mind wandered. I craved to know what Papa and the grand duke were discussing. Maman chattered away about the latest gossip concerning the deaths of the Austrian crown prince and his mistress. Something about lycanthropy. I rolled my eyes. Surely Erzsebet and Augusta would have told me if their uncle and his mistress had turned into werewolves.
I stared out the window onto the snow-covered grounds below. It was a dreary gray day, with months to go before the spring thaw. I sighed. At least it would be pretty and warm in Biarritz. Maman and I expected to leave that Friday, with Papa joining us the following week.
One of the house servants appeared at the door. “Your Highness, forgive me, but His Imperial Highness would like to speak with his daughter in his study.”
I put my needlework down and quickly went to Papa’s study. I hoped the grand duke was gone.
He wasn’t. He was sitting in Papa’s favorite leather chair.
My father was standing at the window. “Katerina!” He did not sound happy. “Come in here, my dear!”
“Yes, Papa?” I asked, standing at his doorway. I curtsied to the grand duke. “Your Imperial Highness.”
“The grand duke has informed me that you took it upon yourself to help a strange man who was clearly insane.”
I hated the grand duke. “Forgive me, Papa. He was injured and I did not feel I was in danger.”
“Next time you come across an injured person who needs medical attention, have the carriage driver take him immediately to see Dr. Kruglevski. Until you have graduated from medical school, you are not allowed to practice medicine on any human being, and furthermore—”
The grand duke cut him short. “Katerina Alexandrovna cleansed and dressed one of my own wounds, when the injured man attacked me.” He pushed his sleeve back for Papa to see what was left of the deep gash Count Chermenensky had given him. The scar would heal nicely, and it gave the grand duke a wicked look to him. I noticed the grand duke’s hair was slightly longer that day than it usually was, as if he hadn’t had time for a trim in over a month. It made it look softer, and I had to fight the urge to run my fingers through it.
“May I look at the scar?” I asked, trying to distract myself. I unceremoniously grabbed the grand duke’s arm and slowly ran my finger along the groove in his skin. “It’s healing so quickly. How fascinating!”
The grand duke sucked in his breath, gently grasping my hand and removing it from his arm. “Yes, one of the gifts my mother gave me,” he murmured low enough so only I could hear.
“Katerina, I am sure you handled the bandages expertly, but you cannot practice medicine on the tsar’s son!” my father said, exasperated. “What if something had gone wrong?”
The grand duke smiled. “At the time, Your Highness, she was the most competent person available. There was no harm done.”
Had the grand duke just given me a compliment? I blushed pink with pride. I wanted to look at his scar again.
Papa rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I thank you, but I will feel much safer when she attends medical school for proper training.”