“What rumors?” I asked.
“That the women are ghouls who cut up corpses at night and walk the streets of St. Petersburg with intestines in their pockets.”
“How ridiculous!” I said. “Papa, can’t you speak with the tsar? Or the minister?”
“Be patient, Katiya,” my father said. “You are still young. Perhaps next year the minister will change his mind. In the meantime, you should focus on your studies.”
“And how was His Imperial Majesty?” Dr. Kruglevski asked. “Nasty business, that train accident last month.”
The tsar, his wife, and his five children had been badly bruised several weeks before when the imperial train derailed near Borki in the Caucus region. Terrorism had been almost completely ruled out by the tsar’s men, but I had overheard people at the Smolny Ball saying it had been an assassination attempt on the imperial family. “Poor Vladimir must be very disappointed,” the tsar reportedly had joked to his wife, knowing that his brother and the grand duchess Miechen had come so very close to inheriting the Russian throne.
“That man is as strong as a bear,” Papa said. “He insists on carrying out his duties, no matter how much pain he is in. Perhaps that is why he was so quick to approve the institute.”
Dr. Kruglevski nodded. “Your Highness, I know a doctor who would be very interested in working at your institute. His name is Pavlov. I think his main area of research right now is the circulatory system.”
“Excellent. We must have him over for dinner soon. Right, Katiya?”
I nodded, hoping I would be able to meet Dr. Pavlov as well. I knew I was very lucky for my close relationship with my father. Most of the students at Smolny saw their parents only once or twice a year, and only on special occasions. My father had always encouraged me to learn and to think for myself. I knew if it weren’t for the tsar’s edict and Maman’s protests, Papa would let me attend medical school.
“We must start searching immediately for the perfect site,” he said. “Unfortunately, the tsar could not provide any funds for the institute, so I will pay for everything myself.”
Dr. Kruglevski finished his tea. “I might be able to help you with a suitable site, Your Highness.” He stood up and bowed. “I shall call on you tomorrow, if that is convenient, when I come to check on the duchess.”
Papa stood too. “Very good, Doctor.” He took my hands in his as the doctor left. “She’s receiving the best care, Katiya.”
Papa did not think much of Maman’s occult dabblings. To his mind, it was just a fashionable hobby. He was a practical man, who wasted no time on superstitions and fairy tales. If he ever knew the truth about me, it would break his heart. That night, I said two prayers before I went to sleep—one for Maman and one for Papa. Once again, I dreamed of the strange little moths flying in my bedroom. But this time, I was hunting them down with a sword.
CHAPTER SIX
For the next few mornings, Maman was still feeling weak, so she stayed in bed. I was allowed to remain at home, missing the last days of classes before the Christmas holiday. Maman was resting when Princess Elena and her sisters came to pay a call. They were leaving that afternoon on the train back to Montenegro and had come to tell me goodbye.
“We’re so sorry to hear about your poor mother,” Princess Militza said. “Was her illness sudden?”
“Oh, yes,” I answered as they followed me into the sitting room. “Dr. Kruglevski is taking excellent care of her, though.”
“Has she never tried any of the Tibetan doctor’s herbal medicines?” Militza turned to her sister as we all sat down. “Stana, what is his name?”
“Badmaev, I believe. He is wonderful. He cured the princess Orlova of her female hysterics.”
I had heard of the Tibetan doctor. Although he had come to St. Petersburg to study Western medicine and had received his medical degree, he also practiced his Far Eastern methods of healing. Dr. Kruglevski had recommended some of his tonics for Maman but generally dismissed his healing methods as quackery.
Our servant brought in a tray of tea things. Stana and Militza sipped daintily from their teacups while Elena and I indulged in the sweet biscuits the cook had prepared.
“Oh, Katerina Alexandrovna, I envy you so much!” Elena said, abruptly changing the subject. “You shall be attending the opera and the ballet and all the wonderful Christmas parties here in St. Petersburg while I’m at home missing you terribly.”
“Our brother shall be disappointed as well,” Militza said. “Perhaps you would permit us to take him a lock of your hair, to show him what a beautiful golden color it is?”
“My hair?” I laughed nervously. “Why on earth would he be interested in the shade of my hair?” It wasn’t truly golden, anyway, but more like a dull wheat color.
“We have told him all about you, and he is most anxious to meet you. Elena already drew him a miniature of you in your Smolny dress. He was quite taken with it.”
I bit my lip. “Indeed?” It was disturbing that Elena had been drawing pictures of me, and even more disturbing that she had mailed one across the continent to someone I’d never met before.
But a part of me, the silly girl, was actually pleased. Just because his sisters were witches did not necessarily make him evil, did it? Had I been too hasty to judge him before I met him? Still, I would not be so stupid as to willingly give my own hair to a witch.
“Of course he is, Katerina,” Elena said. “Please let me take some of your hair to him, as a friendship token.”
“My mother would be horrified,” I said, trying to think up another excuse. Militza smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. “Come, Elena. We must not frighten your poor friend with our own country’s customs. They must sometimes seem barbaric to society here in St. Petersburg.”
“Forgive me,” I said, blushing. “I don’t think it barbaric at all. I just … My mother would think it improper. I have no wish to upset her when she is unwell.”
As scared as I was to let them possess even one strand of my hair, insulting the Montenegrins terrified me even more. I was anxious for them to leave. I would feel much safer when they were miles away from St. Petersburg.
Militza stood up, her two sisters following. “We have imposed upon you far too long, Katerina Alexandrovna. We must go to the train station soon, and we do have other goodbyes to make.”
Elena embraced me. “You must write to me about the parties I am missing.” She reached up, pulled a stray hair of mine off my shoulder, and grinned wickedly. “Look what I have found. Danilo will be able to see the color of your hair after all!” She tucked my hair in her handbag.
I fought the rising panic inside. Perhaps no harm would come of this. In fact, I prayed no harm would come of it.
Stana smiled. “Farewell, dear. We will certainly see each other again soon.”
As I watched their sleigh drive off down Millionaya Street, I grew worried. How would I be able to protect myself from the Montenegrins’ magic? I could not tell Maman everything I knew about the wicked princesses. I did not want her to grow hysterical once more.
I found my mother in her rose-scented boudoir, studying her deck of tarot cards. “Maman,” I said with a sigh. “You’ll get yourself worked up again.”
She waved a hand at me. “Don’t be silly. I think it was Madame Marina’s deck that caused me such discomfort. These are my own cards, from a gypsy woman in Biarritz. These have never lied to me.” She pulled one card after another, carefully laying them in a cross-shaped pattern on her quilt.
Maman’s cat Sasha glared at me from across the room. His scraggly gray tail twitched nervously. “What if Papa discovers your fortune-telling cards?” I asked.
It was Maman’s turn to sigh. “I know he thinks it’s nonsense, but I see problems for your father,” she said, “and many obstacles and delays in his projects. Sometimes I can help him forestall them. These cards have been a boon to our household. Here.” She laid down the Hanged Man.