Our ceremony was much simpler than it would have been if we’d been married in St. Petersburg. I remembered Grand Duchess Militza’s wedding to my cousin. She’d worn a silver gown embroidered with pearls and the jewel-encrusted Romanov nuptial crown with a veil of lace. The ceremony had taken place in the great Orthodox chapel at Peterhof Palace. It had lasted for hours as we stood in the crowded chapel in the summer, made even hotter by banks of burning candles.
Brother Ananias chanted the litany in a beautiful bass voice as the other monks lit incense and chanted the responses. Everything became a blur after that. It had been days since I’d had a proper meal, and the exhaustion I felt from escaping Konstantin and Johanna earlier that morning had finally caught up with me.
I remember repeating the words that the priest asked me to. I remember him blessing two golden rings, and I remember the smoky fog from the incense. I remember the embroidered capes they draped on both George’s and my shoulders. I remember the simple crowns placed on each of our heads, to symbolize our roles as the king and queen of our newly created household.
George held my hand and placed the golden ring upon my finger. I remember feeling nothing but happiness when George kissed me as his wife. “I will love you always, Katiya,” he whispered. At last, I felt a sense of peace.
We took the train back north, which was slightly faster than the trip by boat. The railroad line began at Assiut, several miles north of Abydos, so we used the hired steamer to bridge the gap. The dragoman was not sorry that Danilo was absent from our party. He accepted the extra gold offered by the tsarevitch, and within an hour we were boarding the train. I’d changed back into my blue traveling dress. I’d never been so happy to wear stockings and shoes in my life. George ordered the Grigori to see to my trunk.
“That is not necessary,” I said. “There’s nothing in there that I want to keep. Except this,” I said, picking up the French copy of A Necromancer’s Companion. “And this,” I added, stuffing the medical book from the bazaar into a small suitcase Nicholas had purchased for me. I would repay the tsarevitch for the luggage and repay Danilo for the book. I did not want to have a reason to feel obligated to anyone.
At my request, the Grigori took the trunk to the local orphanage where the nuns would distribute the clothing among the poor. Everything except for the almost-indecent negligee, of course, and even that I hoped could be torn apart and made into infant’s clothing or a child’s dress. But now I would be faced with a similar dilemma. I did not want to feel obligated to George for buying new clothes for me, even if we were now husband and wife. I could not get over how pleased I was with how that sounded.
“The bride should be able to provide her own trousseau,” I said, feeling ridiculous. George could not stop grinning. We made a ridiculous couple. And it made me grin too.
“Think of it as a wedding present,” his brother Nicholas suggested with a kind smile. He seemed happy to help us get married, even if he knew the trouble we would face when we reached St. Petersburg. I only hoped he would not share in our punishment.
We stayed in the dining car all night as the train rolled north in the darkness. Neither of us suggested moving to the sleeping car. As Nicholas and Papus discussed the merits of Polish and French ballerinas at their own table, I fell asleep against George’s strong shoulder, hardly able to believe that we were together again after everything. My hand clasped in his, I dreamed of a future we might have after all.
32
We reached Cairo by sunrise. At some point, George had wrapped a blanket around both of us. I awoke to his gentle kisses up and down the side of my face. “Good morning,” he murmured. “We’re coming into the station, Katiya. It’s time to get up.”
The Graylands awaited us. As did the Morning Star, hidden beyond the seven gates. I groaned and reluctantly stood and stretched. We did not stay on the train for breakfast. Instead, we took the electric tram through the city and headed east across the river, toward the necropolis. The Grigori loyal to Papus sat silently in the seats behind us. Nicholas and Papus were seated in front of us, also silent, each one wrapped up in his own thoughts.
The great pyramids of Giza rose up out of the desert. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as we drew closer to the ancient tombs. George seemed to sense this and took my hand in his.
It had been decided that Papus would not go to the seven gates after all. He would accompany Nicholas back to Russia. Papus would use the Grigori portals and escort the tsarevitch through the Graylands swiftly so they could reach St. Petersburg before us—hopefully before Konstantin arrived. George wished his brother could travel the Graylands with us, but we both knew it was impossible.
“But it would be safer for the two of you if Papus and I went along to retrieve the sword,” the tsarevitch argued one last time. “We would make a formidable team.”
George shook his head. “Out of the question. You are the heir. Go with Papus straight to St. Petersburg. And don’t worry about us.” He squeezed my hand affectionately. “Katiya and I will be fine. We’ll meet up with you as soon as possible. It should not take us long.”
George embraced his brother as we stood at one of the temple walls near the sphinx. The two Grigori stood at attention, awaiting Papus’s instructions. “Give Mother Dear and Xenia my love,” George told Nicholas. “I hate that you will face Papa’s wrath before I do.”
Nicholas smiled and shook his head. “There will be plenty of wrath to go around when you get back. Take care of yourself, Brother.”
“You too, Nicky.” George stepped back and wrapped his arm around my waist.
“Be careful, Your Imperial Highness,” I said. I dreaded the return to St. Petersburg. The tsar may have given his blessing for our engagement, but only at a price I was not willing to pay. The empress would be furious with us for eloping and depriving her of a wedding to orchestrate. I hoped her anger would not last. It would not be long before she would have Nicholas’s wedding and Xenia’s to plan. And many years in the future, the weddings of Olga and Mikhail.
Papus murmured an incantation in a language I could not understand. A doorway appeared in the side of the temple, between the two Grigori. With a polite tip of his hat, the French mage stepped through the doorway with Nicholas following him.
“Are we to use the same portal?” I asked George. The doorway remained open, but I could not see past its threshold.
“No, we will use a portal you create,” he said. “That way I can save my energy for the seven gates.” Before our eyes, the doorway between the Grigori faded. George motioned for me to follow him and we walked around to the main entrance of the temple.
I paused to look at him anxiously. Had he lost more weight since we’d been in Riga? “Are you certain it’s safe for you to go?” I asked.
He answered with a reassuring kiss on my forehead. “Stop worrying about me. We’re wasting time.”
This area had been excavated decades earlier and then abandoned, as there had been nothing worthy of stealing within. A few carvings along the walls looked as if someone had tried to chip into the granite and remove the carvings. Images of pharaohs and other men wearing crowns lined the narrow entrance hall. And at the end of the hallway I saw a carving that alarmed me. A figure in a robe held his hands out as rays of light spiraled up around his body.