“You must take my hand, Duchess.” Militza did not wait for me to respond but instead clasped her cold fingers around mine. “This might hurt a bit.”
She took a step toward the mirror and pushed me through. My cold light did not like this method of traveling through space and time. Tendrils of light seemed to catch in the Graylands, dragging me back slowly while Militza prodded me forward. “Don’t slow down,” she said. “You must keep going.”
I kept trying to forge ahead, toward the palace. Toward my family. But the weight of my cold light was heavy. Militza was firm. “It wants to remain in the land of the dead, Katerina. This is where the cold light naturally belongs. But you must convince it otherwise. Keep moving!”
My cold light wanted to stay in the Graylands because that was where George was. I was sure he was still there somewhere. If only I’d been faster. If only I’d not been rude to Dr. Badmaev and had accepted his generous offer to teach me sooner. How much time had I wasted remaining at Smolni when I could have been studying with the Tibetan?
Mentally, I tried to pull my cold light as close to me as possible, and I willed myself to move forward. Now even Militza was surprised at how I was pulling her the rest of the way through the passage.
We landed on the ground in the snow-covered gardens of Gatchina. I wanted to cry. There had not been snow before I left St. Petersburg. How long had I been gone? Members of the Order of St. Lazarus and the Order of St. John met us before we could stand up. The Grigori arrived as well, followed by Papus. “She bears the Morning Star!” one of them said. A hundred waxen-faced Grigori went down on bended knee before me. Papus nodded his head in respect as well.
Murmurs passed through the other soldiers, and I saw them part as one of the officers pushed his way to the front.
“Katiya! Thank God!” It was Petya. He swept me up in a suffocating embrace. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you, brat!”
I closed my eyes and clung to him tightly. He smelled like tobacco and horses. Over his shoulder I could see Prince Kotchoubey, Dariya’s friend, standing behind him. He wore the same smart uniform as my brother and clicked his heels with a gallant bow to me. Another brave soldier who would fight for the tsar.
“Katerina Alexandrovna,” a familiar and uncertain voice addressed me. It was the tsarevitch. “Where is George?”
34
“We need to get her inside to see the tsar,” Militza said, pulling me away from my brother and the tsarevitch.
“Of course,” Petya said, clearing the way for us among the crowd of soldiers. The Grigori were still down on bended knees.
“Please, get up,” I told them.
“Tell them to stand down,” Petya whispered.
“Stand down,” I said, hoping I did not sound ridiculous.
My brother smiled. “You command an army just as well as our great-great-great-grandmother Katerina did.”
I blushed. I hoped I would make my ancestors proud today.
Nicholas hurried to catch up with us as we made our way to the palace. “Where is Georgi?” he asked again. “Did he stay behind in Cairo? Father will be furious!”
“Katerina will tell the entire imperial family when we get inside,” Militza said crisply.
For once, I was grateful for the veshtiza’s bossiness. I did not want to tell my sad story more than once.
The grand doors at the front entrance opened and I entered the palace, followed by Petya, Nicholas, and Militza. Members of the Order of St. Lazarus stood guard at the door. I smiled shyly at them, even though I knew the undead soldiers would not smile back.
Nicholas led us up the grand staircase to the Gathering Hall, which was lined with guards from the Preobrajensky Regiment. The tsar and the empress waited for us in the hall, along with Grand Duchess Miechen and her husband, the Koldun, Grand Duke Vladimir, and the rest of the Inner Circle of the Order of St. John.
“It would be an asset if we had the striga here as well today,” Militza whispered in my ear. “Unfortunately, the effect she has on even her allies makes it too dangerous. I have a feeling she is nearby, though, in case she decides she is needed.”
I nodded and was grateful my mother wasn’t here. The thought of her fighting in the battle to come and drinking the blood of Konstantin and Johanna’s minions made me ill.
Everyone was dressed for the assault, except me. I was still in the wrinkled blue travel dress I’d been wearing when we left Cairo. Even the empress and Grand Duchess Miechen wore the full dress uniforms of their patron guard regiments. The empress’s white gown was trimmed in the silver and white braid of the Chevalier Guards regiment, of which she was colonel-in-chief.
The dark faerie was wearing the dress uniform of her Life Guard Dragoons, navy blue with gold-fringed epaulettes. The two women looked just as formidable as the men surrounding them. Like everyone else, they carried the sabers of their regiments, decorated with the imperial double-headed eagle and the Cyrillic cipher of Alexander the Third.
“Come forward, necromancer,” the tsar said, his booming voice echoing across the enormous hall. I broke apart from Militza and the others, my boots clicking against the marble floor as I approached the imperial family.
Using the sword for balance, I went down on one knee. “Your Imperial Majesty.”
“I see you have succeeded in finding the Morning Star and have kept it safe from Konstantin Pavlovich.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” I said, “I have.”
“Is Konstantin dead?” he asked.
“No, Your Imperial Majesty. But his wife, Princess Johanna Cantacuzene, is.”
A murmur rippled through the court. Grand Duchess Miechen spoke up. “I believed the princess to have been dead for almost two years, Katerina Alexandrovna.”
I nodded. “She was, but Konstantin performed a ritual whereby he killed a young girl and used her body to bring back the vampire princess. With the Morning Star and the help of an ancient Egyptian spell, I killed her once more in the Graylands. She will not be able to return.”
There was utter silence across the Grand Hall. If few here knew my secret before, now all knew I was a necromancer. A monster.
“Konstantin must have been wild with grief,” the tsar said. “He will seek vengeance, I am sure.”
I took a deep breath as my tears threatened to return. “He attacked George Alexandrovich in the Graylands, Your Imperial Majesty.” I could feel my voice wavering. I could not, must not, cry in front of the tsar. I was strong even though my heart hurt. “Grief consumes me as well.”
The tsarevitch came up behind me, touching me gently on the sleeve. “Georgi?”
I shook my head, too overwhelmed to say the words out loud. If I did not say that George was dead, then it hadn’t really happened. Had it?
A silvery-white wolf nosed her way through the group of people clustered around the tsar. She nudged Nicholas’s hand gently.
The empress turned pale and placed her hand in the tsar’s own enormous one. I could not comfort them. My heart broke for them as much as it did for my own loss.
The doors opened and a messenger from the Order of St. John hurried in, bowing to the tsar as he approached. “Your Imperial Majesty, there is an army approaching from the north of the city. They will be here within the next half hour.”
The tsar nodded. “Necromancer, you must prepare yourself.”
I squeezed Nicholas’s hand before stepping forward.
There was no time to lose. Miechen and Militza whisked me into the small parlor down the hall where they had a uniform waiting for me. Quickly, I changed into a military jacket and matching skirt in the same green and gold colors worn by the Order of St. Lazarus. Pinned to the jacket was the oval medal my soldiers wore, a green hand holding a sword. I was honored to wear the uniform of my creatures.