There was no way I could avoid it, so I finally nodded, blinking back tears. “The tsar’s men will not have to drag me kicking and screaming. I will go quietly.”
His sigh was heavy with relief. “Thank you. The imperial guard will be posted around your mother’s dacha until you return to St. Petersburg.”
Papus joined us just then. “So sorry to keep you waiting, Your Imperial Highness. Shall we go? It was an honor to formally meet you, Duchess.”
George took my hand and bowed over it. I felt his lips touch the back of my hand just barely. “At your service, Duchess.”
“And I am at yours, Your Imperial Highness,” I said. “Please take care of yourself.”
“Always.” With a grim smile he turned and climbed into the imperial carriage after Papus. I stood there and watched the carriage pull off toward the winding mountain road that would take them to the harbor in Yalta. A ship would take them to Varna, on the Bulgarian coast, and from there they would travel by train to Paris. The journey would last the better part of a week.
And I would be returning to St. Petersburg with Maman within the next few days. By the time the grand duke reached Paris, I would be back at the Smolny Institute for Young Noble Maidens.
CHAPTER NINE
The following morning, we left the family dacha and returned to Sevastopol, where the train waited for our long journey back to St. Petersburg. Our private railcar was comfortable, and the trip would have been pleasant if not for Aunt Zina’s nervous dog. The tiny bichon frise shed almost all of its hair and vomited every half hour from nervousness.
Dariya had already abandoned me and was traveling back to St. Petersburg with Miechen’s entourage. Maman was kind enough to let me sit by the window, and I stared out at the vast fields as we raced north through the Crimea. The mountains stretched out before us, the rich farmlands disappearing into the distance.
When night fell and the view outside the window darkened, everyone climbed into their sleeping berths. The swaying of the train lulled me to sleep and I dreamed I was back at the Livadia Ball. I dreamed that I was searching the ballroom for George Alexandrovich. I wandered in and out between hundreds of dancing couples as the orchestra played a polonaise from the opera A Life for the Tsar. But I could not find George anywhere.
A man grabbed my arm, digging his fingers painfully into my skin. I turned around but the man was wearing a black mask. He was much taller than George, but nowhere near as tall as the tsar.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The man smiled; his white teeth were dazzling and sharp. “Your life will be in less danger if you do not know, Duchess. You have been poking around where you should not be.”
The man had a French accent, but did not look like the wizard Papus. He was much taller and his movements were far too graceful and quick. Almost unnatural. Before I realized what he was doing, he had swept me up into the crowd and we were dancing the polonaise. “The Koldun is keeping his eye on you,” he said. “He believes you are a danger to the tsar.”
I was confused. The Koldun was the tsar’s own wizard. George was in training to replace the existing one. Who that was, I did not know.
I raised my chin and stared into his black eyes. “I can assure you, and you can assure your Koldun, I will give my life to protect the tsar.”
He chuckled. “That would be a terrible waste, ma petite.”
A sudden chill gripped my heart. “What do you mean?”
The masked man did not answer but instead spun me away from him as the music swelled. I found myself unable to stop spinning. The ballroom turned into a huge blur.
I woke up with a gasp. The train was rocking gently as it raced through the dark Crimean night. My mother was asleep in the berth next to me. At some point she had covered me with a thin blanket, but I was shivering. I could still hear the masked man’s laughter in my ears.
Maman shifted and moaned softly in her sleep. The train berths were small and cramped, but our car was much more comfortable than others. I had no right to complain. Taking my blanket and wrapping it around my shoulders, I climbed out of my berth and stood at the window. The sky was beginning to lighten, and by sunrise, we would be passing through Kharkov. I dressed quietly and slipped out of our compartment and headed to the dining car. A cup of hot tea would clear my head.
It was near Kharkov that the imperial train had run off the track last autumn. Twenty-one people on the train had died in the crash, and many more than that had been injured. Officially, the train had been going too fast and the engineer had lost control.
I’d heard whispers from the Dark Court that the train had been sabotaged by vampires. But even an army of vampires could not have accomplished such destruction. In my heart, I suspected dark magic, and remembered Grand Duchess Miechen’s express disappointment when the imperial family survived. She did not hide the fact that she wished for her husband, the brother of the tsar, Vladimir Alexandrovich, to inherit the throne of all the Russias. Was she cruel enough to plot the murders of her own nieces and nephews?
It would have taken much more than any man-made explosive to blow the imperial train completely off its track. The tsar had been forced to tear the crumpled metal roof with his own hands to free the empress and their children. The empress had a sprained hand, and Grand Duchess Xenia had had cuts and scratches on her face and arms. The youngest, Grand Duchess Olga, had been thrown clear through a broken window. The young grand dukes had been badly bruised but were all right. I’d seen the faint scar on George’s hand where the glass had cut him.
Shaking the awful images from my head, I slipped into the dining car. It was empty except for a woman close to Maman’s age. She was wearing a plain black dress and sat reading a book while her tea grew cold.
As I sat down a few tables away from her, the waiter hurried up to me. “Your Highness, we would have been more than happy to bring breakfast to the Oldenburg car. There is no need for you to sit here with other passengers.” He nodded to the woman in black dismissively.
“It is quite all right,” I said. “I did not want to disturb my mother or my aunt. And I won’t be any trouble to you. If you would just bring me tea, please. With lemon.”
As the waiter bowed and left, I looked up to see the woman staring at me. She saw me looking back and quickly glanced again at her book.
The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. I put my hand flat against the cold window as we rolled slowly past the scene of the accident. A cathedral was being built on the site to give thanks for the imperial family’s safety. Imperial guards stood before the building site, their pale faces stony and grim. The Order of St. Lazarus.
The woman was staring out the window at the guards as well. And she was frowning.
“Is something the matter?” I asked.
She seemed surprise that I had addressed her. “Those men. There is something dreadfully wrong with them. I have seen the same sickness in St. Petersburg.”
I felt my stomach sink. “You have?” How many other people had noticed the walking dead in St. Petersburg?
She gestured to the open book on the table in front of her. “I’ve been researching their symptoms but cannot find any known diseases that correlate.”
“Are you a doctor?” I asked. When she nodded, the anxious feeling I’d had was mixed with excitement and curiosity. I was almost giddy. A female doctor! “I would be honored if you joined me. My name is Katerina Alexandrovna of Oldenburg.”
Recognition showed in her face. “Your father is Duke Alexander Petrovich, then. I am Maria Bokova. I have recently agreed to work in the Oldenburg Hospital for Infants.” She stood and curtsied to me, stiffly.
“How exciting! Please sit with me,” I said, waving my hand at the empty seat at my table. “I plan to attend medical school myself and have many questions I would love to ask you!”