“Where does it go?” I asked.
“It will come back, when she is gone. Most of the people in your mother’s garden room did not even notice the change. They only felt a slight discomfort. And perhaps they will blame that on your cousin’s atrocious harp playing.”
I ignored the dark faerie’s catty remark. “Does the empress know about the striga?”
“It’s one of the reasons your mother and the empress are no longer as close as they used to be. Marie Feodorovna can be terribly narrow-minded sometimes.”
I shuddered. “Why is my mother friends with such a creature?”
“Madame Elektra saved your mother’s life many years ago. But perhaps this is a discussion you should have with your mother.” Miechen continued fanning herself and turned to go back inside. “I can tell you this, Katerina Alexandrovna. You have nothing to fear from Madame Elektra.”
CHAPTER SIX
I could not help feeling nervous around Madame Elektra. She made the servants uneasy as well. Anya said our villa’s cook had crossed herself and spit over her left shoulder when she heard Madame Elektra was attending the afternoon’s entertainment.
“The local people think she’s a witch,” Anya whispered when she caught up with me in the garden. “They hide their children when she goes to the marketplace. The cook said she curdles the milk and keeps the bread from rising.”
“How ridiculous,” I whispered back.
“She was at your mother’s séance last week,” Anya pointed out. “I remember her pale green eyes.”
I found it difficult to breathe around the striga. But Miechen had assured me it was safe. A striga only drinks the blood of other vampires. They cannot tolerate human blood.
“She can’t hurt you, Anya,” I told our maid. “She is not like the Montenegrins.”
Anya shuddered. “Are you certain?”
I wasn’t, but I had to believe Miechen. Maman had many friends in her social circle who were dangerous. Of course, she had a daughter who was dangerous as well. I bit my lip. “Perhaps it’s best if you stay away from Madame Elektra.”
“Of course, Duchess.” Anya curtsied and hastily disappeared back upstairs.
Dariya found me and pulled me into the parlor. “Did you see Prince Kotchoubey? He said he liked the music I played! And he brought me the sweetest nosegay!” She held out a small bouquet of the palest pink roses.
I smiled at my cousin. “You really like the prince, don’t you?”
She blushed prettily and held the roses up to her face to breathe in their scent. “Don’t you think he was the most handsome young man at the dance the other night? And his grandmother is a friend of Miechen’s. So my stepmother approves.”
She pulled the flowers away from her face with a pout. “They are fading already. They don’t live for very long, do they?” She laid the tiny bouquet down on the garden bench and left me to find her stepmother.
I picked up the bouquet and touched the brown edges of the petals. With only the faintest wish from me, the brown disappeared and the roses once again looked crisp and fresh. I could see faint slivers of cold light slipping away from my hands as I did so.
It was a foolish thing to have done.
“Such a waste of your talent.” It was a voice I did not recognize.
I was so startled I almost dropped the flowers. “I’m so sorry, I was just …”
Madame Elektra stood in the doorway, her enormous green eyes glittering dangerously. Her snow-white hair was swept into a braided bun at the nape of her neck, but she lacked the fashionably short bangs favored by my mother and the St. Petersburg set. She was dressed in a simple gray gown, similar to those my instructors at Smolny had worn.
The old woman smiled at me, and I felt an oppressive heat rising up in the space between us. It stole my breath away. “I was just teasing, my girl. Sometimes it feels good to use your powers after hiding them for so long, yes?” she asked.
I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but she spoke the truth. I frowned. “It doesn’t seem like such a terrible gift just now.”
She cackled. “It just might come in useful one day.” She patted me on the arm like a kindly grandmother would. “Take care, Katerina Alexandrovna,” she said before leaving the doorway and returning to Maman’s parlor. The moment she left, I was able to breathe again.
I hurried to find my mother. But she was saying goodbye to Grand Duchess Miechen and Aunt Zina. Dariya was following behind them.
“You forgot your flowers,” I said, holding out my cousin’s bouquet.
“Merci, Katiya!” She snatched up the bouquet and embraced me.
“How lovely!” Maman said. “Were those from a beau?”
Dariya blushed as Aunt Zina told her about Prince Kotchoubey.
“If only Katiya had a beau.” Maman sighed. “Someone to make her forget all about the crown prince of Montenegro.”
Dariya glanced at me and tried not to giggle.
“It wasn’t as if he jilted me, Maman,” I said, glaring at my cousin. “I turned him down.”
“Of course you cannot marry him now, dear,” Maman said. “Besides, his mother is angling for Princess Hélène of Orléans.”
“Really?” Miechen asked, her violet eyes glittering with interest. “But will her parents let her convert?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Maman said as she went with the grand duchess and Aunt Zina to the front hall to see them out.
Dariya and I followed them. “Was that about the French princess having to convert from Catholicism to marry Danilo?” I asked her.
“No, silly, she’d have to transfer her allegiance from the Light Court.” My cousin smirked. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before departing with her stepmother and the grand duchess in Miechen’s carriage.
Dariya was learning so much about Dark Court and Light Court intrigues now that she was a lady-in-waiting. I only hoped she would be able to stay out of the intrigues herself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next week there was to be a late-summer ball at the imperial palace of Livadia. It was held every August for Grand Duchess Ekaterina Mikhailovna’s birthday. The ancient woman was a great-aunt of the tsar, and Dark and Light Court members were not invited; they were simply obligated to attend. Everyone, from the youngest maidens to the elderly matrons, wore dazzling white dresses and their most brilliant diamonds.
I had not seen George again, and I assumed glumly that he’d decided it would be better to leave without saying goodbye. I was not looking forward to the ball.
Dariya tried to cheer me, instructing Anya to fix my hair in a new style that night. My dull wheat-colored hair had a golden cast to it in the candlelight at the ball. Maman looked pleased. “All of the young men will be eager to dance with you!” She kissed me on the forehead.
Papa was still in St. Petersburg, so we were escorted by my uncle Evgene Maximilianovich. Aunt Zina fussed with the rose in his lapel during the entire carriage ride to the palace. “Those petals are faded around the edges! It looks so shabby! You must replace it with one of the empress’s roses as soon as you can make your way to the gardens.”
“Yes, dear,” Uncle Evgene said meekly.
Dariya clutched my hand tightly as she stared out the window, eager to catch a glimpse of the rest of the aristocracy arriving at the palace. I tried to ignore the conversation between my aunt and uncle. I would not be so foolish as to meddle with dead flowers tonight.
“There’s the princess of Greece!” my cousin whispered. “And I think her brother is with her. Do you think his parents are still planning to marry him to the Swedish princess? I know the families are related.”
Most of Europe’s royalty was related. We shared one large, twisted and tangled family tree. I could claim ties with most likely all of the people dancing inside the palace. I was related to witches and fae and, quite possibly, even a few wolf-folk. There was at least one other necromancer, if my cousin was to be believed. Dariya’s mother, who died several years ago, had shared my talent.