We were getting ready to sit down for dinner when the footman announced the arrival of the imperial family. The empress and her eldest children had come to bid farewell to Ella and Alix. Perhaps Her Imperial Highness had cut her sons’ party with the ballerinas short.

Everyone pressed forward to pay respects to the empress. George did not look surprised to see me. As soon as the crowd pushed into the grand dining room, he was at my side.

“We need to talk.” His voice was low and urgent.

“About what, Your Imperial Highness?” I looked straight ahead, at the back of Grand Duchess Alexandra Iosifovna’s large white hair. She was wearing her black feathers again.

He put his hand on my elbow, gently pulling me from the crowd and leading me into a small empty sitting room. “I did not want our last conversation to end the way it did.”

“But you walked away first,” I pointed out.

“I was upset, Katiya,” he said with a sigh. “I did not want to make it worse by saying something we would both regret.”

“I already regret it, Georgi.” I wanted to be in his arms again so badly. “But I can’t change my mind. I won’t give up this chance to find a way to cure you.”

He looked at me incredulously, taking my hands in his. “Even if it means giving up on a normal life for us?”

“How normal would our life be if you are dying? I don’t want to lose you to whatever this wound is. And I can find a cure. I know I can.”

“Katiya, my love, I admire you for your dedication, but don’t you care about my feelings at all?” Looking steadily into my face, his blue eyes flashed silver. Then he frowned. “I see.”

He let go of my hands and stepped back. He’d seen a glimpse of my tangled and distressed thoughts. It did nothing to reassure him.

“You are afraid you might come to resent me if you give up your education. To hell with my father, Katiya. I’ll take you away from Russia myself. Wherever you want to go: Paris, Zurich, even London, if that’s what you want. They’ll probably disown me, and I’m afraid you wouldn’t be a grand duchess.”

“Georgi, how could you propose such a thing?” I wanted to cry. Again. The thought of him being cut off from his family because of me was horrifying. “Absolutely not.”

He shook his head, reading my thought. “I know you’re worried that I’d resent you. That is not going to happen.”

“How can you be so sure?” I whispered.

He brought my hands to his lips. “Trust me, Katiya. We’ll make a new life for just the two of us.”

The dinner bell sounded from down the hall. Another of Grand Duke Sergei’s perfectly regimented details. George sighed. “We’d better go in separately. Why don’t you go first?” He pulled me close and gave me the briefest kiss on my lips.

“We’ll talk again later.”

I walked to the dining room in a daze. I couldn’t let him throw his life away for me. How was I supposed to make him understand that? Or was he just calling my bluff, expecting me to give up my medical training instead? I sat down at my table, fury and frustration rising inside. I wished more than anything that I had the faerie sight and could read George’s thoughts, the way he could read mine.

The delicious food, fussed over so by the Grand Duke Sergei, tasted like sawdust. I was so miserable I could not even enjoy the excellent dove croquette. I avoided looking at George but noticed the empress seated with Ella and Alix. Her eyes kept traveling toward my table. I felt her gaze upon me throughout the dinner.

I ate woodenly, smiling and making polite conversation with the guests on either side of me. I nodded when the elderly countess on my right spoke of the weather, and I smiled when the young officer on my left mentioned the latest ballet. My manners were perfect and imperial. My mother would have been pleased, even if the empress was not.

11

The weeks flew by, and summer turned to autumn. I continued to visit Dr. Badmaev, even though I knew the secret police followed me and reported my movements to the tsar. As long as I was not marrying his son, the tsar did not mind my unorthodox lessons.

I made progress in my studies, and soon the Tibetan doctor allowed me to examine patients in his clinic. He did not let me prescribe medicines, though, but quizzed me on my recommendations after the patient had left. My confidence grew as I learned more and more about diseases and supernatural afflictions. I could tell the difference between the bite of the upyri and that of a wolf. And I knew what would cure either one.

My grand duke left for Moscow on behalf of the Koldun to attend a meeting with the wizards in the Kremlin. He must have decided to visit with his uncle and aunt, because he remained away from St. Petersburg for some time, which suited me perfectly well. It made it easier for me to concentrate on my studies.

On a crisp October day, in the small but opulently appointed family chapel at Betskoi House, I became the godmother of Dr. Ostrev and Lyudmila’s young daughter, Tamara. Papa stood as godfather, paying for the entire service and hosting the christening dinner. Lyudmila’s parents were unable to journey to St. Petersburg from Kiev but sent a silver spoon as a gift for good luck. Anya stood beside me and held the white gown for her young niece. As per Orthodox tradition, the parents were not allowed to be present for the ceremony, so they waited in the red parlor with Maman. I held the squirming infant in my arms as the priest chanted prayers over her head. Her huge blue eyes blinked slowly at me, and I felt a strange tug in my heart. I hadn’t been around babies much in the past few years. Young girls started classes at Smolni as young as six, but there were few at the school who were younger than twelve. My cousins were spread far and wide across Europe, so I hadn’t seen many infants except the empress’s and Miechen’s children.

When it was time to take Tamara’s gown off, the priest beckoned me to bring her forward and place her in the silver baptism font. It was the same antique bowl that both my brother and I had been baptized in years ago. I lowered the naked child into the cold water, and her pink face turned red with a heathen howl. I could see her cold light wrapped around her like a soft, hazy cocoon. Tamara Rudolfovna would have a long, healthy life, it appeared.

The priest blessed her and poured the holy water over her head. I lifted the wriggling, unhappy infant from the water and wrapped her in the clean white linen Anya held out. The white “garments of light” symbolized her new life. The priest’s assistants rang bells and chanted while the priest anointed Tamara’s head with holy oil.

Her howls had subsided, but her body still shook with indignant sobs. The sweet baby awakened a new feeling inside me. It had occurred to me with shock that Lyudmila was younger than I and was already a wife and mother. What kind of mother would I be?

This led to another thought: What kind of father would George be? I blushed and glanced around quickly, relieved to see that no one was paying attention to me. Everyone was watching Tamara.

Anya, standing at my side, now took the baby and dressed her in the Ostrev family’s white hand-embroidered baptismal gown and the white lace cap that Lyudmila had tatted herself. Suddenly, I was conscious of an emptiness in my arms. I wanted to hold the warm, sweet-smelling bundle again.

The ceremony was soon over, and I followed Anya and Papa and the rest of the party out into the parlor, where Lyudmila scooped baby Tamara up in her arms. Maman was drying her eyes with a handkerchief and ran to embrace me. “Oh, my darling, I was just thinking how soon it will be your baby in our family chapel receiving such a blessing!”

I pulled away from her and laughed lightly. “Not for years, Maman.”

“Oh, I do hope Madame Marina’s prediction was wrong. The gypsy woman told me years ago I would never have grandchildren.”

“Maman, either Petya or I will certainly prove Madame Marina wrong.” I squeezed her hands and left her to seek out Dariya, who was now holding the baby and smiling. She looked happy. I decided to leave her in peace as well and took a steaming cup of tea from the elaborately laid table in the dining room and walked over to the window. The late-afternoon sun was sinking, and the shadows from the houses along Millionaya Street were stretching across the Neva River. I saw people and carriages hurrying across the bridge. A shadowed figure in a long black coat caught my eye as he wandered toward the Summer Garden.

“Katerina … I must speak with you.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the glass, sighing heavily. “What do you want, Danilo?”

“St. Petersburg is not safe for you. You must leave immediately.”

Had the lich tsar finally returned? A cold fear settled in my stomach. If Konstantin was here now, the tsar needed to know. After Alix had warned the Light Court of Danilo’s visit to the ballet, St. Petersburg had been under increased security. But everyone had been holding their breath, waiting for the moment when the lich tsar made his move.

“Meet me in the park.” Danilo’s voice was pleading and insistent.

“No. You must leave, Your Highness.” I would not be safe anywhere near the crown prince. I was no fool. I turned away from the window.

The crown prince’s voice fell silent in my head, and I brought a plate of sweets to Papa, who was standing in the hallway with Tamara’s father. They both looked grave.

“Thank you, dear,” my father said when I handed him the plate. “Dr. Ostrev tells me there has been an increasing number of walking dead seen in St. Petersburg.”