Robin Bridges - The Morning Star

Even though it was slightly warmer here than it had been in St. Petersburg, it was still chilly, and I realized Maman would never forgive me for wearing linen in October. Even if she did forgive me for eloping. I finally decided on my soft gray blue silk gown, the one that matched the color of George’s eyes. I had little difficulty putting my hair up without a maid’s help. But I missed Anya all the same.

George was waiting for me in the dining car. “We do have time for a short breakfast,” he said as he took a sip of coffee. “The tea is tolerable and the bread is fresh, but we will have better provisions once we reach Paris.”

But I couldn’t eat. I was sipping my tea impatiently when the train finally rolled into the station in Riga.

George began coughing again and stood up, patting his coat pockets. “I think I’ve misplaced my handkerchief.”

“I’ll get it for you,” I said, rushing back to the sleeping car. I looked in his berth and was shocked to see drops of blood on his pillowcase. Horrified, I snatched up a clean handkerchief and returned to him. “George, you’re bleeding!”

“I cough it up sometimes.” He frowned. “It’s nothing.”

“It could be tuberculosis,” I pointed out.

“Or it could be a Vladiki poison that infected me when I fought the crown prince.”

I wasn’t sure which option frightened me more.

We stepped off the train, arm in arm, and George hired a carriage to take us to the chapel. He squeezed my hand comfortingly. I smiled, trying to be brave. I couldn’t help thinking he was making the worst mistake of his life. But if he was willing to risk so much for me, it would have been cowardly of me to back down. Together, we would face the brunt of our families’ ire. After the lich tsar was defeated and George was healthy.

The young and extremely nervous black-bearded priest refused to marry us before he’d heard both of our confessions. I could not imagine what George had to confess. But I was terrified of speaking to the young man. I had brought dead people back to life. Would it be better or worse for my soul if I lied during my confession? He would surely throw us both out of the chapel if I told him all the terrible things I’d done.

I sat on a wooden bench, twisting my hands, my stomach a mass of knots while I waited for George to finish. All I could hear from the confessional were low, soft male voices. George was taking forever. Mon Dieu, how many sins did he have to confess? My nerves could not handle it anymore, so I stood up and stepped outside for fresh air.

I looked up at the brilliant sky on that golden autumn morning and took a deep breath. The air was crisp, and I could detect smoke from some nearby fireplace. But leaving the chapel was the worst mistake I’d ever made.

A black cloth was placed across my face with a sickeningly sweet and vaguely familiar odor. The last thing I heard as I quickly slipped out of consciousness was a voice, also sickeningly familiar: “We’ve found you, my love.”

I awoke with a throbbing headache and a feeling of dread in my stomach. I was on a train. With Crown Prince Danilo. “What have you done?” I screamed at him, which made my head hurt a thousand times worse. The pain brought tears to my eyes. Or perhaps it was the fact that he’d stolen me away from my fiancé. What would George think? That I’d had a change of heart? I squeezed my eyes shut. Perhaps he could hear my thoughts and would be able to come for me.

“You belong to me now, necromancer.” Danilo’s voice was deadly soft, not like the lich tsar’s had been earlier. And yet I still knew it was Konstantin speaking. He’d claimed Danilo’s body.

“Danilo, can you still hear me?” I pleaded. “I know you must be in there. Fight him!”

The crown prince slapped me across the face with such force I was knocked back against the wooden panel behind me. I saw stars.

I heard a young female voice laughing and opened my eyes. A girl sat across from me, not far from Danilo, dressed in the black habit of an Orthodox sister. The headdress she wore was simple and covered her hair. The girl’s soft, gray eyes glittered dangerously. Was she fae or some more-dreaded creature? I’d have to be wary of her.

“Where are we?” I asked. The bright afternoon sunlight stung my eyes.

“Almost to Trieste,” the crown prince said. “The chloroform kept you sleeping for almost two days. I am sure you must be hungry, Duchess. I will have them bring you a tray.” He nodded at the girl, who slipped out of our cabin.

“Who is she?” I asked the crown prince.

“She is your chaperone, and that is all you need to know at the moment. When she brings you dinner, you must eat.”

I shook my head, and the tiny cabin began to spin. I did not want food. I wanted a bath. And a bed. In my own home in St. Petersburg.

George. I blushed as I realized I should have been a married woman by now. Two days? Had my grand duke tried to look for me? Trieste, Georgi, I thought as hard as I could, hoping he could hear my thoughts from hundreds of miles away. He’s taking me to Trieste.

I received another slap to the face as the veiled girl returned. “There is no reason for you to tell the tsar’s son where you are, my love. He will not bother to come looking for you now that I have you.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said. But deep in my heart I was frightened by Danilo’s words. George would want nothing to do with me if he thought the crown prince had compromised me in any way. And since I’d been unconscious for so long, he would not have been able to hear my thoughts. My hands were bound tightly together; I had no hope of escaping, and no way to defend myself against Danilo.

No, against Konstantin, I corrected myself mentally. Danilo’s greatest fear had been that the lich tsar would use their bond and possess his body. I did not know which of them was my greater enemy. The lich tsar inhabiting a powerful Vladiki’s body would be unstoppable. All he needed was a necromancer bride and his return to power would be complete.

“Yes, you will become my bride, Katerina. Not the grand duke’s.” He was able to read my thoughts so easily. My head hurt far too much for me to focus on keeping him out.

“Why are you taking me to Trieste?” I asked. “Why not back to Montenegro?”

“All in good time, my love. I would not want you to give away our secrets to the tsar’s men.”

I stopped trying to hold on to consciousness as the train rocked gently. I couldn’t fight the oblivion any longer.

When I woke again, the train was pulling into a new station. It was daytime, most likely midmorning by the position of the sun. Danilo put a fur muff over my bound hands and wrapped my coat around my shoulders. With an iron grip, he steered me off the train and toward a waiting carriage. “Do not make a sound. I don’t want to mar that pretty face of yours again.”

The girl in the black habit followed us silently. She would obviously not help me if I tried to escape.

My head was still throbbing. I wondered if my face was bruised from where I’d been hit. Would people notice? “Where are you taking me?” I asked.

Danilo squeezed my arm tighter, and I worried that he would actually break it. Mentally I listed the bones in the arm: ulna, radius, humerus. The hand: carpals, metacarpals. I stumbled a little as he guided me into the carriage.

I had no idea how much time had passed since the last time I’d been conscious. One day? Two? I knew we were in Trieste from the signs at the train terminal, but what was in this godforsaken city? I smelled signs of the sea as we rode in the carriage through the streets. We approached a crowded harbor.

“Are we boarding a boat?” I asked.

Danilo smiled, but the green eyes gazing back at me were Konstantin’s. “You are at the start of a long journey, Katerina,” he said. “Already you are quite a ways from home.”

I remembered Militza’s tarot card. Had she known what was happening to her brother? And what he had planned? “Your sisters must be worried about you, Danilo,” I ventured.

His eyes changed back to the crown prince’s piercing black. He looked confused.

“Can you fight Konstantin?” I whispered. “Do you know where we are?”

“We’re going to Egypt. He’s looking for the sword.” Danilo looked dazed, and scared. Of himself.

“What sword?” I asked, but before he could answer, the lich tsar was back in control. “Think about your sisters, Dani,” I begged. That seemed to help him hold on and concentrate. “Militza and Anastasia are worried about you, I’m certain. They will come looking for you.”

But Danilo was gone again. The lich tsar sneered at me. “They have no power over me, Duchess. Your powers are the only ones I am concerned with.” His hand reached out and I flinched, but this time he was chillingly tender. He only caressed my jawline. “Soon I will show you what delightful wickedness a necromancer is born to do.”

The carriage had pulled into the chaotic harbor. I was alarmed. Egypt was thousands of miles away from St. Petersburg. Why would Konstantin take me there? Was the sword he searched for the same one George had spoken of? Surely it couldn’t be a coincidence.

The harbor was teeming with people shouting in all sorts of languages. I heard threads of conversations in German, Italian, French, and even some Greek. The sea air was hot and damp, uncomfortable for a day in late autumn.

Two strange-looking men met us at the docks. They gave the crown prince three boarding passes for the steamer in front of us. With the boarding passes in one hand, Danilo gripped my arm again with his other and guided me toward the steamer. The girl in the black habit followed behind, directing a man carrying luggage whom I had not noticed earlier.