One of the Grigori brought us breakfast, a few pieces of flatbread and dates. Danilo did not even allow me a cup of coffee or tea. “You are fasting in preparation for the ritual. Only light foods and water for now. And after tonight, only water until the ritual is complete.”

The flatbread and dates were delicious, but I feared that I would be weak by the time the ritual occurred. Somehow, I would have to keep my wits about me.

Danilo and Mala, I noticed, were eating light meals as well. Mala nibbled on her fruit and Danilo only picked at his bread. I wondered if he was actually nervous about the ritual. As much as I hated and feared the lich tsar, I had come to feel sorry for the crown prince. I didn’t think he’d ever planned on any of this to happen when we conducted his ascension ritual in Cetinje. Being possessed had in fact been one of his greatest fears.

I wondered if there was a way of defeating Konstantin without harming Danilo. I had no wish to marry him, but it did not mean I hoped this would all end badly for him. If I had to kill the crown prince in order to kill Konstantin, could I do it?

A chill crept over my skin. Danilo glanced over at me and frowned. I put my napkin on the table. My appetite was gone.

“Before we reach Abydos, I must tell you a little about Egyptian magic,” the crown prince said. “You’ve used it each time you call upon the shadows to hide you.”

“The Sheult spell was in A Necromancer’s Companion.”

“That book was taken from some of the writings of Ankh-al-Sekhem, as well as those of ancient Arabic and Greek necromancers. A French sorcerer compiled the book in the late sixteen hundreds.”

It was strange to think I had the bitter old Egyptian mummy to thank for the Sheult spell. It had protected me many times.

“The Egyptians knew about one’s cold light. They called it the ka,” Danilo continued. “Or the body double.”

“I thought the ka was the soul they built their pyramids for.” I’d not read much about Egyptology, but I’d overheard a few conversations between tourists and tour guides while we were in the museum in Cairo.

“According to the Ani Papyrus, the soul contains several parts, and the cold light, or the ka, is merely one part. Most of the rituals in the papyrus aid the deceased in restoring all the parts of the soul together so it may rise again.”

I frowned. “Danilo, everyone did not return from the dead in ancient Egypt. One does not see streets populated with walking corpses.”

He shook his head. “That is because they remain in the necropolis. In the cities of the dead. And only royalty was given the rites of resurrection, Katerina. Not everyone could be brought back.”

The slaves and the merchants and the soldiers and the rest of the pharaoh’s people had to be content with their short, hard lives, while the pharaoh cheated death and lived on in his beautiful, gilded pyramid. It did not seem fair. “When did you have time to read so much?” I asked. “Surely you did not glean all of that information from that fragment of the papyrus.”

“Of course not. I read Johanna’s Companion many, many years before it fell into your hands, my dear.” He nodded to the younger Grigori, who came forth with something wrapped in an old black cloth. The Grigori presented his bundle to me.

With a bewildered “Thank you,” I took the bundle and unwrapped the black silk. The fabric was fragile, and I was afraid it would crumble in my hands. “Where did you get this?” I asked, astounded. It was A Necromancer’s Companion. But it was not my copy. This one was written in French.

“It is a pity you did not bring your own book, Katerina,” Danilo said lazily. “Fortunately, the Grigori were able to find a replacement.”

“You are most gracious,” I said to the Grigori, whose face betrayed no emotion. I carefully wrapped the silk around the book again and placed the seemingly innocent bundle in my lap. It had been responsible for the fate of possibly thousands of Egyptians. “Has it ever occurred to you how much our tsar is like the ancient pharaohs?”

“They rule by divine right,” Danilo said with a shrug. “It is the will of the gods.”

“But the people had no voice,” I said. “They lived and died at the whim of the pharaoh.”

“Who is the voice of God.” Danilo’s eyes narrowed.

Mala’s voice broke in on our conversation. “Your education has been filling your head with revolutionary ideas, hasn’t it?”

“Of course not! But it does pain me to see people who believe the tsar does not care about them.”

“Why should he care about them?” Danilo said, leaning forward. “They pay their taxes and fight in the tsar’s armies, and in return, the tsar protects them from foreign attacks.”

“Do you think that’s all a tsar is responsible for?” I asked. “Tsar Pavel never prepared you for ruling Russia. Your father never wanted you to be tsar.” I knew I was risking Konstantin’s anger again. But I had to get Danilo to see how dangerous the lich tsar was. He would not be a good tsar. He would not listen to the people.

Danilo’s hands pounded the table in anger. “It was not his choice! Grandmother wanted me to rule Byzantium! Nicholas tried to recapture Constantinople and failed. But now that my brother is dead, I will rule both Byzantium and all of the Russias! The two kingdoms will be united under my power.”

Mala stood up from the table and went to kneel at Danilo’s side. “You will make a wise and powerful tsar, Your Imperial Majesty,” she told him. Her faerie eyes shimmered and it seemed to calm him.

The Grigori standing nearby said nothing. The two men revealed no emotion, nor did they seem fazed by the lich tsar’s anger. They believed he would carry the Morning Star. And they would follow whoever carried the sword.

“The Ottomans are too powerful for Russia to wage war against right now,” I said. “Even Empress Katerina realized this before she died. Capturing Byzantium was nothing but an old woman’s dream.”

Danilo glared at me. “You do not deserve to carry her name, Duchess.” He stood, pushing Mala to the side as he reached out and grabbed my arm. “It is time for you to retire to your cabin and meditate for the coming ritual.”

His fingers dug into my arm and he dragged me out of the dining room back out to the cramped deck. With a rough shove, he pushed me into my cabin. “You will be allowed out when we arrive at Abydos,” he said, locking the door behind me.

I stumbled toward my bed. I had no idea how to prepare myself for the ritual, other than worrying about it and working myself up into hysterics. That was not something I cared to do, so instead, I opened up the French edition of A Necromancer’s Companion the Grigori had given me and searched for information on the ka. Was it really one’s cold light? That would explain why a necromancer could manipulate that light, and shadows as well.

I flipped past the pages of incantations to Osiris that prevented the deceased from forgetting his name and past an incantation that allowed the deceased to take any physical form he wished, from a lion to a hawk. I flipped past the drawings of ornate inscriptions on ceremonial daggers and pictures of enchanted scarabs that were to be placed on the deceased’s breast.

And finally, I came to a chapter that mentioned the Morning Star.

28

According to the Companion, the Morning Star could only be carried by one who could walk both the worlds of the living and the dead. A necromancer who knew the secrets of the ka and the shadows. One who knew how to coax the ka back to the land of the living.

I was still reading the book when Mala knocked and opened my door well before dawn. “Duchess, these are your clothes for the ritual.” She handed me a white linen robe. I was surprised she did not have a golden headdress for me as well.

“Am I to appear as Cleopatra?” I asked, taking the robe and tossing it onto the bed.

“You are to dress as a proper Egyptian priestess.” She stopped at the door and turned around with a vicious smile. “A proper virgin Egyptian priestess.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at her. “How close are we to Abydos?” I asked, but she’d already closed the door behind her. I peeked out the tiny window and could see palm trees lining the dark green river. I had no idea where we were.

I ignored the priestess robe on my bed and was going to continue reading about old Egyptian gods when I spotted the medical text I’d found in Cairo. I opened it up instead. I was amazed at how far I’d come in my Greek lessons. I only had a little trouble reading some of the ancient Greek words.

The physician Galen wrote mostly of the organs of apes and pigs that he had dissected. The Roman Empire forbade human dissection, so he made do with animals whose anatomies were similar to our own. I soon grew tired of reading about intestines and lung tissue. I fell asleep dreaming about a pig that wore the headdress of a pharaoh.


A sudden lurch of the boat awakened me. My head bumped up against the wall. Rubbing the sore spot tenderly, I crawled out of bed and tried my door, but it was still locked. I could hear footsteps and shouting above as people scrambled up to the deck.