“The dissection table and I will be waiting,” Dr. Badmaev said. “Do not forget your assignments.”

“Of course not, Doctor.” Hurrying through the herbal shop in front of his office, I gave a friendly wave to his housekeeper, Masha. It was a hot August day, much too hot for me to walk all the way to our house on Millionaya Street. I purchased a ride on one of the horse-drawn trams that sped through the city, knowing I would have to hop off shortly before reaching the Field of Mars. Maman would faint if she knew I mingled with the lower classes of St. Petersburg on such a regular basis. But I liked to sit on the tram and look at the faces of people, wondering who they were and where they were traveling. I tried to ignore the tangle of cold lights swirling over and around everyone on the cramped carriage.

An old, wrinkled babushka sat next to me holding a sleeping child. The child’s cold light was stronger than the woman’s; the child was closer to death than she. “Has the child been ill?” I asked.

“Da,” the woman said sadly. “He refuses to eat or drink anything. His mother died last month from the same thing.”

“Has he been seen by a doctor?” I asked.

“We cannot afford the doctor,” the woman answered bitterly. “We still owe him for seeing my daughter. And he did nothing for her.”

“Please go and see the Tibetan doctor on Betosky Prospekt,” I said. “He will be able to tell you how to save your grandson. Without charge. Tell Dr. Badmaev to please send the bill to Duchess Oldenburg.”

“Bless you, dear lady,” the woman said, hugging her weak grandson to her chest.

We were fast approaching the Field of Mars, close to Betskoi House, so I pulled the string for the tram to slow down. The driver did not completely stop, so I had to jump. I landed awkwardly on the dusty street, then hurried home.

A Romanov carriage waited in our driveway. My heart danced for a moment, full of hope that it was George Alexandrovich. Racing past the footmen at our door, I hurried up the staircase into Maman’s parlor, hoping to see the tsar’s son. Instead, I found the leader of the St. Petersburg vampires, taking tea with my mother.

“Katerina Alexandrovna,” Grand Duchess Militza said, her black eyes glittering, “I’ve been waiting for you, my dear.”

2

I curtsied politely to the grand duchess, who was now my cousin by marriage. “Your Imperial Highness,” I said. I had been under the assumption that the grand duchess was still in Montenegro visiting her family.

“Elena sends you her best wishes, cousin,” Militza said. “And Danilo as well.”

Would I never have any peace from the crown prince and his blood-drinking family? “I believed he was still in prison,” I said coldly.

Her smile was brittle. “That was merely a misunderstanding,” Militza said. “He is safe in Montenegro now with our parents.”

“Isn’t that wonderful, Katiya?” Maman asked. “Such a dear young man.”

I did not think it was wonderful that Danilo was no longer imprisoned at the Fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul. The crown prince and his faerie accomplice, Monsieur Sucre, had conspired against the members of the Order of St. John and the tsar’s inner circle of mages. They had attempted a ritual to raise the lich tsar from the dead. I did not think even being a king’s firstborn son would exonerate Danilo or convince our tsar to let him go free. I wondered what sort of diplomatic deal had been made.

The footman knocked on the door to tell Maman she was needed in the kitchen. “Of course,” she said, standing hastily. “Please excuse me, both of you.”

I had no desire to engage in further pleasantries with the blood drinker in Maman’s parlor. “Why have you come, Militza?” I asked as soon as my mother was gone.

The grand duchess visibly relaxed. I’d grown used to my mother’s new “gift,” but as a striga, she made others around her extremely uncomfortable.

The effect she now had on other supernatural creatures was truly bizarre. When Maman entered a room, the cold light belonging to everyone else seemed to bend away from her. And the fact that strigas only drank the blood of other blood drinkers placed them at the top of the blood-drinker hierarchy. Every creature whose blood the striga tasted gave away a little bit of his or her power to her. Traditionally, the striga was the leader of a city’s vampire population. And Militza was not inclined to give up her hard-won position willingly.

The grand duchess’s black eyes narrowed. “I have come, actually, with a warning for you, necromancer. Konstantin is very close to returning. The wizards who seek his return also seek an artifact in Egypt. With this artifact, the lich tsar will be able to command a horde of supernatural warriors.”

“And why would you tell me this?” I asked. There was no way I could ever trust the grand duchess.

“The fate of everyone you and I care for is at stake.”

“You’ve come home just in time, Katiya!” Maman said, returning to the room before Militza could say any more. “Your cousin was about to show me the new deck of cards she found on her latest trip to Egypt!”

Militza had stiffened upon Maman’s return, and her hands shook ever so slightly as she beckoned to me. “Do sit down, Katerina,” the grand duchess said. “Let us discover your fortune.” The grand duchess was sitting in Maman’s favorite chair with a deck of tarot cards in her hand. She wore a very fashionable black walking gown that looked like it had come from Paris.

She also looked terribly warm. Militza was stubbornly trying to prove she was not afraid of St. Petersburg’s new striga. Whether the striga noticed it or not.

“I have no desire to know what the cards say,” I said.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Maman said, pulling me toward the settee with her. “It’s all great fun. And the cards are simply beautiful. Look at the artwork on the major arcana!”

I was not going to be allowed to escape the blood drinker’s parlor game. I sat down next to Maman, folding my hands in my lap.

“Shall we begin?” Militza asked, shuffling her cards with the grace of an expert.

“I shall go first!” my mother said, leaning forward eagerly. Her jeweled fingers selected one of the cards from the deck in the grand duchess’s outstretched hand. Turning it over, she turned toward me. “I dare not look.”

“Maman, you know that Papa detests it when you dabble in the occult,” I warned.

“But it’s so very amusing,” my mother said. “And your father knows it’s harmless. Did the cards not save Petya from buying that lame horse last month? The cards do not lie.”

“Indeed not,” Militza said with a vicious smile. “You have selected the Empress card.”

Maman’s mouth gaped open most impolitely. “Her Imperial Majesty is coming to see me?”

I rolled my eyes, which was not a polite thing to do either. “You are going to see her at the charity luncheon tomorrow,” I reminded Maman.

“Perhaps,” Militza said. “Or perhaps the empress will have a request for you.” She shuffled the card back into the deck and handed them to me. “Shuffle these in turn, my dear cousin. The deck needs to feel your energies to give you a proper read.”

The artwork was indeed beautiful. Hand-painted drawings of swords, cups, wands, and coins with an Eastern influence. Byzantine.

I shuddered, wondering why Militza had chosen this deck. It reminded me of the cave nestled deep in the Crimea, where I’d learned how to travel to the Graylands. I handed the cards back to her.

“You must pick one, my dear,” she said.

Sighing, I turned the top card over and laid it on the table. The Queen of Swords.

Militza’s eyes lit up. “Secret hostility.”

“Or not so secret,” I said, my eyes meeting hers.

She laughed. “My dear Katerina. I am not your enemy. I believe you are in for a long journey.”

“Mon Dieu,” Maman said, gripping my wrist. “Not Zurich? I had hoped you’d given up that foolish notion.”

Militza shook her head. “The cards do not say. But the Queen of Swords is leading your Katerina to a faraway land.”

I patted my mother’s hand and said quietly, “The tsar will not allow me to go to Zurich, Maman. Or anywhere else, for that matter.” She had nothing to worry about.

“Perhaps not Zurich, my cousin,” the grand duchess said, shuffling her deck once again. “But you will soon be traveling far from home. After all,” she added with a wicked smile, “the cards do not lie.”

3

“Honestly, Katiya, why must you be so hostile to your cousin?” Maman fussed after Militza left.

“And why can you not see she’s dangerous?” I countered. “She fears you and she is jealous of your power as the striga.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Maman said. “I have no intention of interfering with her rule.” She sighed. “Despite what the Dark and Light Court queens want.”

A chill passed over my heart. Never in my life had my mother mentioned the faerie courts. Had she always known about St. Petersburg’s supernatural underworld? How much had she learned since becoming one of their own?

“Has the empress asked you to take over the St. Petersburg vampires?” I asked cautiously.

Maman nodded as if we were talking of the latest opera scandal. “Of course she has. And Miechen has as well. She was positively gleeful when she heard I’d become the heir to the striga. I don’t think the grand duchess likes Militza at all.” She put her own deck of tarot cards back in their wooden box. “Still, it’s nice when they present themselves to me, and since Militza accompanies me everywhere, they’ll soon see there are no feuds between us.”