I had not seen much of Dariya since she’d traveled with Miechen’s Dark Court to Biarritz over the summer. She had become more and more like her stepmother, Countess Zenaida: her head was filled with Dark Court intrigues and affairs. Dariya was intent on capturing a wealthy, titled husband. I knew what she would tell me to do if I confided in her.

I walked briskly to the nearest tram location and paid my passage to Betosky Prospekt. I was getting used to riding the rickety, cramped carriage with strangers and seeing a side of St. Petersburg I’d never seen before. Would I be able to help these people better as a wealthy grand duchess or as a research doctor? Could I ever forgive myself if I gave George up? I was so lost in my own miserable thoughts I almost missed my stop near Dr. Badmaev’s clinic and herb shop. Why should the tsar force me to make such a choice? It wasn’t as if George were the heir to the throne. I would never be tsarina or empress.

Brooding, I entered the doctor’s shop. There were already a few patients sitting in his waiting area. I smiled at them as I hung my wrap on the coat stand. I passed through to the back of the building, where I found the Tibetan doctor drinking a cup of tea.

“Duchess! You are early! Are you so eager to dive back into the lung tissue? Did you discover the secrets of your pink growths?”

“Yes, they were tuberculin tumors,” I said with a little pride. “But I came early because I am in a terrible quandary.” I took the cup of tea Masha handed me. Thanking her, I sat down next to Dr. Badmaev.

“Nothing that tea can’t make better, I hope?” he said, smiling.

“I’m afraid it’s too terrible for tea to fix.” I took a sip and told him about the tsar’s ultimatum.

“The tsar is very old-fashioned. More so than his father ever was,” the Tibetan said. “And this has kept you up all night, worrying?”

I laughed grimly. “Does it show?”

He smiled. “Come to the lab and we will take your mind off your problems for now. Perhaps you will be able to think clearly after concentrating on something else for a while.”

I smiled back. Tumors and germs were just what I needed.

I spent the morning examining lung tissues under the microscope while Dr. Badmaev treated the patients out front. As I drew illustrations of the various cells, I listened to him examine his patients, asking them about their symptoms and explaining to them how to take the medicine he was prescribing.

Most of the patients were poor and ignorant and needed simple, brief directions. Their illnesses could have been prevented if they had nutritious food and practiced better hygiene. One woman had put pig manure on her child’s cut foot because a neighbor had suggested it. Dr. Badmaev fussed at her for listening to such foolish advice. “Keep the foot clean,” I heard him tell her. “Put fresh, clean dressings on it every day. And make sure the child takes this medicine every day too.”

He must have seen at least twenty patients before joining me in the lab. He did not look tired at all. “And how are the lungs today?”

I could not help smiling. “I’ve sketched five different kinds of cells that I found within the lung tissues.”

“Very good. And what herbs would one use to benefit lung ailments?” I enjoyed the Tibetan doctor’s peculiar blending of Eastern and Western medicine. I had been surprised to discover he’d received his medical diploma from the St. Petersburg Military Academy of Medicine upon arriving in Russia with his elder brother several years ago. He’d been a young boy then, leaving the monastery in the Himalayas, where he’d grown up studying Tibetan medicine, and journeying thousands of miles alone to St. Petersburg to live with his brother. The elder brother died several years ago but had been a well-known doctor respected by Tsar Alexander the Second.

“Lungwort, sea wrack, and ephedra,” I said, listing the herbs I had studied the night before.

“Very good!” Dr. Badmaev beamed. “My nephew is joining me soon from the monastery. He will be studying medicine along with you.”

“And he will be allowed to attend the medical academy,” I said, trying to keep the sudden bitterness from my voice. Men had so many more opportunities than women. Why did the tsar have to be so stubborn?

“It is the way of the world, Duchess. But perhaps the world will change.”

“I’m afraid if it does change, it will be too late for me.” I stood up from the table and stretched. My back and neck were sore from remaining in the same position for so long. “And I’m afraid dissecting lung tissue has not given me a fresh perspective on my problem either. Perhaps I should be returning home.”

“Not without a cup of afternoon tea,” Dr. Badmaev said, ringing the bell for Masha. “Always be aware of how your environment acts upon your body. Not just the air around you, but also the people, sounds, and smells that surround you. Your body is bombarded with outside distractions constantly. Take the time to shut the rest of the world out and meditate. Focus on your cold light.”

I sat in the chair he was pointing me toward and closed my eyes, breathing slowly. He was right; there were so many distractions in my life. I had to focus on what was important. It was not what I wanted most, but what was best for everyone. And what was best for George Alexandrovich would be a doctor trained in Eastern medicine. I would be of better use to him as a healer than as a wife. My cold light did give me clarity. Even if it also broke my heart. I opened my eyes and accepted the cup of tea Masha held out for me. “Merci.”

“You look as if you’ve made a decision?” Dr. Badmaev said. “Your face looks very resolved.”

He was amused. But I did not mind. He was trying to lighten my mood when he knew I was making a difficult choice.

“Yes. I shall continue my lessons with you, Doctor. I will be of no use to the tsar’s son without medical training.”

“So you are making this decision with your head and not with your heart,” Dr. Badmaev said, blowing the steam off his cup of tea.

I sighed. “My heart would break if I did not do everything in my power to save George.”

“And when will you tell him your decision?”

That I hadn’t decided yet. I sipped my tea and closed my eyes, wishing for more clarity. I knew George deserved to know as soon as possible. And the tsar deserved my answer in person.

“I think now is the perfect time, Duchess.” It was not the doctor’s but George’s angry voice that made me open my eyes in alarm.

7

George Alexandrovich was standing in the doorway of Dr. Badmaev’s office. He did not look happy. “Katiya, why did you not wait for me last night? Didn’t my father give you his blessing?”

Dr. Badmaev stood up quickly. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Highness, but I must get back to my patients.” With a quick bow to the grand duke and an encouraging smile toward me, he withdrew from the room, leaving us alone.

I stared into my teacup, refusing to meet George’s eye. “How on earth did you know to find me here?” I asked him.

“The imperial guard has orders to watch your movements, Katiya. They always know where you are.”

A sick feeling rose in my stomach. “So you’ve known about my studies with Dr. Badmaev? And the tsar knows as well?” There truly were no secrets left untouched in St. Petersburg.

He nodded as he sat down in the chair next to me. “I understand what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work. My illness was caused by dueling with the crown prince at Vorontsov Palace. Blood magic wounded me. Medicine cannot help me.”

“But I believe Eastern medicine can,” I protested. “Dr. Badmaev is the one who cured the Koldun after I brought him back from the Graylands. Remember how awful he looked? Eastern medicine treats the spirit as well as the body. Please let the Tibetan doctor examine you.”

“My parents have expressly forbidden it,” he said. “Badmaev is the Dark Court’s physician. Besides, the Light Court has all of St. Petersburg’s finest trained physicians at hand.”

“None of whom can do a thing for you,” I said. “I have learned so much from Dr. Badmaev. Not enough to cure you, I know, but I’m certain that soon I’ll know what to do to make you better. If the tsar will not allow the Tibetan to treat you, then allow me to help you.”

“Marry me, Katiya. That is the best way for you to make me better.” He took the teacup out of my hand and set it on the table. Grasping my hands in his, he looked up at me. “Make me a happy man.”

He would force me to have this conversation right now. “George, if something were to happen to you and I could have prevented it by continuing my studies, I couldn’t live with myself. I love you too much.”

“What are you saying?” There was a flash of silver in his eyes.

“If your father will not change his mind about my becoming a doctor,” I said, dragging the words out and hating myself for what I said next, “then I cannot marry you.”

George’s face darkened. “Katiya, the tsar does not change his mind.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying very hard not to cry in front of him.

He stood up so abruptly that I thought he was going to break something. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Why must you be so hardheaded?”

“Why must you?” I asked, praying he wouldn’t notice the trembling in my voice. “I can’t stand by and watch you waste away. Not when there’s something I can do to stop it.” I stood up and grabbed his arms, pulling on his sleeves. “And what if you died? What if I was tempted to bring you back for selfish reasons? I don’t think I could let you go. Or what if I brought you back from the grave accidentally?” I continued as my imagination ran wild with dark thoughts. “Don’t you see how horrible that would be? I would damn us both!”