his ceremony of ascension, on his eighteenth birthday.” Her fingers were icy as she clutched my left hand and slid the ring onto my finger. “Kill Prince Danilo before his ascension and you will save many, many lives.”
I gasped. “I could never kill someone, Your Highness.” I was now certain Princess Cantacuzene was thoroughly and utterly mad. She was thin and ancient. The poor woman must be senile. I glanced around for members of her family who would be able to take her home. Married to a long deceased and forgotten Prince Cantacuzene, she had no children of her own, but spoiled all her nieces and nephews. Perhaps one of the latter had escorted her to the Christmas Ball.
We walked back toward the rotunda. “There is your dear mother,” the princess said. “She has recently been ill, has she not?”
“Yes, but she is much better.”
“You must be on guard, Duchess. I have attended many seances with your mother, and she has attracted the attentions of many unhappy spirits. The cold light of the dying surrounds her.”
Princess Cantacuzene gathered her black skirt as my mother approached us. “We will speak again soon, Katerina Alexandrovna,” she said. “I can tell you much more about the Montenegrins.”
“Your Highness, it is so good to see you.” My mother curtsied before the princess. “How are you?”
My mind was reeling. A cold light? The madwoman spoke as if she saw the same things I could see. I stole a glance at Princess Cantacuzene and searched her cold light. It shined brightly, much as any other elderly person’s would. I could see nothing unnatural about her. But then again, the empress and the grand duchess Miechen had cold lights that appeared ordinary to me as well. I was unable to distinguish human from fae, which put me at a disadvantage to the faeries in the ballroom.
While my mother and the princess chatted, my cousin Alexander Georgevich asked me to dance the cotillion with him. The Gypsy orchestra was playing a lively piece by Rimsky-Korsakov. My cousin was a perfectly elegant dancer, like his late mother, Aunt Therese, who had died when Alexander was only two. Aunt Therese had been one of my father’s sisters, so Alexander was my double cousin. He told me his father planned to announce his engagement to Princess Anastasia of Montenegro after Christmas.
“I hope she makes a kind stepmother,” I told him. I worried about the disturbing stories Princess Cantacuzene had told me. But I did not want to alarm my cousin. Surely the princess’s tales about the Montenegrins could not be true.
“Father intends for me to enter the Corps des Pages next year, so I will not be around the princess that often.” Alexander smiled. “When Father introduced me to her last month, she was very kind.”
“Give him my best wishes, then,” I said, smiling politely. He led me back to Maman after the dance ended. It had been the final dance of the night. I said goodbye to my cousin, then followed Maman to make our adieus to the grand duchess Miechen.
As I curtsied, the grand duchess spotted my ring. “What a beautiful trinket,” she said, seizing my hand. “A family heirloom?”
Maman did not notice, as she was speaking with the grand duke Vladimir.
“No, Your Imperial Highness. It was a gift from a family friend.” I knew Maman would insist I return it to Princess Cantacuzene if she saw it. The ring seemed to glow, reflecting the lights of the ballroom chandeliers.
“You must be careful with such a precious stone. Obsidian protects one from evil spirits and vampires.” There was a certain malice in the grand duchess’s smile. “It makes me curious. Why would your friend believe you need such protection, Katerina Alexandrovna?”
“An old woman’s superstitious nonsense, I’m sure,” I replied, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I was aware the grand duchess could see much more in my aura than I could see in hers. Still, I noted a strange thing when I saw her cold light. Two smaller, brighter lights were entwined with a larger, dimmer light, like a delicate, shimmering braid of light, coiling around her. It was beautiful, but frightening to look at.
I fretted over everything on the sleigh ride home. Princess Cantacuzene was the second person to refer to my curse as a gift. And she spoke as if she too possessed this terrible gift. No one else would see it that way. Certainly not my parents. And not the imperial family.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The holiday passed quickly. Our family broke the Christmas Eve fast in the usual fashion: as soon as the first stars could be seen in the cold night sky, we ate the traditional twelve-course feast, which included mushroom soup and baked fish. The table was loaded with plates of apricots, figs, sweet almond cakes, and rice pudding.
We would not be able to eat most of the Christmas treats, made with butter and cream, until the next day, after the Christmas Mass. But Papa had talked the cook into making his favorite blini with sour cream. The house was cozy, with a fire burning in every fireplace. The familiar scents of tea brewing in the samovar and Maman’s warmed cherry brandy smelled like love to me.
After the midnight Mass, my parents decorated the family Christmas tree. Petya and I acted like infants, squealing and giggling as we unwrapped our gifts beneath its heavily scented branches. Petya received a new saddle for his horse from our parents, since he was going into the cavalry, and I gave him a fashionable silk cravat for his favorite white shirt. Maman received a beautiful ruby necklace that Papa had commissioned by Faberge to match her tiara. There were happy tears in her eyes as she kissed Papa on his whiskered cheek.
I received a number of books: the latest romance by Marie Corelli, a book of poems by Lermontov, and a book of medical drawings by Leonardo da Vinci. Maman enjoyed reading Corelli, which was much too light and ethereal for me. Maman had once told me A Romance of Two Worlds was Queen Victoria’s favorite book, and said the Romanian queen was also fond of Corelli’s work. I never felt quite as much admiration for either queen after that.
I preferred dull scientific tomes to romances and was eager to retire to my room and delve into the da Vinci book. There was secret knowledge to uncover in science. All romances ended exactly the same way: a girl realized the surly boy she had hated all along was the only person in the universe who could complete her soul. I did not believe for a minute that my soul could be completed by some surly boy.
And I would not wish my curse to harm anyone else. So how could I dare long for love?
Maman smiled as she handed me a package with a Montenegrin postmark. “This came for you earlier this week,” she said. “I thought you should wait until we opened the rest of the presents.”
I opened the brown wrapped package with dread. The card had the Montenegrin royal seal but was not signed, so I could not tell who had sent the gift. It could have been Elena or her sisters, or even the king and queen themselves.
“Hurry up so we can see!” Maman was so excited about my gift that I considered letting her open it. But something told me not to.
It was a beautiful onyx box, decorated with tiny pearls. Worth a small fortune.
“Mon Dieu, Katiya!” Maman said. “You must write a thank-you note immediately!”
I opened the lid and immediately shut it again, sick from what I’d seen. A single tarot card. The Queen of Swords.
“Is there a note inside? A picture of the crown prince, perhaps?”
“Nothing,” I lied. Did the Montenegrins know of my mother’s superstitions? Or was it just a coincidence?
There was another feast later that morning with even more treats. Apricot creams and strawberry zephyrs. Chocolate babas and gooseberry puddings. And Petya’s and my favorite: an enormous marzipan torte. I ate until I thought I would be sick.
We presented gifts to our small household staff after breakfast: the male servants received new shoes made of the finest Parisian leather, while the female servants received silver-handled hairbrushes. I had knitted a pair of mittens for Anya.
“Did you make these yourself?” Anya asked incredulously as she inspected the delicate needlework. A red rose adorned each mitten.
