the crown prince. So much for our remembrance of the dead.

Elena looked as if she’d been crying heavily. Her eyes were puffy and red. “What if there is no ball?” she whispered to me. “Do you really think the empress will cancel it?”

“It would be the right thing to do,” I said.

“Yes, but the empress hates the Austrians. Do you remember last year when the tsar’s great aunt died and the Austrian ambassador held the ball the night of her wake? The empress was furious. She will not forget their callousness.”

“But this was the heir of Austria-Hungary! And she is the empress—not some mannerless ambassador.”

Elena shook her head, trying to keep time in the waltz. “I hope she is vindictive. I know I would be if I were empress.”

I sighed inwardly, praying I would never see the Montenegrin princess as empress of all the Russians. Elena could be extremely vengeful indeed. The very thought of her with the full power of the Russian throne behind her frightened me. It would not be bad just for me—it would be bad for all of Russia.

There was one bright spot on that dark day. My cousin Dariya had returned that afternoon from the hospital. She looked much thinner and paler than ever before, but I was relieved to have her back at Smolny again.

She smiled as I hugged her, but seemed distant. She was anxious to talk with Aurora Demidova, however. After saying hello to everyone else, she disappeared with Aurora for a walk in the gardens.

The dinner hall that night was somber, even though the servants had not bothered to drape it in black crepe. Everyone was depressed and worried that there would be no dancing, no ballets or operas to attend.

“Mon Dieu, there is more to life than dancing,” I said over our bland and watery vegetable soup.

“Oh, no, Katiya, surely you are joking!” Aurora said from the end of the table.

“The Anichkov Ball was the only thing that gave me hope while I was lying in that dismal hospital,” Dariya said. “I might as well have died if there won’t be a ball.”

“Dariya!” I said. “Don’t even joke about that!”

She laughed. I took it as a sign of recovery and let the moment pass.

In the few hours since Dariya had returned from the hospital, she and Aurora had fast become close confidantes. They sat together now, whispering and giving Elena dark looks. But neither one dared accuse her of anything openly. I felt left out, even though I realized that both girls had been poisoned, and I had not. It troubled me that so much had changed between my cousin and me in such a short time.

That night, Elena stayed up late, reading what looked like her book of French poetry. But I heard her mumbling softly by candlelight as I drifted off to sleep, and the words she chanted were not French.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Whatever dark magic Elena had worked during the night, if it had involved the ball, it appeared to have been successful. For the next morning, everyone at Smolny knew that there would still be an Anichkov Ball. Empress Marie Feodorovna insisted that it not be canceled, but that everyone come dressed in proper mourning attire—all black. Women were not to wear colored gems, but only diamonds and pearls. Elena was ecstatic. Her sisters brought a seamstress by that afternoon to take her measurements for a proper black ball gown.

My mother also sent for me and brought me to the house, where her favorite dressmaker could fit us both. With her dark coloring, a black gown would look dramatic on her. Maman could not wear her beloved ruby tiara, but she had a delicate diamond one from Cartier that was just as lovely.

My dress was short sleeved and off the shoulders, with jet beading and black lace across the bodice. Maman called me to her boudoir on the evening of the ball and gave me a pair of my grandmother’s diamond earrings to wear.

“These will draw attention up toward your eyes,” she said. “Grandmaman Marie would be so proud of you.”

“For what?”

Maman sighed. I knew it gave her grief when I did not act as excited about glamorous occasions as she expected. I did not see how dressing up like a painted doll was an accomplishment to be proud of. Would my grandmother have been proud of me if I had discovered a cure for consumption? Or would she have preferred me to look pretty and decorate the arm of a husband with a title?

I shrugged. I was certain I knew the answer to that question. And it wasn’t an answer I liked. “They are beautiful, Maman,” I said to appease her. I spun around a few times before sitting down to have my hair done. The dress truly was stunning, even though it did make me look paler than normal.

Papa and my brother were both attired in their finest regiment blacks. Petya was still sad about the death of Count Chermenensky, and the mourning wear he sported, a black silk armband against his dress uniform, had deeper meaning to him than any of ours did to us.

I wanted to cheer Petya up, so I promised I would find him a partner at the ball.

He gave me a wistful smile. “There is no one I would dance with tonight. Besides you, my dear sister.”

“You shall have it,” I said, disappointed that I could not lighten his spirits.

We rode to Anichkov Palace in the black Oldenburg carriage. It was drawn by four spirited black horses that looked as if they’d driven straight out of hell. The night was icy cold, even with the hot-water bottles in our laps, the fur-lined coach rugs, and the warmed bricks at our feet. The streets were crowded, as most of St. Petersburg was on its way to the ball.

“I don’t want you stashing yourself away with your Smolny friends tonight,” Maman said. “I want to see you dancing with lots of handsome young princes and grand dukes.”

I rolled my eyes and stared out the window at the snow-covered city. I resolved to dance with the ugliest and the poorest men in the ballroom—if they should ask me.

Our carriage approached the northern entrance of the palace, where the nobles were to arrive. There were four separate entrances to the palace, one for the princes, one for the other court ranks, one for the officers, and one for the civil servants. The gates of the palace were draped in heavy black crepe, as were the marble corridors leading inside. Even the candelabras along the walls and the chandeliers were swathed in black gauze.

Papa took Maman’s arm, and my brother took mine. We slowly proceeded up the enormous marble staircase behind other noble families, waiting to be announced by the dance master. I noticed the Cantacuzene family being introduced. “Isn’t the princess looking lovely and spry tonight?” Maman whispered. “She looks younger than she did before Christmas. I wonder what medicinals she takes.”

Seeing the princess made me realize I was not wearing her ring that evening. The black stone would have gone well with my gown, but I’d left it in my trinket box at Smolny. I hoped the princess would not ask me about it.

When it was my family’s turn, we stopped at the entrance to the grand ballroom. The master of ceremonies banged his large wooden baton against the floor as he stood in front of the archway and announced us to the crowd.

“Prince Alexander Friedrich Constantine von Holstein-Gottorp, Duke of Oldenburg; his honorable wife, Princess Yevgenia Maximilianovna von Leuchtenberg; his son, Duke Peter Alexandrovich von Holstein-Gottorp; and his daughter, Duchess Katerina Alexandrovna von Holstein-Gottorp.”

It sounded impressive, but we were far from the most illustrious of families present that night. Very, very far. I was able to claim Catherine the Great as my great-great-great-grandmother, but so could hundreds of others present. Even Princess Elena, the fifth daughter of a minor sovereign, outranked me.

Elena and her two ebony-clad sisters pounced on me immediately. “Katerina!” Elena said breathlessly. “There is someone we want you to meet!” The Montenegrins’ dark coloring looked beautiful against their black gowns. The elder princesses wore jet beaded kokoshniks, but Elena wore her hair up simply, with a few flirtatious curls cascading down the back.

My stomach twisted into knots as she grabbed my arm. I suddenly remembered Elena telling me her brother had come to St. Petersburg for the season. I tried to smile. I would not let them see my fear.

“Danilo, may I present the duchess Katerina of Oldenburg? Katerina, this is my brother Prince Danilo.” She

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