two grand dukes strolled out to the floor, immediately choosing partners. George Alexandrovich’s eyes met mine, briefly, and then he took Dariya’s hand and swept her across the ballroom.
“Your Imperial Highness, will you do me the honor of this dance?” I turned to see Miechen’s twelve-year-old son, Boris Vladimirovich, looking at me solemnly.
“Of course,” I said with a polite curtsy. Angels and ministers of grace, defend me.
Many of my distant relatives, and even my closer cousins, whom I only saw on occasions like this, were present. I glanced around the room as Boris and I danced. Uncle George’s son Alexander Georgevich looked uncomfortable, unable to excuse himself from chatting with the elderly princess Cantacuzene.
“I hope we get to eat soon,” Boris murmured as he stepped on my foot a third time. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Katiya!” Dariya rushed up to me, out of breath, as the dance concluded. Boris bowed, thanking me graciously, then skipped off to find something sweet to eat. The servants had just laid out a tray of iced pastries and sugar-frosted fruits. Dariya was dressed in a white silk dress embroidered with tiny pearls. She wore large ostrich feathers in her hair and in the bustle of her skirt. My cousin was so much more beautiful than I was. Her long dark blond hair was a tumble of curls down the back of her head. All the young men flocked around her.
Dariya and I made our way out of the overheated ballroom and walked through one of Miechen’s elegant parlors. Here several small tables were heavy with canapes and caviar. We helped ourselves to cups of punch and sat on the damask-covered settee to catch up.
“I am so glad you did not have to go to Cetinje,” Dariya said. “I don’t see how Elena could possibly think the crown prince is the man of your dreams.”
I shrugged. “Please do not mention him again. Or Cetinje. It is all Maman talks of.”
“I’d rather go to Paris,” my cousin said. “I hear it is a beautiful city.”
We’d both been to visit our grandmother’s villa in Biarritz, a resort town on the Atlantic coast, but neither of us had seen the capital of France. Dariya and I used to play French Revolution when we were little. We’d take turns being Marie Antoinette. Our grandmamma caught us once and had us whipped for revolutionary sentiments. We were six years old at the time and had no idea even what revolutionary sentiments were.
I tried to avoid the imperial family during the ball, but Grand Duchess Xenia was getting punch in the grand rotunda and spotted us. She gave us a knowing smile. “If the two of you are together, there is mischief in progress,” she said. “Are Auntie Miechen’s dogs safe?”
During a children’s ball Maman had thrown many summers earlier, Dariya and I found a kitten that had wandered upstairs and we tried to get it to dance a mazurka with Maman’s French bulldog, Lola. The kitten wanted nothing to do with the mazurka or Lola and scampered up Maman’s silk curtains. Lola ran downstairs, in the opposite direction, then straight through the orchestra and under the violinist’s legs. Fortunately, Dariya and I did not get punished, but we were not allowed to play with Lola anymore. The curtains, alas, were never the same.
Xenia was still laughing at us when her brother walked over. “Georgi, do you remember when Katerina Alexandrovna and Dariya Yevgenievna brought the kitten to a ball?”
I hadn’t noticed the grand duke approaching. Dariya curtsied prettily. “Katiya’s mother wouldn’t let us play together anymore after that,” my cousin said.
“I thought your mother disallowed it,” I said, surprised.
“Both mothers were very wise,” George Alexandrovich said, his lips pressed tightly together, almost as if he was trying not to smile. “You two are an extremely dangerous duo.”
“Nonsense.” Dariya smiled. “Nothing bad has happened tonight.”
The grand duke was looking straight at me when he said, “But the night is young.”
I met his eyes evenly, expecting to see disdain, or even hatred. Instead, there was heat, an intense but strangely wonderful fire. It frightened me even more.
Xenia giggled and then squealed with delight. “Sandro is here!” she said, running off to dance with her older cousin.
Her brother frowned. “If you will excuse me.” He bowed slightly and followed his sister.
“How disagreeable he is!” Dariya murmured as we both watched him leave. “Though he does dance well.”
It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. I shook my head, trying to get the grand duke out of my mind. “We should rescue Alexander Georgevich from Princess Cantacuzene,” I said. “She will talk him to death.”
The elderly princess sat on a velvet sofa in the rotunda outside the main ballroom. Alexander was grateful when we offered a cup of punch to her.
“Thank you, dears,” the ancient woman said. Still in mourning for her late husband, she was wearing a black high-necked ball gown. He had died long before I was born.
Princess Cantacuzene patted Alexander on the knee. “Young man, you must go and dance with one of your pretty cousins! Take Dariya Yevgenievna. Katerina Alexandrovna will be happy to sit with me.”
Dariya smiled as she and our cousin hurried away, glad to escape back to the dancing. I sat down next to the princess, cursing my luck. There would be no one to rescue me from the addled woman’s rambling stories. She was a frequent member of Maman’s seance parties.
“My dear, I fancy a turn in the gardens. Would you oblige me?” she asked.
“Of course, Your Highness.”
She rose regally and took my arm as we exited the ballroom. “You have drawn the attentions of the Montenegrins, I hear,” she said.
I let out a heavy sigh but remembered not to slump. “My mother has been gossiping.”
The princess cackled. “I heard it from others, my dear.” She grabbed my arm with an icy, bony hand. I could feel the cold even though she wore the softest black kidskin gloves. “You are in grave danger, Katerina Alexandrovna.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Highness?”
“The crown prince Danilo is in line to follow his ancestors, the Vladiki. They have ruled their kingdom for hundreds of years.”
“The Vladiki?”
She nodded. “They use the darkest magic to hold on to their throne. They are blood drinkers.”
Surely I had not heard her correctly. I looked at her in disbelief. The old princess had gone mad. “Vampires?” I whispered.
Princess Cantacuzene nodded. Her silvery white hair was pulled into a severe knot high atop her head, tied so tightly I wondered if it hurt her. “The females are the blackest of sorceresses,” she went on.
We stopped as we approached the orangery. The heavy scent of orange blossoms perfumed the humid air.
I had to sit down, feeling a little queasy. I never once had thought such repulsive creatures still walked the earth. Maman’s tale about Tsar Nicholas and his treaty with the vampires seemed so long ago. “Why would a vampire prince want to marry me?” I asked. “My family is not that important.”
The princess laughed as she joined me on the ornately carved garden bench. “Katerina Alexandrovna, who said anything about marriage? Still, I’m glad to see that you sense it is not your bloodline that makes you so valuable.” She took one of her rings off her finger and placed it in my hand. “This will protect you. You and your special talent are a threat to the Vladiki.”
Marble statues of griffins glared at us from under the potted palm trees. Only the grand duchess Miechen could have such a sinister-looking garden room.
“I—I have no special talent,” I stammered. The ring she offered was a shiny black obsidian in a gold setting.
The princess’s eyes flashed. “Do not be ashamed of it, Katerina Alexandrovna. You have the power to defeat the Vladiki. I have long suspected this, even when you were younger. You can stop their quest for dominance and save the lives of many innocents.”
“How can I save anyone?” I asked softly. I carried a curse and the princess had known all along. There was no salvation to be found in my horrible talent.
“You alone are the secret weapon against the blood drinkers. The heir of the Vladiki cannot drink blood until
