inside. I couldn’t look at him right now.
Hastily, I retired to our bedroom. The Morning Star was safely hidden in a trunk at the foot of our bed. I would have to find another ritual to get rid of the sword without risk to George. Perhaps I could invoke the angel myself.
Although I pretended to be asleep when George joined me and kissed my cheek, I lay awake that night for hours, listening to his breathing. It started out shallow and uneven before settling into a steady rhythm once he was sleeping deeply. I rolled over to peek at his cold light, still a brilliant white glow with tendrils that fluttered carelessly around him. Did his light seem brighter than it had been? Or was it my imagination? I reached out to place my hand on his chest. His heartbeat tonight was slow and steady and perfectly regular. In his sleep, my husband stirred and wrapped his arm around me. I finally closed my eyes and willed myself to relax. The Koldun was wrong. He had to be.
42
Exhausted, I returned home from classes the next afternoon, desiring nothing more than a cup of hot tea and my bed. The lecture on kidney diseases had been dull and long-winded. I’d already read the professor’s article on nephritis in one of my father’s medical journals years ago. He hadn’t made any new discoveries since the article had been published, so the lecture consisted of nothing but old material. Anya took my books from me at the front door and curtsied. “A letter came for you today, Your Imperial Highness. It’s on your desk.”
“Thank you,” I said. It still felt strange being addressed as a grand duchess. But I imagined it would seem even stranger when I would one day be addressed as a doctor. I smiled to myself, hoping that day would not be too far away. And I knew it would not take me as long to get used to such a title.
Our study was empty. George must have been napping, I thought distractedly as I saw the envelope on my desk. The letter was postmarked from Cetinje.
Anya poured fresh water in the samovar and it soon started its comforting sounds of brewing. I sat down to read the letter. It was from Elena. I had not seen nor heard from her in over a year. Not since she’d been expelled from Smolni.
I threw the letter down, too agitated to read on, even though her angry words went on for another page. I knew that Elena missed her brother terribly, but there was nothing more I could have done for him. Her handwriting was sharp and rushed; she had been in a great passion when she wrote the letter. I made a cup of tea and went searching for George. Studying could wait.
He was not sleeping. In the bedroom, I found the furniture pushed aside and a ritual circle drawn on the floor. Sigils were scrawled within the circle in what looked like chalk. The room smelled of burnt incense. A sliver of dragon’s blood resin smoldered in a brass dish on the bedside table. What had he done?
“George?” I shouted, fear churning in my stomach. What if he’d overheard the Koldun last night? Would he try to invoke the Angel of the Sword on his own? I searched the trunk, which had been pushed against the wall. The Morning Star was missing.
I shouted for Anya and she came immediately. “Where is the grand duke?” I asked.
She looked surprised. “He was out on the terrace with his visitors. I was going to bring them tea and cakes but he refused and said they were not staying long. In fact, the men left the villa a few minutes later.”
“Who were his visitors?” I asked, my fear for George growing.
“I’m not sure. They were strange-looking men, Your Imperial Highness. They frightened me with their stony faces.”
The Grigori. He had asked them to come to our villa to create a portal. Just that part of the ritual alone would sap his strength. I would have to follow them and pray I wasn’t too late to stop him. “Anya, please cancel our dinner plans tonight with my aunt Zina. I don’t care what you tell her—just make my apologies, please.”
Anya’s eyes grew wide. “Yes, Your Imperial Highness.” With a curtsy and a bewildered look, she left.
I returned to the bedroom alone and stared at the magic circle on the floor. I’d have to use my cold light to open my own doorway to the Graylands. I prayed I’d be able to find the seven gates on my own.
I used the same word Militza had taught me, the Coptic word for “open,” and suddenly found myself back in the Graylands. I focused on drawing my cold light as close to me as possible. The mist made it difficult to see, and I remembered dismally that George had carried coins for the ferryman the last time we’d journeyed here together. I had nothing on me save the Talisman of Isis.
Taking a deep breath, I pricked my finger and let a single drop of blood fall upon the black stone, the scarab in the middle of the talisman. I needed all the magic I could summon. “The blood of Isis, the strength of Isis, and the power of Isis is mine,” I whispered. The mist swirled around me and I felt a tingling sensation up my spine. “Please help me find the seven gates.” The talisman grew white-hot and I dropped it to the ground with a cry. The scarab fell out and shattered into tiny pieces. I’d broken the talisman.
Out of the mists stepped a figure. The crown prince.
43
“Danilo?” My heart froze. What if it was the lich tsar?
He picked up the pieces of the talisman and handed them back to me. “Yes, Katerina.”
“Your soul was in the scarab.” No wonder Elena and Militza thought me stupid. Why hadn’t they told me?
“Of course.” He brushed a remaining sliver of the stone from his jacket.
“And you are safe from Konstantin now.”
Danilo smiled. “You were magnificent. He can torment me no longer.”
I felt an enormous sense of relief. At least I’d saved one soul in all of my blunders. But now I had to save George. “Can you lead me to the seven gates?” I asked. “I have to rescue George.” I watched as his face showed no emotion. “My husband,” I added.
“I see. I am bound by honor to assist you, if not bound by my affection.”
“You never loved me, Danilo,” I protested. “You needed a necromancer. You loved my powers.”
“Perhaps. We are wasting time, Duchess. Or should I say, Your Imperial Highness?” He took off into the mists and would have left me behind if I had not hurried to follow him.
We did not come across the jackal-headed ferryman again. Instead, the route Danilo used took us through a cavern, lit by softly glowing lights. They looked like mushrooms. I expected the cave to be damp and smell of mold, but there was no scent. And no mist. The cavern descended into darkness, as the mushrooms grew more and more sparse. The path was smooth stone, but I still managed to trip a few times, much to Danilo’s amusement.
After reaching the lowest point, we finally began to climb up the other side and at last emerged in a great hall. The floor and walls here were a brilliant gold. It hurt my eyes so badly that I had to close them and let Danilo lead me across the chamber. He took my arm in his and asked, “Do you know the ritual your grand duke is attempting? What are we in such a hurry to stop?”
“He is going to hand over the Morning Star to an angel. I wanted to free the Grigori, but not if it costs George his life.”
“Ah, the angel Auriel,” Danilo said. “You may open your eyes now. We have passed through the Golden
