The Gathering Storm (5 page)

“That was very clever,” I told my brother as we dashed away toward Betskoi House, our family home on the Palace Embankment. It was not an enormous mansion, but Maman loved being close to the Winter Palace. “I cannot believe you kidnapped me to rescue me from the Montenegrins.”

My brother shook his head, looking grim. “Maman is truly confined to her bed and has been calling out for you,” he said.

I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re teasing me.”

“I’m sorry, dear sister. I wish it were just a joke.”

My face burned with shame. I felt horrible. Deceiving the headmistress would, of course, be devious, and my brother was a good person. Unlike me. Maman’s illness could even be my fault. What if Princess Militza had spoken to her about the ball? I was silent the rest of the journey, with knots of worry twisting inside.

As the sleigh pulled through the iron gates into our courtyard, I jumped out without waiting for it to come to a complete stop.

I threw my cloak off as I ran up the marble staircase. “Maman? Maman?” I called.

Her pink boudoir was dark with the heavy curtains pulled shut. Maman was indeed confined to her bed, as my brother had told me. Dr. Kruglevski, our old family friend, stood over her, taking her pulse. Papa sat on the other side of the bed. He looked anxious.

“Hello, my dear,” Maman said, holding her hand out to me. She didn’t seem to be feverish, but she did look rather pale. Her fingers were like ice.

“Your mother is going to be just fine,” Dr. Kruglevski said, tucking his watch back into his coat pocket. “She had an attack of hysterics last night after her card party. Rest is all she needs right now.”

“But she’s so pale. Is she anemic?”

The elderly doctor smiled. “Still reading your father’s books, I see. Do not be troubled; your mother does not suffer from anemia. Time will put the color back into her cheeks soon enough. I’m going to leave her in your hands now, Katerina Alexandrovna.” He patted me on the shoulder as he followed Papa out. He smelled of iodine.

Maman let go of my hand. “Oh, Katiya, I’m so glad to see you. But I do wish you wouldn’t bother the doctor so about medical things. He does not have the time to indulge a young girl’s silly ideas.”

“Dr. Kruglevski has always been kind to me, and has even promised to let me see his lab one day.”

Maman rolled her eyes. “Katerina! What shall I do with you? And I am so sorry that my sudden illness means you will not be going to Cetinje with your new friends. I’m sure you were looking forward to it.”

I patted her hand as I sat on the edge of her bed. “No, Maman. Actually, the Montenegrins are not my friends. I can’t imagine why they’d want me to go to their homeland with them.”

“You shouldn’t say such things, dear. When Princess Militza marries Grand Duke Peter Nikolayevich, she will be very influential in the Romanov court. Besides, what if Princess Stana does marry my brother? Then she will be part of the family!”

Actually, Grand Duke Peter was my cousin on my father’s side, so both of the older princesses could end up as relatives. I frowned at the thought. “Now, Maman, tell me what happened to you last night. Why does Dr. Kruglevski think you are hysterical?”

She waved her hand. “Oh, he knows how silly I can become. I was having my cards read by Madame Marina, and I drew the Queen of Swords. It struck my heart with dread, and suddenly I was worried about you. But now that you’re here, I feel so ridiculous.”

I felt a little queasy. “What does the Queen of Swords mean?” I asked. “Why did you think it has anything to do with me?”

“When you were born, Madame Marina read your cards for you, and she told me that you were the Queen of Swords. And that I should watch over you carefully, for you had a wonderful gift.”

“But I don’t.…” The panic already started to rise in my throat. I could not bear it if my mother discovered my secret. And if she was actually
pleased …

Maman grabbed my hand. “Perhaps not yet, but when I
saw your card last night,” she went on, “I was frightened, for above it was the Devil card.”

“The Devil?” I quickly crossed myself.

We lived in the strangest of times. Russia was steeped in mysticism and the occult, and science was struggling against superstition to pull the country into the future. It was like dreaming you were in a fairy tale and knowing you should wake up but not being able to. Unfortunately, I knew for a fact that monsters and faeries existed. I might even be one of the monsters. And there was nothing science could do about it.

As soon as Maman fell back asleep, I went to Papa’s study, where he and Dr. Kruglevski were talking. “Katiya, come in!” Papa said, smiling. “You’ll want to hear this too. The tsar has given me his consent to build a new medical institute here in St. Petersburg!”

“That’s wonderful!” I kissed him on the cheek before settling into one of the overstuffed chairs. Dr. Kruglevski handed me a cup of tea from the samovar. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Your father wants to open an institute of experimental medicine, for research on various diseases, just like Dr. Pasteur’s institute in Paris.”

“Yes, and there’s also one in Berlin,” Papa added, stirring his own cup of tea. “Russia needs one as well if we’re to keep up with modern science.”

“If only he would allow women to attend the Medical Surgical Academy again,” I said with a pout. “The tsar’s minister of education and his cronies refuse to listen to reason.”

“They believe the ghastly rumors about female medical students,” Dr. Kruglevski said.

“What rumors?” I asked.

“That the women are ghouls who cut up corpses at night and walk the streets of St. Petersburg with intestines in their pockets.”

“How ridiculous!” I said. “Papa, can’t you speak with the tsar? Or the minister?”

“Be patient, Katiya,” my father said. “You are still young. Perhaps next year the minister will change his mind. In the meantime, you should focus on your studies.”

“And how was His Imperial Majesty?” Dr. Kruglevski asked. “Nasty business, that train accident last month.”

The tsar, his wife, and his five children had been badly bruised several weeks before when the imperial train derailed near Borki in the Caucus region. Terrorism had been almost completely ruled out by the tsar’s men, but I had overheard people at the Smolny Ball saying it had been an assassination attempt on the imperial family. “Poor Vladimir must be very disappointed,” the tsar reportedly had joked to his wife, knowing that his brother and the grand duchess Miechen had come so very close to inheriting the Russian throne.

“That man is as strong as a bear,” Papa said. “He insists on carrying out his duties, no matter how much pain he is in. Perhaps that is why he was so quick to approve the institute.”

Dr. Kruglevski nodded. “Your Highness, I know a doctor who would be very interested in working at your institute. His name is Pavlov. I think his main area of research right now is the circulatory system.”

“Excellent. We must have him over for dinner soon. Right, Katiya?”

I nodded, hoping I would be able to meet Dr. Pavlov as well. I knew I was very lucky for my close relationship with my father. Most of the students at Smolny saw their parents only once or twice a year, and only on special occasions. My father had always encouraged me to learn and to think for myself. I knew if it weren’t for the tsar’s edict and Maman’s protests, Papa would let me attend medical school.

“We must start searching immediately for the perfect site,” he said. “Unfortunately, the tsar could not provide any funds for the institute, so I will pay for everything myself.”

Dr. Kruglevski finished his tea. “I might be able to help you with a suitable site, Your Highness.” He stood up and bowed. “I shall call on you tomorrow, if that is convenient, when I come to check on the duchess.”

Papa stood too. “Very good, Doctor.” He took my hands in his as the doctor left. “She’s receiving the best care, Katiya.”

Papa did not think much of Maman’s occult dabblings. To his mind, it was just a fashionable hobby. He was a practical man, who wasted no time on superstitions and fairy tales. If he ever knew the truth about me, it would break his heart. That night, I said two prayers before I went to sleep—one for Maman and one for Papa. Once again, I dreamed of the strange little moths flying in my bedroom. But this time, I was hunting them down with a sword.

F
or the next few mornings, Maman was still feeling weak, so she stayed in bed. I was allowed to remain at home, missing the last days of classes before the Christmas holiday. Maman was resting when Princess Elena and her sisters came to pay a call. They were leaving that afternoon on the train back to Montenegro and had come to tell me goodbye.

“We’re so sorry to hear about your poor mother,” Princess Militza said. “Was her illness sudden?”

“Oh, yes,” I answered as they followed me into the sitting room. “Dr. Kruglevski is taking excellent care of her, though.”

“Has she never tried any of the Tibetan doctor’s herbal medicines?” Militza turned to her sister as we all sat down. “Stana, what is his name?”

“Badmaev, I believe. He is wonderful. He cured the princess Orlova of her female hysterics.”

I had heard of the Tibetan doctor. Although he had come
to St. Petersburg to study Western medicine and had received his medical degree, he also practiced his Far Eastern methods of healing. Dr. Kruglevski had recommended some of his tonics for Maman but generally dismissed his healing methods as quackery.

Our servant brought in a tray of tea things. Stana and Militza sipped daintily from their teacups while Elena and I indulged in the sweet biscuits the cook had prepared.

“Oh, Katerina Alexandrovna, I envy you so much!” Elena said, abruptly changing the subject. “You shall be attending the opera and the ballet and all the wonderful Christmas parties here in St. Petersburg while I’m at home missing you terribly.”

“Our brother shall be disappointed as well,” Militza said. “Perhaps you would permit us to take him a lock of your hair, to show him what a beautiful golden color it is?”

“My hair?” I laughed nervously. “Why on earth would he be interested in the shade of my hair?” It wasn’t truly golden, anyway, but more like a dull wheat color.

“We have told him all about you, and he is most anxious to meet you. Elena already drew him a miniature of you in your Smolny dress. He was quite taken with it.”

I bit my lip. “Indeed?” It was disturbing that Elena had been drawing pictures of me, and even more disturbing that she had mailed one across the continent to someone I’d never met before.

But a part of me, the silly girl, was actually pleased. Just because his sisters were witches did not necessarily make him evil, did it? Had I been too hasty to judge him before I
met him? Still, I would not be so stupid as to willingly give my own hair to a witch.

“Of course he is, Katerina,” Elena said. “Please let me take some of your hair to him, as a friendship token.”

“My mother would be horrified,” I said, trying to think up another excuse. Militza smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. “Come, Elena. We must not frighten your poor friend with our own country’s customs. They must sometimes seem barbaric to society here in St. Petersburg.”

“Forgive me,” I said, blushing. “I don’t think it barbaric at all. I just … My mother would think it improper. I have no wish to upset her when she is unwell.”

As scared as I was to let them possess even one strand of my hair, insulting the Montenegrins terrified me even more. I was anxious for them to leave. I would feel much safer when they were miles away from St. Petersburg.

Militza stood up, her two sisters following. “We have imposed upon you far too long, Katerina Alexandrovna. We must go to the train station soon, and we do have other goodbyes to make.”

Elena embraced me. “You must write to me about the parties I am missing.” She reached up, pulled a stray hair of mine off my shoulder, and grinned wickedly. “Look what I have found. Danilo will be able to see the color of your hair after all!” She tucked my hair in her handbag.

I fought the rising panic inside. Perhaps no harm would come of this. In fact, I prayed no harm would come of it.

Stana smiled. “Farewell, dear. We will certainly see each other again soon.”

As I watched their sleigh drive off down Millionaya Street, I grew worried. How would I be able to protect myself from the Montenegrins’ magic? I could not tell Maman everything I knew about the wicked princesses. I did not want her to grow hysterical once more.

I found my mother in her rose-scented boudoir, studying her deck of tarot cards. “Maman,” I said with a sigh. “You’ll get yourself worked up again.”

She waved a hand at me. “Don’t be silly. I think it was Madame Marina’s deck that caused me such discomfort. These are my own cards, from a gypsy woman in Biarritz. These have never lied to me.” She pulled one card after another, carefully laying them in a cross-shaped pattern on her quilt.

Maman’s cat Sasha glared at me from across the room. His scraggly gray tail twitched nervously. “What if Papa discovers your fortune-telling cards?” I asked.