Robin Bridges: The Gathering Storm

I smiled back.

It grew even hotter in the ballroom at that moment. I could feel myself blushing.

I completed my circle around the grand duke, and he stood with a click of his heels. A hundred pairs of boot heels clicked together at once as the mazurka ended.

With one last gracious bow and a polite smile, the grand duke excused himself to join his brother. I needed to catch my breath. Another glass of lemonade would be nice as well, I thought.

Dariya pushed through the crowd and swung me around, squeezing my hands. “Mon Dieu, Katiya!” she gushed. “This has been the best night of my life!”

I smiled and squeezed back. The night was not quite as terrible as I’d feared either.

We sat down to dinner at half past ten, right after the mazurka. Elena’s two older sisters met us in the grand dining room. All the Montenegrin princesses favored each other: tall, with raven-black hair, eyes just as dark, and strong noses.

“You look beautiful,” Elena’s sisters said to her. “Papa and Mama would be so proud of you!”

I’d heard sinister tales about Elena’s sisters. Even though they were rumored to be witches, they were still the toast of St. Petersburg society, coyly appearing at all the smartest balls and card parties. Princess Militza was engaged to the grand duke Peter Nikolayevich, cousin of the tsar on his father’s side and also my cousin on his mother’s side. Another sister, Princess Anastasia, known as Stana, had her eye on my uncle the Duke of Leuchtenberg.

As we were shown to our seats, I was shocked to see the tsarevitch and his brother being seated at my table—next to Elena.

I whispered to Princess Militza, “To what do we owe such an honor?”

“It is the tsarevitch who is honored tonight, dining with daughters of King Nikola,” she answered. Militza tended to think the universe revolved around her father’s tiny kingdom of Montenegro.

“Oh. Then I am honored as well,” I said with a reverent bow of my head to her. She nodded regally, oblivious to my sarcasm. On the other side of me, Dariya snickered softly.

The food had been prepared under the direction of the empress’s French chef. The soup was excellent, the fish not so much. I discreetly pushed it around on my plate, certain no one would concern themselves with what a silly Smolny student ate or did not eat. The empress was entertaining her Danish relatives at her own table, the tsar having already returned to his private quarters after a brief appearance.

Besides, I knew all uneaten food would be given to the beggars outside at the end of the ball. I believed I was doing my part to help them by leaving more food for the poor. I just hoped they liked fish more than I did.

I glanced around our table, where Elena was laughing and batting her eyelashes at everyone. She caught my eye and winked. The tsarevitch was talking to a young officer to his left. Elena turned to his younger brother the grand duke George Alexandrovich, on her other side, and whispered something.

He looked toward my plate and nodded. “Not fond of the salmon, Duchess?”

All eyes at the table were suddenly on me. The devil. Elena winked at me again as she slipped something out of her locket and sprinkled it over the tsarevitch’s plate. Was that the charm my maid had seen her with earlier? With a dead moth? She had deliberately diverted everyone’s attention toward me. Was she really trying to cast a spell on the tsar’s son? Mon Dieu!

I couldn’t let the princess harm a member of the imperial family. The tsarevitch was a kind young man. He did not deserve to be bewitched.

I stared at my own dinner plate with a cold, clammy feeling in my stomach. I took a sip of wine, knowing there was one way I could ruin her spell. For as long as I could remember, I’d had a terrible curse. I’d never told my parents about it, even though I sometimes wondered if I’d inherited it from my mother. I was too ashamed to ask her.

I hadn’t purposefully used the curse since I was ten. But I suspected that there was something dead on His Imperial Highness’s plate, so I knew I could ruin Elena’s spell. There was no other way to stop her.

The tsarevitch laughed at something his brother had said, and lifted his fork again. I had to hurry. I focused my attention on his dinner plate, hoping no one would notice.

And that God would forgive me.

As I concentrated, the dead moth crawled out from under the tsarevitch’s fish.

“Good Lord!” he said. As he moved to poke the insect with his fork, it flew up at Elena, who shrieked. A mortified servant whisked the tsarevitch’s dinner plate away.

Dariya, who discreetly hid her face behind her napkin, looked startled at first, then tried very hard not to laugh.

The grand duke George frowned at me with his mysterious blue eyes before turning to his brother. “Didn’t fancy the fish either, Nicky?”

“To be honest,” Nicholas said, “it did have a queer taste.” He laid his napkin on the table.

“Yes, it certainly did, now that you mention it,” Princess Militza said, glancing at her sister.

Elena grew unhappy. She would have to find another way to charm the tsarevitch. He would think me insane if I told him what had happened, if I warned him about the Montenegrins.

The servants finished clearing the rest of our dishes from the table and brought out fruit compotes. Still slightly nauseated, I picked at mine. Elena ate her compote glumly, smiling only when someone spoke to her.

It was not long before the empress had finished dining and risen from her table, signaling a return to the dancing. Militza grabbed my arm and hissed in my ear, “Walk with me, Katerina Alexandrovna. You must see the beautiful fountain in the winter garden. It’s just at the other end of this hallway.”

An icy chill slid down my spine. I was terrified that someone would discover what I’d done. Especially one of the Montenegrin princesses.

The garden was in a large two-story glass room, full of heavily scented flowers and lush greenery. In the center, an enormous multitiered fountain babbled soothingly.

“Can you keep a secret, my dear?” Militza asked as her cold and perfectly manicured hands clutched mine.

“I’ve been known to keep them before,” I replied, still shaky from what I had done to the moth. Years earlier, I’d promised myself I would never do such a horrible thing again. It was unnatural.

“I believe there is an evil presence here at the ball tonight.”

My heart pounded. “Evil?”

“Yes. Evil. Nothing else could have disrupted Elena’s spell,” Militza said, watching my face very closely.

“A spell!” I gasped at her recklessness, wondering why she would admit to such a thing. “Elena could be exiled for witchcraft!” I added.

“Not if the Romanovs do not find out. And I know you will not tell them, Katerina Alexandrovna.”

“Why should I protect her? She was casting a spell on the heir!”

“Because your magic is far more terrible than ours. The tsar holds my father in high esteem. And you would not want the tsar to discover your nasty little secret.”

My mouth went dry and my palms began sweating inside my white kidskin gloves. “You must be making fun of me,” I said, trying to be as lighthearted as possible. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Come now.” Militza narrowed her eyes. “Several people in that dining room could sense that something deliciously wicked had just happened. Especially the empress.” She paused and seemed almost gleeful at the look of horror on my face. “You are fortunate there are so many witches and other … creatures present tonight. It will take weeks for the tsar’s men to discover it was you, an innocent-looking viper.”

I was speechless. The Montenegrin princess could see the fear in my eyes.