I followed Petya around the house like a puppy, waiting for a chance to talk to him about the Inner Circle of the Order. He was keeping odd hours, sleeping all day and staying out past the early hours of the morning. I did not know if he was working on things related to the Order or just having fun with his friends. It was the holiday season, after all. He was evasive when I asked him.
Dariya and her father and stepmother came to our house for Christmas dinner after the mass. Aunt Zina smiled at me over the dinner table and kindly asked how my heart was. Maman and Papa both looked at me curiously. Dariya too.
"It's as healthy as ever." I did not look at her again for the whole meal.
My uncle discussed the plans for the new medical institute with my father. They had begun construction on the building, and Papa hoped to have the Oldenburg Institute of Experimental Medicine open sometime in the coming year. I sighed, poking at my Christmas pudding halfheartedly. I wished I could be one of the physicians working at his institute. I wanted to treat patients as well, but researching cures for deadly diseases would be fascinating.
After dessert we went into the drawing room and opened presents. Papa had given me a set of Greek and Latin books, and from Maman I received another Marie Corelli romance. I gave them each a scarf that I had knitted.
Maman gasped with delight when she opened Aunt Zina's present: a book written in French on communicating with spirits. As if my mother needed any more information on that subject. I glanced at Dariya, who shrugged as she stroked Sasha's ragged ears. The cat purred even as it glared at me. Dariya did not seem to notice anything wrong with the rotting animal that was purring unsteadily in her lap. She had never been interested in the spiritism parties my mother held before, but now that she was considered a young woman, she was admitted to all the best social gatherings in St. Petersburg, and she'd been to several of Maman's seances. With Aunt Zina.
I'd received several letters from Dariya over the past few months while I was at Smolny, and they'd all described fancy dinner parties and seances that she'd attended. Dariya was now obsessed with finding a rich and handsome husband. Aunt Zina was attempting to keep her allied with the Dark Court and Grand Duchess Miechen. I hoped that my cousin would find a handsome, foreign prince and move far away to somewhere much safer.
"Oh, Katiya, look at this! What a treasure!" Maman exclaimed, smoothing the black leather cover of her book. It looked ancient, but well cared for. I would have loved to know where Aunt Zina had gotten her hands on such a volume. And why was she so interested in Maman's seances?
"This gift is for you, dearest," Aunt Zina said, handing me a brightly wrapped package.
"Merci," I said, unwrapping it warily. It was a book about magical orders: L'histoire de l'ordre du Lis Noir. The History of the Order of the Black Lily. "You are too kind," I said, wondering how she knew I would be interested in such things.
"I hope you enjoy it. The Grand Duchess Miechen and I were shopping for Christmas presents, and she said it looked like something you would appreciate."
A chill slid down the back of my neck. Miechen. It made me nervous that I could not guess the dark faerie's motives. I knew I owed her a debt for my Christmas holiday. Would I owe her another debt for this book? Or was it somehow linked to the way I was to repay the grand duchess? I would read it as soon as everyone left.
My brother prepared to leave not long after we finished opening presents. "Where on earth are you headed?" Maman asked. "Petya, it's Christmas!"
He was dressed in his regiment uniform. "I have to go, Maman. I'm sorry." He kissed her on the cheek and then bowed to the rest of us in the room. "Happy Christmas, everyone."
I was disappointed. Each night I had tried to stay awake and catch him when he came home, but I kept falling asleep. My holiday would be over soon and I would have to return to Smolny. I would never get a chance to talk to my brother about the Order of St. John.
Aunt Zina and the others left not long after Petya. Dariya gave me a hug, thanking me for the diary I'd given her. "I hope to see you when the winter season begins. Will your mother let you come home from school to attend a few of the balls? And the ballet?"
"We shall see," I said, giving her an optimistic smile. I had no doubts that the empress wanted me locked up at Smolny as soon as possible. But when would she be willing to release me again? When the tsar needed me to summon the bogatyr? I could not wish for such a thing.
As soon as our guests left, I kissed my parents goodnight and took my Christmas gifts back to my room. I curled up with the book from Aunt Zina, not even bothering to change into my nightclothes.
I read about the first Russian grand master of the Order, Tsar Pavel, and his ties with a society of magicians in Paris. Pavel had allowed the magicians a safe haven in Russia after the terrors of the French Revolution. The court magicians of St. Petersburg learned much from their French counterparts and reorganized their coven based on the French order. The Russians called their grand master the Koldun, or the Sorcerer, who was the leader of the innermost circle of the Order. The outermost circle was made up of the tsar's most elite soldiers, who did not learn magic. Their mission was to protect the inner circle and its secrets. The middle circle consisted of several wizards who aided the Koldun. They studied alchemy and other forms of magic, all supposedly for the glory and advancement of Russia.
Surely it could not be the same group after all of these years. Unless some of the magicians were immortal. I shuddered, wondering what kind of power Konstantin would have had if he'd studied the secrets of the Order after his father. He would have been able to easily take the tsar's crown away from his brother Nicholas. Especially with a vampire as his consort.
The text was tedious, and despite wanting to learn all I could about the Order, I found myself nodding off again and again. With a sigh, I regretfully put the book away and prepared myself for bed. Anya came in with the hot-water bottle as I crawled into bed. She blew out the lamp as she withdrew, leaving me in the dark.
I had snuggled down into the warmth under the blankets when an odd thought popped into my head. If George was studying to be the tsar's sorcerer one day, who was the Koldun now? Suddenly, it seemed important to know.
The question kept me awake for hours. I hoped I would hear Petya returning home, so I could ask him. It had to be a member of the imperial family, a Romanov. One who was gifted in magic, like George. Whoever it was, he kept his magic a well-guarded secret.
It was long after midnight when I heard my brother's soft footsteps in the hall. I had drifted off to sleep and had been dreaming about Vorontsov Palace, the headquarters of the Order. I had dreamed I was dancing with George in the Great Hall in front of the portrait of the Tsar Pavel.
I jumped out of bed and threw on my dressing gown before opening my door. "Petya?" I whispered.
I had surprised him. It took a while for his eyes to focus on me in the dark hallway. "What the devil are you doing awake?"
He smelled like wine. Which surprised me. "Petya, are you all right? I need to talk to you. You promised."
He shook his head. "Please leave me in peace, Katiya. I don't want to talk about the Order. I don't even want to think about the blasted Order."
"Petya, just tell me one thing."
He opened his bedroom door. "Not tonight, Katiya. My head is killing me."
I put my hand on his coat sleeve. "Who is the Koldun?"
Petya stopped. He turned to me, his eyes flashing angrily. "Katiya, why do you ask me such forbidden questions? It would be dangerous for me to know, and even more so for you. Do not try to find out on your own either."
"But-"
"Good night, Katiya." He entered his bedroom and shut the door.
I should have realized Petya was not high enough in the Order to know these types of secrets. He was an officer in the imperial guard. Part of me was thankful he knew nothing of the Inner Circle's ceremonial magic and alchemy. But I was still worried for George. It meant that he needed to keep his own magic training a secret from the rest of St. Petersburg. How many people knew he was a wizard? Who was he training to replace? And what kind of awful magic were the wizards in Paris teaching him?
