The Katerina Trilogy, Vol. II: The Unfailing Light

By Robin Bridges

Lush and opulent, romantic and sinister, The Unfailing Light, Volume II in The Katerina Trilogy, reimagines the lives of Russia's aristocracy in a fabulously intoxicating and page-turning fantasy.

Having had no choice but to use her power has a necromancer to save Russia from dark forces, Katerina Alexandrovna, Duchess of Oldenburg, now wants to forget that she ever used her special powers. She's about to set off to pursue her lifelong dream of attending medical school when she discovers that Russia's arch nemesis--who she thought she'd destroyed--is still alive. So on imperial orders, Katerina remains at her old finishing school. She'll be safe there, because the empress has cast a potent spell to protect it against the vampires and revenants who are bent on toppling the tsar and using Katerina for their own gains. But to Katerina's horror, the spell unleashes a vengeful ghost within the school, a ghost more dangerous than any creature trying to get in.

"Katerina's first-person voice is smart and believable, fitting well into this atmospheric romance."--Kirkus Reviews

CHAPTER ONE
August 1889, The Crimea, Russia
I stood at the edge of the cliff, shouting into the wind and down to the waves crashing on the jagged rocks below us. "And steep in tears the mournful song, / Notes, which to the dead belong; / Dismal notes, attuned to woe, / By Pluto in the realms below."
Dariya's laugh was unladylike. "Katiya, must you be so morbid?" my cousin asked as she twirled around in her makeshift toga. We had stolen the snowy white linens from our villa and carried them down to the ruins by the beach. Wrapping the linens around us over our dresses, we looked like ancient Greek goddesses.
"Mais bien sur," I replied with a curtsy and a melodramatic sweep of my toga. "It's a morbid play." We were reenacting scenes from a Greek drama we had read in literature class last year, Iphigenia in Tauris. It was here at Khersones, an ancient Greek temple at the edge of the Black Sea, where the Greek priestesses had sacrificed shipwrecked sailors to the virgin goddess Diana. According to the play, of course.
Our families traveled south to the Crimea every year at summer's end, along with most of the Russian court. This summer marked the end of my childhood. In a few weeks, I would be leaving Russia to attend medical school in Switzerland.
I would never again attend the Smolny Institute for Young Noble Maidens, the school I had attended in St. Petersburg since I was twelve. Dariya had completed her studies at Smolny as well, and had been appointed a lady-in-waiting to Grand Duchess Miechen. Dariya was excited about her new life at the dark faerie's court, and her stepmother, Zenaida Dimetrievna, the countess of Leuchtenberg, was excited for her as well. Aunt Zina, as we called her, was an ambitious woman, always eager to further her own position in the grand duchess's court. She would be keeping a close eye on Dariya.
It was a hot day in late August, cooled only by the salty spray that splashed upward as the gray and green waves churned against the sun-baked rocks.
We poked around in the rubble, searching for ancient coins or pottery shards. "Mon Dieu! Katiya!" Dariya picked up something and dusted it off with her sheet.
It was a skull, or part of a skull, at least. Definitely human. But the front teeth had been filed to sharp points.
"What on earth?" Dariya asked with disgust. "Are those . . ."
"Fangs." I couldn't help shuddering. They reminded me of someone I knew. A devilishly handsome but wicked blood-drinking prince in the faraway Black Mountains of Montenegro.
My cousin laid the skull back on the ground, and I frowned as I pushed the horrid blood drinker's face from my mind.
"Dariya, you girls must come back up here immediately!" My cousin's short, round stepmother shouted over the wind as she stood next to my mother under her parasol. My mother squinted against the bright sunshine, trying to see us from so high up. The countess was Maman's sister-in-law, and she had attached herself to Maman's side for the summer.
It was late afternoon, and time for tea. The servants had brought a picnic basket filled with sandwiches and fruits and pastries along on our expedition.
"I do wish you would be more careful," Maman said when we finally rejoined them on top of the hill. "It's entirely too dangerous among those ruins."
"But it's so beautiful," I said, taking a cup of tea from Maman's maid. "And we saw a few bones down there. Imagine how old they must be!"
"The teeth were pointed, like fangs!" Dariya couldn't help saying. "I think it was an ancient vampire!"
"Mon Dieu!" the countess exclaimed, her lace-gloved hand fluttering to her heart. "I'd heard that they lived in this region thousands of years ago." She glanced around nervously. "I do hope there aren't any around now."
"Don't be ridiculous," Maman said. "There are no more vampires in Russia."
Dariya and I both knew better. We'd been roommates with a blood drinker all last year. Dariya had almost died because of the poisonous veshtiza, Elena, who had the most annoying habit of turning into a moth and sipping blood from her sleeping classmates.
But my mother knew nothing about that. She'd heard there were blood drinkers once again in St. Petersburg but had disregarded those rumors as nonsense. Maman had no idea the new head of the St. Petersburg vampires was none other than her niece-in-law, Grand Duchess Militza.
"Katiya, I do not want you girls rummaging around down there anymore," Maman said severely. "If you wish to perform Greek plays, you can do so at our dacha, where it's safe. And more people can watch. We can set up a stage in the garden."
"Perhaps you can find a part for me to play," Aunt Zina said as she piled her plate high with fruit tarts and bits of cheese. "I've always wanted to be Helen of Troy. I know how great a burden it can be too beautiful." She sighed as she bit into a cheese dumpling.
My cousin and I looked at each other and giggled. I saw even Maman stifle a smile. Dariya fell back on the blanket and rolled over onto her stomach. "I think you would be perfect as Helen," she told her stepmother. The countess did not notice the irony in Dariya's voice.
It felt good to laugh and be carefree for a bit longer. We stuffed ourselves on lemon-curd tartlets and closed our eyes to the hot sun shining down on us. The sea breeze kept us from getting too warm.
The countess sipped her tea and gazed out across the breaking waves. "I do believe it's more beautiful here than in St. Petersburg. The landscape is more romantic. Wilder. Don't you agree?"
Maman shook her head. "I'll be much more comfortable when we reach our dacha in Yalta. The empress and her family are already at Livadia."
My heart sputtered as I thought of the empress's middle son, George Alexandrovich. I wondered what he was doing right now in his family's summer palace. I wondered if he was thinking of me.
I had refused him last month when he proposed, but I still loved him. My beautiful boy. I ached to see him again, and yet I was afraid of what would happen the next time we were together. It would be so easy to accept his offer of marriage, but I did not want to give in to him. It was far too dangerous for us both. What hope was there when my dark powers had almost killed him the last time we kissed?
It would be much better for me to start a new life in Zurich and pray that George fell in love with someone more suitable for him, someone the empress would approve of. Such as a princess aligned with the Light Court. Someone I, with my dark powers, could never be.

CHAPTER TWO
The trip from Sevastopol to Yalta took us all day by carriage along the dusty, winding Vorontsov Road through the mountains. Aunt Zina complained for the entire trip, bemoaning everything from the state of the roads and the age of the carriage to the color of the horses pulling us. Even Maman was glad when the countess and Dariya left us at our villa and continued on to their own rental closer to town.
Maman's mother, Grand Duchess Maria Nikolayevna, had built our family dacha more than fifty years ago. The estate had been given to her by her father, Tsar Nicholas, as a wedding present. Grand-mere had died in 1876, and her many properties had been divided up among her children. Our villa nestled in the hills at Yalta was almost as grand as Livadia, the palace of the current tsar and his family.
We settled in, and later that evening, I opened the windows in my bedroom, stepping out onto the balcony. I could still smell the salt on the breeze, even though we were far from the sea. Here, the nights grew much darker than the summer white nights of St. Petersburg. There were more stars in the sky, more chances to make a wish.
I closed my eyes, breathing in the night, and wished the summer would hurry up and come to an end. I was eager to get started on my new life. For as long as I could remember, I'd wanted to be a doctor. I had never wished for a life at the Russian imperial court, which was full of empty-headed, gossiping women. Not to mention ambitious vampires and scheming fae.
"Katiya?" Maman found me out on the balcony. "Come downstairs with me. Aunt Zina has come and brought a spirit board. We are going to hold a séance in the parlor."
I shook my head. "Please, not tonight, Maman. I feel a migraine coming on."
"Oh, how dreadful!" Maman said. "We are planning to summon someone from the sixteenth century!"
It did not matter whose spirit they wished to bother this evening; I wanted no part of it. My mother still believed that spiritism and séances were simply innocent fun, amusing diversions for ladies of the aristocracy. I, of course, knew better. My ability to conjure up the long departed went far beyond summoning spirits.
I, Katerina Alexandra Maria, Duchess of Oldenburg, was a necromancer. And I hated it. Ever since I had been a little girl, I had been able to bring the dead back to life. Fortunately, only a few people close to the tsar knew my secret. His son, Grand Duke George Alexandrovich, was one of them. Unfortunately, there were several dangerous and powerful people in Russia who knew my secret as well. People such as Maman's friend Grand Duchess Miechen.
"Are you certain, dear?" Maman asked. "The Montenegrins have arrived at Yalta and promised to call this evening. You've missed the princesses Anastasia and Elena, haven't you?"
My head began to pound even worse. I had not missed them at all. The Montenegrin princesses had almost killed me last spring by casting a charm to make me fall in love with their brother, Crown Prince Danilo. Although I had broken off the engagement, Maman still retained hopes that I would reconsider my feelings for the wickedly handsome Danilo and become a crown princess.
No one had told her the crown prince was a blood drinker. Like most of the nobility, she lived her life bedazzled by the glamour of the light and dark faerie courts and believed that all the vampires had been driven from St. Petersburg many years ago. I hoped I was doing the right thing hiding the truth from her. My brother and father, however, knew that evil creatures roamed our city. And they knew about me.
"Please send my regrets," I said, taking Maman's hands. "I think I will go to bed early tonight. Tomorrow is the excursion to the caves, is it not?"
"Mais oui! Zina will never forgive me if we do not go!" She kissed me on the forehead. "Sleep well, Katiya. Should I send Anya up here with some tea?"
"That would be wonderful." I smiled. My maid would be happy to escape from the company downstairs. She feared the Montenegrin princesses as much as I did.
Maman left, and it was not long before Anya knocked on my door. "Duchess? Your mother said you were not feeling well."
"It's just a headache," I said, coming in from the balcony and locking the doors. "Thank you." I sank down into the chair and inhaled the steam from my cup. For some reason the tea in the Crimea always tasted better than the kind we drank at home.
"I heard the princesses asking about you," Anya said, fussing with the tea tray. She'd brought a plate of brown bread and butter, along with some cheese and fruit, to ensure that I did not go to bed hungry.
Not everyone knew that the Montenegrins were veshtiza witches, with the power to turn into bloodsucking moths, but rumors of their dark magic had spread throughout St. Petersburg. Now shunned by the empress and the Light Court, they were attempting to curry the favor of the Dark Court faerie, Grand Duchess Miechen. Her court rivaled the Light Court, and the empress knew it.
The tense power struggle between the light and dark faerie courts had not improved since the battle with the lich tsar at Peterhof. Their powers might not have been apparent to most inhabitants of St. Petersburg, but the aristocratic elite knew the rumors and the legends, mostly tales spun by the fae themselves. Behind a veil of glamour, the two dangerous faeries plotted and schemed for control of the fate of the empire. The empress, of course, blamed the Dark Court for the attack against her husband, the current tsar. Grand Duchess Miechen, who dreamed of the day when her own son would wear the imperial crown, had no love for the lich tsar Konstantin. Nor was she particularly fond of the blood-drinking Montenegrins, whose treachery had caused her to miscarry twins last month.
"What did the princesses say?" I asked as I reached for a slice of bread. Anya loved to gossip, and I would not be allowed to rest until I'd been told everything she'd heard.
She sat down in the chair next to mine and lowered her voice. "They said their dear brother was still at home with his parents, languishing and heartsick over you, but that they hoped to see you at the grand duchess's birthday ball this week."
I rubbed my temples. I knew I'd have to see them in public eventually. There would be plenty of people at the ball, and hopefully any conversations the Montenegrins and I had would be brief. If I never saw the crown prince again, it would be too soon.
Anya helped me get ready for bed and then took the tea tray away, leaving me alone in the dark. I heard the sounds of laughter coming from Maman's séance in the parlor. And someone, probably Aunt Zina, singing a gypsy love song. I closed my eyes and listened to her rich, husky voice.
The metal bed was not as comfortable as my bed at home in St. Petersburg. It felt more like my old cot at Smolny. But the linens smelled like sunshine and sea air. As I fell asleep, I dreamed of paper-thin white wings, fluttering outside on my balcony.

CHAPTER THREE
The next morning, we met Dariya and her stepmother for our excursion to the Massandra caves. Adjacent to the imperial estate of Livadia, the grounds of Massandra had recently been bought by the tsar, and a grand palace was being built. Some of the caves were open for excursions, and that was where we planned to spend the day.
Dariya grinned at me, holding her parasol up to protect her fair skin from the late-morning sunshine. Accepting the footman's arm for support, I climbed into the carriage next to her. It would be a short ride to Massandra, for the estate was very near to our villa, but we would have to walk across the beautifully cultivated vineyards to reach the caves. The servants had packed two large picnic baskets for us. I could smell the freshly baked baklava that had been wrapped up for later.