The Unfailing Light Read Free

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 aslice 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

 
    T he 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