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bogatyr,” Maman explained. She took my hand in hers. “The reason I am telling you this is that I dreamed last night of the bogatyr’s return.”
    “Why would Russia need him now?” I asked. “We’re relatively at peace with all of Europe. Even Germany. Even Turkey.”
    “The bogatyr does not protect us only from our political enemies, but also from the forces of evil. The last time was in 1825, when my grandfather Tsar Nicholas defended us from the vampire uprising. Some kind of evil has returned, Katiya. I wish you could sense it as I do. There was a time, when you were younger, I truly believed …”
    She looked away, out her window into the snow-filled garden below. “Anyway, even if you cannot feel it, there is agreat evil presence growing in St. Petersburg. We need the bogatyr to return and protect us. I believe the dream I had last night was a sign that he will return.” Her eyes were bright, as if she was holding back tears. She squeezed my hand.
    I didn’t want to believe my mother’s wild tale. “Vampires do not exist, Maman.”
    “Certainly not,” Maman said. “Not since the uprising. The bogatyr banished them and their Dekebristi minions from St. Petersburg.”
    I had a sick feeling in my stomach. I knew faeries and witches existed, as well as necromancers. What other monsters walked the streets of St. Petersburg? What if the bogatyr believed I was the evil presence in the city? Would Maman have seen that in her tarot cards?

CHAPTER SEVEN

    M iechen’s Christmas Ball was an annual tradition for the younger set, who were allowed to dance polonaises and mazurkas and quadrilles but no waltzes. I was hoping this would be the last year Maman dragged me along, as I was now attending the grown-up balls, which were silly enough.
    “Come along, Katiya!” Maman called up the stairs.
    Anya was finishing my hair.
    “Please be careful, Highness,” she whispered. “Even with the Montenegrins out of the city, there is always evil about. I overheard the footmen talking about recent grave robberies. Who would do such a wicked thing?”
    I frowned at myself in the looking glass. I’d heard Papa discussing the same thing with my brother. The graves had belonged to two princes, both decorated war heroes. I couldn’t fathom what possible good could come from digging up someone’s grave.
    Even more distressing, what possible evil could come of it? I shivered with disgust and then sighed. I could not contemplate such things now. I had a command performance to attend.
    I stood up, twirling my skirts a little. “I’m sure it is quite safe to attend a ball at the Vladimir Palace,” I said.
    The grand duchess Maria Pavlovna, wife of Grand Duke Vladimir, was known as Miechen to her family and friends. A fierce rival of the empress, the faerie was a German princess from the darkest Brothers Grimm story. No one threw a more spectacular party than Miechen. And the empress knew it.
    Maman loved any excuse to see and be seen, and the Christmas Ball was no exception. Maman had long been friends with Miechen and the empress and had managed all those years to remain cordial with both. She tried to stay neutral, but her fondness for séances and the occult drew her to the Dark Court’s favor. Both faerie queens scared the skirts off me. I tried not to draw either one’s attention.
    Maman’s deep red gown matched the ruby tiara sparkling in her dark hair. She looked paler than usual in the rich-colored velvet. Maman had her mother’s Romanov features: the piercing dark eyes and the long, narrow nose. I had my mother’s eyes but my father’s pudgy nose. My cousins had teased me mercilessly about it when I was younger, knowing it disturbed me. I wore a white velvet gown, similar to my Smolny dress. I looked forward to the day when I could wear any color in public other than white. White was innocent. My soul was not.
    Miechen was dressed in a dark purple ball gown, with herfamous Vladimir tiara, which dripped