The Morning Star (13 page)

“You betrayed the Koldun and the Order of St. John,” I said. “You betrayed the tsar.”

Papus did not move a muscle, and yet I felt something cold close around my throat.

Danilo’s voice was in my head again, sighing.
“That was not wise, Duchess.”

I struggled to breathe and remain conscious, even as I saw spots in front of my eyes as the crushing feeling continued to tighten. I grasped for unseen hands, but there was nothing there.

“Leave her be,” Danilo said in a bored voice. “You have proven your point. You have become very powerful since we last met.”

The French mage rolled his eyes, and the pain vanished. I slumped against Danilo and tried to catch my breath.
“Hold on to your cold light, Katerina,”
the crown prince warned.
“He will steal it from you and use it against you again if you let your guard down.”

“How can he do such a thing?” I murmured. Papus was not a necromancer. My head was pounding and I just wanted to lie down and sleep. But I concentrated and pulled my cold light as
close to me as possible. The white tendrils floating around me began to curl inward.

“Dear, dear,” said Papus. “We cannot have you in suspense, Duchess. But all will be revealed to you soon. For now, sleep.”

With the slightest movement of his fingers, I fell into a black oblivion. But not before I felt a tug as Danilo grasped my hand.

Instead of sleeping, I found myself in the Graylands, the realm of pure cold light. Danilo stood beside me, his cold light so bright it hurt to look at him. “What are we doing here?” I asked.

“We are bound, Duchess. I did not want you getting lost.”

“How did you know I was going here?”

“This is where Papus sent you. He intended to follow you himself. Papus can only travel these lands with the aid of a necromancer or by using a Grigori portal.” Danilo gave me a wicked grin. “But alas, he could not follow you since I held your hand instead.”

I pulled my hand out of his grasp. “How do we get back?” I’d used the Throne of Constantinople the last time I’d been in the Graylands. But the throne had been destroyed by the tsar’s men. On my insistence. This place was dangerous.

“We will leave when I say it is time to leave,” Danilo said, the
raspy voice of Konstantin breaking through. “We have a sword to find.”

“I thought we would find the sword in Cairo.” I’d half expected to be participating in a necromancy-laced ritual in a dark and dusty pyramid. Instead, I’d been kidnapped, again, and dragged here.

“Or perhaps it is hidden here after all,” Danilo said. “I know for a fact there are clues to the sword in the Graylands. Only those who walk with cold light can see them.” Konstantin had spent decades trapped in the Graylands, waiting for Princess Cantacuzene to return him to life. He’d had plenty of time to explore this place. “Follow me, Duchess.” He walked into the bluish-white mist and disappeared.

Having no other way to leave the Graylands than with him, I too plunged into the mist. Danilo was not far ahead of me. Through the swirls of mist, I could just see the top of his black hair. He called back to me frequently but would not slow down. He knew exactly where he was going in this limbo place.

After what seemed like an hour, he finally stopped. “Here,” Danilo said as I caught up with him. He waved his hands and suddenly an arched golden door appeared. He opened it slowly. There was no mist inside the small room, only a basket of papyrus scrolls and a dark-skinned, elderly man in Egyptian dress. He looked up at Danilo, his black eyes filled with hatred.

“Why do you return?” the man said with a scowl. “Have you not tormented me enough, Konstantin Pavlovich?”

Danilo pulled me forward. “I bring you a gift, Ankh-al-Sekhem. Another necromancer. You will be able to share her cold light.”

“What?” I asked, dragging myself away from Danilo in alarm.

“All those years I spent waiting for Johanna were not wasted. I learned how to manipulate cold light.” The green eyes of the lich tsar glittered as he stared at me. “I learned how to become the most powerful necromancer ever. And yet I could not raise anyone from the dead on my own. Not in this realm where the dead already walk. Their cold lights illuminate the mist. I needed flesh to make my rituals work. I needed a body of my own.” He placed his hand on his chest. “I needed a beating heart.

“The knowledge I gained came at a great cost. I studied with the Egyptians and also with the Greek necromancers. I promised a tithe to Ankh-al-Sekhem, the oldest and most powerful necromancer of the ancient world,” he went on, nodding toward the Egyptian, seated on a plain pallet on the floor. “I promised that I would return his greatest treasure to him, the Talisman of Isis. But I need the Morning Star before I will do so.”

“What does that have to do with me?” I asked. Ankh-al-Sekhem did not look as if he believed Danilo was here to fulfill his promise.

“This Egyptian’s apprentice stole the Morning Star from his pharaoh’s tomb. He hid it somewhere and was killed by the Grigori before he had a chance to use it or to reveal where he’d hidden it. But his master knows where the apprentice is buried and how we can make his spirit talk to us.”

“Give me the talisman, necromancer,” the elderly man said, “and I will tell you everything.”

“Do you still think us fools, old man?” Danilo sneered. “Tell us where to find your apprentice and then we shall bring you the talisman.”

“What can he do with the Talisman of Isis here?” I asked,
alarmed. I felt the amulet underneath my clothes, warm against my skin. I prayed the Egyptian necromancer could not sense its presence.

“Nothing,” Ankh-al-Sekhem said. “I desire it merely for sentimental reasons.”

I didn’t trust him, and I knew Danilo did not either. Ankh-al-Sekhem was dangerous, even if he looked frail huddled on the floor.

“What are in these scrolls?” I asked.

“Knowledge, Duchess,” he said, grinning a brilliant smile. “Which you are forever seeking. What price would you pay for this knowledge?”

I hesitated. There was only one thing I wanted to know: how to cure George from the magical wound the crown prince had given him. But I did not want Danilo to know he’d hurt the tsar’s son so badly. “What price do you ask?”

“Enough of this,” Danilo said. “We are not here for dirty scrolls. I have already read every one of these parchments of paper. There is nothing worth sacrificing your cold light over, Duchess.”

“Is that even possible?” I asked. “How can a necromancer use the cold light of another?”

“They cannot steal your cold light. It must be given freely. To receive another’s light makes the recipient much stronger.” Danilo put his hand on the small of my back. It was not a comforting gesture. It felt possessive. I shuddered with revulsion. I would never give my cold light to anyone willingly.

“We must have the sword, Ankh-al-Sekhem,” the crown prince said. “Once it’s in our possession, you will have all the cold light you desire. And the Talisman of Isis.”

“Perhaps I should come with you,” the ancient necromancer said as he rose to his feet.

“You must be mad,” Danilo said, laughing. “You have been dead for thousands of years.”

“She is very powerful,” the Egyptian said, nodding toward me, a sly grin on his face. “Powerful enough to bring me back.”

“But you would be a monster,” I said, horrified at the idea.

“Duchess, I am a monster now.” His grin was terrible. “Go to the temple pyramid in the desert where I am buried. Go and call me back. Or you will never get your precious sword.”

“No.” It was Konstantin’s cold, hard voice speaking through Danilo again. “You are a foolish man for thinking we would fall for your tricks. Tell us where your apprentice is buried, and we shall invoke his spirit. Once he tells us where the sword is, I will return to give you the talisman.”

“Perhaps I will keep your pretty necromancer here with me until you do?”

The crown prince rolled his eyes. “You know I would not allow that.”

I tried to hide my relief.

Ankh-al-Sekhem sighed heavily, as if he had known all along he would not get what he wanted. “The apprentice’s tomb lies outside of Cairo, near the pyramid of my lord Ramses. You can use the Graylands to reach it. Use this scarab to show you the way.” He held a small black stone carved in the shape of a beetle. He whispered words over it, so low that neither Danilo nor I could make them out. Suddenly the stone scarab spread out wings and took flight. “You must make haste,” the necromancer said, cackling. “It won’t slow down for you.”

I did not want Konstantin to have the sword. Could I keep it from him by preventing the return of the Egyptian? Could I prevent the French mages from finding the sword as well? Such a dangerous weapon did not belong in anyone’s hands. I did not trust the Grigori. And I could not trust Danilo, for it would not be long before the lich tsar had complete control of the crown prince.

“Let’s go,” Danilo said, his hand on my arm. “Remember to keep your cold light reined in, Katerina.”

“The more time you spend in the Graylands, the more you become like us,” Ankh-al-Sekhem warned. “Do not tarry long here, Duchess.”

“Do not worry about us, old man,” Danilo said. “We will return soon and you will have your talisman.”

We followed the scarab out of the necromancer’s room and back into the thick mist. The clouds mingled with the tendrils of the crown prince’s cold light, as well as my own. It grew harder for me to keep my light pulled in close. I tried to wrap it tighter around me like a cloak. “Ankh-al-Sekhem said it was dangerous to spend so much time in the Graylands,” I said to the lich tsar. “But you were here for decades.”

“Yes. But I was already dead, Duchess. You have only walked the Graylands as one of the living.”

“So it does not affect you? What about the crown prince’s body?”

“We are strong, your Danilo and I. Together we will be the most powerful tsar ever.”

“Why do you even want to be tsar?” I asked. I could not imagine someone desiring such a burden.

“I am a Romanov,” Konstantin said stubbornly. “I was destined to rule from my birth. My grandmother dreamed of re-conquering Byzantium and setting me upon the throne.”

“But she never intended for you to rule Russia.”

“I was the second son. She never expected my brother to die without an heir.”

“Nor did she expect you to marry a blood drinker or become a lich.”

He turned to me sharply and growled, “I would be nothing without Johanna!”

“You could have been tsar,” I said pointedly. And if he had, then my great-grandfather Nicholas would never have ruled. Nor would his son, Alexander the Second, or his grandson, Alexander the Third. “But you chose love over a crown.”

His arm shot out and his fist closed around my throat. “I chose the power of blood over the power of a crown. Do not think that I am weak or swayed by petty emotions. Yes, I loved Johanna. But I loved her because of the power she gave me. It was a pity I underestimated my younger brother.”

I stood very still, and he released his grip on me. He began walking again through the mist. I struggled to keep up with him. “Are you saying you would not have loved Johanna if she had not been a necromancer?” I asked.

He did not bother to slow down as he talked. We had to hurry or the enchanted scarab would leave us behind. “When I was just a boy, I thought I loved my first wife, the Saxe-Coburg princess. She was the beautiful girl Grandmother had picked to be my bride. I was infatuated with her. And she … she was infatuated with my elder brother.”

“But Alexander was married to Elizabeth Alexievna,” I said.
As far as I knew, she’d been completely human and one of the most beautiful empresses who ever lived in St. Petersburg. She was also one of the youngest empresses, and the most naïve.

“Theirs was an unhappy marriage,” Konstantin said. “Just as mine was. Grandmother had picked the right brides for the wrong brothers.”

I could not believe I was having this conversation with the lich tsar. He sounded so vulnerable. So normal. “Do you mean to say that you and Elizabeth Alexievna …?”

“No.” The scarab had finally stopped and fell to the floor, lifeless again in front of us. “But she knew I cared for her. That was before I met Johanna.” He picked up the scarab stone and whispered something in Egyptian. A golden door appeared in front of us. He pushed it open. “Follow me.”

We entered a dimly lit room, which smelled of hot, dry air. And death.