"We need to get her inside to see the tsar," Militza said, pulling me away from my brother and the tsarevitch.

"Of course," Petya said, clearing the way for us among the crowd of soldiers. The Grigori were still down on bended knees.

"Please, get up," I told them.

"Tell them to stand down," Petya whispered.

"Stand down," I said, hoping I did not sound ridiculous.

My brother smiled. "You command an army just as well as our great-great-great-grandmother Katerina did."

I blushed. I hoped I would make my ancestors proud today.

Nicholas hurried to catch up with us as we made our way to the palace. "Where is Georgi?" he asked again. "Did he stay behind in Cairo? Father will be furious!"

"Katerina will tell the entire imperial family when we get inside," Militza said crisply.

For once, I was grateful for the veshtiza's bossiness. I did not want to tell my sad story more than once.

The grand doors at the front entrance opened and I entered the palace, followed by Petya, Nicholas, and Militza. Members of the Order of St. Lazarus stood guard at the door. I smiled shyly at them, even though I knew the undead soldiers would not smile back.

Nicholas led us up the grand staircase to the Gathering Hall, which was lined with guards from the Preobrajensky Regiment. The tsar and the empress waited for us in the hall, along with Grand Duchess Miechen and her husband, the Koldun, Grand Duke Vladimir, and the rest of the Inner Circle of the Order of St. John.

"It would be an asset if we had the striga here as well today," Militza whispered in my ear. "Unfortunately, the effect she has on even her allies makes it too dangerous. I have a feeling she is nearby, though, in case she decides she is needed."

I nodded and was grateful my mother wasn't here. The thought of her fighting in the battle to come and drinking the blood of Konstantin and Johanna's minions made me ill.

Everyone was dressed for the assault, except me. I was still in the wrinkled blue travel dress I'd been wearing when we left Cairo. Even the empress and Grand Duchess Miechen wore the full dress uniforms of their patron guard regiments. The empress's white gown was trimmed in the silver and white braid of the Chevalier Guards regiment, of which she was colonel-in-chief.

The dark faerie was wearing the dress uniform of her Life Guard Dragoons, navy blue with gold-fringed epaulettes. The two women looked just as formidable as the men surrounding them. Like everyone else, they carried the sabers of their regiments, decorated with the imperial double-headed eagle and the Cyrillic cipher of Alexander the Third.

"Come forward, necromancer," the tsar said, his booming voice echoing across the enormous hall. I broke apart from Militza and the others, my boots clicking against the marble floor as I approached the imperial family.

Using the sword for balance, I went down on one knee. "Your Imperial Majesty."

"I see you have succeeded in finding the Morning Star and have kept it safe from Konstantin Pavlovich."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," I said, "I have."

"Is Konstantin dead?" he asked.

"No, Your Imperial Majesty. But his wife, Princess Johanna Cantacuzene, is."

A murmur rippled through the court. Grand Duchess Miechen spoke up. "I believed the princess to have been dead for almost two years, Katerina Alexandrovna."

I nodded. "She was, but Konstantin performed a ritual whereby he killed a young girl and used her body to bring back the vampire princess. With the Morning Star and the help of an ancient Egyptian spell, I killed her once more in the Graylands. She will not be able to return."

There was utter silence across the Grand Hall. If few here knew my secret before, now all knew I was a necromancer. A monster.

"Konstantin must have been wild with grief," the tsar said. "He will seek vengeance, I am sure."

I took a deep breath as my tears threatened to return. "He attacked George Alexandrovich in the Graylands, Your Imperial Majesty." I could feel my voice wavering. I could not, must not, cry in front of the tsar. I was strong even though my heart hurt. "Grief consumes me as well."

The tsarevitch came up behind me, touching me gently on the sleeve. "Georgi?"

I shook my head, too overwhelmed to say the words out loud. If I did not say that George was dead, then it hadn't really happened. Had it?

A silvery-white wolf nosed her way through the group of people clustered around the tsar. She nudged Nicholas's hand gently.

The empress turned pale and placed her hand in the tsar's own enormous one. I could not comfort them. My heart broke for them as much as it did for my own loss.

The doors opened and a messenger from the Order of St. John hurried in, bowing to the tsar as he approached. "Your Imperial Majesty, there is an army approaching from the north of the city. They will be here within the next half hour."

The tsar nodded. "Necromancer, you must prepare yourself."

I squeezed Nicholas's hand before stepping forward.

There was no time to lose. Miechen and Militza whisked me into the small parlor down the hall where they had a uniform waiting for me. Quickly, I changed into a military jacket and matching skirt in the same green and gold colors worn by the Order of St. Lazarus. Pinned to the jacket was the oval medal my soldiers wore, a green hand holding a sword. I was honored to wear the uniform of my creatures.

There was even a belt with a leather scabbard for the Morning Star. I slid the sword into its sheath, grateful I'd have both hands free for the bogatyr's ritual. Both Miechen and Militza nodded in satisfaction when I emerged in the uniform and hurried me back to the Grand Hall.

The tsar's face was sad, but he did not have time to grieve for his son. The Koldun stood beside him holding a golden box with the Maltese cross of the Order of St. John, and the priests were nearby with their incense and crosses.

Tsar Alexander stood in front of me. "Katerina Alexandrovna, you who bear the sword called the Morning Star are being called upon again to summon the bogatyr."

"Brother, you do not have to do this," the Koldun murmured. "She commands the Grigori. We will be able to defeat the lich tsar without putting you through this ritual."

"It is my duty to protect the people of Russia," the tsar replied, not bothering to look at the Koldun. Instead, his eyes bored into mine. "The bogatyr must be summoned. Are you ready, Duchess?"

I nodded, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. "I will do as you command, Your Imperial Majesty."

The prayers had already been said by the metropolitan of St. Petersburg. The Koldun chanted the words of the ritual. I placed one hand upon the Maltese cross and felt my cold light powers rising up. My cold light called to the ancient spirit of the bogatyr, the supernatural warrior bound to protect Russia in her darkest hour. I held out my right hand to grasp the tsar and help transfer the spirit into him. The bearlike tsar would be strong enough to crush me if he wanted. I loved our tsar, almost as much as I loved my own father, but I was very frightened of him as well.

The priest chanted more prayers as the Koldun finished reciting his part of the ceremony. The tsar had grown taller in front of us all. His eyes burned with cold light. I wished he could bear the Morning Star for me. I was sure he could wield a sword far better than I. But the cursed sword would kill even him if he held it.

A cloud of smoke poured forth from the golden candle held by the Koldun, and out of the smoke rose a large bird with long feathers the color of flames. It looked like the firebird of the fairy tales of old.

Everyone but the bogatyr and I stepped back and stared at the firebird as it flew toward the ceiling and swooped around in a graceful arch. We were all too stunned by the creature's beauty to move. It glided straight for me and I still did not step back. At the last minute, the bird dove and in a brilliant burst of flames transformed into the borrowed body of the crown prince. He grabbed the scabbard that held the Morning Star and shouted in triumph.

"Now the Grigori will follow me!" Konstantin Pavlovich exclaimed. He raised the sword in the air and used it to smash a window. "To arms!" he shouted to the crowds gathering outside. "Defend your true tsar!" With a wicked grin and a polite bow to me, he slipped out of the window and onto the palace grounds below.