The Gathering Storm

Give me one year.Give me a year to prove to you that we belong together. That your darkness won't blot out my light. Promise me

All romances ended exactly the same way: a girl realized the surly boy she had hated all along was the only person in the universe who could complete her soul. I did not believe for a minute that my soul could be completed by some surly boy. And I would not wish my curse to harm anyone else. So how could I dare long for love?

Balls, balls, balls! I am sick to death of balls!

You waltz with vampires and parade about town with undead monsters, and yet you are afraid of me, Duchess?

I noticed Maman and Papa dancing. Papa looked like he'd rather be shot, but Maman was very happy.

You know what must be done." "No, I do not know what must be done. I do not routinely summon people from the grave and have them following me around!

I don't want you stashing yourself away with your Smolny friends tonight," Maman said. "I want to see you dancing with lots of handsome young princes and grand dukes." I rolled my eyes and stared out the window at the snow-covered city. I resolved to dance with the ugliest and the poorest men in the ballroom--if they should ask me.

You are going to have a nasty scar," I said as I gently held pressure to stop the bleeding. "All true warriors wear their scars proudly," he mumbled. "How can I be proud of this one?" I looked up at him, horrified, as I realized what he meant. "What will your parents say?" I would be sent to Siberia. My whole family would be exiled. If not executed. He shook his head. "They will know about the count before too long. My father will think that I failed to protect the public from this danger. It is I who fear being sent to Siberia." "But...wait. I didn't express my fears out loud, did I?" I dropped his arm and backed away, suddenly spooked by his silvery faerie eyes. "Can you read my thoughts?" "Sometimes, when I concentrate." He winced and grabbed the bandage from me to apply pressure to the bleeding himself. "You are very easy to read. Most of the time.

Your Imperial Highness, will you do me the honor of this dance?" I turned to see Miechen's twelve-year-old son, Boris Vladimirovich, looking at me solemnly. "Of course," I said with a polite curtsy. Angels and ministers of grace, defend me.

Dariya and I used to play French Revolution when we were little. We'd take turns being Marie Antoinette. Our grandmamma caught us once and had us whipped for revolutionary sentiments. We were six years old at the time and had no idea even what revolutionary sentiments were.

Xenia was still laughing at us when her brother walked over. "Georgi, do you remember when Katerina Alexandrovna and Dariya Yevgenienva brought the kitten to the ball?" I hadn't noticed the grand duke approaching. Dariya curtsied prettily. "Katiya's mother wouldn't let us play together anymore after that." "I thought your mother disallowed it," I said, surprised. "Both mothers were very wise," George Alexandrovich said, his lips pressed tightly together, almost as if he was trying not to smile. "You two are an extremely dangerous duo." "Nonsense." Dariya smiled. "Nothing bad has happened tonight." The grand duke was looking straight at me when he said, "But the night is young.

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.

The house was cozy, with a fire burning in every fireplace. The familiar scents of tea brewing in the samovar and Maman's warmed cherry brandy smelled like love to me.

I could not see my own cold light, but I imagined it to be shimmering brightly, with Death looming close by. After such a dream, how could it not?

Was I going mad? I prayed for warmth and daylight. I prayed for my sanity.

Your Highness, we must speak tonight," I whispered. "Alone." Enough was enough. I would not take any part in Princess Cantacuzene's plans, and I would not risk my life dallying with the Montenegrins any longer. "Indeed?" he said, bringing my hand to his lips. I shuddered, realizing he had a different kind of conversation in mind than I did.

Count Chemenensky was quietly gnawing on something, which, upon further inspection, appeared to be his own tattered clothing. Mon Dieu.

Such polite manners for an armed man who was kidnapping me. Danilo could take a few lessons from him.

From the way my mother's eyes lit up, I could guess she was wondering about a marriage between me and one of the Grand Duchess Miechen's sons. Never mind that the eldest, Kyril, was only thirteen.

I trembled a little under the empress's piercing stare. She was using her faerie sight. I could feel it shimmering over me, illuminating even the darkest stains on my soul. I grew slightly dizzy. And a little sick.

As I stepped out in front of the pavilion, my brother's house reared. I flung my arms up instinctively to protect my face as muddy snow flew everywhere. I was too scared to do anything else. I heard Maman's scream behind me.

He grabbed the count's hand to check his pulse, and I held my breath. The count wouldn't have a pulse. Or a heartbeat. Or a breath.

Did the princess smell odd to you?" I suddenly asked. "That is not the point.

I knew whatever punishment the grand duke was going to face, mine would most likely be worse.

A rabbit hopped out of the thicket, saw me, and ran back into hiding. He reminded me of poor Count Chermenensky.

All romances ended exactly the same way: a girl realized the surly boy she had hated all along was the only person in the universe who could complete her soul. I did not believe for a minute that my soul could be completed by some surly boy.