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  Ishtar smiled. “An excellent start.”

  Four hours later, Ruxandra had a long list of words and phrases. Ishtar had chosen the thickest tome—a history written by the vampire king. She’d used the first ten pages to create a lexicon and explained the grammar the vampire king had created to build his language.

  The vampire king wrote meticulously, but not brilliantly. The writing in the tome was small and close spaced and covered every page from top to bottom. In the ten pages they had gone over, Ruxandra had learned five hundred words, most to do with travel, feeding, and the care of horses.

  A soldier came, asking Ishtar to accompany him to the palace, where Anna wanted to speak to her.

  “We will continue tomorrow,” Ishtar said. “I will meet you here, if I can. If not, I will send word and meet you the next night. Is that satisfactory, Ruxandra?”

  Ruxandra nodded. She looked the list of words. “Before you go, would you show me how your name is written in the vampire language?”

  Ishtar tilted her head, her eyebrows coming together. “My name? Why?”

  “You are our creator.” Ruxandra smiled. “I’d want to know what he had to say about you.”

  Ishtar took a pen, dipped it in ink, and drew. “It is a variation on the symbols from my temples. Usually it is an eight-pointed star around a circle, but he liked to be fancy.”

  “Thank you,” Ruxandra said. “Tomorrow, then?”

  “Yes.” Ishtar reached up, rested her hand on Ruxandra’s face. “Until then, my daughter.”

  Ruxandra watched her leave then looked at the symbol.

  It was a round eye, its pupil slit like a goat’s. Four wings surrounded it, pointing up, down, left and right, with four curved horns at the diagonals.

  Ruxandra opened the book and leafed through it.

  She found eighteen mentions of Ishtar, on pages filled with words she didn’t understand. Ruxandra marked each page with a strip of paper. She went through the other tomes and found Ishtar’s name twenty-five more times.

  It’s a start. I’ll ask Ishtar to translate. If she won’t, I’ll get Kade to translate it.

  She found him stepping out the door as she arrived back at his house. A smile lit up his face. “Did you speak to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I will listen to her.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Kade closed the door behind him and wrapped her in his arms. She let him kiss her, and it sparked several other ideas in her head. Unfortunately he stepped back almost at once.

  “I am meeting our noble friends,” Kade said. “They are concerned with my progress on Anna’s assassination. Did you want to come?”

  “Have you agreed to kill her, then?”

  “I have not said no.” Kade offered her arm, and she took it. “But I have not given a guarantee of her death, and that worries them. Especially after what happened to Dolgorukov.”

  “And you like keeping them worried?” Ruxandra guessed.

  Kade smiled. “Exactly.”

  The blond servant ushered them into the parlor. Belosselsky and Gagarin sat in two chairs by the fire, staring at a chessboard between them. Delfino stood beside them, watching. Ruxandra was tempted to whisper in his ear that he’d been fucking a fallen angel. Would he be thrilled or terrified? Princess Khilkoff sat on the farthest couch from the fireplace, her face set and her arms crossed. Her eyes locked on Ruxandra’s.

  “Here he is,” Gagarin said. “Our traitor.”

  Kade didn’t even break his pace. He sat opposite the princess and draped his arm over the back of the couch. He looked to Belosselsky, his eyebrows raised.

  “Our dear Gagarin doesn’t think you are doing enough to help us,” Belosselsky said. He pushed a rook forward and leaned back in his chair. “Which reminds me, what have you done to help us?”

  “Ingratiate myself at court,” Kade said. “The empress does not trust me yet, and I cannot blame her. So I move cautiously. How are your plans going?”

  “That is none of your concern,” Gagarin said, “Carry out your part. Leave the rest to us.”

  “I simply wish to know if you have any thoughts of what happens after the death of Anna, or if you’ll sit back and watch to see who remains standing after the battle for the throne.”

  “We do,” Belosselsky said.

  “Then I’m sure you’ll have no problem sharing them.”

  “We can’t trust you.” Gagarin rose from his chair. “You’re not one of us.”

  Princess Khilkoff stood, drawing every eye in the room. “I did not come here to listen to your squabbles.”

  “My dear,” began Delfino, but she cut him off.

  “I am going to the music room,” she said. “I will play the harpsichord and calm my nerves. You men sort your differences so we may move forward and remove the tyrant. Ruxandra, join me.”

  It wasn’t a request. Ruxandra watched her leave without moving.

  “Please go with her,” Kade said. “Let me deal with these gentlemen and then come find you.”

  Ruxandra followed Princess Khilkoff down the hall. The music room’s wide windows overlooked a small garden, now gray and drab with winter. The harpsichord sat in the middle. An instrument like a mandolin, but with a wider sound box, hung on the wall. On a table on the far side sat an instrument with many strings stretched over a wing-shaped wooden sound box.

  “Do you play the balalaika?” Khilkoff asked, pointing at the instrument on the wall. She shifted her finger to the desk. “Or the gusli?”

  “No.”

  “Unfortunate. The harpsichord sounds best with accompaniment.”

  She put her fingers to the keyboard. Inside the harpsichord small quills plucked the strings, bringing out notes that soared and filled the room. Ruxandra stood in silence, listening.

  “Sit by me, so we may talk.”

  Ruxandra sat on a corner of the bench.

  “Excellent.” Khilkoff’s fingers danced over the keys, making the music loud and energetic. “Now explain why you fucked Prince Delfino.”

  Ruxandra’s mouth fell open. She closed it, thought a moment, and said, “I beg your pardon?”

  “Delfino,” Khilkoff repeated. “You fucked him. First after the party, then at his house the next day. Why?”

  “I did not—”

  “Moscow has many fascinating things.” Khilkoff switched tunes, her fingers dancing as she played. “Cathedrals, the Kremlin, excellent vodka, and the empress. What it does not have is an abundance of pale redheaded women willing to suck a man against the wall of Terem Palace in the early hours of the morning. Do you play harpsichord?”

  Ishtar. She saw Ishtar and thought it was me. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Princess Khilkoff slid off the bench. “Teach me a new song. Something cheerful.”

  And if I tell her it wasn’t, she won’t believe me. “I am out of practice, Princess, but I will try the ‘Menuet et son double’ by Gaspard Le Roux.”

  She touched the keys, closed her eyes, and played.

  Under the dancing notes of the harpsichord, she heard the princess draw her knife.

  Ruxandra considered taking it from her, considered hitting the woman hard enough to render her senseless and leaving her lying on the music room floor.

  Which would make her a worse enemy and probably ruin Kade’s plans, whatever they are.

  Princess Khilkoff pressed the sharp, cold steel blade against Ruxandra’s neck. Ruxandra didn’t stop. The ‘Menuet et son double’ pranced and bounced through the room.

  “The only reason you are not dead,” Princess Khilkoff said, “is that you are the companion to Russia’s finest assassin.”

  Ruxandra kept playing.

  “But let me assure you,” Princess Khilkoff said. “I am watching you. If you go near him one more time, I will see that no man ever enjoys you again.”

  The knife vanished from Ruxandra’s throat, and the princess’s footste
ps echoed down the hall.

  “Ruxandra!” Kade’s voice drifted back to her. “I am leaving. Will you come?”

  Ruxandra played to the end of the bar, rose, and headed for the door.

  “And how was your time with the princess?” Kade asked as they stepped outside.

  “Tense.” And only going to get more so, I expect.

  ***

  Two nights later she sat in the library, waiting.

  The Alchemist was writing the final inscriptions on her circle on the floor. Michael was watching intently and making occasional encouraging comments. Derek stood nearby, eating an apricot pastry with one hand, holding a mug of beer in the other. Eduard and Kurkov were in the stacks somewhere. Ruxandra listened and heard Kurkov calling out book after book, giving them numbers and identifying each book’s language. The quiet industry and camaraderie of the group was peaceful and satisfying in a way she had never experienced. At the convent there’d been too much fear of the nuns. Since then she’d had to hide herself. Only here . . .

  Because Ishtar hadn’t arrived yet.

  Ruxandra bent her head to her work, translating the words around Ishtar’s name. She thought some were place names, others events, but none of those were in the lists from Ishtar.

  When Ishtar arrived, her hair was messy and her dress askew, and she walked with her legs apart. She sat in the chair opposite Ruxandra with a simultaneous smile and wince.

  “For a short, fat man,” Ishtar said, “he is certainly vigorous.”

  “There are many men in Moscow who are vigorous.” And handsome and charming as well.

  “Is Kade?” Ishtar reached across the table and opened a thick book. “I ask because you show no signs. Of course, you heal faster than a human, don’t you?”

  “Why keep going to that smarmy little weasel?” Ruxandra asked. “What do you get from him?”

  “Tut, tut. So judgmental.” But she smiled, her eyes full of merriment. “So far, the names of six of his associates in place to usurp Belosselsky once the empress is dead.”

  Ruxandra’s eyebrows rose. “You mean you two talked this time?”

  Ishtar’s smile widened. “I gave him a gift. One of Anna’s ministers. Well, his head. Anna didn’t like the man, so she didn’t object. Once Delfino saw that, he was extra forthcoming. It’s funny what it takes to excite some people, isn’t it?”

  “I’m thinking of him as something less than a person right now.”

  Ishtar shifted in her seat and winced again. “Well, I have more experience with men than you, my dear, and I assure you, he is far from unique. Though he was remarkably aroused. Why do men think they must try all the holes?” She opened the book to the first page marked with paper. “Can you read what he says about me?”

  “Some of the words, not all.”

  “Let me help.” Ishtar pointed. “That word is ‘bitch.’ That one is ‘whore.’ That one . . . I’m not sure it translates. It relates to the anus of a diseased swine.”

  Ruxandra’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “He despised you.”

  “He was not prepared for what I asked of him.” Ishtar took up a sheet of paper. “Are you?”

  “That depends what you ask.”

  “I will remember that. Now, we must work quickly, as I have another appointment.”

  “Appointment or assignation?” Ruxandra asked.

  Ishtar smiled. “This human body is too tender for a new assignation until tomorrow. Meanwhile, let us add more words to our list.”

  They worked until midnight. Ishtar created a new list for Ruxandra to learn. Ruxandra worked through the page until a guard came for Ishtar.

  “I must go,” Ishtar said. “Shall we meet outside Kade’s house at dawn?”

  “Yes, please.”

  When she left, Ruxandra turned to the other pages with Ishtar’s symbol. The swear words appeared less often. But others Ishtar had given her—worship, trust, action, belief—showed up more and more.

  I will ask her why tomorrow night. Ruxandra closed up the books and stood and looked around. The library was empty save for the Alchemist, lying fast asleep on the floor, her head resting on her hands. Ruxandra slipped her arms underneath the woman, cradled her, and picked her up. The Alchemist blinked awake.

  “Hey.” Her voice was fuzzy with sleep. “What are you doing?”

  “Carrying you to bed.” Ruxandra headed up the stairs.

  “My princess,” the Alchemist said, nestling her head into Ruxandra’s shoulders. “When I am rich, I will give you wealth beyond your wildest dreams.”

  Ruxandra glanced back at the circle and the crucible. “Do you believe it will work?”

  “It must,” the Alchemist whispered. “To be free, Ruxandra. To go away without having to care what empresses or kings think. To live the life one wants instead of what others want, is that not best?”

  “Yes.”

  “If this works. If what Ishtar said is true, I will be free of Anna, free of this city. I can go anywhere I wish. I will go to China.”

  “China?” Ruxandra thought about that. “Why China?”

  “They are brilliant chemists. The Chinese invented gunpowder a thousand years ago. They used it for firecrackers.”

  Ruxandra squeezed the Alchemist in her arms. “Sleep now. Riches can wait until morning.”

  She put the Alchemist to bed and left the church unnoticed. It was a pleasant night. The air was not too cold. The stars shone over the city. Ruxandra walked with a slow, easy step through the streets. I could take the Alchemist to China. Any riches we need, I can procure. And Kade—would he come with us?

  Then came the sounds of fighting, somewhere near Kade’s house.

  Ruxandra broke into a run, racing through the streets and around corners until she reached a wide square. Five men with drawn knives surrounded Ishtar. Princess Khilkoff leaned on a wall behind them. She wore a hooded cloak and a wide grin.

  “I am surprised,” Princess Khilkoff said. “I thought it was that bitch Ruxandra. Who knew we had two redhead sluts kicking around?”

  Ishtar turned in a slow circle. She spotted Ruxandra and shook her head. In a whisper, she said, “Stay back. Say nothing.”

  “What did you say?” Princess Khilkoff demanded. “Say it again.”

  “I said it’s a pity you haven’t bedded Delfino yet. He is a most energetic lover.”

  “I am a princess of Russia. I will not disgrace my family by falling pregnant before my marriage.”

  “I am a lieutenant in the armies of hell,” Ishtar whispered, her words not reaching the ears of those around her, though Ruxandra heard them well enough. “I need no help.”

  “Why are you whispering, you idiot?”

  “Because I would not want your men to hear how you debased yourself with both Belosselsky and Gagarin,” Ishtar said. She smiled. “In ways that do not get you pregnant.”

  “You lying bitch.” Princess Khilkoff turned to the men. “Kill her.”

  Chapter 20

  Khilkoff’s men walked forward, knives in their hands, confidence radiating from them. Ishtar smiled and turned in a slow circle as they closed in.

  The five men surrounding her never had a chance.

  In one breath Ishtar caught the first man’s wrist in one hand and drove the heel of her other hand against his chin. As his head flew back, she spun, pulling him in and sending him flying into the second-closest man. She leaped past before they could untangle themselves and kicked the third man’s knee. Ruxandra heard the joint break with a crunch and winced in sympathy. The man screamed, lashing out with the knife. Ishtar grabbed his arm and twisted until the elbow broke. She threw him, using his broken arm as a lever to make him flip and slam facedown onto the cobbles.

  When she turned back, she had his knife in her hand.

  The four men still standing no longer looked confident. Their jaws clenched and their breath grew harsh. They formed a wide semicircle around Ishtar and crouched, ready to fight.

  Ishtar spra
ng, feinting to one on the outside. He swung, but she moved too fast, ducking under his blade and opening another’s stomach with a slash. He screamed as his guts poured out onto the cobbles. Before the others could react, Ishtar slipped behind another, knife slashing through the tendons of his knee. She caught his hair as he fell, shoved her blade into his throat, and tore it out. Blood sprayed across the ground.

  The other two froze, eyes wide. In their moment of indecision, Ishtar moved again. Her first cut sent one’s hand and the knife in it flying. Her second slashed his neck open. The last man leaped, a battle cry on his lips.

  It died as Ishtar ducked beneath his weapon and drove her blade hard under his ribs. When she removed it, he collapsed.

  Princess Khilkoff screamed. Ishtar dropped her blade and sprinted forward. Her hand slapped over the princess’s mouth, and she shoved the girl’s head against the wall with a crack. Ishtar grabbed the princess’s hair with her other hand and dragged her away from the blood-spattered street.

  Ruxandra followed, impressed in spite of herself. All that in a human body. Behind her she heard shouting, and the clatter of the guards’ steel-tipped boots coming closer.

  Ishtar kept her hand clamped over Princess Khilkoff’s mouth as she pulled her through the streets and into an alley between houses. She slammed the princess up against the wall and pinned her there with the hand over her mouth. Ishtar’s other hand roamed over the princess’s body, down her cleavage, around her waist and under her cloak.

  “Ah.” Ishtar held up Princess Khilkoff’s knife. “Thought so.”

  She tested the blade with her thumb. Then she pointed it at the princess’s eye.

  “If you make a single sound,” Ishtar said, “you will spend what little is left of your life in darkness. Understand?”

  Princess Khilkoff, her eyes filled with tears, nodded.

  Ishtar spun the princess to face the wall. She pulled off the princess’s cloak and, with expert precision, cut the shoulders of her dress.

  “Ishtar,” Ruxandra called. “You shouldn’t—”

  “Oh yes I should.” She pointed the knife at the base of the princess’s neck and slipped it down the length of her back, cloth parting beneath it. Princess Khilkoff’s dress fell off. Two more cuts and her corset and underclothes followed. Ishtar turned the woman around again and shoved her against the wall.