There was a Coptic monastery between the ruins of Abydos and the riverside town of Belianeh, where a much nicer priest than the one in Riga listened to our confessions. He looked at my odd dress curiously but thankfully did not notice my bare feet. George showed him the papers he'd brought from St. Petersburg: copies of both of our baptism records and the letter the priest in St. Petersburg had written, stating that we were both of legal age and unmarried to anyone else.

Brother Ananias looked younger than his fellow priests, but his beard was still peppered with gray. He was dressed in a simple black cassock with a black turban covering his head. His dark brown eyes were kind as he gestured for me to sit with him in the empty, quiet kitchen. "I can see that your heart is troubled, Duchess. And you have the Grigori with you. Are you in danger?"

He knew about the Watchers, I realized with a start. Could he know about the other creatures that walked among us? Since the monastery was built just outside the ruins of an ancient pagan temple, I wondered how often the priests had encountered mages searching for lost knowledge. Did he know of the blood drinkers and the fae as well? "Have you encountered any members of the Order of the Black Lily?" I asked tentatively.

"You are safe here, Duchess," he said, smiling. "No creature can harm you within the walls of our sanctuary. Now, tell me what burdens your soul."

I breathed a sigh of relief and before I could stop myself, everything tumbled out. I'd been holding it all in for so long. My terrible gift, the undead creatures I'd made, and the lies I'd told to hide my secret from my loved ones. And worst of all, the terrible things that Danilo had made me do in the ancient crypt. I'd been an accomplice to a murder. I confessed it all to the Coptic monk.

Brother Ananias frowned when I finished telling him about Konstantin's plot. "For the Grigori to be divided and fighting against each other is not right. They chafe under the bonds of the Morning Star."

"I've been told the sword cannot be destroyed," I said. "Is that true? Would destroying the Morning Star free the Grigori?"

"It would free them from the bindings of the sword," Brother Ananias said thoughtfully, "and they would no longer have to serve the bearer of the sword, but it would not end their curse. Because of their rebellion, they can never return to heaven. But without the sword urging them to fight, they would remain only as Watchers and would no longer be compelled to interfere in our petty human battles.

"I'm afraid, however," he continued, "that a sword forged in Heaven is indeed impossible to destroy. Besides, you need to carry the sword and lead the Grigori if you wish to defeat Konstantin."

"It's the sword of Lucifer," I said. "I don't want to stain my soul any more if I can help it. If we can prevent Konstantin from using the sword, won't that be enough?"

Brother Ananias took my hands in his. The skin on his palms and fingers was rough, and I imagined him working in the monastery gardens, patiently tending the roses that grew in this harsh land. "I do not feel you have to worry about your soul, Katerina Alexandrovna. The ancient Egyptians believed when a person died, his or her heart was weighed against a feather. The heart that was judged pure would not weigh more than the feather. I do not believe there is any malice in your heart, Duchess. I am certain it is pure."

"But I have brought the dead back to life and disturbed their rest," I said in protest. I could not possibly be forgiven for these things, could I? "I belong to the Dark Court."

"God dwells in both the thick darkness and the unfailing light," Brother Ananias said. His words were eerily close to those of the sphinx. It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. "Your gift was given to you by God, and no one can fathom what God has planned for him or her. Not even you, necromancer."

My heart did feel lighter after our talk. Even if I knew there was still darkness ahead. Brother Ananias made the sign of the cross over me and together we recited the Lord's Prayer. I left the kitchen with a new sense of hope, and George gave my hand a gentle squeeze as he passed me on his way to confess to the monk. He did not take nearly as long this time as he had with the priest in Riga.

Following the Coptic tradition, George and I entered the simple chapel together, holding hands. I carried a small bouquet of Nile lilies and damask roses, picked for me by one of the men in the monastery's sunken garden. The scent was heavenly.

Nicholas Alexandrovich was happy to stand up for his brother. Amin, my donkey, and the little boy from the village waited outside the monastery with the Grigori. Papus stood quietly in the shadows in the back of the sanctuary. I knew he was anxious to find the sword. I was too, and I was worried about facing Konstantin and Johanna again. But George stood beside me with a reassuring smile. Everything was going to be all right in the end. Or so we hoped.

Our ceremony was much simpler than it would have been if we'd been married in St. Petersburg. I remembered Grand Duchess Militza's wedding to my cousin. She'd worn a silver gown embroidered with pearls and the jewel-encrusted Romanov nuptial crown with a veil of lace. The ceremony had taken place in the great Orthodox chapel at Peterhof Palace. It had lasted for hours as we stood in the crowded chapel in the summer, made even hotter by banks of burning candles.

Brother Ananias chanted the litany in a beautiful bass voice as the other monks lit incense and chanted the responses. Everything became a blur after that. It had been days since I'd had a proper meal, and the exhaustion I felt from escaping Konstantin and Johanna earlier that morning had finally caught up with me.

I remember repeating the words that the priest asked me to. I remember him blessing two golden rings, and I remember the smoky fog from the incense. I remember the embroidered capes they draped on both George's and my shoulders. I remember the simple crowns placed on each of our heads, to symbolize our roles as the king and queen of our newly created household.

George held my hand and placed the golden ring upon my finger. I remember feeling nothing but happiness when George kissed me as his wife. "I will love you always, Katiya," he whispered. At last, I felt a sense of peace.

We took the train back north, which was slightly faster than the trip by boat. The railroad line began at Assiut, several miles north of Abydos, so we used the hired steamer to bridge the gap. The dragoman was not sorry that Danilo was absent from our party. He accepted the extra gold offered by the tsarevitch, and within an hour we were boarding the train. I'd changed back into my blue traveling dress. I'd never been so happy to wear stockings and shoes in my life. George ordered the Grigori to see to my trunk.

"That is not necessary," I said. "There's nothing in there that I want to keep. Except this," I said, picking up the French copy of A Necromancer's Companion. "And this," I added, stuffing the medical book from the bazaar into a small suitcase Nicholas had purchased for me. I would repay the tsarevitch for the luggage and repay Danilo for the book. I did not want to have a reason to feel obligated to anyone.

At my request, the Grigori took the trunk to the local orphanage where the nuns would distribute the clothing among the poor. Everything except for the almost-indecent negligee, of course, and even that I hoped could be torn apart and made into infant's clothing or a child's dress. But now I would be faced with a similar dilemma. I did not want to feel obligated to George for buying new clothes for me, even if we were now husband and wife. I could not get over how pleased I was with how that sounded.

"The bride should be able to provide her own trousseau," I said, feeling ridiculous. George could not stop grinning. We made a ridiculous couple. And it made me grin too.

"Think of it as a wedding present," his brother Nicholas suggested with a kind smile. He seemed happy to help us get married, even if he knew the trouble we would face when we reached St. Petersburg. I only hoped he would not share in our punishment.

We stayed in the dining car all night as the train rolled north in the darkness. Neither of us suggested moving to the sleeping car. As Nicholas and Papus discussed the merits of Polish and French ballerinas at their own table, I fell asleep against George's strong shoulder, hardly able to believe that we were together again after everything. My hand clasped in his, I dreamed of a future we might have after all.