Chapter One

Zoya closed her eyes again as the troika flew across the icy ground, the soft mist of snow leaving tiny damp kisses on her cheeks, and turning her eyelashes to lace as she listened to the horses' bells dancing in her ears like music. They were the sounds she had loved since childhood.  At seventeen, she felt grown up, was in fact almost a woman, yet she still felt like a little girl as Feodor forced the shining black horses on with his whip. . . faster. . . faster. . . through the snow.  And as she opened her eyes again, she could see the village just outside Tsarskoe Selo.  She smiled to herself as she squinted to see the twin palaces just beyond it, and pulled back one heavy fur-lined glove to see how much time it had taken.   She had promised her mother she would be home in time for dinner. . . and she would be. . . if they didn't spend too much time talking. . . but how could they not? Marie was her very dearest friend, almost like a sister.

Ancient Feodor glanced around and smiled at her, as she laughed with excitement.  It had been a perfect day.  She always enjoyed her ballet class, and even now, her ballet slippers were tucked into the seat beside her. Dancing was a special treat, it had been her passion since early childhood, and sometimes she had secretly whispered to Marie that what she wanted most was to run away to the Maryinsky, to live there, and train day and night with the other dancers.  The very thought of it made her smile now.  It was a dream she couldn't even say out loud, people in her world did not become professional dancers.  But she had the gift, she had known it since she was...