Historical Note: This chapter spans the first six months of Anna's employment and contains a reference to the birth of Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna (1901 – 1918).

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The following fortnight went by too quickly for Anna's liking. She had only just become accustomed to the house when Katya handed in her resignation letter and left for other prospects. Her lessons with Igor began with sharpening her reading and writing skills, and he made it clear that she was to eventually read an article from the Saint Petersburg Gazette without any difficulty, as well as transcribe any passage of text that he dictated to her.

Each Sunday, she would return home and provide her family with half of her weekly salary, and when Easter came around, it did not go unnoticed by her aunt that she was gaining a little more flesh on her bones.

"I see Mister Morozov is feeding you well," Nadya remarked while pinching her on the cheek. "You should have no trouble bearing children at this rate."

"Indeed," Anna could only say as she rushed to the dinner table and helped herself to a dyed red egg. "I suppose it's what a lot of people aspire to." She peeled away the shell and took a tentative bite before realizing that the very idea of motherhood filled her with deep-seated dread.

She didn't want to die the way Yelena and her birthmother had, so she crept towards the apartment door upon finishing her egg, hoping to find relief from her unwelcome thoughts.

"Where do you think you're going?" Aunt Nadya called out. "You've only just come home!"

"I'm going for a walk! I need some fresh air!" Anna shouted back before hurrying the rest of the way outside, where she passed by Kolya, who had grown taller still and was in the midst of a conversation with Vanya and Gleb.

He gave her nothing more than a wave, and the lack of interest drove her to walk even faster, so much so that even the most self-absorbed of neighbours stared at her as she rushed by.

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"...Thus, with this birth of the new Grand Duchess, her Majesty continues to prove herself unfavoured by the Heavens. His Majesty, beside himself with despair, has turned to famed French healer Philippe Nizier-Vachot for salvation."

With a sigh, Anna finished reading the front page of the Saint Petersburg Gazette and lowered the newspaper to observe Igor's reaction. He gave a slow clap while maintaining a serious expression. "Very good. You stumbled over your words only twice this time."

She smiled in relief. "I'm glad. That man's name was awfully hard to pronounce."

"It should become easy when you have a command of the French language."

Anna leaned back against her armchair. "Why must one learn French anyway? Can't we all just speak Russian?"

"Because someone decided long ago that it was the most prestigious language. And then all the nobles of Europe followed suit," explained Igor. "Aside from that, it is spoken officially by members of the Council."

"Is that so?" Anna sat up straight again. "I'd like to hear you say something in French, if it's so important."

"If you insist." Igor cleared his throat, then began to recite what sounded like pleasant gibberish to Anna's ears. However, she soon found it doubly surprising that his voice had taken on a breathy and flirtatious quality, as if he was possessed by the spirit of some long-dead philanderer. And for some reason she could not fathom, a warm and fluttering sensation had arisen in her chest.

"Please stop," she murmured. "I feel strange."

Igor's voice trailed off and his gaze became steely once more. "Is something the matter?"

Anna pressed a hand against her breast and inhaled. The strange sensation faded, and her shoulders relaxed. "Not anymore. I don't know what came over me..."

Igor strode forward to retrieve the Saint Petersburg Gazette from the table. "If you believe yourself to be alright, then I shall let this matter rest. But I do advise you to consult with me if you find yourself short of breath again. Such a symptom is often indicative of a serious malady."

"Whatever you say, doctor..." Anna lowered her hand. "Will our lesson continue?"

Igor reached into his pockets and turned away from her. "No, I think we've done enough for tonight. It's best to avoid exerting yourself for the next few days."

Anna couldn't argue against such wisdom, so she left the guest room and made her way to the kitchen to heat some water for a bath. Then, she carried the bucket upstairs to the washroom, where she proceeded to disrobe and inspect her body in the mirror.

There were no cuts or puncture marks anywhere to be found, which eliminated the possibility that Igor had been feeding on her as she slept.

She recalled one of his explanations for how he was able to stay sated. It seemed the occasional sample from a patient was still enough. Yet, it didn't make sense that she would feel giddy in his presence, especially when her monthly bleeding was still a while away.

A creak sounded from beyond the washroom door, and Anna spun around while shielding her torso with both arms. She held her breath and anticipated the worst, but when moments passed without further cause of concern, she released a heavy sigh and picked her bucket up from the floor.

After using it to fill the tub halfway, she sat herself down in the warm water, becoming all too aware of her own rhythmic heartbeat and the way her lungs transferred air in and out of her body. She couldn't afford to resign now. Her family still needed the additional income so they could pay their monthly rent and avoid falling into debt. Therefore, she had no choice but to continue risking her life for the sake of vengeance and the greater good.

Anna dried herself off and changed into her white cotton nightgown before heading up to the attic with lamp in hand. There, she retreated into her cot, afraid that she had become just as much a prisoner as a domestic servant.

He's placed a curse on me, hasn't he? She lamented to herself while slipping beneath the threadbare blanket. Why else should I feel lightheaded when he gazes into my eyes, or says my name softly?

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Author's Note: I feel like vampire fiction has become so diverse that it doesn't matter if one sticks to the traditional rules anymore. And even the so-called traditional rules aren't always as old as people assume. For example, the idea of vampires having no reflections seems to have caught on because of Bram Stoker's Dracula, which was published in 1897 (quite late in the history of vampire folklore).

Hence, I've given Igor some of the traits associated with modern vampires, such as being conventionally attractive and having a somewhat tragic past. Then again, the hideous animated corpses from Eastern European folklore are also interesting, so you can think of Igor as starting out that way before getting progressively more handsome.