My Wild Horse King (The Russian Witch's Curse Book 4)

3. Kristiana

Perspective’s a funny thing.

While I was growing up, a lot of my friends spent their free time shopping and watching television. I, meanwhile, was busy mucking stalls, cleaning tack, sweeping aisles and tack rooms and porches and the area behind the various cross ties. The bathrooms had to be cleaned twice a week, the trucks and trailers were always dirty, and there was always a horse that needed some kind of special care. Usually, there were several.

The work when you own a stable is never ending.

I didn’t think of myself as a pampered princess. I mean, sure, we had a really nice farm, and we also personally owned a lot of horses, but we worked really hard for what we had. Maintaining it, paying taxes, all of it was a chore, and sometimes it was an axe hanging over our heads. But when I met Adriana and Mirdza, when their mother came to work for our mom, well. Compared to them, we were living in complete luxury.

I try really hard not to look at other people and judge them. I really, truly do. It’s hard to know quite what someone’s history is, and without knowing about the ins and outs of their life, it’s unfair to make assumptions. But I know that Katerina was raised during the early 1900s, and I know her family was wealthy—Aleksandr has told me a little about his life then, and it was different than the world today, but not that different.

After hiding in her room for days, the pampered princess finally emerges, and the first thing she does is demand that we buy her a ticket to come with us to America.

“The thing is,” I say, “I think the seats on the plane are sold out.”

It’s a lie.

I have no idea whether there are tickets left, and even if a last-minute ticket costs a fortune, it won’t put a dent in Aleksandr’s money. I know this to be true.

But I don’t trust her.

She escaped from Leonid’s a little too easily, and she’s done nothing to connect with any of us. I wouldn’t put it past them to have worked out a plan that she should come with us, inveigle herself with our group, and then report back.

“There must be other flights,” Katerina says. “Can I call to place one? I have a phone.”

She’s clearly already watched too much television. Why can’t she be more like Aleksandr was at the beginning, before he became addicted to the internet?

“I need to ask Aleks what he thinks,” I say. “Who knows? Maybe he can convince someone at the airline to sell us their spare ticket.”

Her eyes light up, making her already stunning face even more beautiful. I suppress the female urge to dislike someone just because she’s prettier than me. It’s unkind, and I’ve always hated it. I try never to give in to those baser impulses, but some people make it particularly hard. “That would be amazing. I’ll just duck back in here and pack.” She nods slightly. “Just in case.”

Her acting all cute and grateful makes me feel horrible for doubting her. What woman in her right mind could possibly be on Leonid’s side?

I decide to do just what I said I would. Aleksandr knows her. I’ll tell him she wants to come and let him decide whether she’s trustworthy. But when I track down where he’s gone, it’s the stable. What on earth he’s doing there, I have no idea. The man doesn’t even like to ride. He loves when I ride him, but he almost never gets on a horse himself. He insists they’re too unreliable, which I find hilarious.

I’m trolling around the barn, distracted by three or four different horses who need my attention, when I finally see him way past the stable walls. He’s coming in from a run, which makes way more sense. Most of the staff isn’t sure why the black stallion’s allowed to roam free, but they all know it’s true by now. The exterior perimeter fence is somewhat helpful in assuaging their concerns, but not entirely. Only a handful of them know his secret, and so far, they’ve all done a good job of keeping it.

I think it helps that we’re in Russia. People here seem to do way better with things being weird.

I can’t help myself. I stare transfixed, even now, every time I see him out running. His coat glistens. His mane ripples beautifully like waves on the ocean. And his tail streams almost straight back as his hooves fly over the soft sod, throwing chunks of grass and dirt in all directions.

“Really?” I yell, as he draws close enough to hear me. He slows down and arrows toward me, and I can at least drop my voice. “I’m panicked about finding my brother and warning him before Leonid can, and you’re just. . .out for a run?”

He tosses his head, but even without words, I know.

“You’ll miss it.” I press one hand against the flat part of his head, between his eyes. “Russia. You love it here.”

I even get it. His run was a goodbye of sorts, at least for now.

When I’m away, I also yearn for Latvia. It’s home. I’m sure it feels the same to him, and moving our assets and shifting things out and away has been a relief for me, but not for Aleks. He’s finally back in his ancestral home, after being cursed and locked who knows where for a hundred plus years. Fleeing can’t be comfortable.

“We’ll come back,” I say. “I promise we will. The bad guys never win, not in the long run.”

He snorts, because he knows, after watching countless movies with me, that Hollywood isn’t the real world. Americans can’t seem to tolerate tragedy, which is fine for them, but the real world thrives on it. There aren’t ‘happy ending guarantees’ in life. Depressing, exhausting, and unlucky are far more common than shining, smiling, and joyful.

He drops his head against my shoulder and I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze. I let him lean against me—or rather, I lean against him—for one moment. Then another. But eventually, I have to tell him what’s going on.

“As you know, our flight leaves in three and a half hours, and we need to go to Saint Petersburg first.”

He huffs.

“And there’s something else.”

He lifts his head, his big, dark eye studying mine intently.

“You know how Katerina has basically been hiding since we rescued her?”

He bobs his head.

“She wants to come with us, and I lied and told her that the flight is full, because I’m not sure whether we can trust her. If she’s not really on our side, she could tell Leonid more than just Gustav’s American name. She’d know his address, too.” I sigh. “She could lead Leonid right to him.”

And that feels like the worst thing that could happen to me. Leonid already has the powers of fire, electricity, and water. All we have over on him is air and earth—and it’s not really an advantage since he has three powers we don’t. Water combined with really anything else would already be overpowering—but Gustav has no idea what’s going on or how to use any powers he may acquire. Without any powers, he’d be an easy target. The fact that he changed his name for Grandfather—well, I’m sure that it’s the only thing keeping him safe right now.

“We don’t know her very well, and this is her first time to even leave that room. She’s been having food delivered on trays like she thinks she’s an honest-to-goodness queen.” I rub Obsidian Devil’s nose. “So you guys will have to decide whether to bring her or not.”

Obsidian glances around, clearly checking to see whether we’re alone.

“It’s fine. The groom went home around lunch,” I say. “You can shift.” It helps that now, with his power fully restored, he doesn’t shift entirely naked. Only when he was reliant on my help did that happen. “Go ahead.”

I should be tired of seeing it, or at least, not in awe of the change anymore, but every single time Aleks shifts, I watch like a slack-jawed idiot. It’s just so. . .unbelievable that a human can turn into a stallion and vice versa.

Only, this time, as my gorgeous husband shivers and straightens his shoulders, someone else is shouting loudly in Latvian. The words this person’s saying should not be said out loud, at least, not in polite company.

Aleks and I turn at the same time to stare at. . .my dad.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

My father’s eyes are wide, and now that he’s done shouting, it appears he has no idea what to say. It seems that all he can do is splutter.

“I can explain,” I say, with no real idea of where to even start.

You’d think, after explaining this to Mirdza and Adriana already, that I’d be better at this part. I should memorize a speech or something.

“You see, I was cursed,” Aleks says.

“It’s true,” my father says, his face pale. “All of it was true.”

“What’s true?” I ask.

Dad’s shaking his head now. “I can’t believe it. My uncle would be absolutely giddy to meet you, if he were still alive.”

I blink. “Your uncle?”

“Technically, he’s my great-uncle—your great-grandfather’s younger brother. He moved to America before I was born,” Dad says. “Father told me that he was always going on and on about how our family had the power to change into a horse.” Dad laughs. “We all thought he was insane.”

“Wait,” I say.

“Tell me all about it,” Aleks says.

Could my dad have been sitting on the answers we needed all along? My clueless father? It can’t be true. Right? Surely if he knew anything helpful, he’d have noticed something about Aleks and Grigoriy and Alexei long ago. Surely.

But who would assume that any stories they heard about magical powers and shapeshifting horses were true?

“I don’t really know anything,” Dad says.

My heart sinks.

“Your grandfather thought it was all the worst kind of nonsense, and his father did as well. They never listened to him, and when he emigrated to America, he took all the old journals that mentioned it with him.”

Journals?

“What journals?” Aleksandr sounds even more desperate than me.

“All I know is that when Grandfather’s brother insisted on taking them, Grandfather put up a token fight and then caved immediately. He said he always thought they were strange, so if his brother was willing to sign away his inheritance as long as he could keep them. . .” Dad shrugs.

I close my eyes. “But we need those.”

“I think I have a cousin or something living in the United States, somewhere out west. I can rummage around and see whether I can find her address.”

“Is this cousin’s last name Liepa?” I cringe. With Gustav changing his name, Leonid could find and kill this cousin before Dad even gets back to Latvia, just to prove that he can.

Dad shakes his head. “I think my great-uncle changed his name—he fled because he deserted from the army. The Russians were—” Dad freezes.

Aleks laughs. “Go ahead. I won’t get offended.”

Dad winces, but he continues. “They were attacking, and we were stuck, drafting anyone we could to fight them. But then when they won. . .”

“I get it,” Aleks says.

I’m sure he doesn’t, but it’s nice of him to say.

“My great-uncle wasn’t someone who was overly brave,” Dad says, “or at least, not according to my Grandfather. And he certainly felt no loyalty to Russia. He was done with war, so I heard he changed his name, but I can’t recall what he changed it to.” Dad taps his lip like that might help.

I’d like to badger him and press him and push until he comes up with an answer, but it won’t help. If he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. “Please, Dad, please find out as much as you can as fast as you can.” It occurs to me that he’s in Russia, for some reason. He didn’t announce his visit, and it’s a turbulent time, which makes it odd that he came now. Frankly, all of that is already not promising. Historically, he would only come to see me in a strange place. . .if we were about to lose the farm. I can barely force the words out. “What are you doing here, Dad? Is everything okay?”

“I’ve been watching the news,” he says. “Things aren’t safe. I worried that maybe you’d gotten trapped, and you weren’t returning my calls.”

I’m as bad as Gustav. Assuming the worst about him when, for once, he was actually being a dad. Or at least, maybe he is. I decide to press one more time. “Everything’s fine back home?”

Dad winces.

I knew it. “What?”

“John had a heart attack,” he says. “He’s alright, though. He’s recuperating at the hospital, but the barn’s a bit of a mess.”

I should fly straight home.

Gustav’s the brother who ran away—like Dad’s uncle, apparently, but John’s been like a second father to me. Plus, he’s never almost cost me the farm.

The thought of him in a hospital. . .

“Do you want to go home?” Aleks whispers. “You can look for the journals, and?—”

“No,” Dad says. “I came to make sure you were alright. John insisted on it.”

Of course he did. He’d have come himself, if he wasn’t stuck in the hospital. “I should at least stop there.”

“I can go to America,” Aleks offers. “You can meet me there.” I can tell the offer pains him. Aleksandr hasn’t been great about letting me out of his sight for more than half an hour lately, and even knowing that Leonid’s powers, or any of their powers, can’t directly hurt me, he’s not taking any chances. “If that’s what you want.”

We argue back and forth as we walk back to the house, making no progress. I know John would come and check on me, whereas I’m positive Gustav wouldn’t. He hasn’t looked back once since leaving us. It would serve him right if his past came back to bite him on the backside.

Although, not if that bite kills him.

I’m leaning toward flying through Latvia on our way to America when we reach the kitchen. Grigoriy, Alexei, Mirdza, and Adriana are all staring at the screen. It always takes me a split second to switch gears into a new language after slipping back into Latvian.

But once the Russian clicks into place, I find myself staring, too.

A blonde woman with a frozen smile’s saying, “—reports of large-scale executions are unusual, but they’re only happening after purported trials. We should keep in mind that these executions are not like Stalin or Hitler—they’re criminals who are being punished rightfully.”

“Still, the reports we’ve received show that they’re not receiving what anyone could consider to be proper trials,” the man on the split screen says. He looks like he’s reporting from another country. “Are we sure those who have been executed are actually criminals? No reports or evidence have been made available in any of these cases.”

“The leadership was quite clear that they have seen the evidence and it’s incontrovertible. Those individuals whose lives have been terminated presented a clear and present danger to the safety of Russia. We’ve always known that our new leader had a tough stance on the Red Mafiya. He has a zero tolerance policy, and he’s promised to eliminate the crime syndicate in Russia within the year.”

I blink.

“Well, if that’s possible, it would be miraculous,” the man says. “But it hardly seems likely that?—”

“I spoke to His Majesty myself yesterday,” the woman says.

She does look a little unhinged.

“Oh?” the man asks. “And what did he say?”

“He promised me that by this time next year, I’d be able to walk the streets in my underwear without fear that anyone would threaten me.” She beams. “He said he intends to rid Russia of every single evil person residing within its borders.” She leans closer to the camera. “And you tell me, Filip, if you found a colony of cockroaches living in your house, what would you do?”

Filip looks nervous. He shakes his head, blinking.

“You’d exterminate them with extreme prejudice.” She nods slowly. “I can’t fault our new monarch for doing the same. This country is his home, and he means to clean it up.”

The screen cuts to a bizarre display of rainbow stripes.

“What happened to the feed?” Dad asks.

“Mr. Liepa?” Mirdza leaps to her feet—it still surprises me every time she does that, now that she’s healthy and hale—and spins around to face us. “Are you okay? Is Liepa?eta alright?”

Dad waves his hands, telling her to sit. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you and Kris were alright. The news has been. . .alarming.”

“So you flew into Russia?” Adriana tilts her head. “You should have stayed put.”

“Tell my daughter to call me occasionally, and I will.” Dad’s frowning now. He’s probably tired of being scolded like he’s a child. I suppose I can’t blame him for that.

“John had a heart attack,” I say softly. “I was going to fly through Latvia to see him, but. . .” I glance at the television. If Leonid’s executing people without real trials, I’m not sure I can delay going to see my brother. He deserves to know what type of person is coming for him.

“I told her to go straight to America,” Dad says. “I know you’re worried about Gustav.”

Mirdza and Adriana both glare. I can’t blame them. My dad has not, historically, been the most trustworthy. Spilling our plans to him wasn’t ideal. “He saw Aleks shift,” I explain. I fill them in on the existence of journals that are possibly still in the custody of a cousin in the United States.

“Or they were thrown out decades ago for sounding insane,” Adriana says.

“You can’t really expect people to believe any of this without seeing it first,” Mirdza says. “They probably thought their ancestors were profoundly crazy.” She cringes. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Dad says. “They all thought my great-uncle was mad for even reading them, much less believing any part of them.”

“We do need to leave soon, if we’re going to try to make that New York flight,” Aleks says. “Speaking of that, apparently Katerina wants to come with us to the United States.”

“Absolutely not,” Adriana says. “She’s untrustworthy, and frankly, she creeps me out.”

“You’re just saying that because she keeps gazing longingly at your fiancé.” Mirdza’s smirking.

“That’s not the only reason,” Adriana says. “We freed her, and she’s done nothing but spend days and days hiding in her room.” She arches one imperious brow. “It’s not normal, and it’s certainly not the behavior of someone trustworthy.” She glares at me. “I’m not sure why you told her we were even going to the States.”

I sigh. “I shouldn’t have said it, I suppose, but she surprised me.”

Adriana leans forward, her eyes crazy, and makes a clawing motion in my direction. “Like a spider,” she whispers. Then she shakes her head. “She can’t come.”

“I think she might have information we need,” Grigoriy says. “She was with Leonid for a long time, and she may understand things we would miss.”

“But she’s right that we can’t trust her,” Mirdza says.

“I agree,” Grigoriy says. “But you don’t have to trust someone to learn from them.”

I hate the idea, but after a few more minutes of talking, we decide to send my dad back to John with the promise that I’ll follow as soon as possible, and the six of us rush to catch our flight.

After buying a ticket for Katerina Yurovsky, the enemy in our midst.

She’s packed and ready to go as we rush to the vehicles, and we’re stuck taking two, since we have eight people who all need to head for the airport. Dad comes in our vehicle, and I’m legitimately worried that Adriana might try to claw Katerina’s luminous eyes out, so I suggest that Katerina ride with us too, leaving the twins to take Grigoriy’s car.

“They’re a strange pair,” Katerina says, watching Alexei and Adriana loading their belongings into the back of the SUV.

“I don’t think so,” I say.

“They are,” Aleks says. “But I think that’s why they work.” He’s smiling.

“What does that mean?” Katerina looks ready to pounce on him from behind, and I regret suggesting she ride with us.

Aleks responds half-heartedly, the majority of his attention on the drive as we head out for the airport. “Alexei’s always been too serious for his own good, and he’s inflexible. His whole world has been black and white, good and bad. Adriana drags him by his collar into the real world.”

“The world should be black and white,” Katerina says. “And Alexei was one of the good ones. He made things better.” Her lip curls. “She makes them worse.”

“She’s my best friend’s sister,” I say. “Watch what you say.”

When I turn back, Katerina’s watching me with a disturbingly blank face. “You think Adriana makes the world better?” The way Katerina says her name. . .like it’s being pulled out of her with great pain. It makes me wonder why she loves Alexei so very much.

It also makes me really think about my answer before giving it. “Adriana takes a very imperfect, very inequitable world, and she forces it to make space for her,” I say. “I think someone like you, someone for whom the world has always been paved in gold bricks, will struggle to understand her or the way Alexei and Adriana fit together.”

I wonder what kind of training allows her to remain so expressionless. “Gold bricks.” She frowns. “You think someone who twists the world for her own gain is a good match for the rightful leader of Russia? He’s our shining golden prince, and he has a responsibility to his people, to keep them safe and make Russia the best place it can be.”

I roll my eyes. “And that’s your problem.” I crane my neck around so I’m staring right at her. “To you, Alexei Romanov is some kind of totem, honor bound to fulfill his great destiny. To Adriana, he’s a man.”

Katerina looks sideways, now staring at Aleksandr instead of Alexei. “She’s a perfect match for you, Aleks.” Her sideways smile creeps me out even more than her impassive expression did. “She’s impartial while still giving no quarter, and remaining loyal. I like her.”

It shouldn’t, but somehow, her assessment of me makes me hate her a little less.

I’m not exactly looking forward to the long flight to New York City, but I’m prepared to try and pry out whatever information I can along the way. If Katerina continues to surprise me, perhaps it won’t be quite as bad as I thought. By the time we reach the airport, I’ve started to come up with the rough elements of a plan. We’ll land in New York, check into a hotel, and while Katerina’s recovering from jet lag, I’ll go to see my brother. That way, she won’t need to find out anything that she doesn’t have to know, like where exactly he lives.

“Once we reach New York,” she says, “do we have far to travel? I know the United States is very large.”

“No, Gustav’s in New York City,” my dad helpfully offers. “In fact, you’ll probably see signs for his company all over.”

Before I can stop him, my dad goes and does it.

“Although, he goes by Daniel Belmont over there. His grandfather insisted he change his name or he wouldn’t pay for his school.” Dad’s beaming with pride. “My son went to Yale University—which is the best school in the United States.”

“You don’t say.” Katerina’s impassive face is starting to irritate me enough that I just may punch her.

“Not that it matters to you,” I say. “I’m still not sure why you’re coming with us.”

“If you’re leaving Russia, who will protect me?”

She has a point there. If I were her, the last place I’d want to stay, if my rescuers were leaving, was the country where the person I’d fled was executing people without any kind of fair trial. Even so, I’m relieved when we reach the airport, and I get a little break from seeing Katerina’s face. It takes a bit to walk my dad to the front counter, pay for his flight, and convince them to add Katerina to the flight with us.

I wish we were taking Aleksandr’s plane, but it’s not large enough to go direct to New York, and the paperwork involved is a nightmare. We decided it would be better to fly commercial this time. It’s also nicer for my dad, because we can take him right to the gate this way.

But by the time that’s all done, as we begin to board the plane, I’m ready to confront Katerina. I’ll just ask her, point blank, if she’s on our side. You can tell a lot from people when they’re surprised, and I aim to knock that impassive look right off her face.

Or at least, that was the plan.

Only, she’s nowhere to be found.

Somewhere between arriving at the airport and preparing to board our flight, Katerina disappeared.