Chapter 1
THERE IS PLENTY OF SOUND IN AN EMPTY BARREL
“You . . . you wish me to take you to the young man I found earlier?”
“Exactly. Yes,” Veru said, spinning and heading off in the direction from which Danik had appeared.
“I’m not certain I can find the young man you seek,” he said, trailing behind her.
“What? What do you mean you can’t find him?”
Danik cupped the back of his neck. “The sun will be going down in an hour or two, and without knowing where I am, how do you expect me to find your young man?”
Veru let out an exasperated sigh and turned. “I don’t know. How about tracking him?”
“That sounds good. Do you know how to do that?”
“I know a little, but you’re much better at it than I am. Of course, when I was a tiger, I was excellent at doing such things, but I seem to have lost that ability, for some reason.”
“A tiger . . . yes. And may I ask, when did the two of us meet, exactly? I’m afraid I can’t quite recall.”
“You must have hit your head somewhere. Hopefully, Zakhar will be able to come up with something that can help you remember.”
“I see.” Danik began walking beside her almost hesitantly. “If—if it’s not too forward, might I inquire as to the lady’s name? I think you said it before . . .”
His walking companion snorted. “Sure. The full name is Verusha Irena Vasilia Stepanov. But you can call me Veru. And to answer your question, we met when you caught me in a trap.”
“Stepanov . . . that seems familiar. I feel like I should know that.”
“Yes. Yes. You should. But it’s not important now.”
“It isn’t?”
“No.”
“A trap? Why were you in a trap? And what do you mean when you say I was the one who ‘caught’ you?”
“I was a tiger, and you’re a hunter. Do you see the connection?”
“Oh no, you are mistaken there.” Danik laughed. “I could never be a hunter. I’m a musician. You must have confused me with one of my cousins. Some of us do look alike, though, so I can see how you could get it wrong.”
“No, I’m not wrong, Danik. It was you who caught me. You caught me and then you freed me, and after that I saved your life when the wolves came for you. Truly you remember nothing? What of your parents?”
“My parents? Funny you should mention them. That’s why I’m out here, you see.
I’m searching for them. We’ve become separated somehow.
But I know they’re here somewhere. I just need to find them.
If I think hard enough, I’ll recall my home’s direction.
The songs help me. My mother taught me a remembering song when I was just a boy.
It always helped me find my way when I was lost. When I don’t sing, I fear I forget nearly everything. ”
“That’s interesting. Perhaps this is a part of your trial.”
“My trial?”
“Stacia, she’s my sister, in case you’ve forgotten her too. Anyway, she mentioned that the voice told her we’d all be facing further trials before going home. Perhaps this is what was meant.”
Danik peered at her for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration, but then his features relaxed and he fixed his gaze ahead. His eyes had that lost, dreamy look again. He seemed almost surprised to have a traveling companion. “Privet,” he said. “Have we met?”
“Ugh!” Veru could almost wrench her hair out in frustration. What good is Danik in this state? she thought. Then she tripped over the hem of her skirt and mumbled something under her breath about her trial being cursed by filmy, useless dresses and brain-fogged men.
Veru yanked her skirt free and straightened, throwing her shoulders back and promptly snagging her long hair in a tree branch.
To his credit, Danik didn’t laugh as she unwound her locks from a thorny briar and began pulling seeds from her tangles.
Instead, he stopped her, took a torn section of her dress, ripped it into two long strips, and deftly gathered all her hair at the nape of her neck, securing it with one strip of ribbon, then wove the other through her hair in loops and secured it at the end.
“Spasibo,” she murmured after introducing herself again. “How did you learn to do that?” Veru asked. “You don’t have any siblings.”
“No. I don’t,” he said, screwing up his face in deep thought. “I do have many nieces though. And I’ve strung many instruments in my day. It’s not a difficult thing when you’re working with fine material.”
Danik hadn’t called her hair beautiful or compared it to the sun like other men or prospective suitors, and somehow that made the compliment feel deeper and more genuine.
She also liked the fact that he didn’t stand there mooning over her afterward to see if his words had any effect.
He simply turned away and continued on as if he had no interest whatsoever in the result.
Such a thing made her respect him all the more.
Of course, there was another possibility .
. . she mused. There was a chance he didn’t mean it to be a compliment at all.
Perhaps he was referencing the fabric of her dress and not her hair.
Or it was more likely that he’d just simply forgotten she existed again.
But Veru didn’t think so. She had felt the slight hesitation as he drew his fingertips away from her hair, and she was very familiar with the fine quality of it, having used it to her advantage many times in the past, despite her frequent threats to her sister to hack it off with her knives.
Despite his memory loss, it was clear Danik felt comfortable with her.
His shoulders were relaxed, and he seemed like himself even if he couldn’t recall certain details of his life.
He also seemed to retain his tracking skills.
When she pointed out signs of a trail, he knelt and easily picked up the path someone had made through the trees, spotting broken twigs, slight impressions, or plucked berries she would have missed.
At least he possessed something useful. Without her knives, claws, or armor, what good was having a memory? She was almost jealous of his constant mind resets.
When he again asked her who she was, which she calculated happened about once every twenty minutes or so, she wondered if there was a trigger or if it was happening automatically.
She began paying attention to verbal cues in the conversation and wondered if singing would indeed help him retain more information.
“I miss my home too,” Veru admitted, after a few moments of silent tracking.
“You do?” he asked, turning to her. “Are you lost like me?”
“I am.”
“What’s your name?”
“Veru.”
Danik smiled and bowed. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”
“Thank you.” Veru grinned this time instead of taking her usual offense, especially knowing he would forget her in the next few moments anyway. “Since we’re both lost, you can sing, if you like. It might help us find our way.”
“All right.”
As the pair walked on, Danik began to hum and then sing.
It was a haunting song of passing, one Veru remembered he’d written for his own parents.
It reminded her of the loss of her own mother.
Tears pricked her eyes. When Danik noticed, he stopped abruptly.
“There now, kotenok. I didn’t mean to cause you pain. ”
Taking her arm, Danik turned Veru toward him gently and swept a tear from her cheek.
The gesture was tender and sweet, not at all groping and needy like the men who’d tried to touch her before.
Veru didn’t feel the need to swipe at him this time.
Instead, she looked into his ocean-blue eyes and felt like she wanted to sink into their mysterious depths and discover what secrets dwelled behind them.
The song had helped him remember. He’d called her kotenok, little kitten. There must be a part of him that remembered. But then his eyes fogged again, and Veru sighed and stepped back.
Danik cleared his throat, and only then did she realize those very eyes had drifted down her face to the gaping neckline of her dress.
With her corset gone, her bosom was dangerously close to spilling out over the top of the now-too-small bodice.
She could feel the heat in her cheeks. It slid down her neck until her pulse quickened as it did before battle. Her skin felt tight and warm.
“Perhaps I can help with this,” Danik said gently. “If you’ll allow me?”
Veru hesitated. It was interesting. This was the first time she ever recalled wanting a man to touch her, and yet she knew somehow that allowing it was dangerous.
Not that she thought he’d hurt her. She had no fear of Danik in that way.
No. What she feared was letting her guard down.
Letting a man know her. As a tiger, she didn’t need to worry about it. But as a woman . . .
She felt vulnerable. Exposed. As if an enemy was circling, but she stood weaponless, bathed in an orb of light, unable to see him.
She felt the warning thump in the uptick of her pulse and the hitch in her breath telling her to run or reach for her knives.
The sensation of Danik’s presence, his offer, had suddenly changed their relationship.
No longer were they friends, companions, colleagues.
Now she was facing off against him, an opponent in battle.
It was two warriors taking the measure of each other, scanning for strengths and weaknesses.
She was about to say no, but before she could protest, Danik spun her around and began deftly tugging at the torn laces of her dress, tying the sections one by one.
Each touch was a brand, a fiery lash on her skin.
The bodice tightened until it resembled something like a decent piece of clothing.
Only then did she remember the carefully stitched rabbits he’d thrown down to her when she’d been stuck in the pit. He’d filled them with sleeping herbs.
“Who taught you to sew?” she managed to say, trying to distract herself as he worked at her back.
“My . . . my uncle,” he said after a moment.