Chapter 5
5
KATERINA
T he familiar coldness of battle settled over Katerina, the world coming to her in fragments: A yellow-haired illusion-demon barreling toward her, teeth bared and blade clenched. The rumbling growl of her Shadow as he braced himself in front of her, palming two of his knives. The sizzle of her magic beneath her skin, begging to be used.
She could see the colored threads that connected her to each of her gifts so clearly. It would be easy for her to collapse the ground as the illusion-woman arrowed toward her Shadow, to summon the wind and send her hurtling backward. But no. You are a firewitch, she thought grimly, and prepared herself to burn.
The woman neared and Niko pinched one of his blades by the tip, arm poised to hurl it. Another step and he let it fly, the silver gleaming in the light of the Bone Moon as it winnowed straight for her. But the moment before it struck, a gust blasted from the left, where Trina stood. It sent Niko’s blade tumbling end over end, embedding uselessly in the sand. Never breaking her stride, the illusion-woman snatched it up, lips rising in a mirthless smile. And behind her came five more of her kind, eyes lit with a sick avidity.
By the Saints, how had Rivki’s Dimis done this? They were all taught basic charms from the cradle: how to summon shadow to conceal themselves, how to make a small light bloom and cup it in their hands. But this magic—conjuring illusion-demons—was unlike anything Katerina had ever seen. It must have taken the scholars at the Magiya Library months to discover the trick behind such a thing.
A howl rose from Katerina’s right, where Roksana Gaidar and her Shadow battled two of the creatures at once. Dimi Gaidar was a waterwitch, a skill that did her little good in this arena filled with sand and rowan-fire. She would have to rely on her Shadow to fight, and he was falling, two of the illusion-creatures wrestling him to the ground. His body shimmered as he struggled to shift into the form of his black dog, but it was too late: One of them drew back its lips and sank its teeth into his neck, just as the other plunged a blade into his side. He let out a roar that shook the arena’s walls, and Roksana shrieked, the sound so full of fear and rage that it momentarily froze the illusions charging at Niko and Katerina. As one, they turned their heads toward the melee, just in time to see the fallen Shadow cough up a horrifying amount of foamy blood. His eyes glazed over, staring sightless up at the moon-bleached sky.
Venom, Katerina sent to Niko along their bond, horror clear in her mind-voice, the way they were only able to communicate in battle. Its teeth—the blade ? —
I know. He pinched another knife by the tip. We will not die in this arena, Katerina. Firewitch or no, we will not die tonight.
The conviction in his voice galvanized Katerina. She moved to his side and raised her hands, concentrating on the center of the horde that had unfrozen and was sprinting toward them at inhuman speed. If they bite and stab like Grigori, then they can die like them, she told Niko, and let her witchfire free. It might not be able to kill them, but it should wound them long enough for Katerina to get her hands on a limb from one of the rowan-fires. Saints, how she wished she could harness the wind right now.
Her witchfire streaked from her palms in a focused stream, hitting the yellow-haired illusion at the tip of the horde just as Niko’s blade found its home in the heart of the one behind her. A ululating cry ripped from Katerina’s throat as she concentrated on splitting the stream, turning each strand into a flame-tipped missile. The illusions bellowed in agony as they caught fire, their forms flickering within the blaze until, with a crack that shook the ground, they exploded, sparks scattering in all directions. A complex rune shone where they had been, as if burnt into the very air of the night. Then it, too, vanished. Their blades clattered to the ground, and Niko dove for them, holstering them before another one of the illusions could use them against a Shadow. Not entirely like Grigori, then, he said.
The six that had come after her and Niko were dead. But a few feet away, Roksana was sobbing, kneeling in the sand next to her fallen Shadow, her palm pressed to the Mark on his upper arm as she begged him over and over to come back to her. Sunk in grief, she didn’t so much as lift her head as two of the four creatures that Sofi and Damien were battling broke away from them and scuttled straight for Roksana, each gripping a venom-soaked blade.
Katerina spared a glance for Niko, but he had spun to battle another one of the illusions. If she wanted to save her fellow Dimi, she was on her own. And so she did the only thing she could think of: she screamed.
“Hey!” Waving her hands above her head, she made herself as large of a target as possible, desperate to focus the illusions’ attention on her rather than Roksana. “I’m right here. Don’t you want me?”
She let a hint of flame seep from her fingertips, tracing a thin stream of fire along the sand—a path guiding them straight to where she stood. “Imagine how much more there is where this came from,” she taunted, just as she would if they were fighting a true demon horde. “Think how much you’ll enjoy absorbing all of this power, how much stronger you’ll be. How delicious I’ll taste. Wouldn’t you rather feed on my fire than her fear?”
She wasn’t sure if the illusions were sentient enough to understand her, but sure enough, their heads cocked an instant before they changed trajectory, skirting Roksana and coming straight towards Katerina. She gathered her power, feeling it pulse in her palms. It took more effort than she liked to separate the strand that controlled her witchfire from the rest, but she managed it. Not yet, she told herself. Wait for it…wait…
Behind her, she heard a grunt and then a tearing sound as a blade sank deep into flesh. Her heart sped in terror. But when she dared to test her bond with Niko, she felt not pain, thank the Saints, but satisfaction at his kill, colored with anger that she’d put herself in harm’s way. This is not a rescue mission, he snarled at her.
Trust me , she sent along their bond, but didn’t pause to hear his reply. The two illusion-demons charged, and she waited until they were a foot away before igniting them, close enough that a hint of her own witchfire caressed her skin. The demons howled as they burned, fragmenting just as their counterparts had, the same rune burnt into the fabric of the night.
But as they dissipated, yet another one of the damnable illusions charged for Roksana. The other Dimi was on her feet now, yanking one of her Shadow’s blades out of its holster. Unlike in Kalach, where Dimis trained hand-to-hand alongside their Shadows, in Satvala they had no such practice. Roksana’s blade went wide, thunking into the sand far to the left of its mark. The illusion-demon came for her, and before Katerina could stop it, the creature let its own blade fly.
A venom-soaked blade was not inherently fatal to a Dimi, the way it was to a Shadow in human form. But when plunged into a Dimi’s heart, it could kill just the same. Roksana’s eyes flared wide, her mouth a soundless o of agony. Katerina watched in horror as the other Dimi’s lifeless body toppled, landing across her Shadow’s so that he broke her fall, even in death. The illusion wrenched its blade free with as much indifference as if it had stabbed a hunk of beef and then came for Katerina, laughing.
One instant, the two of them faced each other, fire sparking from Katerina’s fingertips. The next, a massive black dog hurtled between them, sharp canines bared. Clamping his powerful jaws on his prey’s neck, Niko shook the illusion-demon, muscles rippling beneath his glossy fur. The creature shrieked, writhing, as the scent of demon blood filled the air—then evaporated. Niko’s razor-sharp canines grazed the tip of the rune that had powered the illusion a moment before it, too, vanished. He howled in victory, turning his head to make sure Katerina was unharmed even though she knew he could feel as much through their bond.
She shot him a reassuring glance, then shoved her sweat-matted hair back from her forehead and surveyed the arena. She and Niko had slain half of the illusion-demons. Sofi and Damien were battling two more. Halfway across the arena, Fyodor lunged in front of Trina and sank his black dog’s teeth into the belly of one of the illusions. Blood and flesh sprayed onto the sand, and the creature shrieked, the awful rending of metal on metal.
Four of their fellow warriors had fallen. The Dimis and Shadows of Liski, Voronezh, and Bobrov were on their feet but fighting for their lives, the Shadows engaged in close combat with all six of the remaining illusion-demons as the Dimis’ magic flared, gusts of wind driving the rowan-fires skyward, tongues of flame licking at the illusions’ skin.
Dimi Nevolin of Bobrov was an earthwitch—for the love of the Saints, why did she not open a pit in the arena and dump these forsaken creatures in? Maybe the woman was frightened. Maybe she just wasn’t used to fighting without her fellow Dimis and their Shadows by her side. Either way, Katerina’s heart sank as Nevolin toppled beneath one of the illusions’ blades, her Shadow leaping for her in time only to have three of the creatures fall upon him. The crowd caterwauled, and money changed hands, as if this were no more than a horse race. Bastards.
Niko prowled to her side, leaving bloody pawprints on the sand, as Trina raised her hands and sent witchwind hurtling at four of the illusions. They stumbled backward, snarling—and then sailed across the arena, skidding to a halt mere feet from Katerina. Across the expanse of sand, Trina met her eyes and smirked. She carved a hand through the air, evoking a second blast of wind that sent Niko flying.
The illusion-demons found their feet and crouched, assessing Katerina. She stared back at them, power brewing within her, a gathering storm. Niko roared with rage, struggling against Trina’s witchwind as he fought to get to her, but the other Dimi held him back, gale-force winds whipping the sand into a maelstrom that obscured Katerina’s vision. She scrubbed at her stinging eyes, forcing them open enough to see the illusions advancing, venom-soaked blades gripped in their hands. They surrounded her, a circle of knives and teeth and vitriol.
I’ll kill her. Niko’s mind-voice came, ice-cold with wrath. Her corpse will lie at your feet.
Promises, promises, Katerina told him. And then she struck.
Drawing on the well of her power, she hauled the strand of fire up, up, up, pouring her energy into it until it curled around the charging illusion-demons, forging flaming vines that wrapped ever-closer, binding them. The yells of the crowd grew louder, competing with the crackle of the conflagration she’d ignited, but Katerina had no time to listen. All her attention was fixed on the flame-vines tightening around the illusions, choking the life out of them.
Beyond the burning demons and the swirling sand, she could just make out Trina’s face. The other Dimi’s eyes widened with disbelief an instant before they narrowed in calculation. And then her mouth lifted in a smile so malicious, it could only mean one thing.
Its outline visible through the haze of sand and flame, a black-clad form streaked straight for Niko, clutching a blade in each hand. These were the demons’ knives, the hilts a dull, uniform maroon rather than the rune-engraved onyx that topped Shadows’ blades. And yet, Katerina realized as bone-deep rage broke over her, it was a Shadow who wielded them.
Fyodor, in human form once more.
Trina had not only separated Katerina from her Shadow to weaken her. She had done it to isolate Niko while the other illusion-demons sought their quarry. Sofi and Damien couldn’t break free to help him, and the pairings from Liski and Voronezh were too far away to help, even if they would. The two remaining illusions had seized upon them as the weakest of the survivors, crowding them against the wall of the arena even as the Dimis and Shadows, half in human form and half in the form of their black dogs, sought to bring them down.
Don’t shift, she cried out to Niko. He has their knives ? —
But it was too late. Her Shadow had already shifted back into human form, the better to fight from a distance. He’d managed to reclaim his blades—and his leathers, minimizing his exposed skin—but if Fyodor so much as nicked him, here in the arena without antivenin…
By the Saints. Trina could do what she liked to Katerina, but she would never touch Niko, with her Shadow’s hands or her own. Katerina would see her dead first.
She drew one burning breath, then another. The world slowed to a series of images once more: The illusions screaming as they burned. Damien snapping his prey’s neck and running to Niko’s aid, all four of his midnight-black paws pounding the ground, sand skidding in his wake and blood spraying from his jaws. The crowd on their feet, stomping and hollering. Trina laughing, Saints damn her, head thrown back and dark hair flying in the wake of her witchwind. Her own power, gathering inexorably in her chest and forking through every vein like lightning.
This wasn’t just her witchfire. It was everything: her four gifts offering themselves up, desperate to be channeled in the service of saving her Shadow. To use them would mean putting herself on display, stepping into the full strength of her power in front of the Kniaz, the Druzhina, and all of Rivki. If she were caught, everyone who’d known what she was capable of and kept her secret would be accused of committing treason against the realm. It was wrong, and rash, and dangerous.
But Katerina would do far worse, if it meant Niko lived.
She inhaled. Exhaled. And set her power free.
Her gifts snaked beneath the earth, seeking Fyodor, spreading fire as they went. Imbued by her power, the sand heated degree by degree, as incandescent as her fury. She fed her rage into the earth and the earth answered, rising and shaking and shimmering and fusing as Katerina’s witchfire transformed it at last to glass. It shattered beneath the illusion-demons, leaving them writhing aflame in midair, then splintered under Fyodor’s feet.
He tried to leap away, to dodge, but she wrapped her witchwind around him and propelled him toward her, straight through the flame-broiling demons. They winked out of existence, leaving fire-edged runes behind, just as he slid to a stop at her feet, bleeding and burning, his venom-laced blades still clutched in his hands and a look of incredulous hatred on his face.
“Surprise,” Katerina said sweetly, and bent down to pluck the blades free.
Abject misery warred with dizzying relief as she and Niko sought their place in line with the surviving Shadows and Dimis.
This was exactly what Baba had feared. With Niko’s life on the line, Katerina had done what she’d sworn she wouldn’t: lose control. Her love for him had already made a liar out of her; now it had made her break her word and betray her home into the bargain.
She wasn’t sorry. And yet, she shouldn’t have done it.
True, the burning demons had formed a wall of flame between Fyodor and the Kniaz, hopefully blocking the nobleman’s view. And with luck, Fyodor’s burns could be attributed to the wrath of a firewitch whose Shadow was in mortal danger. The cracking earth could be blamed on heat alone, the wind on Trina Samarin. But in the moment, Katerina had been thinking of none of that. All that had mattered was that she save her Shadow, Kalach and her vow to Baba Petrova be damned.
Regret forged a lump in her throat. “Niko,” she whispered, “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I shouldn’t have?—”
He tilted his head to look down at her, his gaze impenetrable. Try as she might, she couldn’t make out what was going on behind his slate-gray eyes. “Not now, Katerina.”
She wanted to demand to know what he was thinking. To have the same access to his thoughts as she did when they fought side by side. But all she could do was nod in tacit agreement as they strode across the bloodied sand of the arena, sidestepping the bodies of the fallen Dimis and Shadows. It was better that they both lived, was it not, no matter the price? They could fight later. At least they would be alive to argue.
The crowd was eerily silent as Dimi Novikova, head of the Druzhina, stood from her place at the Kniaz’s right hand. “Ten survive,” she declared, her witchwind carrying her voice across the arena. “Four have fallen. We commend their souls to the Saints and pray for their deliverance to the Light.”
A murmur of acceptance rose from the crowd, quieting as Dimi Novikova spoke again. “Come forward, Dimis and Shadows of Iriska’s villages. Stand before us and face your verdict.”
Terror flashed through Katerina’s body, as potent and lethal as her magic. There was no coming back from this. One by one, Dimi Novikova would call their names. And then, when they all stood in front of the Kniaz, he would make his choice.
She glanced left and right, at the other Shadows and Dimis. Their bodies were taut with anticipation, their gazes fixed on Dimi Novikova. All of them would do anything, sacrifice anything, to be chosen today. And Katerina would do anything to be passed over.
Her hands shook, and she balled them into fists to hide their trembling. She had made her decision, the moment she prioritized saving Niko above all else. Now she would have to live with the consequences, no matter how grave they might be.
Dimi Novikova pointed at the furrowed stretch of sand in front of the cordoned-off area where the Kniaz and the Druzhina sat. “First, I call Dimi Oglievich of Drezna and her Shadow.”
Head held high, Sofi limped forward, Damien at her side, in human form. The left leg of her fighting leathers was dark with blood, but her expression revealed no pain.
“I call Dimi Samarin of Povorino and her Shadow!” Novikova pointed at the spot to Damien’s right, and Trina marched forward, her despicable excuse for a Shadow at her side.
“I call Dimi Ivanova of Kalach and her Shadow!”
Katerina followed the line of Dimi Novikova’s finger. She was pointing at the spot right next to Fyodor, because…of course she was. Was this a further test, to see if Katerina could stand at his right without either getting stabbed or burning him to ashes?
Either way, she had no choice. Niko at her side, she walked forward, taking her place. Fyodor stared straight ahead, not sparing her a glance, burns marking every visible inch of his bronze skin. Good: let him suffer. He lived, which was more than he’d intended for her Shadow.
“Dimi Fenenko of Liski and her Shadow!” Novikova called. “Dimi Essen and her Shadow, of Voronezh!”
When they all stood for inspection, some in worse shape than others, the Kniaz rose to his feet, smiling. “Citizens of Rivki!” He raised both hands to the sky, as if embracing the waxing Bone Moon. “Tonight, we have indeed witnessed marvelous things. Yes, some have fallen, but better now than when Iriska’s existence depends on it. And those who have risen to the occasion have done so with great aplomb.”
He paused, and Katerina suppressed a shudder. Surely it was her imagination that his gaze lingered on her…unless, of course, he’d seen the truth of what she’d done. A tremor ran through her, and she steeled her spine, refusing to show fear.
“It is my great pleasure to announce the victors of this year’s Bone Trials!” the Kniaz bellowed, and the crowd erupted, stomping their feet and rattling the shell-shakers they’d bought from the street-vendors outside the arena’s walls.
“Silence!” Dimi Novikova’s voice boomed, amplified by her witchwind. The arena fell quiet, and Katerina held her breath, praying as she had never prayed before.
“The first victors of this year’s Bone Trials, bound to return for next year’s competition and a chance to join the ranks of the Druzhina, are”—the Kniaz paused for effect—“Dimi Oglievich and Shadow Tikhomirov, of Drezna!”
Sofi’s face paled, going white as the face of the moon with excitement, before she seized Damien’s hand. She stepped forward, lifting their joined hands high in triumph, and the crowd roared. As Sofi and Damien stepped back into line, Katerina shot them a small smile. It felt false, dredged from the depths of her being, but—this was what Sofi wanted. They’d talked about it often enough, when Katerina and Niko stopped in Drezna to break their ride to and from Kalach.
Besides, the Trials only called for two victors. Maybe three, if the Kniaz felt taken enough with a third pairing, but that was rare. Sofi’s triumph was Katerina’s, as well.
The Kniaz cleared his throat. “I am proud to announce the second victors of this year’s Bone Trials. May I present to you”—he swept his hand wide—“Dimi Samarin and Shadow Makarov, of Povorino!”
Trina stepped forward, gripping Fyodor’s hand, her Shadow flinching as her fingers closed around his burned flesh. It was a small gesture, squelched as quickly as it appeared, but Katerina saw it nonetheless, and hid her smile.
That was two, she thought as Trina and Fyodor stepped back into line. The other Dimi aimed a gloating look at Katerina, but she was too dizzy with relief to care. Maybe the burning demons had been enough of a distraction from the way the earth had buckled and the wind had shifted, sending Fyodor hurtling into the flames. Maybe she had pulled it off, just another Dimi from a border village who was strong enough to survive but not good enough to warrant anything more.
She waited for the Kniaz to dismiss the rest of them, for the crowd to boo and hiss as they filed out of the arena. It would be an insult to her pride and Niko’s, but there were worse things. Her Shadow could yell at her all he wanted later, for keeping secrets and compromising their village to save his life. All that mattered was that they go home, returning only to deliver the tithe.
Iriska’s ruler regarded the line of Dimis and Shadows, his dark brows lowered and his expression grave. One by one, his gaze lingered on each of them. And then he spoke.
“As the third victors of this year’s Bone Trials, I name Dimi Ivanova and Shadow Alekhin, of Kalach.”