Chapter 7
7
KATERINA
“ Y our Grace,” Katerina said, sinking low into a curtsy, just as Baba had instructed her. “Dimi Zakharova.”
She’d seen the Kniaz many times before, of course, when she’d taken her turn delivering the tithe. But then, he’d always been seated on his throne, giving her no more than an imperious nod as she and Niko knelt and placed a ceremonial bushel of wheat at his feet. Katerina hated that the nobleman demanded such a thing from them, just as he did from the other six villages in Iriska: oil from one, firewood from another, potatoes from a third. She hated him.
Now here he was, right in front of her, close enough to incinerate with a thought. And instead, she had to act as if he’d just bestowed the greatest honor imaginable upon her.
She fixed her eyes on his silver-buckled shoes, engraved with runes of safety and protection, waiting for permission to stand. As much as it galled her to bend to him, it was a thousand times better than being hauled away for treason to the realm.
“Rise, Dimi Ivanova.” The Kniaz’s voice was as imperious as always, laced with Rivki’s distinctive accent: clipped vowels, a slight roll to the letter ‘r.’
Katerina obeyed, taking him in: white stockings, woven with silver runes; black breeches; a fine, brocade cobalt coat; jeweled rings winking from every finger. She met his eyes at last, onyx, deep-set orbs that contrasted with the pale skin of his face, like ink spilled on bone china. They sparkled in the light of the Bone Moon, bright with cunning.
“You know my esteemed consort by name, I see,” Kniaz Sergey said, waving an indolent hand at Dimi Zakharova. “But have you two had the pleasure of meeting?”
“We have not,” Katerina said, glancing sideways at the woman who stood by the Kniaz’s side. She was an earthwitch, everyone knew that. It was beyond Katerina why she would allow the Kniaz to leash her, to dress her in blue velvet to match his waistcoat and parade her about like a pet. But the last thing she wished to do was offend either of them, not when she had so much to lose. “It is my pleasure.”
“Is it?” Dimi Zakharova said, her nostrils flaring as if she smelled something foul. Perhaps she did, come to think of it; Katerina probably stank of ashes and sweat. Well, that was nothing to be ashamed of. She squared her shoulders and met the other Dimi’s gaze head-on.
“You tell me,” she said, giving her most innocuous smile. “I certainly hope so.”
The Kniaz waved his bejeweled hand again, dispelling the rising tension between them. “Now, now. The battle is over, and it’s time for more enjoyable things. I must say, you performed admirably today, Dimi Ivanova. Should you do the same at the second round of the Trials next year, I’ll look forward to the moment when you call our fair city home.” He tilted his head, a sparrow eyeing the first juicy worm of spring. “Tell me, will you be bringing an entourage, or will it merely be you and your Shadow?”
“I beg your pardon? Your Grace,” she added hurriedly as Dimi Zakharova frowned.
“Are you…attached?” His gaze flickered over her, lingering on hips and waist and breasts, and Katerina swallowed back the retort that rose to her lips.
“If you mean, am I promised to another, Your Grace, then the answer is no.” Unlike a Shadow, she had the right to choose her own mate: a strong man who would share her bed, get her with child, and continue the Dimi line. Konstantin, maybe. Or Maksim. Both citizens of Kalach were tall and handsome, with land to their name. Though she didn’t love them—had barely spoken to either of them—the time was coming when she’d have to decide.
Katerina had no interest in Konstantin or Maxim. Her heart belonged to another. But right now, she’d rather be wed to either of them than endure the insolent way the Kniaz’s gaze slid over her, as if he were touching her with his hands rather than his eyes. Next to him, Dimi Zakharova stiffened, the hostility in her expression intensifying.
“Excellent, excellent.” Kniaz Sergey rubbed his palms together with glee. “And your Shadow?” He nodded at Niko, who had freed himself from Shadow Berezin but was still paying his respects to the remaining Druzhina in turn. “Does he have a lovely Vila back home? For if not, the selection in Rivki is grand indeed. He’d have his pick of the litter.” He gestured to the second level of the amphitheater, where a group of women fluttered like butterflies, adorned with jewels and arrayed in brightly colored, ornate gowns.
Katerina had no particular affinity for Vila in general, and Elena in particular. Beyond her obsession with Niko, Elena’s fanaticism about following the will of the Saints to the letter drove Katerina mad. Still, her chest tightened at the indifferent way the Kniaz spoke of the Vila, as if they were chattel rather than individuals with thoughts and opinions of their own. She didn’t trust herself to speak, but luckily, he mistook her indignant silence for awe.
“They may be mere broodmares, but they’re lovely to look at, are they not?” he said. “They’ll be lining up for a handsome, powerful Shadow like yours. Unless he has another?”
The only thing she wanted to think less about than being the Kniaz’s plaything was this. It was bad enough that Niko was to marry Elena. But watching her bear his children? That might actually kill Katerina.
“My Shadow will be betrothed to his Vila when the Bone Moon is full, three nights hence,” she said, raising her chin. “Alas, the Vila of Rivki Island will be safe from his advances, long may they weep.”
Kniaz Sergey stared at her for a long moment, as if he’d never seen anything quite like her. Then he began to laugh. He chuckled until his eyes ran with water and he had to wipe them with his brocade sleeve. The harder he guffawed, the more Dimi Zakharova’s glare intensified, and Katerina shot her a hard look. What was her Saints-damned problem ?
“I like you, Dimi Ivanova,” he said at last. “You surprise me, which is a rare thing. As for your talented Shadow, here he comes now.”
“And not a moment too soon,” Katerina muttered under her breath, a smile plastered on her face as Niko bowed to the last of the Druzhina and strode toward her.
He came to a halt by her side, flashing her a quizzical look before he bowed to the Kniaz and his consort in turn. “Your Grace,” he said with impeccable politeness. “Dimi Zakharova.”
As they exchanged pleasantries, Katerina caught the other Dimi’s gaze, flicking back and forth between her and Niko. Under other circumstances, she’d demand that the woman speak. But here and now, she was afraid she didn’t want to hear what Dimi Zakharova had to say. Fear gripped her heart, its tendrils wrapping ever-tighter. What had the woman seen?
There were secrets, and then there were secrets. And some were never meant to be told.
Next to her, Niko cleared his throat, and she forced herself to focus. Sofi and Damien had come to the end of the receiving line and were waiting for their audience with the Kniaz. The other Dimi signed to her Shadow, hands flying as she communicated whatever she wanted to say, in case Kniaz Sergey or Dimi Zakharova couldn’t understand. Katerina stood at the wrong angle to catch every word, but she could see grateful and proud to fight for Iriska clearly enough.
Katerina was the grateful one. Because thank the Saints, with Sofi and Damien right there, it was time for her and Niko to go.
“I look forward to seeing your performance in next year’s Trials,” Kniaz Sergey said, clapping Niko on the back as if they were old friends. “In the meantime, make the most of our hospitality, won’t you? You’re not betrothed yet, after all.” He winked at Niko, letting his gaze wander to the flock of twittering Vila.
To his credit, Niko managed to keep his expression stoic—although for all Katerina knew, he was planning to end the evening with a Vila-themed bacchanalia. After a battle, Shadows were well known to seek release in a bed or a bottle…not that she and Niko ever discussed such things.
And we won’t start now , she told herself sternly. What he does when he’s not fighting by your side is none of your business, Katerina. Pull yourself together.
That would be a lot easier if adrenaline weren’t still whipping through her body, demanding release. Back in Kalach, she’d seek peace in her favorite elderflower clearing or else light something on fire. But here, no such option was open to her. Maybe she was the one who should find solace in someone’s bed tonight. If only she could stomach the thought.
Niko was her Shadow, sworn to stand by her side, the other half of her soul. But in private, she’d always called him her Lightbringer—her best friend, the boy who knew her better than anyone else, who could always make her laugh and lead her out of her own personal darkness. It was a lethal combination, and she couldn’t imagine anyone would ever measure up.
She stole a sideways glance at him as they walked from the arena, but he was looking straight ahead, his expression impassive. They stepped onto the path that cut beneath the seating area, paved with red stones forged in Povorino’s lava fields and shipped to Rivki at great expense, and still he said not a word. Stubbornly, neither did she.
The path widened, connecting with Maripol Avenue. The street was abuzz: vendors hawking their wares, children waving orange streamers meant to simulate witchfire, gamblers’ money changing hands. Katerina drew a deep breath, taking in the welcoming scent of vareniki dumplings, her favorite. She didn’t have any coins on her, but perhaps she could charm one of the people who’d bet on her into buying her some. Tilting her head, she scanned the crowd.
“There will be plenty to eat at the feast,” Niko said, breaking his silence at last.
Her gaze snapped to his, vareniki forgotten. “Oh, so now you can talk?”
“What do you want me to say, Katerina?” His voice was laced with a weariness that tore at her heart. “What can I say, that’s not going to start a fight?”
“How about what you’re thinking? That would be a start!” She kept her voice low, so as not to be overheard despite the chaos of the crowd. “Tell me you’re angry with me. That I might have ruined everything. That I lost control of my magic. That you’re ashamed of me?—”
He took hold of her upper arms, spinning her to face him. “Never say that again. I am not, nor will I ever be, ashamed of you, my Dimi. I am honored to fight at your side.”
She peered up at him, biting her lip. “Then?—”
His head lowered, the words a whisper against the shell of her ear. The heat of his breath sent a shiver through her entire body. “You didn’t lose control. You fought for me, as your instincts demanded. But…” He drew back to look at her face. “You kept the truth from me, Katerina. Baba never bound your magic at all, did she? What happened with the bridge at kohannya—that was you.”
Katerina drew a deep, shaky breath. Then, she nodded.
Her Shadow’s eyes widened, the moonlight falling full on his face. He ran an absent-minded fingertip over his scar, the way he did when truly troubled. “But…why?”
This close to him, with his black dog able to pick up every shift in her scent and fluctuation in her heartbeat, she couldn’t lie. So instead, she settled for a partial truth. “The longer we stayed, the more scared I was that Baba would figure out the spell hadn’t worked. When she tried to bind me…” She shuddered all over at the memory. “It was like I was being torn apart. I couldn’t go through that again.”
His eyes scanned her face, as if trying to figure out what she’d left unsaid. She couldn’t help it; her pulse sped in response, imagining what he would say if she shared the rest: It was breaking me to watch you with Elena. A minute longer, and I would’ve shattered.
“I understand that part,” he said at last. “Watching you suffer—I couldn’t do that twice, either. But Katerina…after we left, why did you not tell me?”
The hurt in his voice pierced her. “I wanted to, Niko. I did. But I didn’t want to ask you to keep that kind of secret.” Her voice broke. “And if something went wrong—like it did tonight—I wanted you to be able to say you didn’t know.”
Niko’s hands slid up to her shoulders, gripping them like he had in Baba’s cottage. This time, though, he shook her, hard enough that her head came up and she glared at him. “I trust you with my life, Katerina. You trust me with yours. But you don’t think I’m worthy of being trusted with the truth?”
A sarcastic retort bubbled up, but she bit it back when she saw the pain in his eyes. “You’re right,” she said, making an effort to sound humble. “I’m sorry.”
His gaze softened. “I know what you were doing. Trying to protect me, like you always do. Like you did in the arena. But we’re meant to be partners, Katerina. And of the two of us, I’m the one who vowed to stand between you and the Darkness, to lay my life at your feet.”
Katerina swallowed hard. “I tried to keep my powers leashed,” she said, her voice a whisper. “If Fyodor hadn’t come for you, I could have done it, Niko. I swear I could have. I didn’t mean to be thoughtless, or to endanger Kalach?—”
“Hush.” His grip on her shoulders loosened. “What Baba tried to force on you was unnatural. Your magic is as much a part of you as your hair”—his fingers ghosted over her red waves, freed from their braid and matted with dust—“or your incorrigible attitude. Binding ceremony aside, it’s no surprise it broke free when you thought my life was threatened.”
“So you’re not mad,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
He tucked a rogue curl behind her ear, shaking his head in exasperation when it sprang free again. “Not in the way you mean. What I care about is you , do you understand? You thought you had to bear this secret alone. Now you’ve added your guilt for what happened in the arena to the bargain. And that’s what I can’t stand.”
Katerina’s eyes burned, and she sought some way—any way—to lighten the mood, before he saw too much. “Really,” she said, struggling to keep her voice light. “That’s all?”
His lips rose in the half-teasing smile she’d always loved. “Well, that, and the idea that you thought that you needed to intervene on my behalf. Seriously, Katerina. You don’t think I could’ve taken that joke of a Shadow on my own? In this form or the form of my black dog, he’s nothing more than an inconvenient snack.” He snapped his teeth near her ear, and she smiled, as she knew he’d intended her to do.
“There,” he said softly, taking a step back. “That’s more like it. Now, let’s go get changed for the feast, my Dimi. You can eat vareniki to your heart’s content. Maybe even hurl some at the Kniaz’s head, if he says something that tests the limits of your patience.”
“As if I would do such a thing,” Katerina said, but she was still smiling.
He took her by the shoulders again, turning her and then carving a path for both of them through the crowd, which parted for him like butter before a knife. They fell silent once again as they made their way to the grandiose inn where the visiting Shadows and Dimis were staying, but this time it was companionable rather than strained.
Inside the high-ceilinged hallway of the inn’s foyer, Niko paused at the foot of the winding staircase. His room was on the first floor, whereas Katerina’s was on the second. At home, he slept on a quilt in front of the hearth of their shared cottage. She wasn’t used to having him so far away, but perhaps this was good practice. Three months from now, when Niko and Elena were married, he would no longer sleep in front of her fire.
And here she was, thinking about Elena again. The warmth that her conversation with Niko had kindled in her chest faded to ashes, and she fought not to let her misery show on her face. If Niko was happy about his betrothal, she should be, too—and he had given her no indication that he objected. Besides, other than Shadows whose preference was for men, it was expected of them to marry a Vila. Otherwise, the Shadow and Vila lines would die out. This was the way it needed to be, so why could she not resign herself to it?
The foyer was quiet, most of the others doubtless still among the revelers. Katerina heard only the sound of her own breath and Niko’s as he scanned her face, his head tilted. She braced for him to ask what was troubling her. But all he said was, “Do try not to incinerate anyone in the few minutes you’ll be out of my sight, won’t you? It might put a damper on the festivities.”
“I make no promises,” Katerina said, her tone deliberately haughty. His low laugh echoed as she climbed the stairs, the polished wooden railing smooth and cold beneath her palm.
It was a good thing she hadn’t given him her word. Because when she pushed open the double doors that led to her bedchamber’s hallway, she found an unexpected—and unwelcome—guest waiting for her.