Fate and Fury

Chapter 13

13

KATERINA

W hen Katerina woke up, the sun had crested the trees and Niko was no longer beside her. The rowan-fires were still burning, though lower now, and Niko stood next to one of them, talking in soothing tones to?—

“Mika!” She leapt up, wincing as her injured leg took her weight. Hobbling over to the mare, she threw her arms around her horse’s neck. “Niko, where did you find her?”

She could hear the smile in her Shadow’s voice. “She found us. I dozed off for a bit before sunrise and woke to her nosing at my face. I suppose she thought I wasn’t doing my duty.”

Katerina drew back, still hugging Mika, and shot him a glare. “Did you sleep at all?”

He waved a dirt-smudged hand. “I slept enough. Don’t worry about me. Worry about your horse. She looks…” His voice trailed off, but the concern in it had gotten Katerina’s attention. Reluctantly, she stepped away from Mika, giving her mare the once-over.

Mika’s mane was singed, her sides heaving. There were shallow gouges along her flanks, as if she’d shoved her way through branches and undergrowth. Her eyes were wide, the whites showing all around the irises. But she stood steady under Katerina’s touch, and when Niko offered her some dried apples from Baba’s satchel, she took them eagerly enough.

“Troitze?” Katerina said, hardly daring to look at Niko.

He shook his head, his shoulders slumping. Katerina knew how much he loved the big, stubborn stallion. “No sign of him. Which is too bad, because he could’ve carried us both. But Mika will carry you, and I’ll walk beside her. It’s better than what I’d expected.”

“She can carry us both for a short way,” Katerina argued. “I know her. She’s strong.”

“Maybe,” Niko said, sounding doubtful.

“Where do you expect she’s been all night?”

He looked the mare up and down and then sighed. “Nowhere good. Come on, Katya. It’s time to leave.”

The trip back to Kalach felt as if it took a thousand years. True to Katerina’s word, Mika was able to carry them both for some time, but Niko didn’t want to risk tiring her, and so he walked next to the mare for a good deal of the way, his hand on her reins.

Katerina feared another Grigori attack, especially with the Bone Moon getting ever closer, but none befell them. There were no villages between Drezna and Kalach, just the road that wound through the woods and mountain passes. It was a wary journey, and Katerina’s decimation of the bridge required them to take the long way home. When at last they smelled the rowan-fires that signaled the approach to Kalach, a weight slid off her shoulders.

Their village still stood. Whatever plague had been loosed upon Iriska, it hadn’t reached Kalach…at least, not yet.

It was late afternoon, the day before the Bone Moon was set to rise, and Oriel and Galdrich were patrolling, one on either side of the iron gates that marked the main entrance to the village. The two Shadows came to attention as Katerina and Niko approached, her on the mare’s back, him holding Mika’s bridle. They dipped their heads in recognition of their alpha’s return, then lifted them again in greeting. Dismay dawned on their faces as they noted Troitze’s absence and Katerina’s wounded leg. But when they asked about the Trials, Niko shook his head. “You’ll hear soon enough,” he said. “Katerina and I need to speak with Baba.”

Katerina led Mika to the stables and gave the horse an apple and a grateful pat before turning to Niko. “There isn’t time to clean up, is there?” she said, her tone rueful.

He wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “I wish there were. But no. Come on.”

They made their way past the farrier’s and the blacksmith shop, then onto the cobblestone path that took them past the orchard and toward the small cottage where Baba Petrova lived. Without discussion, they’d chosen the most out–of-the-way route, the better to avoid questions about their battered appearance, Katerina’s limp, and the results of the Trials. But luck wasn’t with them today, because children played alongside the path, tended by Vila—including Elena. Even from a distance, the golden gleam of her hair was unmistakable, as was the joy that broke across her face when Niko and Katerina approached.

She hurried toward them, her green-and-white dress swishing against her legs. “You’re back—both of you!” she said, skidding to a halt in front of them. “Oh, I’ve been so worried. You’re strong, of course, but anything could happen at the Trials. I burned incense at my shrine, asking for your safe return. And my prayers were answered. Thank the Saints, you’re here!”

She stepped forward to embrace Niko, and Katerina braced herself for the inevitable twist in her gut. But Niko caught Elena by the wrists and held her still. “I’m filthy,” he said as puzzlement knitted her blond brows. “We’ve come straight from the road.”

The Vila’s smile dimmed, but she nodded in understanding as Niko let her go. “Of course.” Her cornflower-blue gaze slid sideways, taking Katerina in for the first time. It darkened with concern, and Katerina felt like a terrible person. “Here I am, chattering away, and…are you injured? Could Rivki’s healers not at least patch you up before you got on the road home, or did something happen on the way? Niko, are you hurt?”

Behind her, the children Elena was meant to be tending were staring at Niko and Katerina, eyes wide, no doubt imagining that the two had returned from a glorious mission. When Katerina was small, she’d envisioned Rivki as a place of incredible riches, with its gold-domed churches and noblefolk dressed in fine fabrics. Only later had she come to understand it was a prison for the likes of her.

She cleared her throat, not wanting to frighten them. “We’re fine. But we need to see Baba, Elena. Something’s happened, and she needs to know about it at once.”

“But…” Elena said doubtfully, her gaze flicking between the two of them. “Your leg, Katerina. And Niko…your arms…”

“Just defensive wounds.” He offered her a conciliatory smile. “I’m whole. Katerina’s right, though; we need to talk to Baba. And,” he said, gesturing behind her, “I think your charges are getting restless.”

The Shadowchildren and young Vila and Dimis had come up behind Elena, peering shyly around her skirts. One little Dimi girl in particular, Esther, stared at Katerina with awe. She whispered to the young Vila next to her, whose face took on a similarly worshipful expression. Blind from birth, Halya negotiated Kalach with confidence using a cane that her Shadow father had carved for her from rowanwood. She and Esther were often together, and Katerina had overheard the Dimichild, a gifted artist, painting the world for Halya with words. Surely, she was doing the same thing for the Vila now, describing Katerina and Niko’s glorious return.

Normally, this would have amused Katerina. But now, it terrified her. What if she couldn’t keep Esther or Halya—keep any of them—safe?

As Elena stroked the braids of the children who clung to her, admonishing them to go back to playing in the garden, a chill ran through Katerina. She imagined all of Kalach vanishing into that awful crater, everyone she knew and loved gone. She’d been so worried about being Reaped, but this was far worse.

She swayed, and Niko touched her arm, steadying her. “Baba will feed us,” he said, mistaking her unsteadiness for hunger. “We’ll tell her everything. Then we can go home, wash, and rest.”

Katerina forced a smile. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”

She glanced back once as they walked away, Katerina favoring her injured leg. Elena stood on the path, watching them go, her gilded hair shining like sheaves of wheat in the bright sunlight, her expression troubled. A pang of guilt shot through Katerina. As Niko was meant to protect her, so she was meant to protect the Vila. She pushed her uncharitable feelings down, down, down into the depths of her soul, and went to do what must be done.

The only positive thing to come out of the destruction of Drezna and the demon-battle on the road was that Katerina’s misstep at the Trials paled in comparison. She and Niko had agreed to spin the truth, saying that when his life was in danger, Katerina’s magic had somehow burst through the constraints of the binding. It had taken her by surprise, she said, so she hadn’t been prepared to guard against it. She’d never meant for this to happen.

Baba Petrova’s initial anger at her lack of control had faded into the background with each word Katerina spoke. By the time she and Niko finished, unspooling the whole ugly story, the Kniaz’s decision to have the two of them advance to the next round of the Trials was the least of Baba’s concerns.

“This bodes no good,” she said, pacing the length of her parlor after they’d told her everything and handed over Baba Volkova’s sigil. The old Dimi had been pacing for so long, it was a wonder she hadn’t worn a hole straight through the floorboards.

Katerina couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t risk mentioning the prophecy; to do so would be to implicate herself, and Niko along with her. And he had done nothing, other than protect her as a Shadow should protect his Dimi. He was innocent in all of this. Not to mention, he’d worked so hard to reclaim his family’s name. How could she drag him into the muck, based on her unforgivable one-sided feelings? But if there was a chance that something else was to blame, a force that could alleviate the awful weight on her chest that threatened to suffocate her, she had to know. “We’ve told you everything,” she said, impatiently. “What can it mean?”

Baba Petrova’s face was as shriveled as a wizened apple. Somehow, the lines in her cheeks managed to carve themselves even more deeply when she said, “I don’t know, Katerina. First, the rise of your powers, in all their complexity and immensity. Now, this. There must be balance in the world, you know that as well as I. You are a great force for the Light; but your power has called, and the Dark has answered.”

What if the ancient Dimi was right that Katerina was the cause of this madness…but for reasons that she would never dream of? Katerina wished desperately that she could talk with Baba in private, to confide in her, but that would be madness. Instead, she hid her horror, pulling sarcasm around her like a shield. “What are you saying? That perhaps I should have done us all a favor and died on that road?”

Baba stopped her pacing and took a gulp of the cooling tea from the porcelain cup on her kitchen table, as if for strength. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m only speaking what’s in front of all our faces. Besides, your ceasing to exist now would do no good at all. The damage has been done.”

Indignation flushed through Katerina’s body, heating her cheeks. Her magic stirred inside her, uneasy, and the air in the cottage stirred along with it, rustling the curtains, feeding the hearth’s flames. The silver samovar that hung from its ring above the fire rattled, the water inside sloshing, and Baba shot her a warning glance.

“I’m not the damage,” Katerina snapped, worry sharpening each syllable. “The damage is what we did to those Grigori scum who now line the road to Drezna. The damage is what they did to an entire village of innocents, not to mention our fellow Dimis and Shadows!”

“Yes,” Baba said, dismissing Katerina’s temper. “We must grieve for them properly. Mourn them. It’s a terrible blow. But we also need to know more, for our own safety and the safety of Iriska. I’d like you to share everything you’ve told me with the Elder Council; I’ll call a meeting. I’m sure they’ll recommend sending someone to the Magiya. But not the two of you,” she said, before Katerina could speak. “We need you here. And you’ve been through enough.”

Neither Niko nor Katerina had ever been to the Magiya. It was a week’s travel on horseback, in the heart of Volshetska, a mountain fortress, surrounded by the strongest wards imaginable and run by elder Shadows and Dimis who had devoted their lives to scholarship. If the answers to what had happened lay anywhere, it was there.

“If not us, then who?” Niko said, dropping their empty borscht bowls into the washbasin with a clank. Katerina eyed him with surprise; it wasn’t like him to be so argumentative, let alone so careless with Baba’s china—the destruction that he’d wreaked the morning of the failed binding ceremony aside. But he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze flitted between Baba’s face and her front door, as if he suspected a threat might be lurking right outside.

“Nadia and Oriel, probably. It’ll be up to the Council to decide. But the scholars at the Magiya need to know what’s happening. Perhaps they can stop this evil before it spreads.” Baba sank into a chair, downing the dregs of her tea. “And we need to inform the Kniaz. Doubtless he’ll send someone to investigate; the road will have to be cleared for safe passage, and the crater consecrated and sealed. Rivki is on the way to the Magiya; if the Council approves, I’ll have Nadia and Oriel take word. But not tonight, and not tomorrow, either.” She cast her gaze outside, toward the darkening sky. “The dead won’t rest easy in their graves until the Bone Moon passes, and even as we speak, the barrier to the Underworld grows thin.”

Fear seized Katerina at the thought of Nadia and Oriel on that road, alone. “What if something happens to them?”

“We can’t spare anyone else. My hope is that the Kniaz will send them to the Magiya with reinforcements, once he hears what they have to say.” Baba peered down at her sodden tea leaves, as if their pattern might reveal the future. “You did what you had to in the woods, Katerina. I don’t begrudge it, and thank the Saints your magic was no longer bound. Make no mistake, though: People might have overlooked what happened at the Trials. They see what they want to see. But after this, there will be no hiding what you’re capable of.”

“I shouldn’t have to hide it,” Katerina protested. “Niko’s Light and my magic saved us. It saved anyone else that demon horde would have encountered. How can that be a bad thing?”

Sadness swam in the depths of Baba’s faded eyes. “Because you’ve made yourself a target, Katerina, for Gadreel, no less. And with you, all of us. You must be cautious where you go now, what you do. For strange things are afoot. I know that without hearing back from the Magiya, and so do you.”

“Wait for it…” Niko muttered, almost to himself.

Katerina glared at him, then lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid.”

Niko sighed. “And there it is.”

Baba Petrova regarded her with an expression that bore a suspicious resemblance to pity. “You should be, Katerina. You should be very frightened indeed. Because now, Gadreel knows that you exist. What you can do. And mark my words…he will come for you.”

Exhaustion permeated every fiber of Katerina’s body as she and Niko limped up to the front door of the cottage they shared. It was a blessedly familiar sight, the door painted a vibrant blue to ward off evil and the shingles freshly whitewashed, the trim that adorned the roof inscribed with protective runes: safety, strength, Light. Elderflowers bloomed in the planters flanking the doors, and the glass chime that hung from the rowan in the front yard sang softly in the breeze.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Everything was just as they had left it: the small wooden table with its white porcelain pitcher; the red rag rug in the center of their living space, with two comfortable chairs weighing it down; the hearth, with its fire banked by one of Baba’s young herbalist apprentices. The pallet where Niko slept was neatly rolled up in one corner, his blue quilt folded next to it. Through an arched doorway, Katerina could see her four-poster bed with its white quilt, a dried spray of lavender hanging above her headboard so nothing would trouble her dreams.

Niko had put it there, after she’d woken screaming from a nightmare of the demon’s teeth sinking into her mother’s throat. To protect you in your sleep, he’d said. Where I cannot.

It had been the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for Katerina. But she’d seen the way her Shadow’s gaze couldn’t hold hers, the way he fiddled with his blades rather than meet her eyes, and knew he’d felt self-conscious. So she’d let it go…but every night, when she slid into bed, she knew he was watching over her.

“Home at last,” he said, coming in behind her now. “And not a moment too soon.”

It was the first thing he’d said since Baba had done her best to heal Katerina’s leg, using a combination of herbs and charms, and they’d departed her cottage. The whole way down the winding streets that led through the village square and past the pastures where the horses grazed, he’d walked in silence, only grunting in response to Katerina’s attempts to make conversation. His head swiveled, like he expected demons to come creeping out of the trees or between the small cottages the Vila shared, near the red-roofed, wood-sided building where they cared for small Dimi, Vila, and Shadowchildren. His eyes had lingered on the runes inscribed on the window trim and the shutters, as if to see if they’d been tampered with.

The silence was unlike him. Katerina was usually the one to brood, and he the one to jolly her out of it. But there was no jollying Niko out of anything. Whatever strange mood had settled upon him in the clearing last night had returned full-force. He’d glared at Elena’s cottage as they passed it, the shadows beginning to slip from the trees to lick their way up the path that led to the Vila’s door. He’d glared at the birds who had the audacity to cross their path. And he was glaring at their cottage now, stalking the length of the front room and then into Katerina’s bedroom, where he peered under the bed as if checking for evil spirits or monsters.

She came up behind him, and he whirled, only relaxing a hair when he saw it was her. “Kikimora usually live in the cellar or behind the stove, you know,” she told him, endeavoring to lighten the mood. “And we haven’t got a cellar. If there’s a house spirit behind the stove, perhaps I can persuade it to make us a cup of tea.”

“Everything is a joke to you, Katya,” he said, stomping past her as if he actually intended to inspect the stove for demonic invasion. But no; he grabbed the fireplace poker and thrust it into the chimney, looking satisfied when he skewered nothing but air. He made sure the door was locked, then pulled his spare blades from the rune-carved cabinet, undid the velvet cloth that held them, and began grimly sharpening them one by one.

When Katerina was upset, she usually set something on fire. Niko, on the other hand…well, he didn’t get upset, not like this. He faced whatever was bothering him head-on and then got over it; she supposed it was the only way he was able to deal with her volatility, to strike the balance that made them the perfect warrior pairing. She had no idea how to handle this new version of her Shadow, who glowered at his blades as if he would like to put them through the eye of the next creature that was unfortunate enough to cross his path.

Well, the only creature here was Katerina, and she had no intention of getting eye-skewered. She stayed out of his way, tidying their cottage—sweeping the floor, setting a pot full of sweet-smelling herbs on the wood-burning stove, boiling water for chamomile tea and then crumbling bits of lavender, valerian, and lemon balm into it. She set a cup next to Niko, hoping the soothing aroma would help, but he didn’t so much as acknowledge it. Instead, he finished sharpening his blades, lay two of them on the table as if he expected a demon to come calling, and then stalked to the cabinet and put the rest carefully away.

Katerina thought that now, surely, he would speak. But no: he paced to the windows, peered out, then grabbed his pallet and unrolled it in front of the hearth. His aura was a stormcloud, so dark that for a terrible instant, she wondered if holding off the Grigori on the road had infected him somehow.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “What is it? What’s troubling you?”

“Nothing.”

This was so obviously untrue, she didn’t dignify entertaining it. “Is it because I insisted we stay on the road? Or do you miss Elena?” The Vila’s name tore at Katerina’s throat, and she forced a smile. “Maybe you wish to seek solace with her, after what we’ve been through. That’s understandable; I wouldn’t resent it if you wanted to abandon my hearth for hers.”

Lie, a voice whispered inside her head. Lie, lie, lie.

“I don’t want to go see Elena.” His voice was gruff as he unfolded his quilt, set it to the side of the fireplace, checked the windows for intruders. Checked them again.

Relief flooded Katerina, and she fought to squelch it. “No? Then for the love of all the Saints, can you stop fidgeting and look at me?”

At that, Niko turned. The look on his face was like nothing she’d ever seen before: a cold black fury, turning his gray eyes to chips of mica and setting his face in lines of granite. She took an involuntary step backward as he stalked toward her.

“Are you that oblivious, Katerina? Do you really not see?”

“See what?” It was an effort to keep her voice level as he advanced on her. She stepped backward, once, then again, until he caged her against the wall by her bed. “What are you talking about?”

“Elena is fine.” He spat the words, an inch from her face. Rage rolled off him, staining his aura with a near-tangible red tint. “You, on the other hand… How do you think it made me feel to hear Baba say you are the cause of what happened on the road to Drezna?”

This close to him, it was hard for Katerina to breathe, let alone think. She stared up into those storm-dark eyes and gave it her best effort. “Angry with me?”

He growled, the sound rumbling up from his chest and shaking them both. His hands were braced on either side of her head, his body tense as if for battle. “You are impossible!”

Katerina had never seen him like this. Teeth bared and blade bloody in defense of her and of Kalach, sure. Filled with unspoken fury and grief at what had befallen the citizens of Drezna, without question. Irritated with the risks she took, definitely. But never had the slow-burning, controlled rage that simmered within him been directed at her. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “I should have listened to you. We never should have left the island?—”

“You think that’s what I’m upset about?” His voice was low, dangerous. “We’ve been over this. If we hadn’t been there, on that road, who knows where that horde would’ve gone next? We couldn’t save Drezna, but we saved others, Dimi mine. You were right to face the danger, rather than to run from it.”

Puzzlement creased Katerina’s brow. “But then what?—”

He slammed a fist into the plaster beside her head. Dust rose, sifting through the air. She flinched, and he swore, shaking his head so that his dark hair, loose from its tie, spilled into his eyes. “Saints, Katerina, don’t you see? This evil…the attacks across Iriska…it’s coming from too many places at once. None of those demons survived, true, but they were minions. Whoever sent them will have long since discovered what befell his soldiers, and will be on the hunt for the cause. You heard Baba: Gadreel himself will want you. To take you, to destroy you, to use you. How am I supposed to protect you now?”

Pain lanced through Katerina, so sharp it made her gasp for breath. She looked up into her Shadow’s furious eyes and realized, to her horror, that the pain wasn’t her own. It was his.

She could bear anything but that.

“Niko.” She brushed her fingertips across his face, rough with stubble. “Don’t do this to yourself. This burden isn’t yours to bear.”

He stared down at her, his eyes darkening further still. And then his hand came up, wrapping around hers, their fingers intertwining. His eyes held hers, and Katerina’s magic rose. It knew him. It wanted him.

Slowly, so slowly, his head lowered, his lips a breath from hers. He froze there, her claiming his breath for her own, him taking it back again. Katerina’s heart pounded, her skin tingling. Her magic spiked, wanting out, and air hissed between Niko’s teeth.

What was happening?

She forced herself to think of the men in the village who she might wed. Of Konstantin or Maksim. Katerina didn’t have to love them. But they were the ones she should want to kiss. To bed. Not Niko.

It was no use. Despite herself, she pictured him pressing his lips to hers. Touching her. Tasting her. And what would become of them then? Already, the demon horde had destroyed Drezna. What if her love for her Shadow burned down their entire world?

“Katerina,” Niko said, low-voiced. She could see him trembling.

A hint of witchfire escaped her—not enough to burn, just enough to caress. It curled around Niko, tendrils of heat slipping down the column of his neck, twining down his arm. Seeking his Mark, and finding it.

The moment her magic met her own blood, infused into the tattoo Baba had given him at their bonding ceremony, the spark became a flame. She felt the sear of his brand as if it marked her own skin a moment before he leapt back from her. She caught a glimpse of his face—pale and shocked, with blotches of high color staining his cheekbones. His eyes were wide and dark, the pupils blown wide, consuming the irises.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Niko’s chest heaved, and he pressed his palm to his Mark, teeth bared. Around Katerina’s neck, her amulet throbbed. She reached for him, but he took one shaky step back from her, then another.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Niko shook his head, turning away. Without another word, he lay down on his pallet by the fire and pulled the quilt over himself, leaving Katerina standing there, cold and alone, her back against the wall.

Shame coiled through her. What had she done?

Niko lay still and silent, eyes fixed on the flames. The six feet between them might as well have been a gaping crevasse. She didn’t know how to cross it. Didn’t know if she should.

Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, Katerina straightened her spine. She wasn’t some helpless girl, a Vila destined to vie for Niko’s attention or a villager who dreamed of one day bedding a Shadow. She was a Dimi, and the world bent to her will, not the other way around. If he was going to ignore her, then Saints be damned. She wasn’t going to beg him.

She made herself move, scrubbing her teeth with a willow twig, then walking down the path to the necessary. Back inside, she stepped behind the screen in her bedroom and changed into the thin white shift she wore for sleeping. She washed her face and brushed out her long red hair as she always did, sitting at the vanity by her bedside. A hundred strokes; she counted them, trying to time her breathing with each passage of the brush through her hair. It was no use: her heart pounded like a wild thing, and her breath came short, no matter how she tried to calm it. In the living room in front of the fire, Niko didn’t move. Didn’t joke with her, or greet her with a smile, or chastise her for walking to the necessary without him.

Had she broken things between them? Had she ruined everything?

For a moment, she could have sworn he wanted the same thing she did. But of course, he hadn’t. What had she been thinking?

Grimly, she stood and went to her bed, slipping between the crisp white sheets, beneath the spray of lavender Niko had hung for her. She tried to tamp her magic down, but it roiled inside her. The wind picked up, sending a loose shutter banging against the cottage.

Katerina stared at the white plaster ceiling, watching the shadows of the rowan’s branches play across it, listening to the thud of the shutter. Her stomach churned.

She’d touched him with her magic, when he hadn’t asked for it. She’d let her witchfire twine around his body, committing an act that was intended only between a Dimi and her lover, and then, only in the marriage bed. How horrified by her he must be now. No wonder he wouldn’t speak to her.

Then again, he’d slammed a fist into the wall next to her head. Perhaps they were even.

No, she told herself. They would never be even, not when she felt this way for him. And tomorrow night, he would be formally betrothed to Elena, in front of the entire village.

It was bad enough that she’d lied and betrayed Kalach, that the Kniaz had chosen the two of them to advance to the next round of the Trials, all because she couldn’t stand to see Niko hurt. Now, she’d disgraced herself. She had compromised her bond with her Shadow, while hordes of Grigori were afoot. If she had indeed loosed the demons on the world because of her feelings for her Shadow, then surely she had just made things ten times worse. She had ruined everything with?—

“Niko,” she said, before she could stop herself.

Through the gap in the door, she saw him stir, though he didn’t turn. “Go to sleep, Katya.”

“But—”

“Sleep,” he said again. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Katerina lay still. She closed her eyes, feigning unconsciousness. But sleep didn’t find her that night.