Chapter 16
16
KATERINA
C lad in her thin white shift and the scarlet shawl she’d dyed from madder root, Katerina fled through the deserted apple orchard, the sodden grass squelching beneath her feet. The farther she got from Niko, the more the storm died down, until finally the trees stilled and the wind fell to a murmur. The orchard was silent, lit by the all-seeing eye of the Bone Moon.
A branch cracked behind her and she spun, panicked—but there was no one there. Just the skeletal trees, reaching toward the vault of the sky. Still, a Dimi on her own could never be too cautious, especially in times like these.
“ Noch,” she whispered, and the night detached itself from the edges of things, curling around her body like a satisfied cat, concealing her. She glanced behind her, but the orchard had fallen silent once more. Nothing moved in the dark.
Clutching the shawl at her throat, Katerina passed through the orchard and into the forest, relieved when the gnarled oaks and scrub pines hid her from view. Baba Petrova had warned her often enough that she was never to go into the forest at night on her own, much less this close to the slippage between worlds, when everything threatened to come undone. She was supposed to take Niko, to always have him at her side.
But tonight, he was the thing she was running from.
Katerina came to a halt in the elderflower clearing where she often foraged and shook her head with frustration, letting her long hair fall loose around her. She hadn’t wanted Niko to follow her—had she? But then why did part of her wish he had? Gazing into the trees, she half-hoped, half-feared he’d materialize in their midst. Maybe it was her imagination, but she could swear she felt his gaze resting on her.
Or maybe it was just her guilt.
Well, better Niko than packs of prowling Grigori who were hungry for her soul. Although at this point, perhaps her soul was compromised beyond repair.
Pushing her thoughts aside with an effort, she rummaged inside a hollowed-out tree for the straw basket and knife she’d stashed in the clearing. Kneeling in the grass, the basket beside her, she began gathering the small blue flowers, always more potent for healing when picked by starlight. As their roots came free of the soil, she whispered the same age-old prayer of gratitude she’d given the rowan trees near Drezna: For your life, that we may live, we are thankful.
Drezna…which might have fallen because of Katerina. She wondered where Sofi and Damien were right now, whether Nadia had gotten word to Rivki before Sofi had come home to find her village naught but ashes. Grief rose in her throat at the thought, threatening to choke her.
“That we may live,” said a familiar voice from the treeline. “Well, one of us, anyway. Is my presence that distasteful, then, Dimi mine?”
Katerina startled, falling backward. She landed in the patch of flowers as Niko strode into the clearing, his dark hair rumpled and his spine rod-straight with offense.
So she hadn’t been imagining his presence after all. But the fact that she hadn’t heard him coming— Well, he was a Shadow, after all, trained to move like a piece of the night. And she had been more than a bit distracted.
She scrambled to her feet, gripping the knife and brushing crumpled flowers from her shift. Despite their circumstances, Niko’s mouth twitched.
“If that’s an invitation to leave, I’m not taking it,” he said.
The moon bathed his face, accentuating the ridged scar that ran from temple to jaw. Her fingers ached to touch it, and she clenched her free hand into a fist. “Why did you follow me?”
He took a step toward her, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Why did you run?” His words came dangerously close to a growl, all humor vanished. “The dark of night. The heart of the forest. And me, left behind. One might imagine you are seeking trouble.”
“I seek nothing but healing remedies,” she snapped, gesturing to the basket at her feet. “And the only trouble I seem to have found is you. Again.”
He stepped closer still, his jaw set hard as granite. “Why did you run from me, Katerina, no matter what happened between us? What were you thinking?”
She clutched her knife tighter—as if it would do her any good against him. “I was thinking that I needed to pick elderflower,” she said, fighting to keep the tremor from her voice. “The plant secretes its nectar late at night, when the moon is full. This is the time to harvest it.”
“Right.” Niko rolled his eyes. “And you couldn’t be troubled to tell me that, before you fled into the forest, half-dressed? Or to take me with you?”
“You’re not my keeper!”
“Am I not?” He was a foot from her now, his expression the inscrutable mask he wore to hide strong feelings and his hair so tousled, it fell into his eyes. It was tousled like that because of her, she thought, and had to suppress a shiver. “Have I not sworn to stand between you and evil? Do I not wear your Mark on my arm—and do you not wear mine around your neck?”
“It’s an amulet, Niko,” she said, her voice steady, and for a moment felt the throb of his pulse where the necklace rested above her breasts. “Not a collar.”
He shoved his sleeve up, bearing his tattoo. “ This is a brand, and well you know it. When you ran, I felt it burn. For all you know, there could be a horde of demons creeping closer by the moment. If something were to happen to you?—”
A wind woven from Katerina’s magic stirred the trees above them. It whispered through the grass and lifted the tendrils of her hair to brush her face, a light touch that was both promise and warning. “Is that all you care about, then? Your obligation to me? Your bloody pride? God forbid you should fail as your father did?—”
His voice came low and furious. “I told you what I care about, Katya. Run from it all you like. And I am not my father!”
Katerina had been ten when Niko’s father was exiled from the village for betraying his Dimi. During a demon attack, he’d chosen to save his Vila wife rather than stand by his Dimi’s side. In the eyes of the village, there was no greater crime. She would never forget the look on Niko’s face as he watched his father leave: shame and grief and fury, all warring for position. A year later, his mother died of heartbreak, and Niko was alone—until he became hers.
Six years after that, he’d risen above the legacy of scandal his father had left behind to become alpha of his Shadow pack. Baba had bestowed the honor after Niko had distinguished himself in battle, risking his life for his fellow Shadows, putting their well-being before his own. His pack respected him for his kill count despite his youth, and the former alpha, who had grown old, had given his approval. Niko’s pack was everything to him—the family he’d lost, the proof that he was worthy of his title and his role. Everything, that was, except Katerina.
Mirroring her mood, the wind picked up, bringing with it the scent of the rowan-fires from Kalach, where the flames burned all night to keep the demons away. Niko inhaled, shaking his head. “I’m not afraid of you, Katerina. I’m not afraid of this.”
That made one of them. Katerina thought of the look on Elena’s face when Niko had pledged to marry her, of how hurt Elena would be if she could see them now. Of how furious Baba Petrova and the Elders would be if they knew she and Niko had violated the natural order of things. Unto another each must cleave, Baba had said after their bond was forged. Strength will feed strength. Together you fight. Together you fall.
Well, she was falling now.
She looked away, scooping the basket from the ground. The wind slowed to a breeze, rifling through his hair and flattening the rough cotton of his shirt. He closed his eyes, as if feeling her touch on his skin.
“You are promised to another. And you are my Shadow, Niko. What can we ever be to each other but that?”
Niko’s eyes flickered open, their gaze wary. “You tell me. Unless…is there someone else, Katya? Someone who you?—”
Katerina pictured Maksim and Konstantin’s faces. She should say yes. But instead she swallowed hard and shook her head. “No. But what happened between us was a mistake. You know that as well as I.”
His jaw clenched. “It doesn’t have to be.”
“You’ve lost your mind,” Katerina said, ignoring the way her traitorous heart leapt at his words. “And for once, I’m sure Elena would agree with me.”
“Well,” Niko said, offering a rueful half-smile, “that would be a first.”
“Is it my fault I want more from life than to be a broodmare?”
Niko sighed. “You have an obligation to bear Dimichildren, too. And you know she doesn’t think of it that way. For her, it’s an honor.”
Katerina was silent, remembering what Elena had once said to her. The greatest strength of all runs through my veins—for without Vila, there would be no more of my kind and no Shadows, and without Shadows, evil would triumph. She might be a zealot, but she wasn’t wrong. And she had centuries of tradition on her side.
She’d never thought to find herself being jealous of a Vila , of all people, but at the thought of Niko abandoning her hearth for Elena’s bed, envy gnawed at her. It was humiliating.
Niko cleared his throat. “Katya, what I saw in your eyes today when Baba promised me to Elena—it slayed me. And tonight, when—when we… You cannot tell me you felt nothing.”
She swallowed hard, remembering how he had knotted his hands in her hair and kissed her until neither of them could breathe. How he’d groaned when her witchfire had licked at his skin. She’d fled into the storm, hoping it would wash her clean of her desire for him. But it was her storm—a reflection of the turbulence inside her—and even though the wind had died down, the war inside Katerina still raged.
“The prophecy—” she said, but Niko didn’t let her finish.
“Damn the prophecy. Old wives’ tales and trickery. This is between us, not some words inscribed in a dusty book. I don’t believe for a moment that that’s what called up the demons on the road near Drezna. Because when they came—nothing had happened, Katya, other than the feelings I held for you in my heart.”
“Maybe,” she said, staring down at the severed elderflower stems, “that was enough.”
“If that’s all it takes, then I’m already damned. When you told me that the Kniaz wanted you, it took every bit of my restraint not to hunt him down, nobleman or no. And that night, when we lay together in the rowan grove, it was all I could do to keep from...” His voice cracked. “You were so warm. So beautiful. I lay awake for hours, memorizing the way you felt in my arms. I never dreamed you felt the same way, until last night.”
Shock broke over Katerina. Niko’s decision to leave Rivki, the way he’d held her in the woods…none of it had been for the reasons she’d thought. The whole time she’d been agonizing over her desire for him, he’d been doing the same.
It should have changed nothing. But yet?—
“Do you want me?” His voice was low, desperate. “Because if you do…then the prophecy be damned, Katerina. For the Grigori are already loose upon the world. And I already burn for you in the Light.”
Katerina dropped her head, teeth worrying at her lower lip. Maybe he was right, and the prophecy was no more than superstition. Still—what about Elena? And what if they were discovered? Where could this possibly end?
She hadn’t seen Niko move, but somehow he was in front of her, his big hands light on her upper arms. “Look at me,” he said, his voice hoarse, “and tell me you don’t want me. Tell me that, and I’ll never speak of it again.”
Slowly, Katerina lifted her head. His gray eyes filled her line of vision, the precise shade of the sky before a winter storm. She shook her head, unable to say the words. The wind spoke for her instead, lashing through the trees, bending the tender saplings to the ground.
His grip tightened, and the basket fell from her hand, spilling the delicate blue flowers. “Say it, Katya.” The words were a growl, his form flickering as his other nature rose perilously close to the surface. As a Shadow, he was taught exquisite control. Katerina had never seen him look like this—the black dog barely leashed, threatening to break his hold. “Say it and set us both free. Or don’t, and I’ll do as you wish. In all things, as I always have. As I am sworn to do.”
The wind was a gale of her own making, the leaves and needles whipping around their feet, rising higher to swirl around their bodies. She reached up and locked her hands around his neck, twining her fingers through the rough silk of his hair. He smelled of ink and soap and sweat—and beneath that, the wildness of the forest itself.
When he spoke, his mouth brushed hers, sending shivers through her. “Say it.”
“And you’ll do as I wish?” she whispered against his lips.
“On my oath as a Shadow. No matter what it costs me.”
“Then kiss me,” she said, hands fisted in his hair.
He took a sharp, startled breath. Then his mouth closed over hers and his tongue traced the seam of her lips, tasting of mint and night and Niko.
His fingers caught her hips, tugging her closer. He outlined her eyebrows in the darkness, then ran a fingertip down the column of her neck. His palm came to rest above her heart, just below the amulet that held a drop of his blood. “Ah, Katya. I have loved you since we were children, playing, long before I took my oath. And when Baba Marked me, I thought first not of the honor—but that wherever I went, I would bear your touch on my skin.”
With his free hand, he pressed her palm to the tattoo on his arm that marked him as hers. A Shadow’s Mark was his bond, a promise made and a vow kept. To lay your hands on it was more intimate than a lover’s caress. Battles had been fought over the ignominy of such a touch. Even Elena would have no right to it when she and Niko married. It was Katerina’s claim, and hers alone.
She ran her nails over it, following the lines of the circles by the light of the Bone Moon. “One for the fire,” she whispered as the Mark burned beneath her fingers and the wind raged. “Two for the storm.”
At the words of their bonding ritual, Niko’s hand fell from hers, clenching into a fist at his side. He drew himself up, the way he had eight years ago, when they’d stood in Baba’s cottage and sworn their vows in blood. “Three for the black dog that guards against harm.” His voice was a rasp.
Emboldened, she pressed her lips to the Mark, and Niko gasped. She ran the tip of her tongue along the interlocking circles, tasting salt, and he shook against her.
He cupped her face, tilting her head back. His eyes had gone ink-dark, the gray swallowed by the black of his pupils. She had seen him look this way before—in the heat of a fight, before he struck the blow that brought his opponent to their knees. It had filled her with an odd, unspoken thrill then. It did the same now, vibrating through her bones and settling low in her belly.
Niko inhaled, taking in the shift in her scent. He nipped at her lower lip with sharp, white teeth, his hands weaving their way into her hair.
Katerina thought of other things she had seen those teeth do—in human and canine form—and knew a sensible person would be afraid. But fearing Niko was an impossibility. Far more reasonable that he should fear her. Or what Baba would do to the both of them should she come into the clearing and find them this way.
If Dimi Zakharova saw this, she would use it to end Katerina. To the Saints with exiling her from the Kniaz’s bed; this would be ammunition enough to destroy her. But the consort was miles away, her threat toothless. Right now, all that mattered was Niko, here in Katerina’s arms.
She lifted her chin and nipped him back, a challenge. A faint coppery taste filled her mouth and he growled in warning, pulling her hard against him. Like called to like, as Baba had always said: Her body recognized his blood and called to it, wanting more. The amulet throbbed like a second heart, a throbbing that ran through her veins, a question that demanded an answer.
Niko’s hands tightened on her hips. He lifted her, walking them backward toward the flat stone that stood in the clearing, where they had picnicked when they were children. Then he lowered her down, as carefully as if she couldn’t destroy the forest around them with a single thought. The stone still held the heat of the day; she drew against it with her magic and a circle of rowan-fire sprang up around them, holding the rest of the world at bay.
He held himself still above her, his weight on his elbows, searching her face. “I swear on all we hold holy, Katya, you are the other half of me. You are my blood. You are my blade.”
The blaze raged higher still. At his sharp intake of breath, she looked down: its red glow outlined both their shapes, as if they had truly caught aflame. The light was a live thing between their bodies, twining, casting shadows. When he bent his head to kiss her, she tasted blood and fire.
Her hand rose, red in the firelight. It slipped under his shirt, tracing the length of the scars she knew as well as the lines of her palm, as Niko’s leg slid between hers. His dark hair came loose from its rawhide tie and fell forward, tickling her cheeks. The pressure of his hard body against hers felt both as natural as spellcasting and unbearably new. It felt too big for Katerina’s body to contain, spreading outward into the flames and the wind that swept through the forest.
She drew on the wind, letting a tendril of it creep through the circle. The breeze licked at Niko, brushing over every inch it could reach.
“Saints, Katya.” His voice was hoarse. “How could I want another woman, when everywhere I go, I feel your touch on my skin?”
“Do you give yourself to me, then?” The words were a caress, her lips tracing the line of his throat as he reared over her.
He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Only if you want me,” he whispered. “Only if you want this.”
She flattened her hand on the small of his back, pressing him down to her. He came, letting her bear his weight. His eyes flickered open, meeting hers, the question in them clear.
He’d promised to throw himself into the face of danger if it meant she would survive. When they’d taken their vows, she had accepted his sacrifice as her due. But now—was his life worth so little, and hers so much? What would be left to her, if she lost him?
What would be left of him, if he failed? And what if they were caught? What then?
She thought, then, of the final lines of the prophecy: So will they forfeit what they love the most: Lost demon. Witchfire. Wandering ghost. So shall she burn as she brings his demise: The Dark will fall. The shadow will rise.
Niko seemed so sure it was an old wives’ tale. But what if it wasn’t? Could she really put him at risk for the sake of her selfish desires?
What if it meant Katerina would lose her magic, and her final act would be to bring about Niko’s death? That the Dark would be destroyed, but at the expense of his life? That he would ascend to the Saints and leave her behind, powerless to help?
She wouldn’t bear that. She couldn’t.
Hands braced on the rock, he drew back to see her face. “Katya?” There was doubt in his voice, uncertainty. Her heart broke at hearing him sound that way—Niko, whose bravado was as much a part of him as his grace with a blade or his need to protect anything defenseless.
She loved him. She wanted him. He was everything to her.
And this would have to end, wouldn’t it—when he married Elena, prophecy or no prophecy? For he would never walk back his engagement to the Vila. Say what he would; his father’s betrayal had marked Niko deeply. Every day, Niko fought to reclaim his good name. To atone for what had been done to his mother. This was temporary, and so she would savor it while it was hers to have.
She would give herself to him this one time, then. Once only. A single betrayal that surely wouldn’t be enough to bring the prophecy down upon them—for she still believed in it, even if Niko didn’t. She would keep the memory of this moment close, a precious thing, no matter who came between them.
She ran her fingertips over the silvered line that ran from his temple to his jaw. “A blade cuts deep, and leaves a scar. So, too, may what lives between us. Do you still want me, then?”
His lips rose in a fierce smile, tempered by sadness at what his words might cost them both. “More than my next breath.”
“I’m yours, then,” she said, and, lifting her shift above her head, let it fall. “But just this once, my Shadow. We can’t risk more.”
His eyes on hers were hot and hungry as he mirrored her, slipping free of his clothes. Under the Bone Moon, his Mark glowed, and around her neck, her amulet pulsed. She felt the echo of it everywhere, throbbing in her body, passing through her into him. He shook as he arched above her, as her witchfire lapped at his skin. “Just this once,” he vowed, and made of their bodies one twining, yearning thing.
Beneath him, Katerina burned. And deep in the woods, unseen by all but the owls roosting in the trees, the Darkness bared its teeth and uncoiled, feasting on the chaos to come.