Chapter 18
18
ELENA
T he sun streamed through the window of Kalach’s nursery, making the little ones giggle and lie on their backs, pretending to be kittens luxuriating in its warmth. Elena Lisova reached out and tickled Dominika, the child closest to her. In response, Domi wound herself around Elena’s ankles and did her best to purr.
Stroking the little girl’s hair, Elena looked through the nursery’s window, following the path of the sun. Niko stood next to Katerina at the edge of Kalach’s huge vegetable garden, his dark hair gleaming in the light like a crow’s wing. Katerina was telling him something, gesticulating at the garden. Whatever it was, it made Niko smile, and Elena couldn’t help but do the same.
Soon, they would be wed. Soon, she would be waking up to that smile each morning.
“You really love him, don’t you?”
Elena turned her head to look at Alyona, her fellow Vila and closest friend. In addition to sharing a cottage in the Vila’s quarter of the village, they worked together in the nursery, preparing for the time they would hold their own children in their arms.
Physically, the two of them were as unalike as you could imagine—Elena was tall and slim, with long, straight blond hair and wide blue eyes, whereas Alyona was short and curvy, with green eyes that tilted up at the corners like a cat’s, mahogany skin, and wavy auburn hair that escaped her every attempt to tame it. They’d been inseparable since they could walk, though, drawn together first by a common sensibility and later by their shared belief that bearing Vila and Shadowchildren was a higher, holy calling.
“You love him,” Alyona said again.
The note of envy in Aly’s voice spurred Elena to touch her friend’s arm in comfort. Alyona was prone to bouts of anxiety, especially when thinking about the future, and the last thing Elena wanted to do was make things worse. “I do. But don’t worry. Whoever Baba Petrova chooses for you to wed will be wonderful. I know it.”
“Maybe,” Alyona said, picking up a rag doll that one of the children had dropped and handing it back. “But it won’t be someone I’ve adored for years, like you and Niko.”
Elena had fallen in love with Niko Alekhin when she was eleven years old and he had rescued her from the back of a bee-stung horse. The horse had lost its mind, tossing its head, rearing, threatening to throw her. Niko had ridden alongside, leaned out of his stirrup, grabbed her around the waist, and somehow dragged her from her horse to his. He’d wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close, and asked her if she was all right.
Somewhere between his question and her answer, Elena had given her heart to him. Their love was written in the stars; they were destined for each other. He was the fulfillment of the vow she had sworn to Sant Viktoriya, whose ancient blood ran in her veins. Every day since childhood, she’d knelt at her bedroom shrine and prayed to embody the beauty, purity, and fertility of the Vila line. Her marriage to Niko, a handsome, kind, and alpha Shadow bonded to the strongest Dimi in centuries, was the culmination of all she’d prayed for. All she deserved.
“Do you ever think—” Alyona began, her eyes on Niko and Katerina. They’d turned away from the garden and were standing side by side, deep in conversation.
“What?” Elena said when Aly didn’t continue. “No, Dominika—don’t throw that! We don’t hurt other people. It isn’t kind.” She wrested the rag doll from Domi’s hands. “Go on, Aly. What did you mean to say?”
“Nothing,” Alyona said, bending to scoop Dominika into her arms. “Come here, kotik. You’ve got milk all over your face.”
Kotik meant ‘pussycat,’ and the little girl giggled. She was an adorable sight, but Elena wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Tell me, Aly.”
Alyona dabbed milk from Domi’s face, then set the child on the floor again. “It’s just—do you think he feels the same way? That he loves you as much as you love him?”
A pang shot through Elena’s chest. “Why would you ask that?”
“Has he said he loves you?” Alyona pressed.
“No,” Elena said, “but I wouldn’t expect him to. We aren’t married yet. It wouldn’t be proper. I haven’t told him, either.” A tinge of anger crept into her voice, born of fear. Of course Niko loved her…didn’t he? “What are you trying to say?”
“It’s just—” Alyona said again, her voice faltering, “people talk, you know. And I’ve heard rumors—that is, I sometimes wonder—do you think all that exists between Niko and Katerina is friendship?”
Elena’s eyes snapped wide. “What rumors?”
“Never mind.” Alyona fidgeted, toying with the hem of her dress. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Niko is a good servant of the Light, and he will stand by you regardless of where his heart lives.” She gave Elena a shy smile. “You are lucky to love him yourself. Who knows what Shadow Baba will match me with? It could be Mischa, for all I know. He smells like garlic, no matter how often he washes.”
Elena stared at her friend, speechless. She had never considered that Niko might not love her in return. They were sworn to each other; though they had never so much as exchanged a kiss, she had always known he was destined for her. It went without saying that Niko was dedicated to the Light—but surely his heart would be dedicated to her as well.
She glanced out the window again, at the spot where her Shadow and his Dimi stood. They had turned and were walking down the path that led from the courtyard. Katerina’s face was tilted up toward Niko’s, and Elena caught the flash of her mischievous grin, a moment before Niko lifted his hand to brush away a leaf that had landed in Katerina’s hair. The touch was brief, as casual as the way she herself might wipe a smudge of dirt from a child’s cheek.
Elena watched them go, trying to understand what Alyona saw that she herself did not.
“They’re close, that’s all,” she said. “They’ve been best friends, always, the way you and I have. It’s a tremendous gift to have that sort of friendship between Shadow and Dimi. It makes them stronger.”
Alyona knelt, straightening little Vadim’s shirt, scooping up the carved wooden dog that his Shadow father had made for him. “You’re right, Elena. Of course there’s nothing between them. I shouldn’t have spoken.”
Elena regarded her friend with narrowed eyes. Alyona wasn’t a gossip. If she’d seen fit to bring this up, she had a reason—and Aly wasn’t coy. Once she found the courage to broach a difficult subject, she didn’t shy from seeing the conversation through.
Maybe this was different, though. Elena had loved Niko for the past ten years—almost half her life. Marrying him was her birthright. The idea that Niko and his Dimi were engaging in some kind of illicit flirtation—that they had feelings for each other, Saints forbid—had the power to break Elena’s heart.
Elena wasn’t a fool. She’d known Niko and Katerina were closer than the average Shadow and Dimi. She’d grown up with them, always on the outside of their private jokes and bizarre antics, the long talks that left the two of them sitting at the outskirts of the village, in burning distance of the rowan-fires, tempting fate long after the sun sank below the fringe of the trees. Once or twice, she’d caught Niko’s eyes on Katerina in an unguarded moment, when he hadn’t known Elena was watching, and thought maybe?—
The thought had fled as quickly as it had come. They were bonded, a warrior union until death sundered one of them from the other’s side. Such closeness would only serve to strengthen their connection. Elena had been ashamed of herself, suspecting anything more existed.
When Baba Petrova had placed her hand in Niko’s, announcing their betrothal, she’d thought her heart would burst with joy. Now, she thought, Niko would look at her the way he’d regarded Katerina: As if Elena were a miracle, a treasure he couldn’t believe he got to keep. As if she were his.
And when he hadn’t, when he’d gazed at her the way he had the day before and the day before that—with a brotherly tenderness that verged on forbearance—she’d convinced herself he only needed time.
Maybe that’s what Aly meant. Maybe she too had seen the way Niko looked at Katerina, with the awe and reverence he only reserved for his Dimi—and then the way he looked at Elena, like she was a little sister or a trusted friend.
Maybe everyone in the village had seen, and was laughing at her. Or worse, pitying her. Elena Lisova, prized among Vila, blessed by Sant Viktoriya, cuckolded by the man she loved. Robbed of her rightful destiny. The thought of it sent a sick chill down her spine.
“It’s not true,” Elena said, her voice too loud in the quiet nursery. “Niko is loyal. We will be happy together.”
“Of course you will,” Aly said, but the words fell flat.
Elena watched her Shadow and his Dimi as they walked down the path that led to the cottage they shared, and tried to banish the doubt from her heart. But it had taken root, and began to grow.