Chapter 48
48
KATERINA
K aterina stood in Baba’s cottage, waiting for the old woman to arrive. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it, her attention focused on scanning the books that filled Baba’s shelves. Magick and Mysterious Herbs . Treating Demonic Wounds. The Ancient History of the Magiya. All of it was useless to her—though what had she expected? A volume entitled How to Rescue Your Shadow from the Clutches of a Dark Vila and Set His Soul Free ?
When Katerina was younger, her mother used to tell her stories about a famous volume called the Book of the Lost. The complement of the Book of the Light, it was said to have been inscribed by the Saints themselves. No one alive had seen it, her mother said. No one knew for sure that it really existed. Still, tales of it had been passed down through the generations—the secrets it held, the miracles it could conjure.
Katerina had joked that of course it was called the Book of the Lost —if it was real, which she doubted, it had been misplaced centuries before. What else would you call such a thing? But as she perused Baba’s shelves, paging through one pointless book after another, she remembered how she and Ana used to joke about the miraculous spells the book might contain: How to produce an endless supply of sugared syrnyky. How to spell Baba Petrova so she’d sleep through training. How to give demons duck-heads and make them dance.
That was what she needed right now—a book that contained miracles. Too bad such a thing didn’t exist.
There were just five days left until the Reaping, and Katerina still had no idea how to make good on any of her promises—to save Niko’s soul, to protect Kalach, to bring her friends in Rivki home. The fields were failing badly, the wheat withered. The fruit and vegetables were dying on the vine. And the hunters were afraid to go too far afield, lest they fall victim to an attack of Grigori or of the Darkness itself. There was an inky nothingness nibbling at the edges of Kalach, and the few times hunters had gone out, flanked by a Shadow and Dimi pair, they’d come back empty-handed. Even the animals in the woods acted spooked and anxious, as if they sensed the evil that was afoot.
Katerina had volunteered to go out with the hunters, including Konstantin. To protect them. But the hunters had shied from her offer, and Baba had flat-out refused to allow it. Part of it, she realized, was that she was a distraction; no one trusted her anymore, and they could ill afford errors with the Darkness on the loose. But part of it was that her powers were no longer under her control. Without her Shadow, she was ungrounded. And out in the woods, without a black dog, she was vulnerable to possession, should the Darkness come.
She was a liability as well as a pariah.
Moodily, Katerina prodded a loose floorboard with the toe of her boot. She was sure she knew what Baba wanted: to choose a new Shadow to whom to bind Katerina before the Kniaz’s emissary arrived to take her away. It would be far too dangerous to allow her to travel all the way to Rivki without such a thing. The idea made her sick.
Marrying Maksim or Konstantin was out of the question now, thank the Saints; aside from the fact that she didn’t want them, they regarded her with disgust and fear, and Katerina would never force herself upon anyone. This, at least, was her choice; if she chose to wed someone in Rivki for the sake of bearing a Dimichild, so be it. But being bonded to a new Shadow…that was Baba’s prerogative.
The thought both infuriated and terrified Katerina. As long as she wasn’t bound to another Shadow, the potential to rekindle her bond with Niko existed. How could she save him—call him back to her—if she were bonded to another?
But how could she travel to Rivki unprotected, her soul ripe for the picking? She owed it to Kalach, to Iriska, to Lara, Svetlana, and Natalya to stay strong. To be able to defend the realm against the Darkness.
It was a terrible conundrum, and one that Katerina had no idea how to solve.
But solve it she must. She couldn’t stay here. Throughout Kalach, the villagers had begun to look pinched and starved. Spring was usually a time of rejuvenation, of berries that grew tart and ripe tomatoes that bloomed bright and bursting. Nothing went to waste; whatever didn’t get eaten was canned, jarred, preserved, and stored. But now, little remained to eat, and the pitiful amount of grain left in the storehouses after the winter had been set aside for the Kniaz. There was barely enough left for Kalach to make its tithe, and if the village failed to do so, Katerina shuddered to think what the nobleman might do.
Worse still was what had become of the Blood Moon. With just five days left until its height, it ought to be growing fuller and redder each night, casting a crimson glow over Kalach. But instead, as it waxed, its color faded, blanching into a familiar pale shade that sent chills through Katerina.
The Bone Moon came but once a year. Yet here it was, rising again. Through the window of Baba’s cottage, Katerina could see the rim of it, peeking above the trees.
Whatever this boded, it was nothing good.
Shuddering, she stepped back from her pointless perusal of the shelves as the front door slammed open and Baba Petrova stepped through, her white hair mussed by the wind and her lined face thinner than Katerina had ever seen it. “Dimi Ivanova,” she said in greeting, taking off her shawl and hanging it on the hook by the door.
“You wanted to see me?” Katerina said. Her stomach growled again, and she pressed a palm against it, doing her best to suppress the sound.
Baba Petrova’s eyes softened with sympathy, but all she said was, “Kalach needs you, Katerina. Iriska needs you. Normally, after the death of a Shadow, we would give you time to mourn. Time, at least, until the next Bone Moon, so your bonding ceremony could take place under its sacred eye. But as you see…”
She gestured through her window, at the rind of moon that had risen even higher above the trees. “The Kniaz’s emissary arrives in less than a week. I hesitate to bond you beneath this waxing moon, as it has clearly been brought about by Dark forces. But what choice do I have?”
“Please don’t,” Katerina whispered. She thought she could bear this, had braced herself for it. But as she pictured the ceremony—Niko’s amulet being torn from her neck, repeating the vows she had sworn to her beloved Shadow to another—her heart crumbled into dust.
“You will do it, Katerina,” Baba said, drawing herself up to her full height. “Tonight. There is no time to waste.”
Katerina’s stomach dropped. “But…but who…?”
“You’ll see,” Baba said, her voice brusque. “I’ve chosen. Now go, and prepare yourself. When the moon is high, you will pledge yourself to another.”
Bonding ceremonies were private, sacred. Normally they took place in Baba’s cottage, with the ancient Dimi their only witness. But this ceremony was different. Baba and the Elders had decided to make an example out of Katerina, to quell some of the village’s anxiety by showing that she was, indeed, bonded to a new Shadow.
Dressed in her black mourning gown, runes of loss and sorrow embroidered into its fabric, Katerina stood opposite the man who was to become her Shadow: Valentin, who’d lost his Dimi in a Grigori attack eight months before. He was a good man, a kind man. But he might as well have been a houseplant for all the impression he made on Katerina.
Like her, Valentin was supposed to be allowed the traditional year of mourning for a Dimi or Shadow who had lost their match. He wore all black, and the expression on his lined face was one of resignation. Katerina could see he wanted to be bonded to her no more than she wanted to be bonded to him. Polina, his Dimi, had been quiet and dutiful, a waterwitch who was as unlike Katerina as a kitten and a snow leopard. Katerina was sure that, of the three unbonded, mature Shadows in the village, he had been chosen on purpose, to gentle her.
She would have laughed at the thought, if she wasn’t on the verge of crying.
Please, she begged the Saints, the spirits, anyone who would listen. Please don’t make me do this.
The villagers ringed the square. Inside their circle stood the Shadows, Dimis, and Vila, with the Elders beside them. And in the center stood Katerina and Valentin, with Baba Petrova by their sides. Next to her stood a pot beneath which a rowan-fire burned. The water in it bubbled high, waiting for Baba Petrova to spill the ink that would make a fresh Mark upon Valentin’s arm. Waiting for Katerina’s blood.
Her magic clamored inside her, desperate for escape. Grimly, Katerina clung to it, afraid of what would happen if it got loose with everyone watching. What if she hurt them? Killed them? What if she killed Valentin? What would happen to her then?
“Katerina Ivanova,” Baba said, and silence fell over the square. “Valentin Kuzvim. We are gathered together today to witness the sacred joining of Dimi and Shadow. Both of you once cleaved to another; today we wash away the traces of that pairing. You will start afresh, and honor each other, and fight by each other’s side. And by so doing, you will honor the vow you once made to your Shadow and Dimi, who have passed beyond the veil. Do you swear this oath to me, before witnesses, so that you may begin the bonding ceremony with clear hearts?”
Katerina tried to speak and couldn’t. Her mouth was dry. When she opened it, all that came forth was a croak. The crowd murmured in disapproval, and Katerina could have sworn she heard a whispered Shadow-killer in its midst.
Giving her an alarmed glance, Valentin squared his broad shoulders. “I do,” he said, his deep voice carrying across the stones of the square.
Katerina’s teeth chattered. Her eyes roved the crowd and settled on Ana’s face. The other Dimi’s eyes were filled with tears, and she touched two fingers to her heart. But then she nodded, and Katerina knew what she was saying, as surely as if Ana had spoken. This must be done. For your soul. For Kalach. Don’t make it worse.
Katerina dug deep, praying for courage. “I—” she began, and bit her tongue so hard, she tasted blood. “I d-d?—”
She couldn’t bring herself to finish the word. But apparently Baba decided that this was good enough, because she bent and lifted a knife from the stones, passing it once, twice, thrice through the flames. She reached for Katerina’s arm, holding it above the cauldron as she had done eight years ago.
“One for the fire,” she said, and raised the blade.
Katerina braced herself for the pain. I’m sorry, Niko, she thought desperately. I’m so, so sorry.
Down came the blade, glinting in the light of the false Bone Moon and the glow of the flames. It was three inches from Katerina’s arm. Two. One.
“Stop!”
For a moment, Katerina thought the word had somehow issued from her own throat. She raised her free hand to it, disbelieving. But then, the crowd scattered like pigeons as a familiar palomino cantered through them. On its back was Andrei, the Kniaz’s lieutenant, who Katerina had thrown into a grove of birch trees weeks before.
He reined up, his horse’s sides heaving. “I see I’m just in time,” he said. Behind him came his companions, but Katerina ignored them. She only had eyes for Andrei, and his pronouncement, which had saved her.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Baba snapped. “You dare to interrupt our most sacred ritual?”
“You sent a rider to Rivki,” Andrei said, his tone as dismissive as Katerina remembered it. “Informing us of what had happened here. The Kniaz dispatched me at once to ride with all haste. He’ll come in person to Kalach on the night of the full moon, bringing a Shadow of his choosing for you to bind to her. Not just anyone is fit to join the hallowed ranks of the Druzhina, after all. So whatever this is”—he waved a contemptuous hand at the bubbling pot, the gathering of villagers, and Katerina and Valentin, standing in the center of it all—“you will disband it at once. For Dimi Ivanova, treacherous though she may be, has another future in store.”
Katerina had never expected to be grateful to Andrei, of all people. But even as the Elders murmured in disapproval and the villagers whispered to each other in dismay, as Valentin stepped back with an expression of unmistakable relief, she felt a rush of gratitude so strong, it nearly brought her to her knees.
So what if she were to be bonded to a stranger? She would deal with that challenge when it came.
She had five days to save Niko, before she was tied to another. Five days, when his soul and hers might still be one. And standing there under the light of the rising Bone Moon, she vowed to make the most of them.
She didn’t care what it took. She would find a way.