Chapter 50
50
KATERINA
K aterina rubbed her eyes, which burned with exhaustion. She had spent the past twenty-four hours reading everything she could think of. She’d gone through every book in Kalach’s small library and Baba’s cottage. No matter how she searched, she found nothing to indicate that a dilemma such as hers had ever existed. In all the tomes she had perused, there were no clues to breaking a Dark curse laid on a Shadow’s soul. How to lay a Shadow to rest, once slain in battle, yes. There were blessings aplenty for that. But not for this.
She slumped in her chair in the library, suppressing a yawn. It didn’t help that all she’d eaten was watery potato soup, flavored with the last of the herbs in her personal store. It had only been a few weeks since the beginning of the blight, but already her hipbones pressed outward beneath the thin material of her gown.
This couldn’t go on. They would all starve.
According to Andrei, the failure of the crops had not yet spread to Rivki. But surely it would, and then what? No one would be safe.
There was a knock on the door of the library, and Ana stepped through, her smile widening at the sight of Katerina. “I thought I’d find you here,” she said, taking the chair next to her fellow Dimi. “Look what I brought you.”
Bringing a hand out from behind her back, she presented Katerina with a perfect, beautiful roll, sprinkled with seeds. It was still warm, and Ana unfolded her hand to show Katerina the tiny flame burning beneath it.
“A gift,” Ana said.
Katerina’s eyes prickled with tears. “Surely you’re hungry, Ana. I can’t take this.”
“Nonsense.” Ana pressed the roll into her palm. “As hard as you’ve been working, you need to eat, Katerina. I…I wish I could help. Maybe I could look through these books with you, or…”
She cast a doubtful glance at the teetering stack of volumes, and despite herself, Katerina bit back a smile. Reading had always been the bane of Ana’s existence. For one thing, it required sitting still for way too long. And for another, she’d always complained that the letters danced, turning backward and upside down and blurring off the page. For her to make an offer like this meant a lot to Katerina…perhaps even more than the present in her hand.
Accepting the roll from Ana, Katerina tore it in two, then gave half back to her friend. “You’ve already helped,” she said. “You’re the only one who’s stuck by me. The only one who dares besmirch their reputation by being seen in my company. And now this.” She took a bite of the ambrosial roll, chewing as slowly as possible to savor it. “I’m more grateful than I can say.”
Ana pressed her lips together. “I’ve been thinking, Katerina. I know I told you that I would stay here to tend Niko’s grave. And…and I will. But what if Alexei and I rode to the Magiya? Not now, but maybe the night that the Kniaz arrives to Reap you. It’ll be chaos, I’m sure of it. Already there’s much talk in the village of making preparations. He and I could leave then. We could ask the scholars if there’s a way to save Niko. To free his soul.” She gestured at the pile of books. “I know that’s what you’re doing. What you’re trying so desperately to find. But if there’s an answer here, you would have discovered it by now. And I just—I can’t stand to see you…”
Her voice trailed off, and Katerina patted her friend’s hand. “No,” she said around the lump in her throat. “I won’t risk you that way. Look what happened to Nadia and Oriel. I did this, Ana. Fixing it is my responsibility. Not yours.”
“You don’t have to do everything by yourself!” Ana said, wiping furiously at her eyes. “I know how prideful you are, Katerina. How stubborn. But just…just let me help you. Please.”
Numbly, Katerina shook her head. “I told you. You’ve already helped. I…I care for you like a sister, Ana. I can’t drag you down with me. And besides,” she said, managing a small smile, “Kalach needs all of its defenders. I can’t ask you and Alexei to abandon your duty now, with three Shadow-Dimi pairs away at Rivki and me about to leave, too. The village has already lost one alpha Shadow; it can’t lose another. Much as I appreciate your offer, I can’t be that selfish. I’ve already done enough.”
Ana heaved a sigh. “I thought you’d say that. At least let me help you put these books away. And then I’ll walk you home. Again.”
No doubt, her fellow Dimi was thinking of the mob that had attacked Katerina. Of the chant, Shadow-killer, the fusillade of stones. Katerina couldn’t ask Ana to put herself in the way of that, either.
“I’ll do it,” she said, managing a small smile. “There are some I still haven’t read all the way through, believe it or not. You go home. Rest. And thank you for the roll.”
She crammed the rest of it into her mouth and made exaggerated moans of delight, which elicited a reluctant giggle from Ana. “You’re welcome,” her best friend said. “Don’t stay here too late, Katerina. That fool who’s wandering about, Andrei…I don’t trust him.”
“Nor do I,” Katerina said softly, remembering how Andrei’s eyes had lingered on Elena. How he’d insinuated Katerina’s place was in Kniaz Sergey’s bed. “Nor do I.”
She watched as Ana walked from the library, closing the door behind her.
After she’d finished every delectable morsel of the roll, even dabbing the crumbs from the table with a moistened finger, and reshelved all of the books, Katerina sat alone in the library, head buried in her hands. She refused to believe her quest was at an end. There were four days left until the Reaping, and she needed to use every one of them to save her Shadow.
She wished she could talk with Sofi. Other than Ana—and Niko, of course—the other Dimi had been her closest friend. But Sofi had more reason to hate Katerina than almost anyone. Because of what she and Niko had done, Drezna had fallen. Sofi and her Shadow had lost friends, fellow warriors, parents, home. She probably detested Katerina now. Maybe Sofi, Trina Samarin, and Dimi Zakharova were sitting around a rowan-fire in Rivki at this very moment, listing all the ways that Katerina was a disgrace to the realm.
If so, then Katerina deserved every word. But was it uncharitable for her to think that, homeless or not, at least Sofi and Damien still had each other? What would she herself do, if faced with a choice between saving Niko or Kalach?
She hoped that, whatever befell her now, one would not preclude the other. That Baba had been wrong when she’d said, Katerina, you have doomed us all.
She wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t. There had to be a way.
I told you I would stay here to tend Niko’s grave, Ana had said. Well, Katerina hadn’t left yet. Maybe that was something she could do, while she tried desperately to free her Shadow’s soul.
She stood, drawing a deep breath, and slipped from the library, making her way through the darkened village. No one spoke to her as she crossed the square, where Maksim and his father were putting up the last of the tents for the celebration to welcome the Kniaz in the gathering dark. No one stopped her when she passed by the tavern where Andrei and his cronies sipped watered-down ale, served by a woman who had once asked Katerina if the Dimi would bless her first-born child. She wondered if she’d become invisible. Or if the villagers had come to hate her so much, they could no longer bear to acknowledge her existence. The few people who spared her a glance gazed at her with such disgust, she could hardly stand to meet their eyes.
In better times, having Kniaz Sergey visit Kalach would be a tremendous honor. But now, when the village had so few resources, putting together an event worthy of welcoming the nobleman was devastating. If they failed to supply the Kniaz with enough food and drink, he’d be insulted, and Saints knew what he would do to them. But if they offered him what little they had left, then the villagers would starve in earnest.
Once again, this had somehow become Katerina’s fault, even though she hadn’t asked for the Kniaz to come here. Even though the idea of becoming the man’s plaything, bonding to a stranger, and leaving Niko behind was the last thing she wanted.
An undeniable sense of relief washed over her as she stepped from the lights of the village onto the path that led to Niko’s grave. Here, at least, there was no one to stare at her with accusing, hungry eyes. No one to judge or ignore her.
She knew she shouldn’t do this. That being alone out here, with the Darkness gnawing at the edges of Kalach, was dangerous. But who knew how many more chances she’d have to pay her respects to her Shadow? When she left for Rivki, she might never come home again. Any number of disasters might befall her between now and the rise of the false Bone Moon. If this was her last chance to sit by her Shadow’s grave, she would seize it, and damn the consequences.
She walked as silently as she could through the trees, along the path that led to Niko’s grave. She didn’t dare use her magic to light the way. With as out of control as it had been lately, she might well burn the woods down. So instead she carried a small lantern, and hoped its light wouldn’t summon anything untoward.
If it did, she reflected, would that really be so bad? Perhaps then she could confront whoever it was and demand answers. Perhaps if the solution to her problem were not to be found within the walls of the village, she could discover it elsewhere.
The thought nibbled at her, oddly tempting. She set it aside as she hurried through the forest, brushing aside branches that snagged her clothes and vines that threatened to catch her ankles. Five minutes, ten, and then she was there, in the small clearing where Niko’s grave lay.
It was the first time she had been back here since the funeral, and she noticed all the things she had been too distraught to observe then: the beauty of the white-skinned birches and rowan trees that ringed the clearing, the night-blooming jasmine that curled around their branches, forming an arch overhead. The elderflowers that carpeted the ground beneath her feet.
It was a desolate spot, true, and unconsecrated. Lonely, yes. But there was a certain wild beauty to it. In the summer, provided everything bloomed as it ought, it would be peaceful and lovely, scented with the perfume of a thousand flowers.
If only she would be here to see it.
Swallowing the lump in her throat for the second time that night, she knelt beside Niko’s grave. Her knees sank into the dirt, crushing the elderflowers beneath them. “Hello, my Shadow,” she said, forcing a smile. “You wouldn’t believe what’s happened since you’ve been gone. How I wish we could talk about it, that you could give me your advice.”
She paused, waiting, half-hopeful. But she had no sense that Niko was there with her, nor did she see a hint of his form, human or black dog, moving in the woods beyond. Sighing, she called the wind, breaking dead branches from the rowan trees and setting them down in a circle around where she knelt. Then, carefully, she called her witchfire and set them alight. When the fires held, threatening neither to gutter to nothingness nor to set the forest aflame, she began speaking, telling Niko everything that was in her heart.
By the time she’d finished, her cheeks were wet with tears and her mouth was dry. She glanced up at the sky; the moon had risen even higher. It was time to go.
Katerina rose, in search of a gift to leave atop Niko’s grave. She considered commanding the wind to strip some of the white jasmine-flowers from their vines, but it didn’t feel right, as if she were desecrating the beauty of Niko’s resting place. So instead, scooping up her lantern and lighting the wick afresh from the still-burning rowan-fires, she tiptoed between the flames and ventured into the forest.
She’d followed the path to Niko’s grave by instinct. But now, walking in the opposite direction from the village, she found herself in a part of the forest she didn’t recognize. She brushed aside the bushes that blocked her way, lifting the lantern high to see what lay beyond.
And then her breath caught in her throat.
She was mere feet from the ruined chapel, the one where Sant Viktoriya, Sant Antoniya, and Sant Andrei had first made their pact to defend Iriska. The one that had been defiled by a Grigori attack and left to be swallowed by the woods years ago. And around the crumbling columns twined early-spring roses, so deep a red as to be black by torchlight.
The bushes bent, making way for her as she skirted them and walked up the steps that led to the altar, barely visible beneath a carpet of moss and a wreath of jasmine and honeysuckle. Her feet thudding on the cracked flagstones, she reached the columns and pulled a knife from her belt to cut the roses free.
On impulse, she paused. The Saints had allowed her Shadow to be taken from her, true. But perhaps they might still hear her prayer.
“Sant Antoniya,” she whispered, each word falling like a weight into the night, “look after my Shadow. Guide me to find him again. Hold his soul in the Light.” And then she pricked her finger with the knife and let the droplets fall onto the ruins of the chapel, sealing her prayer.
Her blood hissed as it hit the stones, as if they were white-hot. Beneath the vines that covered them, letters began to appear.
Breath catching in her throat, Katerina knelt and yanked the vines aside, heedless of the thorns. Holding the lantern close, she peered at the words that were revealed, each glowing with light, like the Mark she’d inscribed outside her cottage.
Call ye upon the Dark in need
In service to the Light
Speak ye the words that set us free
And thwart the demon’s bite
We three, we Saints, we fight with you
Our battle becomes thine
Dimi blood, your heart beats true
Call four, call Light, child mine.
Katerina’s jaw dropped. Her head jerked up, eyes narrowing, ensuring that she was, indeed, alone. That this was not some kind of trick.
But how could a demon have known she would come here? That she would seek these roses, that she would cut herself here, on these stones?
She looked left and right. Nothing but empty forest. Up, at the flat, gleaming disc of the Bone Moon, drifting in a formless, black sea pricked with stars. Down, at the words etched into the stones as if with fire.
She had come this far. She had nothing left to lose.
Call four, call Light, she thought, and closed her eyes. She summoned all four elements to her hand, and sent them tunneling straight down into the stones.
A jagged bolt of lightning illuminated the world behind her eyelids. There was a tremendous cracking sound, then a crumbling clatter, as the earth beneath her gave way. The altar shook, and Katerina fell forward, digging the pads of her fingers into the space between the stones. Rose petals swept past her, pelting her face; she could smell their musk, rich with fruit and spice. The world whirred and spun and blazed. And then…all fell still and silent.
Slowly, gingerly, Katerina opened her eyes. The altar had collapsed, and the columns had fallen to their knees. The stones were scattered with rose petals, and though her lantern lay beside her, its flame had gone out. But she didn’t need its light. Because in front of her, the stones had opened wide, revealing a shallow crevasse that gleamed with an illuminated pool of bright, still water. And inside it floated a leather-bound tome, drifting just beneath the surface. On the cover were stamped the words Book of the Lost.
Could this truly be the legendary volume her mother had spoken of, buried beneath the stones of the old chapel for safekeeping? Had Katerina’s blood called it to her somehow?
Heart beating in her wrists and chest and throat, Katerina reached into the pool and drew the book out. Somehow, it was bone-dry to the touch. When she opened it, the pages glowed from within, lighting the words inked onto them.
Katerina gasped as she turned page after page. On one, instructions for calling a demon and confining it within a blessed circle. On another, a spell to call the Dark, while still honoring the Saints. On a third, runes for summoning and protection, for strength and fortitude, for containment.
Call ye upon the Dark in need, in service to the Light. Was it possible that, centuries ago, the Saints had concealed this volume here for just such an eventuality? Had they foreseen that the events of the prophecy would come to pass—that such desperate measures might be needed?
This felt too easy, somehow: She had yearned for a miraculous solution, and here it was. But maybe she was overthinking things. Maybe her definition of easy had warped, after what she’d been through. She had stood against the Darkness, after all—stood and won. Was it too much to believe that the Saints had truly heard her prayer?
She wanted revenge and salvation for Niko. This was her chance. In the name of the Light, she would summon Sammael and demand answers. For where he was, Elena would be, and where Elena was, her Shadow would be, also.
If she couldn’t bring Niko to her, she would go to him. She would find him and bring him home and lay his spirit to rest.
Katerina dipped her fingers into the shallow pool. She marked herself with the sacred water, on her forehead and cheeks, over her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered to the Saints. “I will make you proud.”
She slid the book into her bodice, where it rested, safe, beneath Niko’s amulet. Then she relit her lantern, scattered rose petals on her Shadow’s grave, and walked home through the star-studded night.