Chapter 53
53
KATERINA
T he Bone Moon had not yet risen as Katerina stood in the doorway of her cottage, wearing her leather fighting gear beneath a long, flowing embroidered gown. She’d strapped two of Niko’s blessed blades in her thigh holsters, and braided her red hair back, the way she always did when she fought. The Book of the Lost was safe beneath the floorboard, but she’d tucked the onyx charm into her pocket. It stung, cold against her skin, even through the thick leather.
Taking one last look at her cottage—for who knew if she would see it again—she turned and strode down the walkway. Ana waited for her, alone. “Are you ready?” she said.
Katerina nodded. “Yes,” she said, willing it to be the truth. “Let’s go.”
They had agreed that Ana would accompany her as far as the edge of town, to avoid unnecessary attention. It was a tossup whether people ignored Katerina or swore at her, and today, she wasn’t taking any chances. With Ana by her side, they’d be less likely to make trouble.
“You look like a stuffed sausage,” Ana commented, giving her the once-over as they made their way toward the square. “How can you even move?”
“Such compliments,” Katerina said, smiling despite herself. “Watch out, or my ego will wind up as swollen as my?—”
“Dimi Ivanova!” The shout came from a side street. It was Baba Petrova, dressed in her best navy-blue robes and red-heeled shoes, and looking less than pleased. “Why are you out and about? Ought you not to be at home, preparing for the ceremony? And what in the name of all the Saints are you wearing?”
Her keen eyes scanned Katerina’s body, and the smile drained from Katerina’s face. “I was just—” What could she say? What would she do if Baba stopped them now?
“We were taking one last stroll together,” Ana said, coming to her rescue. “It’s my fault, really.” She ducked her head, somehow managing to look demure. “Everyone’s so angry with her, Baba. So cruel. But she’s still my friend”—she clasped Katerina’s hand—“and I care for her. I’ll miss her so. I promised Katerina that I’d help her with her clothes and makeup for the ceremony, if she came for a walk with me first. Katerina didn’t want to go; you know they stoned her, after Niko’s funeral. But I begged. And you know how persuasive I can be.”
She squeezed Katerina’s hand, her message clear: Look pathetic. Katerina did her best. It wasn’t hard.
Baba’s suspicious gaze darted between the two of them. “I do,” she said, her tone dry.
“It’s all right, isn’t it?” Ana wheedled, her eyes big and brown and shiny. “Just a walk, Baba. And then I promise I’ll deliver her safely home. She’ll look like a princess for the Kniaz and her new Shadow.”
Katerina worried this was gilding the lily. But when she glanced at Baba Petrova’s face, the old woman looked as if she, too, were about to weep. “Ach, the two of you,” she said. “Inseparable since the cradle. I know well what it’s like to be parted from those you love. Fine, then. A brief walk. But no more than that.” She wagged her finger in Ana’s face, then Katerina’s. “I have a meeting with the Elders, and when it’s over, I must speak with you, Katerina. I expect to find you ready for me.”
“Thank you, Baba,” Katerina began, but before she could finish, Baba turned on her red-painted heel and walked back the way she’d come.
Ana let go of Katerina’s hand, and they stood next to each other until Baba’s small figure disappeared, hardly daring to breathe. “Such a good liar you are,” Katerina managed at last.
Ana snorted. “You should hope so. Because when she comes back after her meeting and you’ve gone missing, I’ll be lying for your life. And mine.”
A pang struck Katerina’s heart. “Ana,” she began, but the other woman shook her head, lips tight.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Wordlessly, they made their way down the path to the village square, which they would have to cross to reach the road that led to the boundary of Kalach and the ruined chapel. The Kniaz had not arrived yet, but the village had been abuzz with preparation for days. The town square was filled with brightly-colored tents, musicians and dancers, and such food as the villagers could manage. People had gone without several days, in order to create a welcome worthy of the nobleman.
Katerina and Ana crossed the square, dodging vendors’ tents and workers who were hammering nails into the makeshift stage’s supports. No one spoke to them, though a few people shot hostile looks over their shoulders at Katerina. She hardly noticed. If that was the worst that happened, then she would accept it, and gladly.
“All right,” Ana said when they cleared the square. “Now we just need to make it to the edge of town without someone harassing you. All in all, I think this is going rather well.”
But she’d spoken too soon, because of all people, Konstantin stepped from between the trees, a shovel resting on his shoulder and a look of pursed disgust on his face. His dark gaze settled on Katerina. “Where are you going, Shadow-killer?” he said.
Katerina opened her mouth, then shut it again. Under normal circumstances, Konstantin would never dare speak to her in such a disrespectful fashion. In fact, he’d never dare speak to her at all, unless she’d spoken to him first. But these circumstances were far from normal, and Katerina could hardly threaten to incinerate him where he stood—not if she hoped to avoid drawing attention.
She’d hoped Konstantin was, at least, alone. But the branches behind him rustled, and out stepped three men. They had apparently spent the day hammering, digging, and pruning in preparation for the Kniaz’s arrival, because they were filthy, covered in sawdust and mud. Dark circles underscored their eyes and their cheeks were drawn, as so many of the citizens of Kalach’s were, from lack of food. None of them looked very happy to see Katerina.
“Where she’s going is none of your business,” Ana said, stepping in front of Katerina. “Don’t you have work to do?”
Konstantin’s dismissive gaze flicked over Ana. “Where is your Shadow, Dimi Rozanova? Have you done away with him too?”
Fire trembled at the tips of Ana’s fingers, and, alarmed, Katerina stepped from behind her friend. “It’s one thing to insult me,” she said. “It’s quite another to impugn Ana’s good name. She and Alexei are loyal and honorable. They fight for you—for all of us. Now stand aside and let us pass.”
“I don’t think I will,” Konstantin mused, gripping the shovel more tightly. “You know, Katerina, once I dreamed you might be my wife. I escaped that fate, thank the Saints for small mercies. But before Kniaz Sergey claims you as his own, I can’t help but want a little taste.” His tongue darted out, licking his lips, and his olive skin flushed. “You won’t hurt me. After all, your reputation can’t stand much more damage.”
He took one threatening step toward Katerina, then another, the shovel cocked over his shoulder and a smug smile on his face. Katerina braced, readying herself for a fight. There was no way she was going to let Konstantin touch her. And certainly no way she was going to let him prevent her from doing what must be done tonight. But he was right on one count; she didn’t want to bludgeon him or light him aflame. That would send his companions running for help, and then her scheme would go right out the window. Her tongue, though, was as good a weapon as any other. It had stood her in good stead against Andrei, all those weeks ago.
“My reputation may be ruined, true,” she said, tossing her head. “But that only means it can’t get any worse. Of the two of us, you’re the one with something to lose. I belong to the Kniaz now, and I hardly think he would tolerate laying a hand on what’s his. Not to mention,” she said, deliberately closing the space between them with small, stalking steps, “my magic’s unpredictable right now. Surely you know that; it’s been the talk of Kalach. It would be unwise for me to damage you on purpose. But antagonize me enough, and…” She extended a finger, running the point of her nail down his cheek. “Someone might…get…hurt.”
Konstantin’s black eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
Katerina summoned the smallest gust of wind, praying it didn’t turn into a tornado. She used it to push Konstantin back, one step at a time, until he stood in front of the men who’d followed him out of the woods. “Go,” she said, her voice soft. “And trouble me no more.”
Konstantin glared at her. “Kniaz Sergey wants you for your power,” he said. “To protect him, along with his precious Druzhina. But I see you for what you truly are. Evil. You will bring shame upon his house, just as you’ve brought it on Kalach.”
Flames flared in Ana’s hands again, and the burly man next to Konstantin shifted uneasily at the sight. “Come, now, Konstantin. You’ve said your piece. It’s treason to speak against the Kniaz, and the witch isn’t worth it. Let us go.”
Konstantin shook his head. He tried to move forward again, to get to her, but Katerina’s magic held him still. His black eyes burned with indignation, and his knuckles went white on the shovel, as if he’d like nothing more than to beat her to death with it. But finally, blessedly, he turned without another word and disappeared into the trees. The other men followed, until at last, Katerina and Ana were alone again.
Ana drew a shuddering breath. “I’m glad you didn’t marry that one, Katerina, Niko or no. He’s dangerous. A man who would speak to you that way is a man who would beat his wife.”
“A man who would speak to me that way is a man who would lie about what happened between us,” Katerina said. “Who would be threatened that, even compromised, I got the best of him. He’ll be telling everyone that I threatened him unprovoked, and next thing I know, there’ll be a mob on my heels. I have to go, and quickly.”
Nodding in resignation, Ana threw her arms around her friend. Her embrace was tight and fierce. “Be brave,” she whispered in Katerina’s ear. “Know that I stand with you always, in the Light.”
She dropped her arms, and Katerina fled.
Fifteen minutes later, the embroidered gown concealed beneath a pile of leaves, she stood at the foot of the abandoned chapel, girding her courage. No matter how much she wanted— needed— to do this, she was still terrified. She touched the blades in her thigh sheaths to make sure they were still there, then the charm in her pocket. Sant Antoniya, she prayed, watch over me. Keep me safe.
She peered through the thicket, toward the clearing where Niko’s grave lay. If she succeeded, what would happen to his body? Would he rise from the grave, spirit and shell reunited once more? Or…
Katerina didn’t want to think about it. It was too disturbing, and at any rate, she didn’t have time. Any moment now, Kniaz Sergey could arrive in Kalach, with her potential Shadow in tow. Konstantin could send people after her, determined to enact revenge for his humiliation. Or Baba Petrova could wrap up the meeting with the Elders and come to look for Katerina, as she’d promised. She had to go.
Pulling the charm from her pocket, she braced herself against the unnaturally cold weight of it in her palm. And then she said the words that Sammael had given her, before she’d banished him from her circle.
“Show me the path to the deep and Dark, the underbelly where the fallen thrive. Show me the door through the veil and beyond, forbidden to those who are alive. I call not on the Saints but the demons below, hungering in the gloam and the Grey. With this charm I possess, I call on a Watcher, and command him to open the Way.”
She fell silent, the charm clutched in her fist, and waited. At first nothing happened, and her heart skipped a beat, fearing that the demon had tricked her. That Grigori would come boiling out of the woods, prepared to drag her away. But then she saw a shimmering in the air, at the base of an oak that overhung the ruined chapel. It looked…stained, flecked with wavering bits of Darkness.
Gathering every bit of courage she possessed, she walked toward it and stepped through, onto the Shadow Path.