Page 14 of Fate and Fury

The hurt in his voice pierced her. “I wanted to, Niko. I did. But I didn’t want to ask you to keep that kind of secret.” Her voice broke. “And if something went wrong—like it did tonight—I wanted you to be able to say you didn’t know.”

Niko’s hands slid up to her shoulders, gripping them like he had in Baba’s cottage. This time, though, he shook her, hard enough that her head came up and she glared at him. “I trust you with my life, Katerina. You trust me with yours. But you don’t think I’m worthy of being trusted with the truth?”

A sarcastic retort bubbled up, but she bit it back when she saw the pain in his eyes. “You’re right,” she said, making an effort to sound humble. “I’m sorry.”

His gaze softened. “I know what you were doing. Trying to protect me, like you always do. Like you did in the arena. But we’re meant to be partners, Katerina. And of the two of us, I’m the one who vowed to stand between you and the Darkness, to lay my life at your feet.”

Katerina swallowed hard. “I tried to keep my powers leashed,” she said, her voice a whisper. “If Fyodor hadn’t come for you, I could have done it, Niko. I swear I could have. I didn’t mean to be thoughtless, or to endanger Kalach?—”

“Hush.” His grip on her shoulders loosened. “What Baba tried to force on you was unnatural. Your magic is as much a part of you as your hair”—his fingers ghosted over her red waves, freed from their braid and matted with dust—“or your incorrigible attitude. Binding ceremony aside, it’s no surprise it broke free when you thought my life was threatened.”

“So you’re not mad,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

He tucked a rogue curl behind her ear, shaking his head in exasperation when it sprang free again. “Not in the way you mean. What I care about isyou, do you understand? You thought you had to bear this secret alone. Now you’ve addedyour guilt for what happened in the arena to the bargain. And that’s what I can’t stand.”

Katerina’s eyes burned, and she sought some way—any way—to lighten the mood, before he saw too much. “Really,” she said, struggling to keep her voice light. “That’s all?”

His lips rose in the half-teasing smile she’d always loved. “Well, that, and the idea that you thought that you needed to intervene on my behalf. Seriously, Katerina. You don’t think I could’ve taken that joke of a Shadow on my own? In this form or the form of my black dog, he’s nothing more than an inconvenient snack.” He snapped his teeth near her ear, and she smiled, as she knew he’d intended her to do.

“There,” he said softly, taking a step back. “That’s more like it. Now, let’s go get changed for the feast, my Dimi. You can eat vareniki to your heart’s content. Maybe even hurl some at the Kniaz’s head, if he says something that tests the limits of your patience.”

“As if I would do such a thing,” Katerina said, but she was still smiling.

He took her by the shoulders again, turning her and then carving a path for both of them through the crowd, which parted for him like butter before a knife. They fell silent once again as they made their way to the grandiose inn where the visiting Shadows and Dimis were staying, but this time it was companionable rather than strained.

Inside the high-ceilinged hallway of the inn’s foyer, Niko paused at the foot of the winding staircase. His room was on the first floor, whereas Katerina’s was on the second. At home, he slept on a quilt in front of the hearth of their shared cottage. She wasn’t used to having him so far away, but perhaps this was good practice. Three months from now, when Niko and Elena were married, he would no longer sleep in front of her fire.

And here she was, thinking about Elena again. The warmth that her conversation with Niko had kindled in her chest faded to ashes, and she fought not to let her misery show on her face. If Niko was happy about his betrothal, she should be, too—and he had given her no indication that he objected. Besides, other than Shadows whose preference was for men, it was expected of them to marry a Vila. Otherwise, the Shadow and Vila lines would die out. This was the way it needed to be, so why could she not resign herself to it?

The foyer was quiet, most of the others doubtless still among the revelers. Katerina heard only the sound of her own breath and Niko’s as he scanned her face, his head tilted. She braced for him to ask what was troubling her. But all he said was, “Do try not to incinerate anyone in the few minutes you’ll be out of my sight, won’t you? It might put a damper on the festivities.”

“I make no promises,” Katerina said, her tone deliberately haughty. His low laugh echoed as she climbed the stairs, the polished wooden railing smooth and cold beneath her palm.

It was a good thing she hadn’t given him her word. Because when she pushed open the double doors that led to her bedchamber’s hallway, she found an unexpected—and unwelcome—guest waiting for her.

8

KATERINA

“Dimi Zakharova,” Katerina said in wary greeting.

By all the Saints and demons, how had the woman gotten here so quickly? And why?

As the Kniaz’s consort, she traveled with a retinue. Yet here she was, a glass of kvass in each hand, clad in her dusky blue velvet gown, her hair spangled with tiny diamonds. Next to her, wearing blood-and-dirt-spattered battle leathers, Katerina felt nasty to the nth degree.

“Why are you here?” It came out less than polite, but she’d used up the last of her good manners when she’d refrained from ripping off Fyodor’s head and sending it flying at his murderous bitch of a Dimi. Not to mention playing nice with the Kniaz.

“Perhaps I’m just here to offer you a drink,” the other woman said, her voice saccharine as she extended one of the tumblers of kvass to Katerina. “You must be thirsty, after…extending yourself in the arena tonight.”

There was the slightest pause before ‘extending,’ but it was enough to tell Katerina all she needed to know. The womanhadseen, damn her. The question was, how much?

She gathered her magic, feeling it tingle in her fingertips and sizzle beneath her skin. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said curtly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get changed for the feast.” She took a step forward, but Dimi Zakharova didn’t retreat.

“I know what you’re doing,” the woman hissed, her gaze raking over Katerina. “You intend to worm your way into the Druzhina, and then to take my place.”

Katerina snorted. “Is that what this is about? Believe me when I tell you that’s the last thing I want.”On every count.“Now, step aside. I won’t ask again.”

“Believe you?” The marble statue of Sant Antoniya in the alcove by Katerina’s door tipped, then righted itself, as Dimi Zakharova’s earth-magic rose. “Because you’re so truthful, Katerina Ivanova. The Magiya’s records say you’re a firewitch, like your mother before you. But you’re not, are you?” She took a step closer, until the skirts of her gown brushed Katerina’s legs. “Who has lied for you, Dimi Ivanova? If the truth came out, what price would they pay?”

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