Page 102 of Fate and Fury

The place where she’d clawed her way out of the earth had sealed over, an innocuous seam at the foot of an oak. If it weren’t for her shredded clothes and aching body, she would have almost thought she’d imagined it.

But she hadn’t. And what if Niko was still in the tunnels, what if he was trapped?—

A moan escaped Katerina’s throat. On hands and knees, she crawled to the oak and dug frantically at the spot where the portal had been, but all she managed to do was slice her finger on a jagged rock. Any magic that had once lived here had long since gone.

In desperation, she plunged her bleeding hand into her pocket, grasping at the stone Sammael had given her. It lay inert in her palm, a dead thing. She loosened her grip, and it tumbled to the ground, as useless as Katerina herself. Above, the cold eye of the moon shone down, judging her. Well, let it. She was judging herself far more harshly for believing the word of a demon who had already tricked her once before.

Katerina drew one deep breath, then another. The air pressed in on her, heavy with the scent of the roses whose vines still clung to the crumbled columns of the desecrated chapel. As much as it shattered her, she had to accept it: Niko had not followed her, after all.

A wail trembled in her throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, refusing to set it free. If she started screaming now, she might never stop.

She had wanted so badly to believe Sammael when he’d said the troubles that plagued Iriska, the encroaching Darkness, could be laid at Gadreel’s feet—that the prophecy had naught to do with it, and she wasn’t to blame. But she had been a fool twice over. Niko was still trapped, still shackled to Elena—and now that he’d chosen Katerina once again, the Vila’s wrath would be terrible. How might she punish or torture him? Had Katerina only made things worse?

Katerina scrubbed at her watering eyes, struggling to hold back tears. She hadn’t thought beyond this moment, hadn’t allowed herself to believe that she might fail. What was she supposed to do now? Creep back to Kalach and let the Kniaz carry her off over his saddle like a bag of grain? Take her place at his side, lashed to a lesser Shadow, and pretend Niko wasn’t suffering every second because of her failures and mistakes?

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. There had to be another way.

Steadying herself against the trunk of the oak, Katerina managed to get to her feet. Slowly, she made her way over to thehalf-buried stones that were all that remained of the altar. This might be a desecrated chapel, but it was still a chapel, the place where Sant Andrei, Sant Viktoriya, and Sant Antoniya had been blessed by the Light. She had to believe that some of the Saints’ magic lingered here still. That if she spoke, something might hear her other than the Dark.

Katerina squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Sant Antoniya,” she said, her voice thick with the tears she wouldn’t allow herself to shed. “Patron saint of Dimis. Mother of us all. I come to you as a humble penitent, a servant of the Light. Forgive me the sin of loving my Shadow more than I cared for keeping the covenant. I beg you now to guide my hand. For I cannot abandon Niko. Nor can I turn my back on my vows.”

She cupped her hands; within them, a small flame sprang to life. Eyes on the Bone Moon, she raised her hands high. “See my offering, Sant Antoniya. I honor you with my flame and the gifts in my blood. Hear me, I beg of you. For I have sinned, and fallen, and made terrible mistakes. But I swear on the vows I made to Kalach, on my word as a Dimi of Iriska, I’ll never be a tool of the Dark. I beg of you, show me a way to thwart the prophecy. Show me a way to save my village and my Shadow. For I refuse to believe this is the end.”

Dropping her eyes to the stones, she waited—for what, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps a vision, like the one the Saints had had so long ago, or a miracle. Perhaps the voice of Sant Antoniya herself, telling Katerina she hadn’t doomed them all. Giving her a way to make this right. But nothing came. The night was still, only the smallest of breezes stirring the trees.

She was truly alone.

Katerina let her hands fall, the flame they cupped winking out. Tears burned in her eyes. They overspilled, tracing hot lines down her cheeks, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. What would be the point? There was no one here to see.

“Niko,” she said, though she knew he couldn’t hear. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault, all of it. If I had tried harder—if I had made you believe me, when I told you Elena knew—” She shook her head, the memory of that conversation piercing her like a venom-soaked blade. It was the first time she’d told him she loved him, and she would never forget the look on his face—joy and wonder and fierce desire.Burn away, he’d commanded her.And she had. Now there was nothing left of him but ash and shadows.

A sob tore its way loose from Katerina’s throat, followed by another. She knew she shouldn’t stay here; alone, she was fair game for Gadreel. But Saints help her, she couldn’t bear to walk away, knowing Elena still held Niko prisoner. How could she desert him?

She fell to her knees on the stones. It hurt; her knees were bruised already, from her fight to escape the tunnels. But Katerina didn’t mind the pain. It was a small thing, a welcome distraction from the agony of her broken heart. “I failed you, my Shadow,” she whispered into the night. “I tried to save you. I swear I did. But I…I failed.”

The last word emerged in a shattered croak. Bowing her head, alone in the darkness except for the glare of the moon, Katerina gave herself to her grief, not caring who—or what—might hear. The sharp edges of the cobblestones dug into her knees as she wept, hollow, empty of everything. She had tried all she could, and still it was not enough.Shewas not enough.

She would never be whole again.

And then, behind her, a voice spoke. Low and familiar, achingly beloved.

“Don’t cry, my Dimi,” it said.

60

KATERINA

Katerina choked mid-sob. Slowly, disbelievingly, she turned.

Beneath the unforgiving light of the Bone Moon stood Niko. The moonlight shone full on his face, illuminating the scar that ran from chin to hairline and the streak of white in his hair. He wore unfamiliar clothes: a loose gray shirt that matched his eyes and black pants of a material Katerina had never seen before. And he was smiling.

Katerina stared at him, there on her knees. Here he was, the answer to her prayers. And yet she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Don’t cry,” he said again, taking a step toward her.

The way he moved—like a piece of the night that had detached itself from the whole—was so familiar, it hurt her heart all over again. But?—

“Don’t come any closer,” she said, holding up a hand. Around them, the wind began to stir, bending the saplings. “How do I know this isn’t a trick? A trap?”

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