Page 22 of Fate and Fury

“I don’t know.” His face was white to the lips as he knelt in front of her and undid the tourniquet, taking the candle from the table so he could get a better look at the wound. “A clean gash,” he said, and she could tell he was fighting to keep his voice dispassionate. “It doesn’t smell of infection, Katya. And the bleeding’s stopped. Tell me what I need to do.”

A quarter-hour later, she was freshly bandaged and full of willowbark tea, to fortify her against the pain. She’d insisted on spreading the healing herbs along the cuts on Niko’s arms, too, and though he’d argued with her that it was unnecessary, he allowed it. Katerina thought he could see that she needed desperately to find some way—any way—to be of use.

Biting her lip, she limped to Baba Volkova’s bedroom and lifted an armband bearing the elder Dimi’s sigil from the dresser. “For Baba Petrova,” she said to Niko, who was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded and one dark eyebrow quirked. “For remembrance. And for proof.”

“You think we’re going to need toprovewhat happened?” There was a quiet fury in his voice as he put an arm around her and guided her to the door. “I think the giant crater withDarkness swirling at the bottom of it, along with the trail of animal and demon corpses, speak for themselves.”

I want proof that my feelings for you didn’t cause this,Katerina wanted to say.Proof that something–anything—else is to blame.But voicing such a thought would be unthinkable, and so she made no reply.

They campedthat night in a grove of rowan trees, as far from Drezna as Niko deemed Katerina fit to walk. She wanted to protest, but it was pointless: she’d refused to let him carry her again, knowing that compromised their defenses, and each step sent a bolt of pain shooting through her leg. By the time she sank onto the bed of ferns that Niko had hacked from the plants that grew at the base of the rowan trees, she was trembling all over.

He regarded her with concern. “Should I cut some of these limbs for the fires, Katya? Or can you?—”

Katerina drew herself up, trying to summon her usual confidence. Seeing her compromised like this was troubling her Shadow, and that simply wouldn’t do. “I’m injured, not broken,” she said, her tone haughty. “Stand by me, out of the way.”

He came to her side as she said a brief prayer to the spirits of the trees:For your life, that we may live, we are thankful.Then she closed her eyes and called the wind. It rose to her hand, and the limbs of the rowans splintered and fell. Niko gathered them, stacking them in piles that formed a wide circle with Katerina at its epicenter. Then he stood back and she set them aflame.

Niko dug in the leather satchel he’d brought from Baba Volkova’s cottage, coming up with the potatoes he’d found in her pantry. Once he’d gotten them roasting, he dug a silver flask out of the satchel and extended it to Katerina. “Drink.”

“What is it?” she said, eyeing the flask suspiciously. She wouldn’t put it past him to have crumbled some sleeping herbs into it; he could recognize those easily enough, and she knew he wanted her to rest.

“Kvass,” he said. “You need it.”

Her leg throbbed, and her body trembled with exhaustion. “Fine,” she said, snatching the flask from him and taking a gulp. The liquor scorched her throat and settled, warm, in her belly. Tossing back her hair, she took another sip. Then a third.

She might’ve drained the whole thing, had Niko not wrested it from her hands. “Don’t be greedy, Katya,” he said, tilting the flask back to his own lips. “I’ve had a hard day.”

By the flickering light of the fires, she could see the long line of his throat move as he swallowed. It was a thing of beauty, and she had to look away so he wouldn’t catch her staring.

He thrust the flask into her hand, and they took turns drinking until he pulled the potatoes out of the fire. Katerina stifled a giggle as he bit into one and let out a stifled cry of pain. “My tongue,” he muttered, glaring at the potato like it had done something to offend him. “Those are hot, Katya. Watch out.”

“Duly noted,” she said, amused that his need to protect her extended even to potatoes. “Here.” She sent a small wind out, blowing over the surface of the root vegetables, cooling them. “Try it now.”

Niko obliged, and let out a small sound of appreciation. “Much better. Don’t let Baba Petrova know your talents extend to the culinary, Dimi mine. She’ll have you in the kitchen before you know what’s happened to you. I can hear her now:Develop stronger discipline for the things you believe are beneath you, Katerina.”

Katerina smiled, as he’d clearly meant her to do. But she couldn’t help but think of what they would tell Baba Petrova when they finally made it back to Kalach. Unless riders passedthem on the road, she and Niko would likely be the first to bring the news of what had happened to Drezna. Unless they should?—

She fidgeted, and Niko, who’d finished eating and was leaning back on his hands, glanced over at her. “Are you all right?”

“I just—you don’t think we should go back to Rivki, do you? And tell the Kniaz what’s happened? Not to mention poor Sofi and Damien?”

Niko considered this, tilting his head to gaze up at the moon. Finally he said, “No. I want to go home. Besides, the Kniaz will find out soon enough. And you know what they say about shooting the messenger.” He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing. “As for Sofi and Damien, there’s nothing they can do. Let them have a few final moments of peace, before they have to reckon with the loss of everything and everyone they love.”

Relief permeated every fiber of Katerina’s body. “Agreed,” she said.

“Good.”

Silence fell between them, broken only by the crackle of the fires’ blaze. Katerina forced herself to eat, stuffing bits of potato into her mouth. She’d rarely felt less hungry, but she’d used a lot of her magic today and needed to replenish her energy stores. If she didn’t, she’d risk draining Niko too. Her body would pull energy from his to sustain itself, and he would give it, until there was nothing left.

She gulped down the final bite, and he busied himself with pulling a blanket out of the satchel and setting their small campsite to rights. “Niko,” she said to his back, “what in the name of all the Saints do you think happened? There were so many of them. And the Darkness—it was like it had gotten loose from inside the Grigori somehow. As if it had taken on a life of its own.”

The night was mild, with just a slight bite to it, but still she wrapped her arms around herself, remembering her hopelessness when she’d been lying there, before Niko had blazed up with Light and saved them both. “I felt so cold,” she said. “As if I would never be warm again. As if I’d lost you forever.”

He was poking up one of the rowan-fires, but at this, he turned and made his way back to her. He knelt beside her, crushing the ferns. Their sharp green scent drifted up to her as he held her eyes with his own.

“You could never lose me, Katya. Do you understand? I’m yours. Always.”

She struggled to contain the shiver that rolled through her. “The cold…the Darkness… Did you feel it too?”

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