Page 23 of Fate and Fury

Slowly, as if it cost him to make the admission, he nodded. “Our bond—it was like it had been cut in half. I’ve never felt pain like that. I feared you were dead. I couldn’t see you, Katya. I couldn’t see anything. And then the Light burst from me. I thought for an instant it was your fire, that you’d called it, but it didn’t taste of your magic. I think…I think it was because there were so many of them. I stood there and I burned and then—they came.”

This time, when the shiver took her, she didn’t fight it, and Niko’s eyes narrowed. “Are you cold?”

“No,” she said automatically, but he was already picking up the blanket and tucking it around her. When she shuddered again, he lay down next to her, curving his body around hers. Cocooning her.

“Let it go, Katya,” he said into her hair. “Let it out.”

All her fear, all her rage, rolled through her body, shaking her from head to toe. He simply held her, murmuring into her hair that he had her, that she was safe, that for now at least, it was over.

Niko had never held her like this. She had dreamed of it for so long, imagined how all of his coiled strength, his focused intensity, would translate in a touch, a kiss. She longed to feel what it would be like for him to lose all of his control in her arms, to send her witchfire licking along his skin until he came apart.

But that…that might be the end of everything.

She shook harder, and Niko’s arms tightened around her. “I have you, Katya.” His voice was gravelly, rough. “I will protect you to my last breath.”

Speaking of breath, she could feel his on the nape of her neck, a warm, tickling sensation that sent a hot flush trickling through her. Her heartbeat quickened, her body quaking along the length of his, and behind her, Niko went stock-still. He shifted, creating a small space between their bodies, and Katerina was glad he couldn’t see the blush that heated her cheeks. Surely he would be horrified if he knew what she was thinking right now, when his only intention was to keep her safe. If he knew that just maybe, her feelings for him were responsible for what had happened in Drezna.

“I know you will,” she managed. There was nothing she could do about how husky her voice sounded; with luck, he would attribute that to the smoke from the fires.

“You fought with honor today, Katya. You fought with valor.” His fingers touched her hair, brushing it away from her face. They trembled, and Katerina worried that he was more undone by what had happened than he was letting on. She tried to turn to face him, but he held her still. “You have leaves and twigs here. If I may…?”

Wordless, she nodded, and his fingers combed through her tangled waves, his touch deft despite the slight tremor. To her shame, the sensation was relaxing and sensual all at once. She couldn’t suppress the purr that moved through her, and Nikofroze, startled. His fingers paused in her hair. “Do…do you want me to stop?” he said, his voice a hint unsteady.

Surely it was Katerina’s imagination that his words seemed heavier than they should be, weighted with meaning. As if he felt the same desire she did, and feared they walked a razor’s edge.

That was ridiculous. All he was doing was keeping her warm. Removing bark and dirt from her hair.

“No,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level. “Not unless you want to, that is. Don’t feel...obligated.”

Niko made a sound that hovered somewhere between a growl and a bitter laugh. He muttered something, but even close as they were, she couldn’t make it out. Just as she was about to sit up, to put an end to whatever this was, his fingers took up their slow, tortuous sifting through her hair once again.

Her shaking stilled, but Niko didn’t let go. He lay behind her, a bulwark against the night. After a bit, he rolled onto his back, doubtless so he could have a better view of their surroundings, but kept his free arm wrapped tight around her, pulling her with him, careful not to jar her wounded leg.

Katerina should move—Saints, she knew she should—but instead she lay with her head on Niko’s chest, listening to the steady, comforting thump of his heart. He’d removed all the debris from her hair, but he was still stroking it, calm and easy now, the way he petted Troitze when the stallion, who was high-strung, threatened to spook.

The way hehadpetted Troitze, anyway. Where were their horses? Were they dead, somewhere in the woods? She thought of Mika, who always took carrots from her hand and then nudged Katerina’s shoulder in thanks. Such a sweet horse. She didn’t deserve what had happened to her today. And now she was lost.

Tears filled her eyes, and her breath thickened. Niko pulled her closer. His lips ghosted over her hair when he spoke. “Shhh. We’re together. It will be all right.”

She wanted to ask him what he thought had happened to Mika and Troitze. If they would ever see the horses again. How they would get home, with her leg like this. What they would do if they encountered another horde on the road. How the Darkness had boiled out of the Void and devoured a village whole, then threatened to consume their souls before the Grigori attacked. But she knew he had no answers, and she was afraid that if she started talking, the magic of the moment would shatter. That she might blurt out the truth: when he held her this way, all she could think about was the feel of his body against hers. That what had happened to their friends, to their horses, to Niko himself, might be all her fault.

So she said nothing, just lay still, trying not to cry as she thought of all they had lost in the destruction of Drezna. Hoping the villagers hadn’t suffered. That it had been quick.

She wished, more than anything, that she could have saved them.

Niko was quiet, and she was sure he was wishing the same. He had been especially close with Alexandr and Leonid. Together with Damien, they’d often drunk kvass around the fire when she and Niko were the ones to deliver the tithe, and Niko had joined them on patrol. All Shadows were brothers, packs that fought together. She knew he must be mourning them, though he hadn’t said a word about it. Nor would he; a Shadow’s job was to protect, not to grieve for what had been lost. Maybe that was what was troubling him: he had no outlet for his sorrow.

She cried for them both, silent tears running down her face, until she had none left to shed. Around them, the fires blazed high, the wind stirring the branches of the trees. Overhead,the stars shone brightly, as if nothing terrible had happened at all. Katerina’s chest tightened at the sight of the Firebird constellation, beak dipping low to drink in the night and wings spread wide above the disk of the moon.

Her father had called her mother his Firebird, because of the color of her hair and the flavor of her magic. When Katerina was born, he’d called her Little Firebird, well before they knew she could call not just flame, but earth, wind, and water to her hand. Even now, fifteen years after her parents had been taken from her, whenever Katerina saw the Firebird in the night sky, she couldn’t help but think of them.

Katerina had been there when the demon ripped out her mother’s throat. She’d called her magic, meaning to incinerate the Grigori filth where he stood. But she’d only been six then, and her gifts, though powerful, were unpredictable. The demon had laughed while her mother bled to death, and Katerina’s Vila minder had fled, with Katerina howling in her arms.

Katerina would never forget the look of determination on her mother’s face when she flung herself between Katerina and the demon, nor the helplessness when her own magic failed to rise. Her mother had died saving Katerina’s life, and Katerina had dedicated herself to never feeling that helpless again. She’d vowed never again to fail those she cared for, let alone those she was sworn to protect. Now, not only had she put Kalach in danger with her stunt at the Trials, but an entire village had fallen to the Dark on her watch. Guilt and regret swirled in her stomach, a bitter brew.

She forced herself to stop thinking of such terrible things. Surely she was not responsible for what had happened tonight, for the attacks that were rising all over Iriska. It didn’t matter what she felt, after all. It only mattered what shedid.And she had done nothing before the demons attacked, other than being too contrary and over-confident to turn back.

She hadn’t lost Niko, no matter her mistakes. He was still here, still hers.

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