Page 2 of Fate and Fury

Infuriated, Katerina called the wind to lift a spoon from Baba’s wooden table, coaxing it to scoop up a bit of sugar and then delicately stir the cup of tea that sat, cooling, in its saucer. The porcelain cup rose, floating through the air until it prodded, insistent, at Baba’s hand.

“Not a drop spilled,” she said as Baba snatched the teacup from the air with a huff and stomped back to the table to set it down again. “I can more than control my magic. See?”

“That is not the point—” Baba began, but Katerina was out of patience. She called the wind again, this time to send the china in the cabinet rattling and the earth to ripple the floorboards beneath their feet. The flames leapt and churned, threatening to breach the hearth.

“Whether with precision or brute force, I can wield my power as I will. But I had no wish to impress a tyrant.” The words were frigid as they left her mouth, ice-tipped. “I did nothing. Niko, tell her.”

Her Shadow sighed, broad shoulders heaving beneath the fabric of his linen shirt. “We delivered the grain as promised. And Katerina acted only as a firewitch, nothing more.”

Impatiently, Baba motioned for the two of them to step into the circle, atop the rune. “Well, it doesn’t matter what he saw in you. He asked for you by name, Katerina. And by extension, your Shadow.”

It was one thing for her and Niko to travel to Rivki with the tithe. It was quite another for them to enter into battle, where Katerina’s magic would be challenged and tested. Katerina understood the risks, especially now, when Kalach needed her more than ever. Her gifts were the village’s best-kept secret; this was the worst possible time for the Kniaz to discover them, with demonic attacks on the rise, when Kalach was under its greatest threat. Not to mention, the consequences of having hiddensomething this extraordinary for so many years would no doubt be dire.

But that didn’t mean she had to be forcibly bound. The idea sent horror curdling through her, as if anticipating a brutal amputation. No matter how many times Niko reminded her it was temporary, nothing more than a safeguard, she couldn’t resign herself to it. She’d been lobbying against it for weeks, ever since Baba had come to her with the Elders’ decision.

“Please,” she said now, a last resort. Tears pricked her eyes, and she fought them back. Being at the mercy of those who wished to bind her magic, torn between her loyalty to Kalach and her autonomy, was bad enough; she’d be damned if she’d let Baba see her cry.

“I’m sorry.” Finality marked Baba’s voice. “Come, now. The Vila await their Shadows by the river, and the two of you must get on the road if you are to reach shelter before dark.”

The kohannya ceremony was the very last thing Katerina wanted to think about right now. Her muscles tensed, and Niko’s eyes met hers.Heprobably couldn’t wait to get to the river, where his lovely Vila had crafted a paper boat just for him, sealed in red wax and inscribed with runes for romance and fertility, promises of a thousand kisses and caresses. The thought made Katerina want to vomit. Andthat,she definitely couldn’t show.

Holding Niko’s gaze, she strode to the center of the rune. A moment later, her Shadow followed. He stood facing her, close enough that his leathers brushed her pants.

“Take her hands,” Baba instructed.

His eyes never leaving hers, Niko obeyed. His calloused fingers wove through Katerina’s, their touch achingly familiar. As vicious as he could be with a blade, he was gentle with her, as if he held something priceless. As if she were breakable.

Katerina squeezed his fingers hard enough to hurt, but Niko only smiled at her, his full lips rising. How could he smile at atime like this? She wanted to hit him, bite him, send her magic through him like a sharpened arrow—anything to break that perfect composure, meant to reassure her. She wanted to press her lips to his and devour him, and let the world burn.

But that was beyond forbidden. Even thinking about it was a betrayal. Acting on it would have horrific consequences.

It was fortunate Katerina was good at keeping secrets.

“Sant Antoniya, patron saint of Dimis, hear me,” Baba intoned. “Sant Andrei, patron saint of Shadows, be with your child now.”

Beneath their feet, the rune shuddered. The aftereffects rippled through Katerina’s body, and Niko gripped her hands harder, holding her steady.It will be all right,he mouthed.

Katerina pressed her lips together and shook her head. How could she allow this, no matter what Baba and the Elders had decreed? Panic gnawed at her bones. She had to leave this circle, she had to stop this?—

“Before you stands Katerina Ivanova, your loyal servant.” Baba’s voice resonated throughout the room, echoing off walls and floor and ceiling. “You have gifted her with powers beyond reckoning, and we are grateful. But now, for the sake of the village she is sworn to protect, we ask your permission to bind all her gifts but one. We ask this in the name of the trifold Saints, as penitents to your grace.”

As if in response, Katerina’s magic surged. The fire shot upward in the hearth, the water in the kettle bubbling, the shutters rattling as the wind outside began to rage. Niko winced as the force of it hit him, his breath hissing between gritted teeth.Easy, he mouthed.

Did he think she was his stallion, Troitze, to be soothed with a command and the gift of an apple? Katerina bared her own teeth at him, dread coiling in her gut as Baba spoke again.

“With salt, we bind Dimi Ivanova’s waterwitch.” She pulled a pinch of white crystals from the pocket of her dress, scattering them on the rune at Katerina’s feet. “With vervain, we bind her windwitch.” The dried purple petals fell atop the salt, and a terrible choking sensation seized Katerina, as if a thousand zlydini spirits had hold of her lungs and were clenching their tiny, malevolent fists. She gagged, and Niko’s eyes widened in horror. He was speaking now, his voice low and urgent, but Katerina couldn’t make out a word. Her ears roared with the beat of her own blood, her mouth filled with the taste of saltwater. She spat, and spat again, but it made no difference. Air, she needed air, she needed?—

“With roots of cypress, we bind her earthwitch.” Baba’s voice was inside Katerina’s head somehow, inescapable, threading through bone and sinew. The lemon-spice scent of cypress shavings filled the air as Baba opened her hand and let them fall. “May all three rest, and wake no more until I free them.”

The rune flared with heat, the floorboards shuddering. Pain shot through the soles of Katerina’s feet and arrowed upward, sharper than anything she’d ever known: the loss of her mother, the slice of a poisoned Grigori blade, the desperate, doomed desire she felt for her Shadow. She shrieked, unable to contain it, and the cypress shavings caught fire before they hit the ground. Somewhere inside the inferno, Niko was shouting:Stopandyou’re hurting herand then a fusillade of incomprehensible syllables that ended in her name. Through the falling embers, his face loomed up and then disappeared again, pupils blown wide so that only a rim of silver iris remained. The roar of his black dog filled the air, ripped from his human throat.

It was unthinkable for a Shadow to interfere with Baba Petrova’s magic this way, to stand between her and the ceremony she and the Elders had deemed must be done. Baba was their leader, owed deference and respect. But Niko growledlouder and louder, the vibration echoing through his body and into his hands where they still gripped Katerina’s. His body flickered with the first hints of his Change, a moment before his hands fell away. And then he was moving her, pushing her off the rune and out of the consecrated circle. In the world beyond the agony that tore through every inch of Katerina, as if someone were trying to rip her magic out by the roots, porcelain clattered and smashed. Someone was screaming. She thought it might be her.

Her back hit the wall, knocking the remaining air out of her lungs. Niko pressed against her from head to toe, his body hot and insistent and trembling with a rage she could taste, copper-bright on her tongue. But she could taste something else, too: fear, tart and dark as the blackcurrants that grew by handfuls beside the village gates. Fear forher.

Niko was suffering. And no one hurt her Shadow and lived.

In the hollow of her throat, the silver amulet that held a drop of Niko’s blood throbbed, reminding her of what mattered most. Her deepest fear was losing him. Failing him and watching him fall to the Dark. And yet here she stood, on the verge of surrendering the very gifts she relied upon to defend him.

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