Page 3 of Fate and Fury

You are a Dimi,Katerina told herself grimly.Born into war. So, fight.

The pain was everywhere, woven into the very fabric of her being. It pierced her heart and throat and belly, as if her magic had shattered into shards of glass that wounded her from the inside out. But she could think past it. She must.

She shut her eyes and sank down, down into the depths of herself. Past the pain and the heat of the flaming cypress, past Niko’s roars of fury and Baba Petrova’s commands. In the quiet, she envisioned the roots of her magic, anchored deep in the soil of her soul: red for flame, brown for earth, blue for water, white for wind. In her mind’s eye, she fell to her knees and dug herfingers into the soil.You are mine,she whispered to her power.Mine to keep. Mine to command. My gifts from the Saints, and I will not let you go.

The force that had hold of her magic pulled, insistent, fighting to rip the roots free. But Katerina held fast, with every ounce of strength she possessed. Inch by inch, bit by painful bit, she gained ground, until, with a bellow of fury at being deprived of its prize, the spell let go. The pain retreated with it, her magic anchoring firmly within her once more, until Katerina was alone in her skin again, shaken but whole.

Her eyes flickered open, and she peered over her Shadow’s shoulder, blinking. The air still burned, shot through with flecks of fiery cypress. The table had been overturned. And Niko’s body was pressed against hers, his back against her front, both of them crowded against the far wall. His arms spread wide, hands touching the plaster on either side of her in a clear gesture of protection. At their feet lay splintered china—Niko’s doing, perhaps, in his haste to break the circle and get her away from the rune that fueled the spell.

He was still growling, one long, unbroken burr that would doubtless fill most people with terror. The sound comforted Katerina, as familiar and soothing as a lullaby.

“Let her go,” Baba was saying, with the exaggerated patience of someone who had been repeating themselves for quite some time. “This had to be done. And I mean her no harm.”

Her Shadow merely snarled, body shaking with the effort to hold his human shape.

Enough was enough. Katerina cleared her throat, which ached as if she’d swallowed ground glass. “I’m all right, Niko,” she said. “Stand down.”

The growl ebbed, and Niko spun, grabbing her by the shoulders. His eyes were wild, his black hair half-loose from its tie. “Thank the Saints. Are you hurt, Katerina? Are you?—”

“I’m all right,” she repeated, though she wasn’t sure if it was true. Her body still ached with the after-effects of the spell, a fine tremor running through every limb. But Niko didn’t need to know that, did he? Not when he was looking at her like she might go to pieces under his hands, crumbling to the floor in a heap of tears and ashes.

Her Shadow’s gray eyes narrowed, gaze sweeping over her from head to toe. “Are you,” he said again, a statement this time rather than a question.

Inside her, magic stirred: fire, earth, wind, and water, all there to call to her hand. Could he feel it, bound to her as he was?

If so, he didn’t say a word. Jaw set, he turned to face Baba. “Is it done?”

Baba gave a curt nod. “I am sorry,” she told them both, with a wry glance at the wreckage. “It was never my intention to hurt you. The moment you come home, I will undo the binding. And even with only one of your gifts at your command, you are powerful, Katerina. Trust in that.”

Katerina would have to. She had no intention of abandoning her village by unleashing her other gifts in the Trials. But neither did she have any intention of telling Baba the truth: that the spell had failed. That she would ride out to Rivki in possession of her full powers.

There might be demons on the road, after all.

And a Trial of her own to conquer, here in Kalach, before she could ride to meet them.

2

KATERINA

Katerina had always thought the kohannya ceremony was sweet, if silly. For a Dimi like herself, who had the freedom to choose whoever she wished to marry, there was no need to cast a tiny boat into the river that bordered Kalach and wait to see who scooped it up downstream. But for Vila, raised to marry Shadows and perpetuate the Vila and Shadow lines, there was an undeniable romanticism to the tradition. Vila spent weeks crafting their miniature boats, sealing them with wax dyed from red madder, then hand-painting them with runes for love, loyalty to Sant Viktoriya, and steadfast hearts.

The whole village turned out for the annual ceremony, where the Vila launched their boats and waited with bated breath to see which Shadows would pluck them from the water. For while Baba Petrova and the Elders had final authority when it came to marriage pacts, Vila and Shadows’ wishes held considerable weight. Kohannya was a time of crushes revealed, of discovering whether love was requited. It was, Katerina thought dryly as she strode down the path to the river, one hand knotted around her horse’s reins, a Vila’s dream come true.

And today, it was Katerina’s nightmare.

“Are you all right?” Next to her, her best friend, Ana, poked Katerina in the side. Never one to sit still, Ana was always in motion—whether it be her hands, her body, or her magic. When the two of them were children, she was always getting in trouble for touching things she shouldn’t. Today, apparently that thing was Katerina.

“Ouch!” Rubbing her side resentfully, Katerina tore her gaze from the gathering in the distance, just visible through the copse of trees. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Ana rolled her eyes. “Let’s pick a reason, shall we? Maybe because I’ve called your name at least three times. Maybe because you’re staring straight ahead with a death glare on your face, as if you’d like to light the whole lot of them aflame.” She gestured at the crowd clustered on the riverbank, the rays of the early-spring sun breaking through the canopy of evergreens to illuminate her olive skin and the blue-black highlights in her hair.

“Or maybe it’s because you just endured a binding ceremony the likes of which hasn’t been attempted in our lifetime,” she went on, her tone deliberately innocent. “Maybe it’s because we could hear your Shadow raising a commotion all the way in the village square. Maybe it’s because you look like you’re about to fall over, or because when Niko came to collect Alexei for the ceremony, he snapped at my Shadow like he was about to murder someone?—”

“Okay, okay.” Katerina held up a quelling hand. “I get it. Enough.”

Ana was a firewitch, and a powerful one at that. She held up her own hands, a small flame burning above each palm. “You don’t get to tellmewhat to do, Katerina Ivanova. And you can pretend to everyone else that you’re just fine, but you don’t have to put on an act with me.”

Sighing, Katerina guided her mare, Mika, around a log that had fallen across the path. The worst of it was, shedidhave to pretend with Ana. There was no way she was going to burden her friend with the knowledge that the spell hadn’t worked, and that she had no intention of letting Baba try again. If the truth came out somehow and Baba discovered Ana had known all along, it wouldn’t be pretty. “It was awful,” she admitted. That much, she could share. “I felt like I was dying. Like an essential part of me was being torn right out of my body. The pain—that’s why Niko got so angry. He couldn’t stand that it was hurting me.”

---