Page 7 of Fate and Fury

By the Saints. What had he seen? Had he felt it, when she wrenched the footers free?

“Of course not.” Her voice was sharp as she swung up into the saddle. “How could I? My earthwitch is bound, remember?Whywould I, besides?”

Niko snorted, sounding for an instant like his stallion. “Whatever you say.”

He cast her a final suspicious glance as he mounted Troitze. Eager to escape his scrutiny, Katerina dug in her heels and Mika moved out, past Ana, who mouthed,See you soonwith an imperious wink that suggested she’d accept nothing less. Troitze, never one to follow, pushed forward to take the lead.

Sunlight striped the banks and sparkled on the rippling water, the great oaks sighing overhead in a wind that was not of her making, as Katerina and her Shadow breached the edge of the forest, leaving Kalach behind.

4

KATERINA

It was a beautiful night to burn, and a ridiculous one to die.

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her competitors in the pit beneath the Bone Trials arena, Katerina inhaled the mingled scents of sweat, damp earth, and rowan-fire, and pleaded with her magic not to betray her. Next to her, Niko rested his palm against the small of her back, offering comfort. The heat of his touch radiated even through her fighting leathers, and Katerina jerked away.

Her Shadow looked down at her, puzzlement warring with battle-eagerness on his face.

“All right?” he said, voice pitched low so the other Dimis and their Shadows wouldn’t hear.

“Never better,” Katerina bit out, straightening her spine. The roar of the crowd seeped through the bars, ebbing and flowing like the waves that lapped Rivki Island’s shores, and she swallowed, her throat thick with disgust.

The ride from Kalach had been uneventful, other than poor weather that had spooked the horses and forced them to arrive in Rivki looking like they’d been dragged backward through a blackberry hedge. They’d broken their ride in Drezna, as theyusually did when delivering the tithe, then ridden hellbent through the rain to make it in time for the Trials’ opening feast. Now they were here, crammed into a space so small that Katerina’s skin crawled with the spillover of her fellow Dimis’ magic, about to turn against each other for the benefit of a dictator.

Six nights before the Bone Moon, when the veil between humanity and the Underworld grew thinnest, the Seven Villages’ most powerful Dimis and Shadows should be home, defending Iriska against soul-devouring Grigori demons. Not doing…this.

At least Katerina had been able to keep the retention of her abilities a secret. There had hardly been cause to use them on the road, what with the lashing wind and the downpour. The only one they’d needed was her fire, to dry out wood for kindling and set it aflame. She’d come so close to telling Niko the truth again and again—shehatedlying to him, any more than she had to—but in the end, she’d decided against it. With luck, she wouldn’t need to call on her water, earth, or wind to defend them, and they’d be back in Kalach before anyone was the wiser.

A horn blew in the arena above, putting an end to her musings. Amplified by witchwind, it jarred small pebbles loose from the walls. They spattered against Katerina’s leathers, and beside her, a fellow Dimi—Trina Samarin, of Povorino—gave a grunt of disgust as the pebbles struck the side of her face, drawing blood. Katerina could smell it, iron-rich in the damp air.

“Pleasant accommodations, no?” Katerina said, cocking her head at the confines of the pit. “You’d think they’d treat us better if we’re meant to be Iriska’s best hope of survival.”

Trina sneered at her, as if making idle conversation were tantamount to admitting weakness. The light filtering through the bars fell in stripes across the umber skin that marked her as hailing from Povorino, and her green eyes shone, bright with malice.

“There’s noweabout it,” she hissed, her voice surprisingly girlish to be filled with so much venom. “Think of me when you’re lying in the dirt of the arena, choking on dust.” She lifted a hand, summoning the wind to command the pebbles at her feet. They peppered Katerina’s leathers in a fusillade before falling to the stone floor once more.

Trina had been nasty to Katerina since they’d met at the previous night’s feast, as if sensing a threat to her victory in the arena. At first, Katerina had ignored her, which only seemed to spur the other woman on. By now, moments before they were about to fight for their lives, Katerina’s patience had worn thin.

“If one of us is about to be lying in the dirt,” she said sweetly, “I hardly think it’s me.” Fire flared in her palms and she let it rise, heat forming a wall between them. Trina took a startled step back. Beside her, her Shadow bared his teeth, but instead of responding in kind, Niko chuckled.

“Watch yourself, Fyodor,” he said. “My Dimi doesn’t make idle threats.” He refrained from saying the rest of it: that if anyone here knew what Katerina was capable of, they’d think twice before pelting her with pebbles.

The horn blew once more, drowning out Fyodor’s retort, as Katerina called her witchfire to heel. “Dimis and Shadows of Iriska. Citizens of Rivki.” The Kniaz’s voice boomed over the receding blare of the horn, echoing throughout the arena and into the chamber below. “We are gathered here today to determine the strongest among us, so that they may one day fight alongside my Druzhina.” Through the bars, Katerina could make out the proprietary sweep of his hand, gesturing left and right at the entourage that flanked him.

The Druzhina Guard were the strongest Dimis and Shadows Iriska had to offer. Yet Kniaz Sergey spoke as if he owned them, as if their power were his to command, rather than their own.Who cared if he had inherited his throne, his bloodline anointed to rule Iriska by the Saints? His hubris infuriated Katerina.

Dimis—women—held the power of the elements in their hands. So why did Iriska cling so tightly to tradition, ceding its governance to an entitled, overindulged man?

“Tonight, we will see displays of strength that dazzle us,” the Kniaz announced. “But we will also watch as the weaker among us fall, dishonoring the villages they call home.”

The crowd howled in approbation. In the dimness of the pit, Katerina rolled her eyes.

“Only the two most powerful pairs will be chosen to advance to next year’s Trials and compete for a chance to join the Druzhina.” Kniaz Sergey’s voice vibrated with satisfaction. “And if the Saints smile upon us, perhaps we will witness a third pair of such strength that at the Reaping, they will displace one of our own.”

There was another roar, this one of protest. Every so often, Kniaz Sergey would choose an additional pair of victors, ousting a bonded pair of the Druzhina. It was his way of culling the herd, keeping his Guard on their toes—and it worked. Whenever Katerina came to Rivki to deliver the tithe, she could sense their gazes on her and Niko, assessing the competition.

Everything about this was wrong. Dimis and Shadows fought together, on the side of the Light. They should be allies, not enemies. Yet here the Kniaz was, seeding dissent where there should be unity. She glanced around; other than Trina, whose eyes shone with excitement, her companions in the pit looked grim. Sofi, Drezna’s Dimi champion, turned her back to speak to her Shadow; her hands carved the air in a series of intricate gestures, but with Sofi facing away, the words were unintelligible. Mute since birth, Sofi communicated primarily through sign; Katerina and Niko had both learned the language so they could converse with her whenever they visited Drezna.Whatever she had to say now must be both private and unnerving, because her Shadow shook his head, clapping a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

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