Page 8 of Fate and Fury

Watching them, Dimi Roksana, who hailed from Satvala-by-the-Sea, lifted her chin. “Good luck,” she said. “May the best of us rise to defend Iriska.”

“Good luck,” they all echoed—except Trina and her Shadow, who smirked as if nothing would make them happier than to watch their fellows fall one by one, and trample on the remains. What waswrongwith the two of them?

Kniaz Sergey’s voice broke through the howls of the crowd and the mutterings of the Dimis and Shadows in the pit. “Let the Bone Trials begin!”

Katerina turned toward the stairs that led up to the arena, Niko stalking beside her and leveling a menacing glare at anyone who attempted to push past them. At twenty-two, he was the youngest alpha Shadow in Iriska. He couldn’t afford to show weakness by letting anyone else take the lead. Not for the first time, he reminded her of Troitze—an observation she wisely kept to herself.

“This will be over soon,” he muttered as they climbed the narrow steps, the crowd’s roars growing louder the closer they got to the surface. “On your weakest day, you’re stronger than the rest of them, no matter what Baba did to you.”

“Shhh,” Katerina demanded, cutting her eyes at him in warning, but her heart clenched. Neither of them had families left to protect. Still, the thought of Iriska’s so-called nobleman finding out that an entire village had been keeping her secret and punishing Kalach’s vulnerable citizens in her name sent bile surging up her throat.

Niko inhaled, his nostrils flaring in disgust at the dank scent of the moldering stairway. His voice dropped, skirting the edge of the black dog that lived inside him. “I know I told you thiswas for the best. But now—maybe I was wrong, Katerina. Maybe I should have fought harder for you when you protested the binding. And maybe in the arena…you shouldn’t have to hide what you’re capable of, and damn the consequences.”

Katerina’s heart twisted. The two of them were joined; her inability to show her true strength was a reflection on him, as well. Above and beyond his pride, Niko had good reason to seek victory in the Trials. Every day, her Shadow fought to reclaim his family’s good name, and nothing could bring him more honor than being chosen to fight in the Druzhina. She hated to let him down. But how could she do otherwise?

“Niko,” she said, low-voiced.

He arched a dark eyebrow at her. “Hmmm?”

She couldn’t tell him what was in her heart—how she thought of him in a way a Dimi was forbidden to regard her Shadow, how she crumbled inside every time she thought about what awaited them when they got back to Kalach. How things would change for the two of them, forever. But before they set foot in the arena, she could tell him the truth about the binding ceremony, so he didn’t stride into battle believing he’d failed her.

If it hadn’t been for him, who knew if she would have found the strength to resist the spell? She could be splintered now, a fraction of herself.

As usual, she owed him everything.

“I—” She paused mid-step, and a huff of annoyance split the air behind her.

“Having second thoughts, Dimi Ivanova?” Trina said, her tone mocking.

Niko’s shoulders tensed beneath his black leathers as he turned, fixing his storm-gray eyes on the Shadow and Dimi who stood on the steps below them. A growl rumbled in his chest, and Fyodor growled back, the sound dripping with menace.

Katerina’s desire to confide in her Shadow fled, replaced by irritation. “I flee from no one,” she said, lifting her chin. “Can you say the same, Dimi Samarin? I heard the last time Grigori attacked a group of travelers outside Povorino, witchwind failed to drive them back. A firewitch had to step in to save them.” She opened her hand, a small flame licking above her palm. “Tell me, was it weakness that almost killed those people? Pure cowardice? Or both?”

Her lips rose in a smirk, and the flame rose with it, illuminating the other Dimi’s furious expression. Katerina didn’t wait to hear what she had to say. She turned away, clenching her fist to extinguish the flame, letting her fury spur her onward.

Three more steps to the top. Two. One.

Trina’s witchwind shoved at Katerina’s back, sending her stumbling across the uneven stone threshold and onto the sand of the arena. She gritted her teeth as her own power rose in response, itching beneath her skin, eager to be used.

Today, you are a firewitch,she told herself fiercely.Nothing more. If you need to set this whole damned arena alight to save yourself and your Shadow, so be it. But you will keep tight hold of the rest of your gifts, or pay the price.

Her fellow Dimis and their Shadows spilled from the doorway behind her as Katerina blinked, her eyes adjusting to the moonlight. The Trials were always held at night, simulating the conditions of a Grigori attack as closely as possible, though the exact nature of the threat varied from year to year, a closely-kept secret. She’d half-expected to be set on the moment she crossed the threshold, but the floor of the arena was empty. Tiered seating rose all around it, so high it nearly obscured the gilded domes of the Kniaz’s palace atop the tallest peak on the island. In the distance, she could see the gleam of the lake that surrounded Rivki, filled with Vodyanoy water-spirits to keep the demons away.

The seats were packed; the Trials were the most notorious event in Iriska, with tickets at a premium and a lucrative betting ring on the winners. But it was impossible to miss the Kniaz. He sat front and center, three rows from the pit, surrounded on all sides by the Druzhina. Next to him reclined a dark-haired woman draped in blue velvet—Dimi Zakharova, his consort. She glared at Katerina, which made no sense at all. The very last thing Katerina wanted was to take her place.

Ah, well. Katerina wasn’t here to make friends. If no one in Rivki could stand her, so much the better.

She turned her head, inspecting the arena. But there was nothing to see, save for the rowan-fires that burned to the left and right of a small door, carved into the opposite side. Smoke curled into the air, silhouetted against the star-speckled sky and the harsh, cratered face of the waxing Bone Moon. The stormy weather that had dogged them all the way to Rivki had passed; the night was still. Even the crowd had gone quiet.

Katerina regarded the fires, her mind churning. Rowan-smoke was toxic to Grigori. The trees’ fire granted the demons a true death, as did Shadows’ blessed blades and their bite, in the form of the black dogs they could take at will. But there could be no demons here, not inside the most powerfully warded spot in all of Iriska. Rivki was protected by the Druzhina and surrounded by a moat where the Vodyanoy lurked, poised to devour any Grigori foolish enough to try to cross the bridge. So why the fire? Was it merely a symbol, or did it portend something more?

The arena was too silent, too empty. If a threat lurked here, it was invisible. How was she meant to defend herself against something she couldn’t see?

The other six Dimi and Shadow pairings spread out, giving themselves room to fight. Katerina kept a careful eye on Trina and Fyodor, thirty feet away. On their right stood Sofi andDamien, her Shadow. As Katerina’s gaze swept over them, Sofi gave her a small, tense smile. Outside the arena, the two were her friends, sworn to fight beside her and Niko. But now, the Kniaz had made adversaries out of them. For while they wouldn’t be fighting each other hand-to-hand, there was plenty of room for subversive tactics and sabotage.

Katerina wished she could tell Sofi the truth about what she could do. She wished she could explain that she’d rather be eaten by the Vodyanoy than serve in the Druzhina. But instead she just smiled back, her gaze narrowing as the door on the other side of the arena creaked open.

Sand crunched beneath Niko’s boots as he shifted his weight, his right hand falling to the blade he favored. “There’s something unnatural inside there,” he whispered. “Not human, not demon. Katerina, I don’t know?—”

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