Page 37 of Fate Promised

Triska lay her hand on his arm and his shoulders relaxed. She asked, “Other than us, are you sure the harpies are the only visitors to the island today? Have you seen any magicwielders wearing black cloaks?”

Koschei’s brows shot up. “Definitely no cloaked magicwielders. This island isn’t overly large, and I’d notice. Or one of the forest sprites would come tell me.”

“Did you see where the harpies came from?” Juri scanned the meadow, but other than the bodies, he didn’t see anything unnatural. “We’d have seen them if they flew overhead from Ulterra, so they had to have come up from the underworld.”

The zmey yowled, and Koschei turned and scratched along its jaw, underneath the knobby horns. Koschei shrugged. “I was in the meadow, and suddenly the harpies arrived overhead.” A smattering of rain spit over them, and Koschei frowned. “The daily rain hits about now, and I’m going home. I suggest you find somewhere to hunker down, too.”

Triska huffed and gestured up at the darkening clouds. “You’re going to leave us in the rain?” Her eyes narrowed. “Juri just saved your life!”

Rain pelted Juri’s face and shoulders, the drops fat and heavy. He put his hand on Triska’s lower back and she leaned into him, the cross expression on her face fading.

“Aye, I’m not sure it was worth it,” he said to her. “None of the tales about Koschei the Deathless mentioned he was a rude git.” It was difficult to blend the old tales about Koschei with this man standing in front of him. Not because the man didn’t seem powerful, because even without full access to his magic, there was a stillness around Koschei Juri had sensed only in those with true power, but more because the tales were ancient.

Koschei scoffed. “I would have been fine, and I don’t like company.”

Juri growled. “Well, we’re coming. We need to ask you about the isle.”

Koschei studied Triska. “Your kind used to live with my kind. You should know about the isle.”

Juri growled and took a step closer, but the sorcerer took no heed of him. “She’s a human from Ryba.” Well, she was a lightwielder, but Koschei didn’t need to know that.

Koschei’s lips curled into a sneer. “A human. Right.”

Triska's cheeks had gone pink.

What was he missing? Did Koschei recognize Triska as a lightwielder? Triska cleared her throat and gestured at the rain. “Let’s get going.”

Koschei sighed. “Fine, come with me.” He led the way, not looking back to make sure anyone followed, with Arrow plodding along next to him. Juri and Triska walked a short distance behind the group as they re-entered the forest along another path leading from the meadow.

A plant draped along the walkway, with rich heart-shaped burgundy leaves as big as his head and several crimson flowers sticking out the top, their petals narrow and stretching upward as if craning for a bit of sun. As they passed, the flowers snapped shut and sucked back into the plant.

What other secrets was this island hiding?

After he got Triska out of the rain, he would search every inch of this place. Hoyt wanted to come to the vanishing isle to perform some kind of incantation; there had to be clues here on why. And once he knew what it was, the necromancer didn’t have a chance.

* * *

“It’s warm here.” Sweat mingled with raindrops on her face, and Triska wiped her brow. “You think anyone will care if I strip to my bodice?” She plucked the front of her shirt. The wool was already growing damp from the rain dripping from the mossy trees above her.

Next to her, Juri stumbled even though the wooden path was smooth underfoot. They’d fallen behind the others while she took her time studying the woods, and Juri matched her pace.

“I doubt Fergal would notice.” He righted himself, and red flashed in his golden eyes. “The other one definitely would. I don’t think he’s seen a female in a long time.”

“Maybe he has an extra shirt I can borrow.” But Juri was no longer at her side. She turned to find him standing still, his gaze fixed on her neck.

“You’re wearing a necklace. With the …”

Triska reached up. When she’d played with her sweater, she must have pulled the chain with the ring out from under her shirt. “Oh. Yes.”

Juri moved closer, his feet silent on the path. The air thickened between them, but it wasn’t from the rain’s approach. His golden eyes darkened to amber. He purred, rich and throaty as he grasped the chain and thumbed the ring he’d given her many years ago. “You told me you’d tossed this in the ocean.”

“I almost did. I was really angry at you for not coming back and not writing. When I wrote that, I was hoping you’d finally respond to my letters.” She swallowed, not wanting to think about the year after her mother died and she’d lost her best friend.

“I wear your ring every day. For good luck.” She didn’t mention all the times it warmed, as if it contained an inner heat all its own. How every time the ocean pulled at her, enticing her to step beneath the waves, sometimes the warmth of his ring was the only thing that kept her feet grounded in Ryba and helped her resist.

Their gazes locked, and the ring dropped back to nestle on her chest as Juri ran his thumb up her neck to her jaw. “Every time I touch you, it makes it harder and harder not to reach for you again.”

She pressed into his hand, rubbing her jaw over it.

---