Page 43 of Fate Promised

Night had fallen, and she stood on the beach near the path up to Koschei’s house, watching the small waves lap onto the shore. The moons remained hidden behind the mist, but the fog over the water was lit with an inner glow, making the ocean glimmer.

A short stretch away, Fergal worked on his boat, the sound of a hammer echoing down the beach. He must not be having luck using magic for his repairs. Magic was strange like that. It was good at destruction, not so good at restoration. She’d been surprised Fergal hadn’t caught Koschei’s cloak on fire when he’d repaired it in the meadow. Every time Chessa tried to use her magic to fix a seam, or a hole in the fabric she worked on, she burnt the entire garment to a crisp.

Come.

Warm water lapped her ankles, and Triska startled, her focus broken from the glittering waves. She hadn’t even been aware she’d walked into the water. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, stepping back onto the beach.

“I suppose the three of you can spend the night, although I only have one extra bedroom.” Koschei’s voice cut through the quiet. “You’ll have to share or fight for who gets it. I’m assuming the vulk would win, but he seems to have a soft spot for you, so maybe not.”

She turned as Koschei strode down the trampled path Arrow had made from his house down to the beach, his light eyes seeming to glow in the dark. “Fergal has a bunk on his boat, and he said he’s sleeping there,” she said.

“So, it hasn’t sunk into the ocean, then?”

She shook her head. “No, he said earlier he can patch it up enough to limp home, but it will have to be a day with easy waves.” Triska frowned. “But he didn’t spend all his time working on the boat, he’s puttering around on something else he won’t let me help with, and he won’t tell me about.”

Koschei huffed. “He has an annoying air of being a know-it-all.”

Triska’s brows shot up, and she bit back a smile. She found Fergal and Koschei a bit similar.

Silence settled between them. The magicwielder—or perhaps she should think of him as a guardian—didn’t make her nervous, but she remembered what he’d said back at the meadow, ‘your kind used to live with my kind.’ Every time he looked at her, she felt like he was seeing something she didn’t want him to.

Koschei nodded toward the ocean. “If you want to take your true form, I’ll tell the others you’re exploring the island elsewhere.”

She jolted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she did.

Koschei chuckled, but it was mirthless. Cold. “I used to freeze someone’s tongue in their mouth when they lied to me. Quite effective. Then I’d turn them into a snail or perhaps a spider. Sometimes only for a day, sometimes for a hundred years. Whatever suited my mood.”

She turned toward him sharply, her mouth hanging open. “Some guardian you were! That’s cruel.”

He crossed his arms. “That was back when I was the leader here. As a guardian, I couldn’t play anymore.”

She shook her head. Play? Who was he? Some of her pity for his plight faded. Maybe it was a good thing Koschei had his magic stripped away.

“In return for my hospitality, I have a request,” Koschei said.

Triska spluttered. “We saved your life. You owe us.”

His lips twisted into a smile, but it was only an echo of a smile, hollow and fleeting. “I’m called Koschei the Deathless because I cannot die. You saved me from a bit of pain, but I would have knitted back together over time and returned to,” he waved at himself, “this.”

She hoped Juri would tell her some tales about Koschei because she hadn’t heard any of them.

A large splash sounded over the water, and Arrow broke the surface, a fish in his mouth. In the hazy moonlight, his scales glittered black. Koschei pointed. “If you’re able to leave, will you help Arrow return to his own kind? He shouldn’t … this place isn’t for him.”

Triska glanced at Koschei out of the corner of her eye. That wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask for. “If anyone can figure out where a wyre of zmey might live, it will be Juri. And he’ll know how to get Arrow there.”

“I never dealt with the vulk much. They’re rather single-minded, no? Protect Ulterra, kill spawn.” He shrugged. “The last I knew, your kind wasn’t much of a threat to them. So why haven’t you told him what you are?”

She stiffened, and her chin jerked up. “Juri isn’t single-minded.”

Koschei turned, and his penetrating gaze made her shift on the sand. He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to respond. She swallowed, her throat dry and tight. “You said you’ve met my kind before. Did they all … eventually join the ocean? Forever?”

It might have been a trick of the moonlight, but Koschei’s fierce gaze seemed to soften. “Many shifted freely between their human form and seal form for a long time. But yes. At some point, they all took to the ocean to find their sacred lands. Never to return.”

“I’ve never taken my selkie form,” she whispered.

“I recognized the ache of your magic. It has a raw, needy edge. A desperation to be unleashed.” Koschei smiled his non-smile again. “My kind needs to shift as well. It frees us.”

She shook her head. “I want to remain in Ryba. I don’t want to take my seal form and forget my entire life.” It was the first time she’d talked about being a selkie with anyone other than her father, and with her father, she couldn’t speak openly because it gave him pain, reminding him of her mother and her secrets. How she’d joined the sea eventually, even if it was in death.

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