Page 63 of Fate Promised

Koschei walked across the room to his bookcase, turning his back to the fire, and Juri replayed their conversation in the palace foyer. Why did what was happening with the vulk matter to the guardians? “What did you mean when you asked if things had changed with the vulk?” Juri asked.

Koschei caressed the spines of the books the way Juri caressed Triska, his fingers trailing gently over them. “Have you wondered why your ancestor, Wulf, the first krol, needed to enforce who remained in Ulterra and who remained in Peklo if there were guardians in place?”

“What’s a krol?” Triska asked.

“It’s like a king, but for the vulk, a krol also gains powers.”

The tales of Wulf were murky, but Juri had pieced as much together as he could. During the Deciding War, Wulf stepped in and brought the first pack of vulk together. With his pack, he’d killed the leshak, the souldrinkers marching across Ulterra, and killing all in their path. But many had fought on the leshak’s side or used their own strength and magic for ill purposes during the war, and Wulf decided who would be banished to the underworld as punishment. “Not much has been told about the guardians or their role.”

Koschei turned and nodded. “That’s the way it should be. The guardians were put into place after the Deciding War, but it wasn’t a smooth transition. Many of the guardians failed, and their junctions were destroyed. This was long before my time as a guardian, of course.” Koschei did his look-down-his-nose gesture again.

Juri gritted his teeth. “Sure.”

“If you said you had a krol Alpha again, then I’d be worried.”

Juri froze, his mouth going dry. He swallowed. “Why?”

“It would mean the guardians can’t be trusted.”

A hollow, wooden sensation filled his chest. “Last year, Hans became the second krol the vulk have ever had.” The words echoed through the parlor.

Koschei’s eyes closed. “Then it’s entirely possible the ala attacked us. Although I don’t know how she’d break the bonds of her territory.”

Juri’s stomach lurched. He gazed at Triska, staring up at him. Until now, he’d hoped he hadn’t seen wings in the sky like he’d thought, and they could still walk to the junction in the Shaking Mountain and return to Ulterra. Now … Triska would be a prisoner in Peklo, probably for the rest of her life. “When Hoyt attacked, I don’t think he was trying to come down here. He said he’d opened a channel to the underworld.”

“Yes, we saw the black cloud of his spell in the sky. That was what I blew up.” Koschei’s gaze grew distant. “It’s possible he is awakening aspects of the island for this incantation he’s going to try.”

“Hoyt trapped us, and he’s gotten on the vanishing isle to do whatever he’s trying to do. This isn’t good.”

“My island won’t relinquish its secrets easily. And since I sealed the staircase, he doesn’t have as open a channel as he’d like. We have some time.”

Juri squared his shoulders. “I’m going to explore outside again. You work on the bowl so we can find out how to get back.” Without another word, he left.

25

Triska wrapped her arms around herself, staring out as dawn spread across the underworld. Juri wasn’t quite right about the light remaining the same all the time. It darkened by a few shades at night, and in the morning, lighter streaks of gray threaded across the horizon, marking the start of the new day.

This was the seventh morning she’d watched the dawn’s light in the sky from her new bedroom in Koschei’s palace. A bedroom far more extravagant than anything she’d ever slept in. Yet she longed for the small, cozy room on the vanishing isle or her own bed, where Juri held her while she slept. Down here, Juri prowled day and night, and she slept alone.

She drew in a long breath. It was better this way. Except every time they were in a room together, and she didn’t get to touch him, or sit near him, or have him brush against her, something sliced deep inside. It didn’t matter that her head said it was the right thing; her heart refused to accept it.

She opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall. Juri sat with his back against the wall next to her door, his eyes closed. She cupped his cheek, letting her thumb sweep over his sharp cheekbone. His lids opened halfway. “Did you sleep here?” she asked.

“No.” He leaned into her hand. “I was just resting a minute, waiting for you to wake up.”

The ache that made her chest feel empty all week faded. She ran her hands down his neck and over his broad shoulders. He picked her up by the waist, lifting her onto his lap so she straddled him there in the hallway where anyone could see.

Her throat grew tight. All she wanted was to sit with him like this whenever she wanted. Now. Tomorrow. Years from now. Yet it was impossible. Even after they returned to Ulterra, the call of the sea wasn’t going to stop. And in Ulterra, her pelt was there, making the lure that much stronger.

Since she’d entered Peklo, the call of the sea demanded more. Maybe magic flowed hot and wild down here. Or maybe her time on land was simply over. While she had no pelt within her grasp, the song of the sea could still lure her like it had her mother. Where she’d walk into the waves and never return.

Triska bit her lip. Once they were back in Ulterra, the time would come when she’d need to put on her pelt and take to the sea. But they had right now. Desperate need shot through her. “Come inside my room.”

His purring rumble started, and his hands ran under her shirt, his fingers trailing up her back. “Touching you consumes me. It’s all I want. But I can’t get distracted. I need to be focused on getting us back home, and watching for our enemies.”

She froze and drew back. “We’re in this together. You watch out for me, and I watch out for you. We’re doing all right.” She gestured around her with a wave of her hand. “Over the past week we’ve made the palace secure. And we will figure out a way back home.”

He drew a finger down the center of her chest. The low neckline of her tunic revealed his ring and the skin below it. “If you weren’t wearing this ring, you’d have died.”

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