Page 79 of Fate Promised

“We’ll need these.” Fergal grabbed the pewter Herskala bowl and put it in his sack. But when he reached for the second bowl, Koschei laid his hand on it.

He whipped his robes back and looked down his nose. “I’ve decided something.” His expression wavered, his chin falling a fraction. “I’m going to remain down here in Peklo.”

“What?” Triska said. “No! Why would you do that?”

He waved his hand. “My reasons are my own, but, for one, Arrow can’t fit through the rift, he’s too large.”

“We’ll make it larger,” she said.

Koschei flashed a genuine smile. “I know my punishment for what I did in the past, and it’s not over. Down here, I have magic, but in Ulterra? I would still be bound. One day, I’ll get my chance to return to Ulterra, but I’ll wait down here for it.” His finger tapped the rim of the bowl. “I’d like to keep the bowl, though, so I can still speak to you. I will get it to activate for me.”

Juri turned to Fergal. “Do you have a good reason to keep the bowl?”

Fergal sighed. “I can handle it better than him, but it’s probably safest down here. If the magicwielders knew about it, there’d be blood spilled.” His dark eyes flickered. “I suppose he is a guardian. He’s used to guarding things.”

Koschei turned to Triska. “I asked you for a favor.” He pointed out the window at Arrow, flopped on the sand with a fish between his front feet. “I don’t need that favor any longer, but perhaps I can ask another?”

She’d bitten her lower lip and appeared to be on the verge of tears. “Of course.”

“Can you send a message to Illarion and ask him to use his old bowl again? I’d like to speak with him.”

She frowned. “That Dark King you spoke with Juri about? I don’t know where he lives, but I’ll do my best.”

Juri put his arm around her. “I’ll help her. I know where he travels to.”

Koschei lifted his chin. “One day, I’ll return to Ulterra.” He smiled at Triska. “And in the meantime, use Fergal’s bowl to check in on Arrow. He’d like that.”

Triska slipped out from under Juri’s arm and gave Koschei a hug. The guardian’s implacable expression slipped for a moment. He patted her awkwardly on the back.

Rordan had stood back during the entire work with the bowl and their goodbyes to Koschei, but now he stepped forward. “I won’t be able to get it sanctioned by my father, but my warriors and I will protect the palace. We’ll spread the word the guardian has reclaimed the forgotten borough and isn’t to be touched.” He glanced at the bowl. “We’ll help you keep this hidden. And if there is a chance for us to return to Ulterra … I’d like to know about it.”

Koschei gave him a nod. “And stop by again.” He turned to Juri and Fergal. “I don’t do goodbyes.” Then Koschei strode out of the room.

The four of them stood for a moment, then Juri ushered everyone out the back door and through the garden. At the gate, Rordan halted and touched it with one finger. “Even the gates are iron.” He dropped his hand. “I have a high tolerance to it, but it’s time for me to go.” He nodded at the three of them. “Fare well. Good luck in your journey.” He launched into the air and flew upward until he was only a red dot against the sky.

Juri grabbed Triska’s hand and raced forward, Fergal huffing next to him.

33

They flew down the beach, her bare feet digging into the sand. Even though Juri was in human form, she was certain he could run much faster than she, yet he kept his pace matched with hers and helped her along.

He kept glancing at her as if he expected her to leave him at any moment, and his hand remained wrapped around hers. They ran along the water, and the grayish blue of the sluggish waves beckoned her. The sea lapped toward her, trying to snare her, trapping her into joining it.

Juri had given up his vulk form to get her out of Peklo, but it wouldn’t matter. Nothing he did could remove her selkie blood. What did the loss of his vulk form mean for him?

Her chest burned, and it wasn’t from running.

She’d leave him behind. No longer a vulk, and no longer with her. “Do you,” she sucked in air, “see anything?”

Fergal huffed, his face the color of a tomato. “We’ve been running forever. We must be close.”

“It’s only been fifteen minutes.” Juri wasn’t winded.

They raced off the sand and around a boulder. The rift was in front of them with Kyril and Hans standing in the entrance.

One corner of Hans’s mouth turned up, and he stepped forward and clapped Juri on the back. “It’s damn good to see you.” Juri kept her hand snugly in his, but with his other, he copied the gesture and clapped Hans on his shoulder, too.

Kyril raised a brow. “Your human form is unattractive.”

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