She lay back against the pillows, closing her eyes, and slipped a lazy hand beneath her dress. As her hand traveled over the smooth skin of her thighs, she imagined it was Niko’s. He had never touched her with such gentleness, such desire, but perhaps that was her own fault. She hadn’t known enough to ask for what she needed, but Sammael had shown her the way of things. It was unfortunate that she had cried out Niko’s name at the height of her pleasure, but what else had the demon expected? He knew where her heart lay.
Sammael had seemed unusually fussy afterward, even for him. He’d bustled off mere minutes later to deal with his mysterious paperwork. But that was just fine with Elena, for she valued her privacy. Now, she could close her eyes and envision her Shadow beside her, touching her as if he craved nothing more in all the world.
Her lids flickered shut, her lashes brushing her cheeks. “Niko,” she breathed.
And then, as if she’d summoned him, she saw him: lying in the fallen leaves of a rowan tree beside Katerina, their arms wrapped tight around each other. Moonlight illuminated the white streak in Niko’s hair, the scar on his cheek, the restless shift of his eyes behind his lids. He was dreaming, and she wished only for him to dream of her.
“See me,” she breathed, her fingers moving faster now. “Love me.”
As if he’d heard her, Niko jerked in Katerina’s arms. He growled, the sound a Shadow made when sensing an approaching threat.
Elena would have preferred that he reciprocate her desire, but perhaps that was too much to ask. It was enough, then, that he hear her voice—that they were connected, still. That she could reach him, even across the veil between worlds.
“My Shadow,” she crooned, envisioning herself in his arms rather than Katerina. That he clung to her the way he did the Dimi, his face in her hair and his leg wedged between hers, as if even in his sleep, he couldn’t get close enough. She imagined inhaling his familiar scent, edged now with the burnt-amber bite of the Darkness.
“Come to me,” she urged, breathless now. “Kneel to me.”
His eyes flashed open, and he pushed up on one elbow, scanning the clearing as if expecting to find her standing there. It was true, then: he heard her voice. He was still hers.
The realization pushed her over the edge. She cried out into the empty cottage, and his face contorted, as if the sound caused him pain. “No,” he growled, pressing a hand against his Mark, the ink-and-blood manifestation of his bond to Katerina. “You’re not real. Not here. You’re a nightmare, nothing more.”
Next to him, the Dimi stirred, drawing him down to her. Elena seethed with jealousy as Katerina pressed her lips to his, murmuring words of comfort. She held Niko close, wrapping him in her magic, her fingers twining with Niko’s where they rested against the Mark.
With her touch, the fragile link that bound Elena and Niko shattered. The clearing winked out of existence, as if the Vila had never been able to see it at all. But as she lay in the bed Sammael had built for her, cheeks flushed and wedding dress akimbo, the magnitude of what had just occurred swept over Elena.
She could touch Niko’s mind, even aboveground. She could spy on Katerina’s doings, as long as the Dimi and Niko were together. And that meant she never truly had to be parted from her Shadow, even though six months must pass before they were reunited.
Or must it? The Darkness grew more powerful each day; she felt its insistent press within her soul. And she belonged to it, just as Niko Alekhin belonged to her. If she could inhabit his dreams and speak to him now, what might she be able to accomplish in two weeks? A month?
Surely, the bargain would not be forfeit if her Shadow came to her of his own free will.
Reclining on her pillows, smoothing the torn lace of her ruined wedding dress down over her hips, Elena began to smile.
Chapter Eight
KATERINA
“What we need now,” Katerina said as she and Niko made their way down the trail that led eastward from Kalach the next morning, “is a plan.”
Her Shadow glanced over his shoulder at her. “What we need now,” he said, forcing a smile, “is breakfast.”
Katerina tried to smile back at him, but the effort fell flat. When he’d kissed her the night before, when she’d felt him moving inside her, letting his doubts fall away in her arms, she’d allowed herself to believe that everything might be all right. That as long as they had each other, they could conquer anything. But the look of horror on Niko’s face when he’d seen the shades gripping her hips, the way he’d recoiled from her and then curled in on himself, shaking, had nearly torn her apart.
She didn’t believe Niko would hurt her. He loved her; he was sworn to protect her. But these shades…what were they? What did they mean?
She had defended him to Baba and the village, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t frightened, though she’d never admit it to Niko. Frightened of him, never—but frightened for him? Absolutely. Because how could she defend him against himself?
He hadn’t slept well, either. Other than in the wake of Drezna’s destruction, she’d never spent the night in his arms before. In the cottage they’d shared, the two of them had always been careful to make sure that Niko abandoned her bed for his blanket by the hearth, lest they be discovered. She’d often imagined what it might be like—how they’d turn to each other in the middle of the night with kisses and caresses, how they’d wake twined together, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But last night, Niko had tossed and turned, his pulse pounding beneath her fingers. He’d cried out as if in pain; he’d muttered under his breath, though she couldn’t make out the words. All night, it had been like he’d been fighting an unseen enemy, and Katerina had barely slept herself.
This morning, when she’d woken, he’d been standing at the edge of the treeline, one hand on the hilt of his blade. They hadn’t said a word about what had passed between them—not the pleasure they’d taken in each other’s bodies nor what had come afterward. Instead, Katerina had tugged her clothes to rights, gotten to her feet, and they’d begun making their way toward the river that would lead them northward, toward the Magiya and answers.
Her stomach growled, belying the nobility of their quest, and her Shadow’s smile became a bit more genuine. “I thought so. How do you feel about roast hare and berries?” he said.
Katerina bit her lip. “There’s a blight on the land. Everyone in Kalach blamed me for it, though truly, I believe it’s the fault of the Darkness. You saw how it leached the life from Drezna’s orchards. A breakfast such as that would be a feast.”
Her Shadow shrugged, the gesture stiff. “Well, I set snares while you slept; we’ll come upon them shortly, and see what they yield. As for the berries…” He rummaged in the pocket of the gear Gadreel had magicked into existence. “I found these as I was setting the traps. Your favorite, no?”
Opening his hand, he extended his palm to her, revealing crimson kalina berries. “It’s early in the season for them,” he said, “and they’re tart, still, but…”
