She spat on the ground at Katerina’s feet, and Niko snarled. At the sound, every Shadow surrounding them pulled his blade from its holster, and fear thrummed through Katerina’s veins. Could they fight and win, against so many?
“Because of you,” Dimi Novikova went on, “we were kept captive by the Darkness all through the night, in a clearing surrounded by shades that bled the life from anyone who tried to cross them. Because of you, the Kniaz died in your pitiful excuse for a village, and when we arrived at Kalach’s gates at last, we found our nobleman’s body among the dead. You are traitors to Iriska, and though I would love nothing more than to take your lives here and now, we will take you back to Rivki to stand trial.”
Panic swept Katerina. She spared a glance for Niko, but her Shadow stood ramrod straight and mute, as if this turn of events was no more than he deserved. “I know how this looks,” she said, fighting to stay calm, “but this is not the result of the prophecy. Gadreel freed the Darkness on his own, and lost control of it. He is the cause of all this.”
On the opposite side of the circle that surrounded them, Dimi Lebziak gave a bitter laugh. “You are in league with the Fallen Angel of War. Baba Petrova herself told us he came to Kalach in pursuit of you; Gadreel said as much, before he murdered Kniaz Sergey and set his minions loose. You are the reason the demon chose to possess the Kniaz like a puppet and toss our nobleman aside like a rag doll when the Kniaz no longer suited his purposes.”
Oh, by the names of all the Saints. “I had no idea he intended to do such a thing!” Katerina argued. “Did Baba perhaps mention I left Kalach when I knew the Kniaz was coming?”
“Of course you did.” Dimi Lebziak snorted. “You left to raise this abomination from the dead”—she jabbed a finger at Niko—“so you could come back and fuse your unholy power with Gadreel’s. We have a village full of witnesses who said they saw Darkness stream from your Shadow’s fingers, and that he absorbed the Darkness into himself. There is no use pretending otherwise.”
“He did it to save Kalach! Did they tell you that?” Why did no one listen to her? Were they so wedded to their version of events that they wouldn’t even entertain an alternative?
“The Darkness is our common enemy,” Katerina pleaded, looking from one stone-faced member of the Guard to another. “We want only to defeat it, the same as you do. That’s why Gadreel wants me—because he believes my Light can drive back the Dark.”
Dimi Lebziak snorted. “And what of your Shadow? Has he nothing to say for himself?”
Niko cleared his throat, hand tight on the hilt of his blade. “I say to you what I said to Baba and the Elders. I don’t deny what befell me, but I still fight in service of the Light.”
At this, an incredulous murmur arose from the Shadows and Dimis in the circle. Dimi Novikova silenced it, her voice rising over the others. “Quiet! There will be time enough for this at their trial. For now—take them.”
The Guard closed in, and Katerina reached for her magic, prepared to do what she must. But before she could buckle the earth beneath her assailants or catch the trees ablaze, one of the Dimis across from her stepped forward, whipping a silver object from the pocket of her gear. It caught the light, shimmering, as a second Dimi took hold of it, murmuring incantations. And then, with a single motion, they stepped forward and flung it wide.
A fine-mesh net closed around Katerina, pinning her hands to her sides. The air around her roiled, smelling of salt and vervain, of cypress and sage. Binding elements, to hold her magic. She thrashed and shrieked, but it was no use; the Dimis surrounded her, chanting, weaving the net around her with wind and fire.
Someone gripped her head and forced her mouth open, tilting a cup to her lips. She sputtered and choked, but it was too late—a tincture slipped down her throat, strong and cloying.
“No!” she screamed as the world began to spin and blur. “Niko!”
They had her Shadow in onyx chains; she saw that much. Chains, and cuffs of the same material, which could force a Shadow to hold his human form. Niko bucked and fought, struggling to get to her, but Shadow Berezin forced his mouth open too, pouring the sleeping draught into it even as Niko tossed his head, struggling to get away.
“Katerina!” he bellowed, and the shades began to stream from his hands again, reaching for the Guard.
Berezin drew his blade and slammed Niko on the head with the hilt. Her Shadow fell to his knees, his glazed eyes seeking Katerina’s. The clearing whirled and tilted, bile rising in her throat. The last thing she saw before the world went dark was the hare, lying forgotten at the edge of the pathway, its soft fur streaked with blood and its neck broken.
For your life, that we may live, we are thankful, she thought, the age-old prayer for sacrifice.
Then the vortex swallowed her, and she slipped into the blackness, alone.
Chapter Nine
KATERINA
She woke, shivering, on a cold stone floor, with no idea of where she was. Then it all came rushing back to her: the battle in Kalach, making love with Niko afterward, the Druzhina, the sleeping draught, the net. She jolted upright, and metal bit into her wrists, sending her off-balance. Hissing in pain, she blinked, trying to bring her surroundings into focus.
She was in a small cell, barely wider than the width of her arms—or it would be, she imagined, if she could spread them. Her wrists were shackled, not to the wall or floor but to each other. She was in irons, spelled with runes to contain magic and ward off evil. In the flickering torchlight, she could make out more runes carved into the stones of the floor, forming a spell circle, like the one she’d used to contain Sammael. The bars were iron, too, designed to repel her gifts, and outside them lay a thick line of salt, an extra layer of protection.
Against the wall beyond, torches burned above fountains of running water, doubtless fueled by waterwitches’ lingering magic. In the basins floated bowls of burning wormwood, mugwort, and garlic; the fug filled her lungs and stung her eyes. Thick red threads hung from the ceiling, woven with feathers and shards of bone, each with three knots: one to capture magic, one to bind it, and the third to store it. These were the work of the Nauznitsy, cunning-women who studied the art of knot-tying all their lives, in service to the Rozhanitsy—the three Fates. All Dimis were trained to recognize their craftsmanship, and to consult them for protection in times of need. Never had Katerina imagined that the cunning-women’s gifts would be used against her.
Bracing herself, she reached inward, for her magic. It was still there, but muffled, like a voice calling to her from the other side of a thick wall. Try as she might, she couldn’t touch it.
Panic gripped her, and instinctively, she sought comfort in her bond with Niko. But where her Shadow should be, there was that same wall again, blocking her access to him. What was on the other side of it? Had the Druzhina killed him? Dimi Novikova had promised them a trial, but what if that had been a lie?
Questions swirled inside her, a dizzying spiral. Niko had assured her he couldn’t die, but then, where would he go? Back to the Underworld, with Elena? Or somewhere even worse?
A wave of nausea washed over her at the thought, and she forced her breathing to slow, fighting the urge to fling herself bodily against the bars. Panicking wouldn’t help her, and it definitely wouldn’t help Niko. Maybe he was being held in the cell next to hers, for all she knew.
She didn’t want to call out; who knew what that would bring running? Instead, she rose to her knees, careful of her bound hands this time, and closed her eyes, listening for a hint that she wasn’t alone.
