Dimi Zakharova scoffed. “I can offer you no such assurance, Dimi Ivanova. If I have anything to say about it, the next time you see your Shadow’s face will be in the shade of the gallows.”
Before Katerina could form a retort, the other Dimi spun on her heel and retreated down the firelit hallway. Her Shadow lingered for a moment, as if taking Katerina’s measure. Then he, too, faded into the blackness between the torches and was gone.
Chapter Ten
NIKO
“Wake up, nezhit.”
The demand was gruff, issued by a voice he recognized—and didn’t care for. Still, it held the tone of command, and Niko was a soldier. Instinctively, he obeyed, forcing his eyes open.
He was in a small, windowless room, unadorned save for wall-mounted torches, their blaze the only source of light. Everything hurt: his head, from the blow he’d taken; his body, from the bite of the chains; his soul, from the incursion of Darkness and the suppression of his black dog. Shame at his inability to protect Katerina washed over him. Gods, the look on her face when he’d crumpled to his knees in front of the Druzhina…
He had failed her in so many ways. As a man, as a Shadow, as a guardian. And now, she was alone, facing whatever had befallen her without him by her side.
Dizziness swept him, the lingering effects of whatever they’d poured down his throat, and the room swam, fading. Hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him back to consciousness. Another murmured command, and then ice-cold water soaked him from head-to-toe. He jerked upright, and his chains rattled in protest. When he tried to raise a hand to wipe the water from his eyes, metal dug into his wrists, confining him.
Not just metal. Onyx, the only substance that could stifle a Shadow’s ability to Change. It burned everywhere it touched bare skin, which, given the state of his torn gear, was more often than not. But that was the least of his problems.
Blinking the moisture that clung to his lashes away the best he could, he glanced downward. He was bound to an iron chair, his wrists cuffed to its arms. When he shifted his weight, the chair didn’t budge; it was locked down to the stone floor. Embedded in the floor was a drain, the purpose of which Niko didn’t have to use his imagination to discern. And in front of that was a pair of scuffed black boots, with an insignia he had last seen when their owner had clubbed him over the head with the hilt of his blade.
With a growl, Niko lifted his head and met Berezin’s eyes.
The Druzhina Guard’s alpha Shadow faced him, gaze expressionless. Behind him stood his second; Niko recognized Shadow Morozov from the greeting-line after the Trials. Then, Morozov and Berezin had treated him with respect. Now, there was nothing in their eyes but cool disdain and apprehension.
Niko straightened, willing the fuzziness that still clouded his mind to retreat. “You drugged me.” His words were a snarl. “Where am I?”
“You attacked us.” Ignoring his question, Berezin raised a blade, as if to demonstrate. Rage sizzled along Niko’s nerve endings; the dagger was one of his own. They had picked him over like carrion while he lay helpless, pocketing whatever they pleased.
“After you assaulted my Dimi,” he retorted, reaching down their shared bond for Katerina. At first, he felt nothing; then, the slightest spark flared. She was alive, at least, but he could tell little more. “Where is she? What did you do to her?”
“You have no right to ask questions.” Berezin stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “We will ask, and you will answer, or you will pay.”
Really? “I think I’ve already paid quite enough.” He rattled the onyx cuffs in illustration.
“You haven’t yet begun.” It was Morozov, his nostrils flaring as if he smelled something rotten. He was a slight man, but strong, known for his speed in battle.
In a fair fight, Niko had no doubt he could take Morozov. But now, the man could say or do anything he wanted, and Niko would have no choice but to swallow it. Bound like this, the only weapon he had in his arsenal were those cursed shades, but what would be the cost of wielding them?
Berezin shot his second-in-command a quelling look. “Tell us how you manage to be here, aboveground, Alekhin,” he said. “Tell us how to stop the Darkness.”
Niko sighed, the movement sending water splattering onto the floor, and addressed the second question first. “Let me go. Reunite me with my Dimi, and together we can work to put an end to this.”
“You must think us fools!” Morozov snapped. “Everywhere you and Katerina Ivanova go, you bring naught but evil. You were so eager to leave Rivki the night of the Trials. You expect us to believe it was mere coincidence that you were nearby when Drezna crumbled? You flaunted the prophecy and brought the Darkness down upon us.”
Explanations hadn’t worked in Kalach, and Niko doubted they would work now. He tried anyway; perhaps he was the fool here. “Gadreel is to blame for all of this. He freed the Darkness in a bid for power, lost control of it, and now covets Katerina’s Light to drive it back into the Void. As for the prophecy, we were wrong about its meaning. Katerina and I have hurt no one.”
“You lie.” The words were flat, cold. “You embody the Darkness. It leaks from your skin; you wield it like a weapon. If you are so innocent, how did that come to be?”
Niko bared his teeth, and in response, the tip of the knife dug into his throat, not hard enough to draw blood—not yet. Was this how his time aboveground was to end…impaled on his own blade?
He had to survive. He had to find Katerina, to get them both out of here.
“I know no more than you do,” he said, striving for calm. “A venom-soaked blade pierced my heart. I died, chained to the cursed Vila who wielded it?—”
“The cursed Vila who was your wife,” Shadow Berezin snapped. “The one you betrayed.”
At the thought of his bond with Elena—marital or otherwise—a maelstrom of rage churned inside him. The shades stirred, waking, eager to take revenge on those who had wronged him. His jaw locked with the effort to restrain them, his cuffed hands tightening on the arms of the chair.
