Whoever was bringing her meal tonight didn’t answer, but that was no surprise. Sighing, Katerina stepped back from the bars, out of reach of whomever might be paying her a visit. They could likely do whatever they chose to her; that didn’t mean she needed to make it easy for them.
The footsteps drew closer, and finally their owner came into view—black leather boots, red tunic and pants, and a familiar face, framed by curly dark hair that never stayed in its tie, no matter how much effort had gone into styling it.
The face of a friend.
“Sofi?” Katerina said, blinking in the dim torchlight. “What are you doing here?”
She hadn’t seen her fellow Dimi since the Trials, when Sofi and Damien had been so happy to have made the first cut to join the Druzhina. After Drezna had fallen, perhaps they had simply stayed on in Rivki, with nowhere else to call home.
Katerina had spent the intervening months wondering if Sofi hated her, if she blamed her for Drezna’s fall. If Nadia had managed to get word to Rivki in time, or whether Sofi and Damien had left the capital, buoyed by victory, and arrived home to find their village naught but a hole in the earth, everyone gone and even the orchards leached of life.
“Sofi,” she said again, the word catching in her throat, “I’m so sor?—”
The other woman pressed a finger to her lips, adjuring silence. Mute from birth, there was no danger of Sofi’s voice giving them away; Katerina, on the other hand, was a different story. Perhaps that was why she had come, Katerina thought with a sudden onrush of hope. Maybe she had a message from Niko, a plan?
“Okay,” Katerina signed, in the language she and Niko had learned so they could talk with Sofi, whenever they stopped in Drezna on the way to deliver the tithe. She understood spoken English just fine, but signing was her first language, so Katerina chose to honor it whenever possible. “I’m so glad to see you, though. I’ve been worried…”
The other Dimi regarded her, eyes wide, their vivid color dulled to navy-blue in the dim torchlight. “You look terrible,” she signed.
Despite herself, Katerina laughed, the sound rusty. Sofi had never been one to mince words. “Thanks a lot,” she signed with an effort, her shackled wrists making the words clumsy. “But Sofi—do you have word for me from Niko? Have you seen him, is he all right?”
Sofi shook her head. “I haven’t seen him, nor has Damien,” she signed. “He lives, I know that.” She stepped closer, minding the line of salt, so as not to scatter it and give them away. “But perhaps not for much longer. Are the two of you actually…together? Did he really die? I don’t understand…”
Her fingers slowed, indicating bewilderment, and Katerina lifted her own hands, wincing as the metal bit into the tender skin of her wrists. “Yes and yes,” she signed. “But it’s not what you think. He isn’t evil. We didn’t do this to Iriska, Sofi, I promise. We didn’t do this to Drezna.”
At the sound of her village’s name, Sofi’s eyes filled with tears. “My family. The villagers… Did they suffer?” The movements were jagged, filled with pain.
“I don’t know.” Her friend deserved honesty; Katerina could give her that much. “By the time we got there, everyone was already gone. We would have saved them if we could, Sofi. We would have done anything.”
Sofi ran her fingers under her eyes, smudging the kohl that rimmed her lids. She squared her shoulders, changing the subject to something less painful. “We don’t have much time. Tell me, is it true you control all four elements? That you’re not merely a firewitch?”
Was it Katerina’s imagination, or did she detect betrayal in the intensity of Sofi’s gaze, the swooping motions of her fingers? If so, Katerina could hardly blame her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about my gifts,” she said, willing the other woman to believe her. “Baba Petrova and the Elders made me promise to never speak of it. They thought if the Kniaz knew what I could do, he would Reap me early, and rob Kalach of its strongest defender. Which might well have been the case, but…I hated hiding it from you and Damien.”
Though her abilities were an open secret in Kalach, the villagers had been sworn to silence on the rare occasions they traveled outside the village’s borders. And they’d kept their word. Katerina was the one who had violated it—first in the Bone Trials, when she’d used all of her gifts to save Niko’s life, and later, on the road to Drezna, when Gadreel’s army had ambushed them and she’d done what she had to, to survive.
Lying to the world for the good of her village was one thing. Lying to those she cared for was quite another. This was why she’d never sought closeness with Rivki’s Dimis when she and Niko had brought the tithe, even though doing so would’ve been politically savvy. She knew they thought her cold, aloof; but better that than soliciting their friendship under false pretenses.
Baba had warned Katerina she might need those relationships later—that beneath their civil veneer, the Druzhina were vicious, each competing to keep their position, lest they be usurped by the newest victors of the Trials. “Those who have honey in their mouths have stings in their tails,” she’d cautioned. “I’m not saying you should trust the Guard—but you can use them, Katerina. You’re making a mistake, distancing yourself this way.”
Well, Baba had been right. For here she stood, trapped behind bars, her magic blocked, with Sofi as her only ally. A formidable one, to be sure, but still.
“I wanted to tell you,” Katerina signed, struggling to read Sofi’s expression. “And after Drezna?—”
The word lodged between her fingers like a pebble, and Sofi winced, as if the name of her decimated village was too much to bear.
“I wanted to go back.” Katerina’s fingers formed the words with effort as she forced her wrists apart as far as the shackles would allow. “To explain what had happened, so you’d hear the words from a friend. But Niko said…”
She focused, trying to remember the words. And then they came to her, as clear as if she were still lying beneath the Firebird constellation, wrapped tight in her Shadow’s arms for the first time. “He said, ‘Let them have a few final moments of peace, before they have to reckon with the loss of everything and everyone they love.’ And so we went home to Kalach. If that was the wrong choice—if I failed you—then I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sofi…”
The other Dimi sniffed back tears and shook her head. She shifted, the light falling on her hands so that Katerina could make out her words more clearly.
“None of that matters now,” she signed. “The Druzhina know well how dangerous you are. They say you’ll be offered a tribunal, but that’s just a formality to appease the people. Everyone is terrified, and with the Kniaz dead, the prince regent and the Guard are looking for a scapegoat. They mean to publicly excoriate you and Niko, and then to hang you.”
Dread washed over Katerina, and she hugged her arms to her chest as best she could, her grimy, dirt-encrusted gear chafing her skin. “Whose decision is this?” she said, dropping her hands so she could sign. “Is the choice the prince regent’s?”
Sofi tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear, distress drawing her lips tight. In the dim light that flickered from the guttering torches, she looked very young, and equally frightened. “The prince regent is not but eighteen. This role was thrust upon him, and he listens to the counsel of others. Dimi Zakharova has his ear—she’s done naught but spread rumors about you since your performance in the Trials—but she’s not the only one.”
