A chill rippled through Katerina. What were they saying—that the Darkness that swam within Niko had infected her, too? That it had seeped into her very soul through their bond, as Niko feared?
Maybe this was what she’d been feeling since they’d left Rivki—this oddness in flesh and spirit, as if her body were no longer only her own.
In the end, it didn’t matter. She was a warrior, born to fight.
“Then I will wield both,” she said, lifting her chin. “For my Shadow, I will do anything.”
The maiden’s smile faded. “His heart beats within you,” she said. “Stronger each day.”
Katerina stared at her, perplexed. “His heart is my heart,” she said. “His pain, my pain. So tell me. What shall I do?”
The crone lowered her scissors and reached out, brushing Katerina’s hair back from her face. “Three paths lie before you. Take the first, and all you love shall burn.”
Katerina swallowed hard, shifting her weight on the moss-covered earth. She had had quite enough of prophecies, which were never what they appeared to be. But she had asked for guidance, and the Rozhanitsy had answered. She would be a blasphemer and a fool not to listen. She sat back on her heels, focusing hard, so as not to miss a word.
The mother spoke next, weighing the golden-black skein on her palms. “Take the second, and risk much, but save all you most fear losing.”
The maiden plucked at the threads, sending a discordant melody echoing through the trees and drifting over the lake. “Take the third, and swallow the Darkness down.”
They spoke in unison, their voices stern. “Either way, you will sacrifice, my child. You will pay in blood and time.”
Blood. The word triggered a realization in Katerina—the one that had hovered tantalizingly out of reach ever since she’d seen the yellow rue-flowers in the woods.
She had not bled since they’d left Kalach. For months before that, she’d drunk an infusion of crushed rue daily to bring on her menses, but after losing Niko to the Underworld, she’d stopped. She hadn’t been taking anyone to her bed, after all. When the two of them had last lain together, in the clearing outside Kalach, it had been over a week since her last dose.
Oh, dear gods. The nausea that had come and gone. The sense that her body wasn’t her own. Could it be?—
Another realization crashed over her, this one even more unsettling than the first. The Rozhanitsy weren’t just the three Fates. They were goddesses of fertility, meant to bless a child’s entrance into this world.
Her breath came short as a wave of dizziness washed over her. “Sacrifice what? Can you tell me, am I?—”
But it was too late. The women were fading, flickering out of existence one by one. The maiden went last, caressing the threads of her loom as if stroking the hair of a lover.
“One for sorrow,” she said, her voice a ghost of itself. “Two for a dove.”
Three for death. The line supplied itself automatically, an echo from Katerina’s childhood, and she shuddered.
She must have spoken aloud, because the maiden smiled at her, an etching of lips and teeth. “Four for love.”
And then she was gone. Katerina was alone by the empty shrine, the remnants of a nursery rhyme ringing in her head. It was full dark now, deeper than the twilight that had been falling as she’d made her way along the shore. How long had she been here?
She gasped for breath, looking around for any evidence that what had just happened was real. Had she imagined all of it? It was one thing to dream of the Fates, but this?—
Was she losing her mind? Was this a trick? A trap of some kind?
Whether it were a trick or a trap, the fact remained that it had been over a month since she had last bled—two days before she’d summoned Sammael to the circle in her cottage. Her hand went to her belly, as if she could determine the truth by touch alone. She slid a hand upward, testing; her breasts felt tender, heavy. But perhaps that was just her imagination.
Katerina got to her feet, steadying herself against a fresh wave of dizziness and a new onslaught of questions. What if Niko was right about Elena possessing Ana, and her fellow Dimi had put something in Katerina’s tea? What if both of her visions of the Rozhanitsy had been no more than hallucinations? Following the first one, after all, Ana had attacked her?—
Oh, Saints. If she were indeed pregnant, what if Ana had poisoned her?
It felt traitorous, disloyal, to be harboring such thoughts about her closest friend. But Ana had tried to choke the life from Katerina. She had fought with Niko, and the demon-hounds had come.
She rested a protective hand on her belly, sheltering whatever might be taking root inside. A Dimi was the mistress of her own body. If she were carrying Niko’s child, it would be her decision whether or not to keep it. But for Katerina, it was no decision at all.
For her, it would be a dream come true—a dream she’d never dared to dwell too much on, for fear it would be snatched from her grasp. But for her Shadow… What would it do to Niko?
In a different world, she believed he would have rejoiced in the news with all his heart. But in this one, she feared it would break him.
