He anchored his gaze on Katerina instead, seeking to steady himself. The rising sun cast her profile in shades of gold and lit her red hair aflame. She looked, in short, like a goddess. But last night, he’d sensed something different about her, as if she were more than merely herself. And when she’d bared herself for him, when her guard had slipped, he could have sworn he felt something else inside her, a dark echo of the shades he commanded. Her scent had changed, too, becoming deeper, richer.
Maybe all of his holding back had done no good. Maybe it was already too late.
He couldn’t bear the thought of it.
“Katya,” he said abruptly, turning to her. “When you found me in the lake, you said you’d gone for a walk beforehand. Where did you go?”
His Dimi startled, and when her eyes met his, he saw a peculiar expression in them: guilt. But then she tossed her head, smirking at him. “I was sightseeing,” she said. “And a fine night for it, too.” Her gaze canvassed his body, lingering everywhere it shouldn’t.
“I’m serious.” He stood, stepping closer to her but keeping his tone businesslike. “Where were you?”
She heaved a sigh. “There’s a shrine to the Saints, beyond those trees.” Lifting a hand, she pointed. “I was praying. Asking for a blessing on our mission today.”
The words tasted of the truth. But they also tasted of omission, as if there were something she wasn’t telling him. He ran a hand through his damp hair, about to demand answers, as their companions came up alongside them.
“Ready?” Alexei asked, gesturing at the bridge.
Tearing his gaze away from Katerina, Niko focused on their friends, who had helped them escape from Rivki and followed them across the blighted land on what might be a fool’s errand. They could well be facing capture inside Volshetska Fortress; it was the only logical reason he could think of that the Druzhina hadn’t pursued them. They could be facing death. Or, they could simply fail to find answers. The scribes could tell them there was no hope, that all this was beyond their ken, that Niko’s curse was permanent and Iriska was doomed.
Or, they could offer salvation.
Niko knew no one who’d ever met the scribes. No one set foot inside the Magiya unless by special dispensation; its contents were a mystery. Other than the Shadows and Dimis assigned to protect them, the scribes might go without seeing any outsiders for years. They valued knowledge above all else. What did they know of love?
His hesitation must have shown on his face, because Damien clapped him on the shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t bother.”
He voiced his thoughts anyway. He owed them that much, even Ana, who had somehow come under Elena’s spell; he was sure of it. Perhaps especially her.
“You can still turn back. This doesn’t have to be your fight.”
Sofi’s back stiffened. “Saving Iriska from the Darkness isn’t our fight?” she signed, the motions jagged, angry. “Are we not Dimis and Shadows, oath-bound to protect the realm?”
He dug his boot-clad feet into the sand, seeking to ground himself. To make them understand. “Of course you are. But this…we’re risking much, on the hope of little return. Perhaps fighting alongside the Druzhina would give you a better chance?—”
“Like they’d take us back.” Ana snorted. “What’s your plan? Shall we trot back through the Darkness-infested woods, present ourselves at Rivki’s gates, and say, ‘Sorry we broke your most-wanted criminals out of prison, aided them in lighting the maze on fire and flooding the streets, and stole your horses. We apologize; it was a dreadful mistake. Might we have a hot meal, some fresh clothes, and an opportunity to join your ranks? We’re trustworthy, I swear’—or did you have another approach in mind?”
“She has a point.” Alexei’s voice was wry. “Especially given whatever’s happening with…” He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid, but Ana, never one to avoid difficult conversations, finished the sentence for him.
“Whatever’s going on with me, you mean. And you’re right. I feel like myself now, but I’ve proved myself to be a danger to my friends. A weak link.” Her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “I want answers as much as you do, Niko. I need them. Granted, having to find them in a building full of books is basically my nightmare, but that’s what the scribes are for. If you’re looking for my opinion, that’s it.”
Niko nodded once, in acknowledgment. Then he turned to the only one of their party who hadn’t spoken. She was standing, backlit by the sun, hands knotted together in front of her. Tension radiated from every inch of her body: her clenched jaw, her twisting fingers, her unyielding posture. “Katerina?”
His Dimi sighed. “I’m with Ana. Two hours from now, we’ll either be on our way to finding answers, or on our way to being dead. Let’s get this over with.”
Her words were flippant, but her voice trembled. Niko knew how much she’d staked on this, how desperate she was for this to work. He wished he could pull her into his arms and hold her, to tell her it would be all right. But he had never lied to her, and now seemed a poor time to start.
“All right, then,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s go.”
Turning, they strode toward the bridge, arching gray and silent over the lapping water, and whatever fate awaited them on the other side.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
KATERINA
They trekked over the rune-engraved bridge single-file, with Niko in the lead and Damien bringing up the rear. There was a reason for constructing it in such a narrow fashion, Katerina was sure, but she couldn’t imagine what it might be. Moreover, it was in poor repair: this close, the sides looked as if a pod of Vodianyye had used them as chew toys, and at one point, Katerina grasped the railing only to have it crumble beneath her fingers, sending chunks of limestone hurtling down to the water far below.
Perhaps out here, at the edge of the realm, funds for repair were in short supply. Or perhaps the scribes were so consumed by the pursuit of knowledge they didn’t bother to consider the state of their masonry. The end result was the same: the crossing was harrowing, and the storm that had risen on the horizon, bringing powerful winds with it, did nothing to ease her mind. Ana, no fan of heights, was muttering under her breath, “Two hundred more paces. One hundred and fifty. Don’t look down. Oh, Saints?—”
With every step they took, the white walls of Volshetska Fortress loomed closer, tall and foreboding. The six of them were easy pickings on this bridge. Should the Shadows and Dimis who guarded Volshetska want to put an end to them, it would be the matter of a moment: a hail of arrows, fired from the towering battlements. In front of her, Niko’s body was as tense as she had ever seen it, his edges blurring in a way that could portend either the emergence of his shades or the imminence of his Change.
