Forge and Fire

by Ripley Proserpina

  22

  Kopala

  Kopala’s hand fit around Tatiana’s small neck. She passed out immediately. One second she glared at him, the next, her legs gave out.

  Catching her before she hit the ground, he pulled her against his chest and sighed. Her dark hair covered her face. She’d looked peaceful, so there was that.

  It was disarming. He liked her more when she was awake, spitting and hissing at him like a cat. Asleep she was too young, too innocent.

  And it made him feel too guilty.

  She let out a small breath, and her hair floated for a second before falling across her nose again.

  He braced his back against a tree and shifted until he could move her hair out of her face. He didn’t know why he cared she was comfortable when he was dragging her, unconscious, to her meet her end.

  Whatever that would look like for a changeling.

  He turned around, away from the low-slung concrete buildings toward the ruined forest. And the ashes of my people.

  There was another reason why the idea of ending the bird’s life bothered him, and it was right here, catching in his hair and smudging his boots.

  Korolevstvo was being gutted from the inside out. For years, it had been poisoned, but now it was at the point where it couldn’t be ignored any longer. There was no way to pretend that it wasn’t spewing the same toxins into the air that killed feia in the human world.

  It was almost too late. Taras, the river dweller, vodyanyy, would be killed for sport. But Fedir? They’d burn him and hope he brought all their brethren back to life. Whether they deserved to live or not.

  What would they think when he brought Tatiana home? What would she think?

  He had a feeling her death would be as painful as Taras’ would have been. They’d enjoy hurting the vodyanyy, and especially Taras, who had somehow escaped their notice for so many years.

  He heard the unsheathing of the blade before he saw the man who held it. The black obsidian, with a point so sharp it could have shaved the hair from his head, was as familiar to Kopala as his own face.

  “What did you find?” His brother’s voice was curious as he held the blade ready.

  Kopala must have been more distracted than he realized not to have heard his twin’s approach. “A girl,” he answered. It wasn’t possible to lie to his brother.

  “More than a girl,” Kviria observed. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. Kopala saw the moment recognition hit him, and he jumped away. “Changeling.”

  “Yes.”

  “What is her name?”

  He didn’t want to tell him in case his brother would use it against her, but the name was dragged from his lips. “Tatiana.”

  Kviria smiled, just an upward flick of his lips, but it raised the hair on the back of Kopala’s neck. “Her true name?”

  Don’t answer. “Yes.”

  “Interesting.” Kviria bent his head toward her and breathed deeply. “Sticks and stones and leaves and moss. She’s insubstantial.” He straightened. “You don’t have the bird.”

  “Korolevstvo erupted, and I believe he’s dead. I couldn’t save him.”

  Kviria lifted one eyebrow. It was always strange to be face-to-face with his twin and to see his own expressions mirrored on another’s face.

  “So you brought her instead. It might be enough.” His brother sighed. “Give her here, I can move faster.”

  That was true, but for some reason, Kopala didn’t make a move to release her. He meant to. It was so easy. Just take a step and transfer her weight to your brother’s arms.

  But he didn’t do it.

  “What are you waiting for?” Kviria asked.

  “I can do it,” Kopala heard himself say. “There’s no reason for you to carry her.” And then, for the first time in his entire existence, he managed to lie to his brother. “You are the better fighter.”

  Dropping one hand to his blade, Kviria stared at him. They remained like that, gazes locked, until Kviria blinked and nodded. “You’re right, though I’m surprised to hear you admit it.”

  “I’ll bring her to court. Deliver her to the rusalka and then—”

  And then…

  And then who knew what would happen? They’d have a chance at survival or they’d all perish, like the ones before them.

  Kviria turned. He bent his knees, ready to jump, but then whirled around to face Kopala. “Don’t fail. If you do, it will be your life.”

  “I know,” Kopala said. It would be all their lives.

  “I’ll kill you myself,” Kviria stated. The truth of his statement lay between them. Kviria didn’t jest. If Kopala let him down, he’d run his blade through his heart and watch him die.

  He wouldn’t lose sleep over it. He’d do it, and walk away, and never spare his twin another thought.

  Kopala nodded. “I know.”

  His promise seemed to suffice, because his brother leapt into the air, higher than the trees and disappeared from sight.

  23

  Tatiana

  Tatiana’s head pounded, and she was nauseated. Her stomach rebelled against the jarring back and forth motion beneath her. Opening her eyes to slits, she let in a little light.

  Another bad decision in the plethora of bad decisions she’d already made. She sucked in a breath, hoping it would keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged.

  She could smell campfire—and something else. It had a slight tang, like citrus but earthier.

  Her head rolled to one side, and she groaned.

  “Your head will stop hurting soon.”

  Her eyes popped open. Shit. “Put me down.” She pushed against Kopala’s chest, using her hands and elbows until he reluctantly placed her on the ground.

  “Stubborn.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, shutting her eyes. Her head spun. “What did you do?”

  “Made you sleep. You were being difficult.” She opened one eye to see him watching her, unsmiling. He was really good with the disapproving looks; he could give Fedir a run for his money.

  God, those two together would really be something. She’d be awash in disapproval.

  She sighed. It was nighttime, and so dark she could barely see anything past him. “Where are we?”

  “Close to our destination,” he said, and she groaned.

  “God. Could you be more dramatic? Is it possible for you to give a straight answer?”

  “Is it possible for you to calm the hell down?” he countered vehemently. Kopala grabbed his head and then ran his hands toward his neck. “Fuck.” He arched his back and then, with his face to the sky, yelled again. “Fuck!” He dropped his hands and walked in a tight circle before putting his hands on his hips. “Are you going to be difficult?”

  “Probably,” she answered.

  He nodded. “Great. Fucking great.”

  Where were all the swears coming from? He’d seemed so regal before. So distant and perfect. Now, he wasn’t any of those things. He was real and unnervingly genuine. What had happened between him knocking her out and now?

  “Why are you acting like this?”

  He didn’t answer, just strode toward her and grabbed her. In one smooth motion, he spun her until she was over his shoulder.

  “This is a bad idea.” All her weight was on her stomach and her blood rushed to her head. “I’m going to barf.”

  “What’s barf?” he asked.

  “It’s when everything I’ve eaten spews out of my mouth. It’s gross. You don’t want to see it.”

  He huffed but shifted her a little so she was less on her stomach and she could prop her elbows on his shoulder. Tatiana made sure to dig them into the muscles extra hard. “How far away are we?” she asked. “There’s nothing I can do to talk you into going back for the others?”

  “No.”

  She sighed and jammed her elbows a little harder. “You suck.”

  “What?” he asked.

  She’d done this with Fedir and Grisha, but she didn’t want to d
o it with Kopala. She didn’t want to banter and tease and make jokes. Not when he didn’t care that the people she cared about might be dead.

  “How can you see where you’re going?” she asked him. The only way she was able to see anything was when it was within arm’s reach. Until then, however, it was just a mass of blackness.

  “I know this place better than I know the features on my face,” he answered. “I could find the way blindfolded.”

  Wow. “Is it always this dark?”

  “We’re far away from the more populated parts of Korolevstvo. The only people here are the ones who have been given permission.”

  “Like you.”

  She felt him nod. “Like me.”

  They continued in silence for a while, and her hands started to tingle. “I’ll walk next to you,” she told him. “Let me down.”

  It would be pointless to run. The most she would accomplish was a head injury. He must have agreed because he lowered her to the ground and grabbed her wrist. “You don’t have to drag me,” she said, adjusting his grasp until they held hands.

  His palm was sweaty and something about that blunted her dislike. It also made her forget the questions she had, so rather than babble, she shut up.

  They continued in silence. Every so often, Kopala would tug her around a tree, and once, he placed his hands on her hips and lifted her over a huge stone. She happened to glance back at it and realized it wasn’t a stone but a statue. She made out talons and feathers before the darkness swallowed it up.

  “Why did you try to kill Fedir?” she asked. The statue had reminded her of him when he had shifted, with outspread tail feathers and curved, sharp talons.

  “I had to.”

  That was no answer. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I was given the task and had to comply.” He squeezed her hand a little too tight, and she squeezed his in response. “Sorry.”

  She must have misheard him. “That still doesn’t make sense. You could just say no. Or run away. I’ve seen your strength. I have a hard time believing you would do something you didn’t want to.”

  “Believe it.”

  “So you didn’t want to kill Fedir.”

  “I don’t want to kill anyone.” He sucked in a breath and stumbled. When he started walking again, he was faster and less careful with her. Tatiana tripped constantly, and her hand began to throb in his grasp.

  “You’re hurting me.”

  Kopala stopped, turning her to face him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Just move a little slower,” she told him. “I’m guessing where we’re going I need to arrive alive?”

  Silence hung between them and slowly, understanding dawned on her. “Oh.” He held onto her, but his grip had loosened. “So why don’t you just leave me here?”

  “Are you asking me to?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “I need to ask the real Tatiana to go home, but I also don’t want to die, and I feel like I’m being led into a trap.”

  “I was wrong to call you stupid.”

  Her breath caught and her stomach dropped. “Is the girl I replaced really going to be where we’re going?”

  “Yes.” He was telling the truth.

  “But—” She rubbed her forehead. He’d lied when he said her headache would get better. Pain throbbed behind her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know you don’t,” he replied, his voice kinder than she’d ever heard it. “And I can’t explain it to you. All I can do is bring you to the person you’ve asked to see. What happens when we get there, I don’t know. I have no control over those decisions.”

  “But she’s alive?” Tatiana asked. “You’re certain?”

  “I’m positive,” Kopala replied. “She lives.”

  She didn’t like his answers, but she appreciated his honesty. There was no point hanging around here any longer or putting off the inevitable. With a gentle tug, she got him moving again. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  After a while, Tatiana became aware that she was walking with her eyes shut. Every so often she’d realize they were shut, and so she’d open them. They’d walk on, and she forced her eyes wide, but before she knew it, they’d shut again.

  It was like walking in a dream.

  “When will it be daylight?” she asked.

  “It won’t be,” Kopala answered. “There is no light here.”

  How was that possible? She stopped to tilt her head toward the sky. “How?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. They both spoke quietly, almost in whispers like they were afraid of disturbing whatever lurked around them. “Like everything else here, it started so gradually we barely noticed it until it blotted out the sun. Where did you enter Korolevstvo?”

  It was the first question he’d asked her, and she wished she could answer. Instead, she had to give him the same answer he’d given her. “I don’t know. It reminded me of the factories in my hometown. In the human world. I don’t think I could find it again if I tried.”

  Kopala laughed. “Korolevstvo likes to change, move around. In the old days, humans would walk into it and turn around to walk right back out, and the way had changed. The trees, the fields, the lakes and rivers, everything was different.”

  “Oh.”

  “What are you going to say to the girl you replaced?” Kopala asked after a few minutes.

  “Um.” She paused. “I’ll tell her about her family, and how much they love her. I don’t think I’d be alive so long if they hadn’t loved me so much. I’ll tell her how happy they’ll be to get her back and that she’ll have a good life with them.”

  “What if she has a good life here?”

  Tatiana laughed. “Seriously? In a city that moves around and gets offended, and where people rip apart other people because they think it’s fun? That doesn’t sound like a good life.”

  “But what if that’s all you know?” he asked.

  She faced him. It was so dark, he was more of a white blob than a face, but she imagined his blue eyes were narrowed and fierce. “If all you know is murder and power, what do you have to offer that is better?”

  “Better than murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about not murdering?” she said, haughtily. “Kindness. Goodness. Compassion. Love. My family loves me. And I love them.” She loved them so much. “All it would take is an hour with them and she’d know how lucky she was.”

  “Is that how you felt?”

  “I was dying,” Tatiana said. They still hadn’t moved but stared at each other. She wondered what she looked like in the darkness. A white face. Her hair would blend into the darkness. Was she skeletal and pale? Amorphous?

  Moving closer, like he wanted to see her better, Kopala took her other hand. His fingers crawled from her hands to wrists and then to her elbows. “I’m sure the others have told you that your long life is rare.”

  “They did.” She smiled thinking of them. “Grisha told me right away. He thought I was—” Actually, she didn’t know what Grisha thought of her.

  “Extraordinary,” Kopala filled in, and she chuckled.

  “I doubt it. Maybe extraordinary in the way seeing a rare bird is. Or a butterfly that was supposed to be extinct.”

  “I think you are more than that.” His voice was barely a whisper. Surely, she hadn’t heard him correctly.

  “Do you think she’ll come with me?” Tatiana asked.

  “If anyone could talk her into it,” he said. “It would be you. But I don’t know her well. My interactions with her have been through others. She remains…” His breath caught, and his muscles suddenly tensed. The grip on her arms tightened, and she gave a little squeak of pain. He released her right away only to rub gently up and down her arms. “Sorry.”

  “She’s with the rusalka and they don’t let anyone near her?” she asked. His soft caresses were fogging her brain.

  “The rusalka are her family, and they’ve protected her for as long as she’s been in Korole
vstvo. But there are others.”

  Of course there were. If the real Tatiana had grown up here, she’d have made friends and formed relationships with other people. Maybe she’d fallen in love. Had a family.

  Goosebumps lifted along her arms and back and a knot formed in her stomach. Guilt settled on her shoulders, and she sucked in a breath.

  She was being selfish. So selfish. It wasn’t fair to steal this girl from her life.

  Again.

  24

  Fedir/Fenik

  Fenik could feel the poison drifting along the wall. It hurt his lungs to breathe, but as far as he could see in either direction was the cloud of blackness.

  “What is it?” Taras asked.

  “A border.” Grisha reached forward, cutting through the smoke with his hand and grimaced. “To keep people out.”

  “And you think Tatiana is in there?”

  “I know she is,” Fenik answered for the roamer. There was only one reason there would be a border like this in Korolevstvo. Designed to keep out feia. To slowly kill anyone who dared pass through the smog and smoke.

  “Do you know what’s in there?” Grisha asked him.

  “Don’t you?” Any feia could put the clues together and come up with an answer.

  “Korolivs’kyy.” Taras nodded and scales flashed over his face before disappearing.

  Yes. Royals. Kings and queens and princes and princesses and a hundred other hangers-on.

  Fenik spun in a slow circle, his surroundings triggering something long buried. The limbless tree… he could almost see what they would have looked like with branches stretching toward a blue sky. The leaves would have been all shades of color. One day they’d be the bright green of midsummer, and the next day blazing in reds and oranges.

  He’d been here before.

  “This is the gate,” Shubin said. “I’ve seen it before, but it was surrounded by forest.”

  The gate. Not a gate to the human world, but to one that could be just as deadly to an unsuspecting feia. “And I thought the royals were dead.”