“I’m only glad I was able to save them, Gosudar,” I said, trying to keep the censure from my tone.
“The raiders have long been a problem—assaulting and stealing from travelers on their way to Kiev. But I am also pleased to see your village elder was telling the truth about your abilities. I hadn’t expected it to be proven so unequivocally and by so many witnesses before you’d even arrived at the palace, and I’m relieved that no one came to any harm.”
Admitting that he did care about the others soothed some of my anger on their behalf, but I was still afraid of what he would decide when he discussed the destruction and deaths in my village.
“I am not unsympathetic to the fact that you have traveled far and are most likely tired and possibly even shaken after the attack from the raiders.”
His words so surprised me that I managed to only nod mutely, my gaze searching his.
“However, I have always been the type of person who’d rather know my fate than lose sleep over all the things that could be decided the next day. Therefore, I feel it is almost cruel to keep you in suspense regarding my verdict on your crimes.” His eyebrow arched, but his expression was not unkind. He truly meant what he said. “But if you disagree, if you’d rather have a day to rest and recover before facing judgment, then I will grant you that time.”
“Thank you, Gosudar. That is kind of you,” I said, my surprise and a small glimmer of hope—hope that someone who thought this much of someone else’s feelings would not turn around and condemn them to death—forcing my voice to come out strained. “I would rather hear your decision on the matter now.”
He nodded. “Very well. Your village elder accuses you of using your power to not only destroy homes but to kill nine men. Do you deny this?”
Memories of that horrible night pushed to the forefront of my mind, but I beat them back, tears stinging my eyes. “No, Gosudar,” I said, unable to meet his gaze this time.
“Was it your intention to use your power purposefully to wreak such destruction and murder your fellow villagers?”
My head snapped up. “No. No.” The mere thought made my belly churn in horror.
“Such an act is punishable by death—do you know this?”
My skin grew still colder, until I could see my breath coming in soft plumes. “Yes,” I managed to say.
He watched me for a moment, and something softened in his gaze. “Your actions—they were a matter of control—or lack of?”
“Yes, Gosudar.”
He nodded to himself and fell silent, as though deep in thought. “This power—could you learn to control it?”
I looked at Kharan for guidance, but she merely lifted her eyebrows. He hadn’t sentenced me to death yet, and I still had hope that he wouldn’t, but I was equally afraid of the new direction the conversation was headed. “I’m not sure.”
“Ivan?” the prince asked.
Beside me, Ivan shifted his weight. “It took all of my own power to negate hers. Had I not, she surely would have killed us all.”
“There is a war brewing that will consume all of Kievan Rus’,” the prince said, his gaze shifting to somewhere over my head, like he could see the coming army. “We need every available weapon if we are to survive—even the untried ones. Your power could make the difference between life and death on the battlefield.”
I recoiled. Then the rumors were true: he was amassing an army of people with power. “I am no soldier,” I said, my voice soft but clear. “Even if I could control it, I don’t want to use my power as a weapon.”
For a moment, the prince looked at me, and I looked at him, a single muscle in his strong jaw twitching. He was taking my measure, I was sure, and I knew I would be found wanting.
“You are forgiven for the attack on your village,” he said, as though I’d never said anything, but even as relief filled my body, he continued, “but in return, you will stay and learn from Kharan and Ivan about the war, about how you can help your country.”
It felt as though the floor was disappearing beneath me. I’d escaped the execution, but at what cost? “I thank you for your forgiveness, Gosudar,” I said because I didn’t dare give him a reason to change his mind.
He waved Vera forward, and she moved toward him before dropping into a curtsy. “Vera will show you to your room,” he said, dismissing me.
As I moved to follow, he added, “A warning for you before you go. Ivan will stay close at hand to you at all times. You are in the city now, and though I know you would never intentionally hurt innocent people, we cannot take risks.”
I flinched like he’d struck me.
Even the prince thought I was a liability.
Chapter Five
THE ROOM VERA SHOWED ME TO was actually a set of rooms overlooking the courtyard. In truth, the rooms were fit for a princess and as richly furnished as the celestial tent. There was already a roaring fire in the fireplace, the bed was massive and covered in velvet and fur, and three tapestries telling the story of the capture of a golden firebird hung from the walls. The rooms, while beautiful, made me distinctly uncomfortable. The hut I shared with Babushka could fit in a corner of the bedroom, and the cavernous space made it difficult to know what to do with myself.
I stood awkwardly in the very center of the room while Vera showed me all the necessities: a washstand, a small closet with a chamber pot, the trunk with the elegant gowns, and other lovely things.
“I’m sure this is overwhelming for you, devotchka,” she said with a kindly expression, “but you’ll find the palace to be a comfortable new home in no time at all.”
My new home. Did the prince expect me to stay here forever? I thought of the war he’d mentioned and how I suspected I had only been pardoned for my crime because of the power I held. “If this is my home, then am I free to go wherever I like?”
She nodded. “You are free to wander within the palace and its grounds.”
I glanced up at that. “And if I should leave the grounds?”
“The prince has not given permission. He still considers you—” She paused as if considering her words. Dangerous, I supplied in my own mind. “He knows the limits and the control of your power are untried. He does not wish to risk the city.”
I couldn’t find it within myself to blame the prince. Not when I knew he was right to fear such an outcome.
“I’m sure Kharan will show you more of the palace, and if you should need anything from me, do let me know.” When I remained distractedly silent, she nodded. “Well, if there’s nothing else I can get for you, then I’d better be on with my chores.”
The moment she left, I collapsed in the nearest chair, my legs completely refusing to hold me any longer. I kept replaying the prince’s words over and over in my mind. I tried to convince myself that I’d been pardoned, that I wouldn’t be executed as I’d feared for days now, but my body still shook like it didn’t believe me.
And perhaps that was because I wasn’t entirely free yet. There was still the concern of being asked to train and hone this terrible power—the one that I very much doubted could ever fully be controlled. After all, Ivan had said he’d barely been able to stop me. The brewing war the prince had mentioned must be dire if he would risk my volatile power.
But even as I told myself these things, I remembered being able to save the others, and finally feeling warm. I remembered the men of my village who had threatened me and assaulted Dedushka, destroyed.
Grigory had asked me before why I had not saved myself from this fate—to escape being brought before the prince—and I suppose I could have. Maybe after the villagers had captured me, after they’d thrown me in the elder’s root cellar, I could have focused on that terrible power I’d unleashed. I could have tried to summon it again. I could have turned on the villagers just as they’d expected me to. But I was no monster.
Aren’t you? a quiet voice in my mind asked, and I winced away from the memories that threatened.
I hadn’t set out to be a monster,
but what happened when someone was pushed too far?
What happened when the dark swirls of regret were accompanied by a sense that maybe what I’d done wasn’t so terrible?
What happened if I liked it?
Despite my exhaustion, my anxious thoughts would not let me rest. Eventually, they forced me from my room, and I found the dark hallway was a welcome escape. Servants moved down the hall, but none of them paid me any attention. Somewhere nearby, I was sure, Ivan was close should I lose control and attempt to destroy Kiev as I once had my own village.
I didn’t know what the future would bring with the prince and the army I wanted no part of, but the smartest thing to do—what Babushka would have done—was to familiarize myself with the palace, particularly its exits and entrances.
All around me, palace servants hurried by doing various chores. It was easy for me to blend in simply by keeping to the shadows. Even in the comparatively dim light from the torches, I could see that the palace was ornate. The stone floors were covered with luxurious Persian rugs, the ceilings were painted in golds and reds depicting everything from Christ and the saints to hunting scenes, and the walls were covered in a vibrant fabric that was as smooth as silk when I touched it—so that’s probably exactly what it was.
I wandered for what felt like hours.
Voices rang out in the hall to my left, and I made an abrupt right turn to avoid them. It was quieter here, the walls broken by doors and tapestries. Each tapestry told a story, and in spite of my worries, they captured my attention. One was of a knight bound by vines, standing impotently by, his face contorted in a grimace of agony as he watched a maiden being impaled all over her body by thorns as big as swords. The tapestry was done in reds as dark as blood, and both the knight and his lady wore white clothing stained crimson. The sight of it raised the hair on the back of my neck.
As I continued down the hall, I saw a line of tapestries in the same style as the first. The next had the same thorny vine, only this time, a golden firebird blazed in the center. Flames leaped from its wings and tail feathers, setting fire to the tendrils of the vine. Another showed the vine almost obliterated by darkness. I could only just make it out by moving so close to the tapestry that my nose nearly touched the fabric.
But it was when I came to the third tapestry that my skin turned icy hard, reacting to my surprise. The vine was forefront again, but it was no longer green and wicked looking. The artist had instead showed it encased in white and silver, as though trapped within ice. I reached out to touch the vine, almost expecting it to be cold, but then I heard a soft scrape of shoe on the hard floor.
I clutched my hand to my chest and whipped around as though I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t. But when I scanned the darkened hallway, there was no one there.
“It’s me, Katya.” Kharan’s voice came from the darkness. “I promised to show you my ability, remember?”
My gaze still darting around the dark corners, I nodded.
Across from me, the torch flames danced. The shadows lengthened and shrank, and as I peered closer, they began to take on a human form. I jumped back, pressing myself against the wall.
Kharan stepped out of the darkness, coming out of the shadows as though she had opened a door. She solidified before me, her hair so black it had a bluish tint in the soft light of the torch.
“I hope I didn’t frighten you,” she said.
“You didn’t,” I lied, running a hand down my still-frozen arm.
She gave my arm a pointed look as though she knew I was lying.
“Have you always had this power?” I asked, desperately curious now that I’d seen it.
“Not always. It didn’t manifest until I was five or six, which made for an interesting childhood,” she said with a wry smile.
I thought of my own childhood. Of the teasing and jeers from the other children at the coldness of my skin. “And the others in your tribe . . . what did they think of your ability?”
“They tolerated me hiding in the shadows and listening to conversations I shouldn’t have, but ultimately, my ability was useless for reindeer herders. I imagine that our ancestors had once been more of a war-mongering people where shadow-melding was useful. Spying for the prince, though,” she said, leaning closer, “my power was made for that.”
“You spy on his enemies?”
She laughed. “I can spy on anyone I like.”
She took a step away from me, and I blinked as the shadows enveloped her like a blanket. I stared at the place where she’d disappeared, my eyes straining for even a flicker of movement, a form in the darkness. But there was nothing.
Just as suddenly, though, she stepped back into the light, throwing the cloak of darkness off her as though it was a physical thing.
“I’m no ice elemental,” she said, “but shadow melding has its usefulness—especially in being covert.”
“Ice . . . ,” I said slowly, struggling to understand and still a little spellbound by the shadow manipulation. “You mean me?”
She tilted her head. “Yes. Surely you knew ice was your element?”
“I’ve never known it to be described that way—I’ve only been called an Ice Witch,” I said, the words still bringing to mind Sergei’s angry eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about my power’s origins at all.”
“That’s something we’ll have to rectify. The main thing you should know is there are four types of elemental powers: fire, water—ice is a form of water, but it’s even rarer—earth, and wind. My own ability is what’s considered a lesser power. Boris’s, too, for all his strength. Ours probably originated as elemental but have become too diluted over time.”
I’d never heard it explained in such a way. “I don’t see how becoming a shadow is considered a lesser power,” I said with a shake of my head.
She shrugged. “It doesn’t give me much power on the battlefield.”
“I’d rather have that than a volatile and dangerous ability.”
She shot me a sympathetic glance. “I’m sure if we all work together, we can help you learn to control it just as the prince suggested.”
I remembered the thoughts that had chased me from my room, the anxiety of how easily I could succumb to the power within me—to be someone who inspired fear instead of ridicule. But I couldn’t do that. I didn’t want to be responsible for more deaths. “Though I’m thankful the prince pardoned me, I still want nothing to do with his plans for battle.”
Her mouth turned down in sympathy. “I understand why you’d be afraid, but wouldn’t it be better to learn how to control your power and use it for good?” When I said nothing, she continued. “And anyway, where would you go, if not stay here? Can you truly return to your village? To the ones who cast you out without a backward glance?”
Remember, devotchka, sometimes the place we do not want to go is the best place for us after all. I still didn’t know what Babushka had meant by those words, but I took them as a sign that she still cared for me. Even after I brought such pain into her life. But the other villagers . . . I knew they would never forgive me.
“I thought so,” Kharan said, as though she could read my mind.
I met her gaze. “Have you ever lost control over your ability? Been trapped in the shadows, perhaps, or disappeared when you didn’t mean to?”
“No, but—”
“Then how can you possibly help me? Ivan told the prince himself that he could barely stop my power with his.” I shook my head. “No, this isn’t the right place for me. You can’t help me. Babushka was wrong.”
I turned to go, but Kharan reached out and touched my arm. “How can you know this isn’t the right place unless you stay? You haven’t even been here a single night.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Can I even leave? The prince made it clear he’d only pardoned me in exchange for my ability. Wouldn’t I be imprisoned if I tried to escape?”
She hesitated. “You wouldn’t be imprisoned, no.” Something about her hesit
ation and tone made me realize there was more she was leaving unsaid.
“But I still cannot leave if I choose to.”
“I can’t say I understand exactly how you feel—I came here of my own accord—but I do know what it feels like to be far away from everything you’ve ever known. That’s how I felt when I came here, too.”
Something shifted in me at the recognition of another thing we had in common. I tried to push the feeling of kinship away—it’d never served me well in the past. “And you never regretted staying here?”
She met my gaze. “Not once.”
“How long have you been here?”
“It feels like years, but in truth, it’s only been a little over a year since I first rode into Kiev.”
“I can’t imagine staying here that long,” I said.
She smiled. “Can you at least agree to stay for a few days? There aren’t many girls at the palace, and it’s nice to finally have someone to talk to. We could go riding together!”
Her grin was infectious. “You’re pretty persuasive.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Well, as long as it’s a very slow, very simple creature, then yes, I’d love to ride with you.”
She laughed. “There are a few of those in the stables, so don’t worry. I’m sure you’re tired now, but how about I show you around in the morning?”
“I’d like that,” I said with a smile I found was surprisingly genuine.
“Good, then I’ll come by your room after breakfast. We’ll go outside and look around and try to avoid Grigory.”
“I definitely want to avoid Grigory,” I said, and she just touched my arm and very seriously said, “We all do,” before disappearing into the shadows with a laugh.
As I made my way back to my room, I thought of everything Kharan had said, of how quickly she’d charmed me into staying—willingly, since of course I didn’t really have a choice at the moment—and I knew I was in serious danger of actually trusting her as a friend.
Through the White Wood Page 6