“My apologies,” I said, as contritely as I could manage without betraying my fear of her, “but he would have killed us.”
“And so he would have done to any trespasser.”
“We’ve come because the rusalka said you might have answers—”
“I know why you’re here,” she said, interrupting me with a shake of her head. She walked back toward her house, and when none of us made to follow, she beckoned. “Come. I will tell you what it is you want to know.”
Sasha’s arm tightened around me when I tried to dismount, and Kharan gave a single shake of her head. “How do we know you won’t kill us the moment we walk through the door?” he demanded.
“You already passed the test by defeating my servant.” She grinned, her mouth full of missing teeth. “Besides, I could kill you out here just as easily.”
The beating of wings, and then Elation flew just above our heads, coming to land on the gate made of bone.
Baba Yaga glanced at her before turning and walking into her house.
“I think it’s safe,” I said to Sasha, taking in Elation’s relaxed position.
His arm finally loosened its iron grip on my middle. “Very well.”
He dismounted first to give me room to swing my leg, and I slid to the ground next to him. After securing the horses to the fence—also made of bone—Sasha, Kharan, and I followed Baba Yaga into her hut. Elation remained outside, but close by.
Despite the forbidding exterior, the inside was warm—almost welcoming. It was small, with a blazing-hot oven on one side and a small cot on the other. Two spindly chairs and a roughly carved table sat near the oven, but Baba Yaga was already stretched out in a wooden rocking chair—the only comfortable-looking piece of furniture in the house.
“Come and sit beside the fire,” she said, gesturing toward the small chairs.
Sasha pulled out both from under the table and gave them to Kharan and me, and then he stood behind us, arms folded over his chest.
“Now you may ask your question,” Baba Yaga said, her eyes falling closed.
“Who am I?” I asked. Before I could even really think about what I was asking.
One eye opened. “Such a question. To answer that properly, I must tell you a story. It isn’t a happy one.”
“I’d still like to hear it,” I said, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.
She sighed, came again to her feet, and shuffled toward the fire. “Gaze into the flames,” she said.
I glanced back at Sasha, and he nodded. Kharan, too, seemed to think it wouldn’t put us in any greater danger than we were already. As soon as the three of us were watching the fire dance and beckon, Baba Yaga threw a handful of powder into the flames.
We shielded our eyes as the powder caused the fire to billow out with smoke, but I soon found I could breathe just as easily as I had before. The smoke was white, but as I continued to watch, colors emerged, swirling and beckoning until I couldn’t look away.
“Long ago, in the coldest part of the world, a woman emerged with complete control over water and air,” Baba Yaga said, and as she spoke, her voice brought forth images in the smoke. A woman with hair so pale it was almost the color of snow, eyes like blue crystal, robed in a cloak of white and silver. Her every step brought forth snow, and her breath filled the air with snowflakes. She was beautiful, but her face could have been carved from marble.
“She built herself a palace of ice,” Baba Yaga continued, and the icy castle appeared before us, impossible in its crystal-clear construction, “but no one would venture so far north, nor survive the brutal cold of her home. She was queen of all she surveyed, though no living subjects populated her kingdom.
“For a time, this pleased her. She sought out animals who could survive the cold: foxes and wolves, bears and lynxes, rabbits and birds. She befriended them, and they worshipped her as their queen.”
The smoke shifted again, showing the queen surrounded by creatures of all kinds. A wolf slept at her feet at the bottom of her icy throne; a bear with fur as white as the queen’s robe allowed her to pet its cub as though they were both domesticated dogs; foxes bounded in the snow before her as she walked in a forest crowned in white.
“After a time, though, the queen grew lonely. She left her great ice palace in the north and traveled south, but as she did, she found that she brought winter with her. Anything she touched turned to snow and ice, and it wasn’t long before anyone she met begged her to leave again.”
The smoke showed us this: the path the Ice Queen made, turning everything along it white. Anyone she met recoiled from her, frightened by the cold emanating from her. It pierced my heart; I knew how she felt, this woman who might have been my mother.
“She retreated to her palace, and as she did, Spring overtook the land. Winter envied Spring with her cheerful flowers and busy animals, who everyone was so overjoyed to see. No one was happy for Winter to arrive, and this wounded her heart.”
The smoke showed us Spring, who was a girl with skin like a chestnut tree, with hair as rich as freshly tilled earth, with eyes greener than newly budding leaves. She wore a gown that trailed flowers in her wake, the color of the morning sky. In contrast, Winter looked pale and frighteningly beautiful—austere as a statue.
“Winter stayed in the North, where her ice and snow would not be greeted with disgust, and for far too long, Spring reigned. From the ice itself, Winter created a globe that would reveal to her the rest of the world, and she sat for I know not how long on her throne, watching Spring’s influence over the land.”
The globe was the most colorful thing in Winter’s ice palace, and the sun rose and fell in rapid succession over and over without her ever moving. She ignored even the animals who came and went. I didn’t know this snow-white queen, but it was still heartbreaking to see such sadness.
“She would have sat there until the end of the world, but it was her animal friends who had had enough. The strongest among them—the wolves and bears and lynxes—joined together, and with two restraining the queen, the other destroyed the orb. Winter, in her madness, fought against the wolf and lynx who held her back, and she froze both into statues beside her throne of ice.”
We watched as Winter fell to her knees, sobbing beside the two frozen animals that had only been trying to help her, and I felt an answering lump rise in my throat. I knew what it felt like to hurt someone I loved.
“Free from the influence of the orb, she once again left her great ice palace in the North and traveled across the white world, turning the land to snow and ice as she went. But in the South, she came at last to a lake that had refused to freeze over. Hope bloomed within her at the sight of it—perhaps there was something that could stand against her power. She stood beside it and reached down to touch the water, curious what liquid water would feel like against her hand, but it froze the moment her fingertip hovered above it. She cried then, and her tears were like diamonds.”
I thought of all the times I’d felt alone in my village, and I knew a little of the loneliness she must have felt, though I’d at least had Dedushka and Babushka on my side.
“A simple hunter watched from the woods, carrying his brace of rabbits over his shoulder. When he saw the beautiful lady crying beside the now-frozen lake, he was moved to pity.”
The hunter was dressed warmly, in a thick wool kaftan and pants, tall leather boots that appeared hand-made like my own. He wore a fur hat, but his hair was still visible around the edges, golden-brown—a few shades darker than my own—as his neatly trimmed beard.
“He comforted her and spoke to her as a man would speak to any beautiful woman, but not as a mortal would speak to as powerful a creature as she.”
The smoke showed the hunter touching her on the shoulder in comfort, but as Winter looked up to meet his gaze, the hunter’s warm brown eyes widened as though ensnared by her beauty.
“She stayed with him in a cabin by the woods, and she kept her powers frozen within her, so that she would not
kill him with her touch, although this took its toll on her, in spite of her depth of abilities. Slowly, they fell in love, and when the moment came for them to act on that love, the second it was over, Winter lost control over her power and the hunter was frozen as quickly as the lake had been.”
Tears fell from my own eyes as Winter fell sobbing over the now-still body of the hunter she’d loved. I tried desperately not to look at Sasha, as the terrifying realization crashed over me: if I grew too close to him, could I lose control over myself and kill him?
“Horrified by what she’d done, Winter sought help from the only one she knew who had the power to thaw her ice: Spring. Spring agreed to help, but never again could the hunter be restored to his human form. He became a shadow of what he once was. The loss of the hunter and what Winter had done to him froze her heart, and when the baby was born, the product of that love, she could no sooner care for it than a stone could care for a sparrow.”
A baby, small and innocent and swaddled in white fur, hair golden-brown as the hunter’s, eyes crystal-blue as the queen’s, lay in a basket. Animals of all kinds kept watch over her, but Winter herself looked as unmoved as stone. Watching the baby in the smoke—the one that could be me—ripped me apart.
Sasha leaned forward and touched my shoulder, his hand blazing hot against my own cold. His sympathy undid me, and I was helpless to prevent myself from crying.
Baba Yaga continued, “So she sent it away to be taken in by mortals, for the child was half-mortal herself, and she gave it all the gifts she herself possessed, but with her mortal father’s ability to temper them.”
A younger Dedushka and Babushka were shown finding the baby in the woods, and then there could be no doubt as to the baby’s identity. Sasha squeezed my shoulder gently as I took in a great shuddering breath.
Just beyond the trees, snowy white animals could be seen, though my grandparents had never noticed. Winter had given me away, but it comforted me to see that the animals were clearly charged with my protection until I was found by my family.
The smoke dissipated, and Baba Yaga came again to her feet. “You are the daughter of Winter, with all the powers of snow and ice at your command, but the mortal side of you will always fight to temper the power within.” Her sunken gaze turned to Sasha. “You’ve chosen well, prince. Along with the firebird, she is the most powerful elemental in all the world.”
Chapter Eighteen
I COULD FEEL BOTH SASHA AND Kharan looking at me. Their intent gazes only made Baba Yaga’s pronouncement more daunting.
“I’m only glad you were able to help Katya discover the truth,” Sasha said, reaching out and touching my arm. He turned back to Baba Yaga. “You mentioned the firebird, though. What do you know of it?”
Baba Yaga walked to her door. “I only agreed to answer one question. You are no longer welcome here.”
Disappointment flashed in Sasha’s eyes, but he gave her a slight bow. “We thank you for the information you gave us.”
“Be gone with you,” she said, her gaze returning to me.
Kharan and Sasha walked through the door, but before I could reach it, the bone witch made a gesture with her hand, and the door slammed closed.
I turned to her, my pulse leaping in my throat. “Will you not let me leave, too?”
“Katya!” Sasha’s voice sounded through the door, followed by Kharan’s. They beat on the door, but to no avail.
The bone witch grinned. “You heard what I said. You are the most powerful elemental in the land. Why would I give you up?”
Ice coated my skin. “Because I am not yours to keep.”
“I have a servant of flames, but not a servant of ice,” she said, stepping just a little closer. “You would make an excellent addition.”
I floundered for anything that might save me from my situation. “You said I passed your test.”
“And so you did. But that only entitled you to the answer to a question. I said nothing about you leaving.”
Panic began to well up inside me, causing the air around me to grow colder and colder.
“None of that,” Baba Yaga said, and as she gestured again, bones from the wall stretched out and gripped me with skeletal hands.
Sasha called for me again, his voice taking on a more desperate edge.
“Please,” I said, “I cannot stay here.”
“You’d rather be servant to that boy-prince?”
My eyes narrowed. “I’m not his servant.”
“You are his weapon,” she said, head tilted. “Perhaps worse than a servant.” The cold around me grew until my breath was coming out in plumes of white smoke. She watched me for a moment with her hooded eyes. “If you can free yourself, then I will let you go.”
My gaze jumped to hers. “Do I have your word?”
“Yes. Break the bones that hold you prisoner, and I will set you free.”
I didn’t fully believe she’d keep her word, but I had to try. I thought of how easily I had fought back against the rider of flames, how quickly I’d accessed the power within me. But that was in defense of others. My power was slow to come when it was only for me.
I closed my eyes, let myself follow the cold emanating from my skin right to its source, deep inside. But before I could grasp hold, it danced away, just out of reach. I strained against the bones holding me captive, willing the cold to spread. Nothing happened. My power ignored me, just as it always did when I had need of it.
When I opened my eyes again, I found Baba Yaga watching me closely.
“Katya!” Sasha called again, only this time it was followed by a great boom as the door rattled on its hinges.
Baba Yaga’s gaze slid to the door. “I think it’s time I removed your friends from my yard before they destroy my door.” She glanced back at me. “You have until I summon my servant to free yourself. If not, your friends will surely be killed.”
With that, she threw open her door and raised one gnarled hand. Instantly, a screamed neigh rang out again across the clearing. My blood turned to ice in my veins.
“No, please,” I shouted at the witch, but she kept her back to me.
The thunder of hooves rattled the hut, and I could practically see Sasha and Kharan turn to face the new threat.
I fought against the skeletal hands digging into my upper arms. The hoofbeats grew louder and louder. I thought of how easily Sasha and Kharan would be cut through by that flaming sword. And suddenly, my power was there, rushing to the surface of my mind like a geyser.
I grabbed it and launched it outward in an explosive rush. At that moment, I didn’t care if I destroyed the bones restraining me and the entire hut besides.
A burst of icy cold wind, and then everything exploded around me. The wind I produced was so cold that the bones holding me splintered and broke into dust around me. The cold bloomed still outward, until the very bones holding up the hut began to freeze.
I let it spread, let the cold continue to emanate from me until it was as though I was a mountain watching impassively as a blizzard unleashed its destruction upon the land.
The bone witch seized a staff, somehow not frozen, and with great effort, drove it down onto the floor of her hut. A counterwave of power knocked me back. It broke my hold on my own icy abilities, cutting off the flow of the blizzard that was decimating her hut.
I found myself on my back, looking up at the sky where the ceiling and roof should have been.
Baba Yaga came and stood over me. “You are fortunate that my hut’s bones will grow back.”
“Sasha,” I said weakly. “Kharan.”
“They survived,” she said. “Thanks to you.”
I pushed myself up to a standing position, willing the hut around me to stop spinning. I’d bashed my head upon the floor when her power first hit me. “Then am I free to go?”
“Go, but remember this: you are at your most powerful in defense of another.”
I didn’t waste any time; I walked straight out of the hut before she could
stop me again. Kharan and Sasha were waiting with the horses. Elation cried out at the sight of me, still perched on the gate of bones.
Baba Yaga’s words only confirmed what I’d already suspected. I thought of all the instances my power had rushed easily to my fingertips: in defense of Dedushka, against the raiders when I thought they’d kill Ivan, and just now, to keep the rider of flame from killing Sasha and Kharan.
Before I could mount Zonsara, Sasha strode over to me and touched my chin. “Are you hurt?”
His kindness nearly undid me. I hadn’t realized how terrified I’d been, how emotionally drained I felt, until this moment. I shifted my gaze to Kharan to keep from crying. She looked a little shaken—her face paler than normal. “Yes, but we should go before the bone witch changes her mind about letting us leave.”
In answer, he brought Zonsara forward and helped me onto her back. I settled in, thankful my horse hadn’t been injured or lost when the rider attacked us before. We walked the horses out of the clearing, and there was a terrible moment when I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to escape. The sun was high on our side of the forest, but beyond, it was dark still. We crossed through easily enough, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
In the darkness and quiet of our trip back, everything I’d learned from Baba Yaga replayed through my mind. Without the experience of the smoke showing me everything that had happened to the Ice Queen, it was almost hard to believe it had happened at all. It seemed a fairy tale, dark and strange.
“Kharan,” I said, riding closer to her and Daichin, “what the bone witch said—was it the same tale you’d heard? Of a queen in the North who lives in an ice palace?”
Kharan glanced at me, and I was glad to see the color in her face was back. “Yes, but our stories are different.”
She had even Sasha’s attention now, who had slowed his horse to stay close enough to listen.
“How so?” I asked.
“We know her for what she is: one of the original elementals.”
I glanced at Sasha, confused. “Original elementals?”
“They are the ancient beings who first had an affinity for each element, who we are all supposedly descended from. Only . . .” She trailed off with a glance at Sasha.
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