* * *
While Romanov slept, Elena walked around the edges of their sanctuary. She’d wrapped one of the quilts around her shoulders when she rose from the makeshift bed after she’d pulled on her discarded boots. The quilt trailed behind her as her fingers trailed along the walls. The mica seemed magical even though it was only caused by nature. She tried to memorize every silvery speck of dust.
She would never forget Romanov’s touch or that he’d allowed her to come to this place that seemed a physical representation of the magic in his heart. He wouldn’t allow himself to love her, but he had opened up and given her all he could while still trying to keep her safe.
She wished she could convince him that he needed her by his side. His safety was important too. Together, they could defeat Grigori and face the Ether.
Elena looked down at her hand. Some of the mica from the walls had transferred itself to her fingers. She closed them into a fist to hold the sparkle in her palm. She willed it to be actual power. The sword had dimmed. It glowed softly near Romanov’s sleeping form, but with every second she stood apart, its glow faded. As Vasilisa had told them, making love didn’t complete their connection.
Romanov had to accept her as his mate. If he didn’t, he would fight Grigori alone. If he fought the witchblood prince and he didn’t shift, he would lose. If he did shift, the entire assemblage of witches would be after his head. Never mind that he might lose himself to the beast. If she could wield the sword, it might make the difference between whether Ivan Romanov lived or died or faded away.
Elena opened her hand. She dusted the loose mica away from her fingers. Sparkling dust wouldn’t save him. She had to work with what she had. If Romanov didn’t choose to make her his mate so she could wield the powerful sapphire sword by his side, she would agree to leave with Grigori.
Her heartbeat slowed, thick and sluggish, in her chest, but the hollow she’d had since she’d lost the dance was gone. It had been filled with burning purpose. She was a warrior. She’d fight for Romanov.
She might not have the sword’s power, but she had the power to become the swan.
It would be her choice, not Grigori’s. She could endure the cage and the bloody feathers if Romanov lived on. The legend she loved couldn’t be allowed to fall.
Chapter 17
There was no denying it. The girl had shaken her. Vasilisa the Luminous, the Light Volkhvy queen, wasn’t used to surprises. The few she’d experienced in her extraordinarily long life had not been well-received. One of those, the betrayal of her champion and lover, Vladimir Romanov, had resulted in the longest and most enduring rage she’d ever experienced.
Her home was the royal seat of the Light Volkhvy. It was one of hundreds of islands that formed an archipelago that surrounded Scotland. To the outside world, it was stark and barren. Even the birds that made their home on most of the other islands shied away, repelled by a force they could neither see nor touch. Vasilisa’s ability to manipulate the Ether kept the true enchanted nature of the island hidden from man and beast, as well as provided an artificial atmosphere protected from the extremes of climate that the other islands in the Outer Hebrides experienced. As she walked through the rose garden that formed the innermost sanctum of her private retreat, she tried to slow her heartbeat and ease her jangled nerves.
She’d been so angry she hadn’t felt Elena Pavlova respond to the sword’s call.
The petite dancer claimed to have been called from a young age. If that was so, Vasilisa had been blind for two decades while her enchantments ran on without oversight or tending. That wasn’t the behavior of a queen. The wild tangle of her rose garden only served to illustrate the same irresponsibility. She’d been furious. And not only because she’d experienced real pain when Vladimir betrayed her.
She’d loved him.
He’d been her gray wolf for years, loyal and true. Or so she’d thought. She’d plucked him from the royal Romanov family. He’d been an obscure cousin who was eager to prove himself once he was given the chance. At first, he’d seemed the perfect choice. He’d taken to the shift amazingly well. He’d recruited and developed an army of followers to fight by his side. Then he’d sired three strong sons and pledged them to her service, as well.
She’d given him Bronwal as a reward. She’d given him the sapphire sword for his wife and then later the ruby sword for the wife chosen by one of his sons.
Madeline.
Poor Madeline and her tiny babe.
The women had been even more precious to her than the wolves because they had chosen to serve her and the Light Volkhvy. She honored their service. Which was why she’d never approached Vladimir until his wife and her prince consort had died. She hadn’t loved her prince. Their marriage had been one required by her followers to cement her rule. But she had been faithful to him until he was gone.
She should have stayed away. It was wrong even then to go to Vladimir. She’d dishonored the memory of her sapphire warrior and her prince consort with her lust, and she deserved the horrible price the universe had exacted from her.
She had only worn purple for centuries. No one had ever wondered why. Her grief was her own, abiding and deep.
In the center of the rose garden, on a rough marble dais, a glass enclosure seemed to rise up out of the stone itself. Its edges were obscured and crystallized where rock met glass, but in the center of the oblong container, the glass was clear enough to see the two sleeping forms held and protected inside.
Even in her rage, her love of the women who wielded her swords had won out. She couldn’t abandon Madeline and her newborn son to the Ether. Instead, she’d allowed the Ether to put them into a deep sleep, nearly as deep as death, and she’d brought them here. She didn’t visit the center of her garden often. She couldn’t bear to see the peacefully sleeping baby. Not when her own baby had been murdered by Vladimir Romanov. Today, as she looked down on the innocent faces so soft in repose, she knew her pain didn’t excuse what she’d done. Vladimir had been the one who killed her daughter, Anna.
Her revenge against the other Romanovs was wrong.
It had taken the ferocity of Ivan’s swan to ease her rage and open her eyes.
Elena had claimed the sapphire sword. And she’d done it even knowing that Vasilisa was a flawed leader.
Her warrior women were more honorable than their queen.
The Gathering approached on swift, ruthless wings. She’d turned a rage-blinded eye toward the Volkhvy who attended every year to torment her wolves. She’d even participated, encouraging the decadent ball in order to hurt the last Romanov when she’d known the Romanov who’d actually hurt her had been taken by the Ether almost from the start.
Vladimir hadn’t been strong. He’d been weak. If his betrayal hadn’t proven that to her, his disappearance had. But the curse had also been the making of the new alpha. Ivan Romanov had become everything she’d hoped her champion would be. Her rage and grief over her daughter’s death had blinded her to that.
It had taken Elena Pavlova to open her eyes.
The girl and her connection to the sapphire sword had been entirely unexpected. Vasilisa’s wolves inherited their abilities. Her magic had manipulated their father’s genes to create the powerfully enhanced champions she needed against the Dark. She had ordered the swords to be made so that the wolves would have companions in battle. Her magic had infused each gem with Light.
But the women who were called to the swords picked them up of their own accord. They, of all her followers, chose to fight for the Light. They hadn’t been born to it. They hadn’t been made. And yet they were the strongest of all. Mortal women who chose to take up the fight.
Vasilisa pressed a kiss against the glass and backed away. Neither of the container’s occupants stirred. Madeline cradled the baby in her arms, but neither of them seemed to breathe and neither had aged or changed. Beside their bodies, the
ruby sword lay, dark and dull.
Could she abandon her newest warrior to the Dark or to the Ether?
As always, the sleeping baby reminded her of her own lost child. Her rage hadn’t faded. She hadn’t loved her prince, but she had loved. As only a mother can love. It shook her now and caused her hand to close too tightly around a rose. Its ruthless barb pricked her finger. The blood welled blackish scarlet against her pale skin, but she didn’t lift it to her lips. She stared, transfixed, as it swelled. The blood ran down her finger and fell to the ground, unstopped, where it disappeared into the soil.
Vladimir had betrayed her in a more horrific way than most people knew.
Her deepest pain had been a secret expressed only by the ruthlessness of the curse and her mourning garb. Anna was gone. She’d been dead for centuries. Vasilisa had hidden her child from Vladimir with innocent villagers. In his gray wolf form, Vladimir had attacked the village of Sovkra. And from the first she’d heard of Anna’s murder Vasilisa held her name close to her heart unable to bear the sound of it on anyone else’s lips.
But Vladimir was also gone. He’d been gone a long time and perhaps it was time to forgive his sons.
She was the Light Volkhvy queen and it might not be possible to stop what she’d set into motion. The witchblood prince had laid a powerful mark on Elena. If the black wolf didn’t accept her as his mate, the sapphire sword’s power was nullified. She could try to stand in Grigori’s way. She could buy Ivan Romanov time to claim the warrior’s heart that Elena had offered him.
But her pain stood in her way. She couldn’t forgive. She would never forget. The Romanovs suffered for what their father had done because she suffered. Her grief was as fresh today as it had been centuries ago.
Even if Romanov claimed Elena, Vasilisa could only lift the curse if she wholeheartedly blessed her wolves and their warriors once more.
Her blessing would have to be given freely and fully at the exact time when it was needed, but could she cleanse the taint in her heart left by Vladimir Romanov?
The prick on her finger tingled. She was the queen, but she was vulnerable. It had always been so. Power attracted those hungry to claim it and never more so than in the Volkhvy culture where power mattered most.
She closed her eyes against the sight of her blood seeping into the ground. Had Vladimir torn tiny innocent flesh with the vicious teeth she had given him? Tears flowed freely to join with her blood in the shadow of her roses.
Chapter 18
Only freeing the wolf had allowed him to deny her.
Ivan Romanov stood on the ramparts of the castle. The sun rose above the horizon to bathe the neighboring mountain peaks with golden light, and the wind whipped Ivan’s hair wildly around his head. He played a dangerous balancing game. He was still in control. He still walked on two legs. But he’d allowed the wolf the greater part of his heart since last night. He’d discovered the ability when Vasilisa had asked him about Elena and the sword. The black wolf allowed him to deny his feelings for her because the wolf had been tamped down for so long that now all it wanted was the hunt and the feast, the run and the fight. He’d allowed those feelings to overwhelm his feelings for Elena during those moments with Vasilisa.
He’d immediately caged the wolf after that, but he’d had to loose it again last night. When he’d taken Elena into the hidden cavern to shield her from Grigori’s touch, he’d opened himself too much to their connection. He’d shown her his secret sanctuary and she’d shown him her heart. She didn’t simply offer to wield the sword or to fight by his side. She offered to care for him. The sapphire had lit the cave in a way he’d never seen. It had almost seemed as if his lover was responsible for the starlike glitter on the walls.
He closed his eyes against the strands of his hair that lashed against his face. But then he held them away with two hands fisted at his temples instead. When he closed his eyes, he saw Elena with her head thrown back and her hips thrusting up to meet him. She’d been bathed in the soft blue light of the sapphire blade and he’d known she was meant to bring it to life.
He’d allowed the wolf to rise because that knowledge almost led him to doom her with a pledge he could never allow himself to make.
Was this how his brother Lev had begun to degenerate? Had the white wolf claimed his brother’s heart before it had completely claimed his form? The black wolf howled with his every heartbeat. He could hardly see the glow of the sun because what he wanted to see was the blood of his enemies. The alpha had been too long denied. It was thirsty for Volkhvy blood. Dark, Light, it made no difference. The wolf wanted them all to fall before him.
When the time came, it would be easy to shift and allow the black wolf to devour Grigori. He could almost anticipate the perfect vengeance of showing how he felt about Elena by destroying the creature that had tormented her mercilessly for years. It would be the only way he could express what he felt without exposing her to the Ether. The only thing that marred his anticipation was the knowledge that in saving her he would also lose her forever.
The black wolf howled inside the heart it controlled as it waited impatiently for the shift it knew was coming. It was only a matter of time before the wolf devoured him, heart and soul.
Choosing to fully loose the wolf would be his last conscious act as a man.
* * *
Elena wasn’t sure what had gone wrong. Ivan had been opening to her. She’d sensed his emotion. He hadn’t brought her to the cavern simply to hide her from Grigori. He’d wanted to show her the refuge he’d sought when he was younger. He’d shown her his secret place and he’d shared the vulnerabilities he’d felt as a child.
But as their connection had seemed to burgeon, he’d given himself completely over to passion. She hadn’t complained. She’d joined him in physical release, again and again. Even when she’d lost all hope of him declaring his love.
It was enough for her that he declared it with his refusal to claim her as his mate. He was protecting her, and for a champion that was the greatest declaration of all. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough for the sword.
Her only pain came in wondering how he was able to keep silent about the feelings she couldn’t deny. Just as the mica sparkled on the walls of his cavern, her love for him seemed to radiate from every cell in her body, as they lay naked together.
But, again, it wasn’t enough.
The sword had gone dark.
She’d been awake when the stone dulled. By its dying light, she had traced the face of the man who refused to love her. With trembling fingers, she’d lightly brushed over his forehead, the full sweep of his dark lashes, the hollow of his cheek and his square jaw as if she could memorize his features. His lips had been soft and full in repose. The thick sweep of his hair, for once, had been swept back and out of his face by his position. She hadn’t fallen in love with his appearance, but it was beloved to her all the same. The cavern’s walls had retreated into shadows as all the artificial starlight had died. Tears had filled her eyes when she could no longer see his face. Romanov had slept through it while she cried. No one had seen her, but if they had she wouldn’t have been able to stop. She was strong in all things but this.
He was determined to save her even if it meant losing himself.
She would try to stop him.
She would give herself to Grigori if she had to.
But she was afraid. Because if he loved her as she loved him, her sacrifice might make him seek out the oblivion of the wolf even if he didn’t need to shift to fight Grigori.
Chapter 19
She and Romanov moved around the entire castle, each avoiding the other but fully aware of every step taken. It was an elaborate dance as the sun tracked across the sky. The sword had come between them even as it was supposed to bind them together. She saw the awakened sapphire as proof that she could stand against Grigori. Ivan saw its glow as proof that the Ether wou
ld take her and torment her the way it had all the loved ones he’d ever cared about. It was a standoff and a stalemate. One she didn’t know how to break.
It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that Elena realized her black wolf had disappeared.
Romanov was no longer in the castle. She didn’t know how her body recognized that he was gone. There was only a vacuum she couldn’t explain. She wasted no time going for her ski suit and snow boots, although she was terrified it would be too late to find him.
What if he had decided to end his fight and disappear into the Ether in order to be certain that their connection wouldn’t overcome his “honorable” intentions?
What if she had ended his long-enforced isolation in a way she hadn’t intended when she’d tried to claim the sword?
The snowstorm had ended days ago. The sky was clear and the sun beamed brightly in the sky, but it was still hard on her knee to trudge out beyond the castle walls into the deep snow. She did it anyway.
If she found the wolf or the man, it would be worth the hike to ease her mind.
Of course, Lev could also be outside the walls. It was a risk she had to take. She’d strapped the sapphire sword around her waist. It was still a sword even if it didn’t glow. Romanov had taught her how to use it. Lev would be practically invisible against the blinding white of the sunlit snow. Unlike her. She wore the bright red cloak over her snowsuit to add another layer against the mountain cold. But if Lev attacked she would defend herself. Until then, she’d look for Ivan Romanov. Her cloak might make her more visible to Lev, but it would also help Romanov to see her. She’d bring him home. It had been wrong to avoid him all morning. She should have pushed her pain and pride aside to make sure he wasn’t contemplating a desperate act to try to save her.
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