So they’d tried to kill her. Many times. Her own mother had attempted to bury the first blade in Nina’s chest. But, instead, she’d buried it into a mighty oak that had abruptly appeared where the child had been standing, the blade breaking on impact. Then, suddenly, Nina Chechneva had been standing behind her mother, and the five-year-old had slammed her mother head-first into that tree.
Was all that true? Kachka didn’t know. Every Rider child was fed stories like these from birth. But true or not, Nina Chechneva was feared by all. Not because she’d embraced the magicks of these lands. Riders appreciated magicks as much as anyone and those who were gifted by the gods were looked upon with slight envy and great respect.
But Nina Chechneva hadn’t been blessed by the gods. Her dark soul had been tainted by something else. And the longer she’d managed to live, the more she’d been hated.
So now, the Anne Atli was using Kachka to get rid of that which she could not get rid of herself.
Steadying her nerves, Kachka went down on one knee in front of Nina. She placed two fingers under the woman’s chin and lifted until their eyes met. Those dark, soulless eyes, filled with hate. Not the casual hate of someone hated by her own people. But the hate of everyone she encountered. Nina, it was said, absorbed that hate to use when she cast spells. Now that hatred swirled through her body like blood.
“You have so few choices, Nina Chechneva. You can stay here, an outsider among your own—”
“Just like your sister. Does she miss her eye terribly? Does she cry for it at night, tears only dripping from her one remaining eye?”
Unwilling to ask how she’d known about that—no one talked to Nina Chechneva if they could help it, not even to gossip—Kachka went on as if she hadn’t heard her. “—or you can join me.”
“What makes you think you can trust me any more than anyone else, Kachka Shestakova, no longer of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains?”
“The Tribes are giving you a chance to live. Outside of this hut that they’ve built specifically for you. To allow you to breathe fresh air. To be free of these chains. But they offer you nothing more. The Cult of Chramnesind, however? They won’t even give you that. When they take over, even your dark gods will not protect you. But join us and you’ll have a chance to stop them. Then, when this is all done, you can go to your dark gods. You can become one with them and do whatever you and your dark gods do. Free from tyranny.”
Kachka gripped Nina’s chin tight until the woman couldn’t help but wince from the pain. “I promise you, Nina Chechneva, the Unclaimed. You will get no better offer than this. From anyone.”
“But?”
“But you will swear to your dark gods at the risk of your unholy soul that your loyalty will be to me and to our team. No one else.”
“And what of your mad Southland queen? She thinks her tormented soul is too good for the likes of me. She won’t be happy.”
“My loyalty is to the Mad Queen of Garbhán Isle. Your loyalty will be to us. But you must swear it, Daughter of Darkness. You must swear it.”
Nina’s eyes cut across the room. She took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. When she was done, “Fine.”
“Swear it.”
Her eyes ripped back to Kachka’s face. Kachka saw all that hate there. More than usual, actually. But it didn’t surprise her. She’d never seen Nina Chechneva look any other way.
“I swear it. On my soul and to the dark gods of pain and suffering and despair.”
Kachka studied Nina Chechneva’s face a little longer. She saw resignation in those hate-filled eyes, so she released her grip.
“Zoya Kolesova. Unleash her.”
The massive woman gawked at Kachka from the safety of the hut door. She’d come in just far enough that she could watch the proceedings but was still able to flee if necessary.
“Have you lost your wits, Kachka Shestakova?”
“Do as I tell you. Release her. She is one of us now.”
“Foolish,” Zoya muttered as she began the process of pulling the spikes from the ground and tearing the chains from the ceiling using her bare hands.
Once the chains fell to the ground, so did Nina.
“Remove the chains . . . from my . . . arms,” she gasped into the ground. “They are . . . bewitched.”
That made sense. Nina Chechneva would definitely need something extra to keep her under control.
Together, Zoya and Kachka removed the chains that controlled Nina while the others stood by the exit and waited. They were clearly concerned, but they said nothing.
Once the chains were off and tossed across the room, Nina Chechneva pulled herself up until she was once again on her weak knees. Her fists against the ground, she panted hard, her head still bowed, her frail, thin body—most likely weakened by starvation—shaking.
Then she was gone.
“Ready?” Nina Chechneva asked from outside the hut, her voice strong again, her body filled out and healthy.
Sadly, that one question sent all of them jumping, but it was Kachka’s own cousin Tatyana who screamed—like some weak male!—and ran into the hut for protection.