CHAPTER
16
IT WOULDN’T BE SAFE to approach Kribirsk on this side of the Fold, so we’d decided to stage our attack from West Ravka, and that meant dealing with the logistics of a crossing. Because Nadia and Zoya couldn’t keep the Bittern aloft with too many additional passengers, we agreed that Tolya would escort the Soldat Sol to the eastern shore of the Fold and wait for us there. It would take them a full day on horseback, and that would give the rest of us time to enter West Ravka and locate a suitable base camp. Then we’d loop back to lead the others across the Fold under the protection of my power.
We boarded the Bittern, and mere hours later, we were speeding toward the strange black fog of the Shadow Fold. This time, when we entered the darkness, I was prepared for the sense of familiarity that gripped me, that feeling of likeness. It was even stronger now that I’d dabbled in merzost, the very power that had created this place. I understood it better too, the need that had driven the Darkling to try to re-create Morozova’s experiments, a legacy he felt was his.
The volcra came at us, and I glimpsed the dim shapes of their wings, heard their cries as they tore at the circle of light I summoned. If the Darkling had his way, they’d soon be well fed. I was grateful when we burst into the sky above West Ravka.
The territory west of the Fold had been evacuated. We flew over abandoned villages and houses, all without seeing a soul. In the end, we decided to set up in an apple farm just southwest of what was left of Novokribirsk, less than a mile from the dark reach of the Fold. It was called Tomikyana, the name written across the side of the cannery and the barn full of cider presses. Its orchards were thick with fruit that would never be harvested.
The owner’s house was lavish, a perfect little cake of a building, lovingly maintained, and topped with a white cupola. I felt almost guilty as Harshaw broke a window and climbed inside to unlock the doors.
“New money,” sniffed Zoya as we made our way through the overdecorated rooms, each shelf and mantel brimming with porcelain figurines and curios.
Genya picked up a ceramic pig. “Vile.”
“I like it here,” protested Adrik. “It’s nice.”
Zoya made a retching sound. “Maybe taste will come with age.”
“I’m only three years younger than you.”
“Then maybe you’re just doomed to be tacky.”
The furniture had been covered with sheets. Misha yanked one free and ran from room to room trailing it behind him like a cape. Most of the cupboards had been emptied, but Harshaw found a tin of sardines that he opened and shared with Oncat. We’d have to send people out to the neighboring farms to scout for food.
Once we’d made sure there were no other squatters, we left David, Genya, and Misha to get started procuring materials for the production of lumiya and blasting powders. Then the rest of us reboarded the Bittern to cross back to Ravka.
We’d planned to reunite with the Soldat Sol at the monument to Sankta Anastasia that stood on a low hill overlooking what had once been Tsemna. Thanks to Anastasia, Tsemna had survived the wasting plague that had claimed half the population of the surrounding villages. But Tsemna hadn’t survived the Fold. It had been swallowed up when the Black Heretic’s disastrous experiments first created the Unsea.
The monument was an eerie sight, a giant stone woman rising out of the earth, arms spread wide, her benevolent gaze fixed on the nothingness of the Fold. Anastasia was rumored to have rid countless towns of sickness. Had she worked miracles, or was she simply a talented Healer? Was there any difference?
We’d arrived before the Soldat Sol, so we landed and made camp for the night. The air was still warm enough that we didn’t need tents, and we laid our bedrolls next to the foot of the statue near a patchy field studded with red boulders. Mal took Harshaw with him to try to find game for dinner. It was scarce down here, as if the animals were just as wary of the Unsea as we were.
I wrapped a shawl around my shoulders and walked down the hill to the edge of the black shore. Two days, I thought as I looked into the seething black mists. I knew better than to think I understood what lay ahead of me. Every time I’d tried to predict my fate, my life had been upended.
I heard a soft scraping sound behind me. I turned and froze. Nikolai was perched atop a high rock. He was cleaner than he had been, but he wore the same ragged trousers. His taloned feet gripped the ridge of the rock, and his shadow wings beat gently at the air, his gaze black and unreadable.
I’d been hoping he would show himself again, but now I wasn’t sure what to do. Had he been watching us? What had he seen? How much had he understood?
Carefully, I reached into my pocket, afraid any sudden movement might make him bolt.
I held out my hand, the Lantsov emerald resting on my palm. He frowned, a line appearing between his brows, then folded his wings and leapt soundlessly from the rock. It was hard not to back away. I didn’t want to be afraid, but the way he moved was so inhuman. He stalked toward me slowly, eyes focused on the ring. When he was less than a foot away, he cocked his head to one side.
Despite the black eyes and the inky lines that coursed up his neck, he still had an elegant face—his mother’s fine cheekbones, the strong jaw that must have come from his ambassador father. His frown deepened. Then he reached out and plucked the emerald up in his claws.
“It’s—” The words died on my lips. Nikolai turned my palm over and slid the ring onto my finger.
My breath caught between a laugh and a sob. He knew me. I couldn’t stop the tears that welled in my eyes.
He pointed to my hand and made a sweeping gesture. It took me a second to grasp his meaning. He was imitating the way I moved when I summoned.
“You want me to call the light?”
His face stayed blank. I let sunlight pool in my palm. “This?”
The glow seemed to galvanize him. He seized my hand and slapped it against his chest. I tried to draw away, but he held my hand in place. His grip was viselike, made stronger by whatever monstrous thing the Darkling had placed inside him.
I shook my head. “No.”
Again, he slapped my hand against his chest, the movement almost frantic.
“I don’t know what my power will do to you,” I protested.
The corner of his mouth curled, the faintest suggestion of Nikolai’s wry smile. I could almost hear him say, Really, lovely, what could be worse? Beneath my hand, his heart beat—steady and human.
I released a long breath. “All right,” I said. “I’ll try.”
I summoned the barest bit of light, letting it flow through my palm. He winced, but held my hand firmly in place. I pushed a little harder, trying to direct the light into him, thinking of the spaces between, letting it seep through his skin.
The black cracks on his torso began to recede. I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing. Could it possibly be this simple?
“It’s working,” I gasped.
He grimaced, but waved me on, asking for more.
I called the light into him, watching the black veins fade and recoil.
He was panting now, his eyes closed. A low, pained whine rose from his throat. His grip around my wrist was iron.
“Nikolai—”
Then I felt something push back, as if the darkness within him was fighting. It shoved against the light. All at once, the cracks exploded outward, just as dark as before, like the roots of a tree drinking deep of poisoned water.
Nikolai flinched and shoved away from me with a frustrated snarl. He looked down at his chest, misery carved into his features.
It was no good. Only the Cut worked on the nichevo’ya. It might well destroy the thing inside Nikolai, but it would kill him too.
His shoulders slumped, his wings roiling with the same shifting movement as the Fold.
“We’ll think of something. David will come up with a solution, or we’ll find a Healer.…”
He dropped to his haunches, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. Nikolai had seemed infinitely capable, confident in his belief that every problem had a solution and he would be the one to find it. I couldn’t bear seeing him this way, broken and defeated for the first time.
I approached him cautiously and crouched down. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Tentatively, I reached out and touched his arm, ready to draw back if he startled or snapped. His skin was warm, the feel of it unchanged despite the shadows lurking beneath it. I slipped my arms around him, careful of the wings that rustled at his back.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He dropped his forehead to my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Nikolai.”
He released a small, shuddering sigh.
Then he inhaled and tensed. He turned his head. I felt his breath on my neck, the scrape of one of his teeth beneath my jaw.
“Nikolai?”
His arms clamped around me. His claws dug into my back. There was no mistaking the growl that issued from his chest.
I pushed away from him and shot to my feet.
“Stop!” I said harshly.
His hands flexed. His lips had pulled back to reveal his onyx fangs. I knew what I saw in him: appetite.
“Don’t,” I pleaded. “This isn’t you. You can control this.”