“That is how you know,” Shubin told her. “That is how you know what you’re made of.”
“Do we all burn?” she asked. She held her hands out and turned them palms to the sky, and then again, palms to the floor.
“No,” he answered. He’d never burn. He was made of stone, made for the deep tunnels and to withstand flames. The roamer? Probably not. He was air, whipping around the world as fast as his thoughts could take him. The owl? Maybe, him. Feathers burned. Muscle burned. “Not all of us.”
13
Tatiana
There was something about watching a part of herself burn that made a girl nervous. If forest creatures had surrounded Tatiana along with—she didn’t know—fucking fairies or something, she’d have felt better. But Korolevstvo looked like Stalin’s darker communist dream house, complete with smokestacks and concrete bunkers.
No place for a girl who turned into mulch.
Shubin studied her, while Fedir and Grisha stood close. A strange heaviness pervaded the air, like there was some grudge match or muscle flexing happening.
“Your place is nice,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
Shubin smiled. Two dimples appeared in his cheeks, and he looked so young. If she hadn’t run into him in a strange world, she’d have crushed on him, hard.
Actually, she was crushing on him anyway. And Grisha. And Fedir. It was hard not to when they both wanted to save her life and had rescued her about a billion times.
Just a rough estimate.
It was okay if she padded the numbers a little. She was bound to do something stupid that put her life at risk.
How could she help it? Korolevstvo, a place, had feelings. It got angry at her if it was insulted. If she put her foot in her mouth again, it might not be a building that fell on her but a mountain.
Or one of those giant smokestacks she’d seen from the place where she first arrived.
A stone on Shubin’s hutch caught her eye, and she leaned closer to examine it. It was black but had smooth sides that gleamed nearly green in the gray light. Unlike the other stones and gems, this one sat on a piece of rough looking cloth. “What is it?” she asked.
“Jet,” Shubin answered.
“And the thing beneath it?”
She didn’t hear him move, but he crowded her. The heat of him seeped into her back. It made her want to lean against him and absorb it. Swaying toward him, she caught herself at the last second and locked her knees. “It’s to polish it.” He reached past her, opened the cabinet, and pulled out the jet and the cloth.
She turned to watch him, bumping against his chest, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He’d dipped his head low so they were almost forehead to forehead and smoothed his thumb against the stone. “See how it’s rough? Here and here?” He held it on his palm and turned it so one side shone.
“Yes,” she whispered, aware of how close they were and the way his breath caressed her forehead.
“You have to polish it to make it shine. Then you can work it; use it for jewelry or something.”
She peered up at him, her gaze roaming the collar of his jacket and breast pocket to see if he was wearing some.
“Not for me,” he said and laughed. “Here, take it.” Before she could even put her hand out, he’d dropped it. She fumbled for it, and it nearly slipped from her fingers.
“It’s warm,” she said, surprised.
“It’s a little like coal,” he explained. “It’s formed after hundreds of years when wood is put under enormous pressure. Sometimes it has pyrite in it, too. What I find now, I can’t touch.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Too much metal. It has inclusions, other minerals trapped inside it.”
“But this?”
His dark hand folded over hers, cupping the jet. The heat of him warmed the jet to almost an uncomfortable temperature. She held it as long as possible, but it was too much, and she jerked her hand away.
Shubin studied her, while from the corner of her eye Fedir extended his wings. They scraped against the walls and knocked into something that clattered to the floor.
“Nice,” he said, dryly, interrupting them. “We should leave.”
Shubin’s orange eyes darkened to coal black. They held hers before he side-eyed Fedir. “It’s too dangerous in daylight.”
Grisha cleared his throat. “I’m going to explore, see what I see. If there’s anything we need to be on guard against.”
Tatiana sidestepped Shubin to see Grisha. He raked his hand through autumn-leaf colored hair and didn’t return her gaze. “Shubin and Fedir will keep you safe.”
“I could come with you,” she said.
“That defeats the whole point of him going,” Fedir said, annoyed. “Go, Grisha. We’ll be here until I can find someplace better.”
Tatiana happened to catch Shubin’s face after Fedir spoke. It was such a quick thing, she thought maybe she’d misinterpreted it. At Fedir’s announcement, he’d glanced around his home and then dropped his gaze to the floor. Like he was embarrassed.
Insulted on his behalf, heat rose along her back and neck. If she wasn’t worried it would embarrass him further, she’d call Fedir on his bullshit.
Fuck it.
“I love your home, Shubin. It’s cozy and comfortable, and maybe you can show me what you do with the jet while we wait?” As she spoke, he met her eyes and nodded once.
“And Grisha—” She turned to the other man. “Hurry back. If it looks okay out there, we can surf some air currents.”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “That means you’d be surfing me, exchanged girl.” His pale skin flushed bright red, and he cleared his throat.
Oh.
“It would be cool if I turned out to be some kind of animal shifter like Fedir,” she said. “Like a flying squirrel. Think of how quick we could zip between places.” Demonstrating, she pretended she was a squirrel with its arms outstretched.
Grisha laughed, long and loud, and something inside her eased. She’d made it better. Both for Grisha and for Shubin.
“See you soon, Squirrel.” With a wave, he was gone. The door closed firmly behind him.
Now, for the shit stirrer.
“Fedir,” she began.
The other man crossed his arms, but he moved from one foot to another. She had him. He lashed out when he was uncertain. It didn’t matter to whom he directed his upset. For Tatiana, it was clear.
Fedir was freaking out.
She didn’t kid herself, it wasn’t jealousy. But she had turned his whole world upside down. From what little she knew about him, he was the last of his kind. He seemed lonely but didn’t want friends.
Except… he had saved her. And, he hadn’t left her. Not yet. He continuously commented on wanting to be rid of her, but he didn’t do the easiest thing in the world.
He didn’t leave.
Tricky bird.
Not so wise old owl.
She smiled at him, and he crossed his arms, lifting his eyebrows challengingly. “What?”
“Nothing.” Her voice had a singsong quality and his feathers ruffled.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He stepped toward her, arms dropping to his sides.
“Like what?” She raised her eyebrows like he had.
“Like you know something I don’t.” He was close now, and Shubin suddenly moved next to her.
“You can’t fight her,” he growled.
His words seemed to shake Fedir, and he visibly bristled. “I wouldn’t fight her! She’s a changeling. I could snap her like the twigs she’s made of.”
“Or drop me from seventy stories,” she added. His eyes widened as he studied her. “But. You. Didn’t.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered. “You’re acting strangely. Even for a pseudo-human.”
Ooohhh. Now we’re insulting. She’d riled him up, and God help her, but she wanted to poke him some more.
“I like you, Fedir,” she said and poked him in the ch
est. The naked chest. The naked, muscled chest, and now she was stroking him. Stop it!
Even Shubin rocked back on his heels. “You like him?”
“Fedir saved my life. Twice. He’s my friend, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. That’s okay.” She smiled at him, dropping some of her sass. “You don’t have to say it.”
“I’m going to help the roamer,” he said, backing away from her. Was that what he was doing? Tatiana followed him, and he knocked into a side table. He was! He was trying to escape!
“Okay,” she said. “Is it okay if I stay here with you, Shubin?”
He rubbed his forehead. “I thought that’s what you were doing. I’m confused.”
Without even giving it a second thought, she leaned against his arm and patted him. “Just confirming.”
Fedir maneuvered around them, never giving him his back. Given the height of his wings and the size of the room, it was difficult. But he managed not to knock another item over. He was out the door and shutting it before she could say a word.
Shubin walked away from her. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I haven’t been since I got here.”
“Good,” he answered. “Korolevstvo isn’t making you sick, and it’s healing you.” He tilted his head as he studied her. “What did you look like before you got here? Must have been pretty bad for the owl to bring you.”
“I probably look the same way I do now.” She glanced down at herself. Nothing had changed as far as she could tell. “Skinny. Pale.” She touched beneath her eyes. “Tired.”
Shaking his head, Shubin began to grin. “No.” He walked away from her but crooked a finger for her to follow. “Come see.”
He pushed open a door and beckoned her closer. Curiosity blossomed as she walked into what had to have been his bedroom. It was bare bones. A bed. A chest of drawers. A mirror.
It was old, the glass cracked and a little greenish, but she could see her reflection.
And she gasped.
She drifted toward the glass, touching her face. Was that her? How…?
Her face was filled out. Tatiana was used to how harsh she looked, with her bones pressing against her skin, all angles and sharpness. But now, her cheeks were rounded and—she pulled her chin against her neck—she had a double chin! She did it again to see if she could make more than two.
How in the world had this happened?
Quickly, she tugged the sweater lower to reveal her collarbones. It was the thing about her body that bothered her the most—the thinner she got, the more they stood out and made her look like a scarecrow.
She glanced down the neck of her sweater.
“Holy shit, I have boobs.” It was unbelievable. She cupped them, felt them fill her hands, and then let go before doing it again. “I have boobs!”
Behind her, Shubin leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. His eyes were wide and focused on her hands. When he realized she saw him, he began to whistle and stare at the ceiling.
“I can’t believe this,” she said. Thank God she wore jogging pants because she was filling them out! She had hips. And though her stomach was still flat, probably because she was so tall, it wasn’t concave.
She was healing.
All at once overwhelmed, tears filled her eyes, and she had to bite her lip.
“What is it?” Shubin asked, leaving his place to hurry to her. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m going to live,” she whispered, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I can feel it. I’m not tired. I’m not hungry. My body is healing. I’m not a walking corpse.”
“It’s because you’re home,” Shubin said, just as quietly. “This is the place you are meant to be.”
Tatiana nodded. But was this her home? She had a family who loved her and would do anything for her. Granted, they lived in a place that would literally kill her, but they meant everything to her.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. His large hands cupped her shoulders as he turned her toward him and then, carefully, like he was worried she’d push him away, he slid his hands across her back until she was in his arms. “Shh.” He rocked her from side to side. “Shh, exchanged girl. What could make you this sad?”
Tatiana let him hug her. He was hot; his body heat seeped through his shirt and the jacket he hadn’t taken off, and she absorbed it. It gave her a strange shiver, one that began right between her shoulder blades.
“My family,” she said.
Shubin seemed to stiffen, but he rubbed her back in wide circles all the same. “The rusalka are dangerous, but once they see you, they’ll accept you. It’s their duty.”
“The rusalka aren’t my family, even if one of them made me. I mean my human family. The ones who raised me and loved me. If I want to see them again, I’ll die. And if I stay here, I’ll live, but I’ll never see them again.”
“You could visit for short periods of time,” Shubin said. He stopped their musicless dance and stepped away. “The roamer does it all the time.”
“Do you think so?” she asked, and he nodded.
“Of course. You could devise a story, one they’ll believe, and visit from time to time. That’s what other humans do, right? Grow up and move away. Visit for special occasions.”
What he said was true, but if there was another girl there, the real Tatiana, what place could she have? She’d be an interloper, an uninvited guest.
No. If she could get the real Tatiana to go to her family and live the life she’d been born to, then she, fake girl, exchanged girl, couldn’t go back. It wouldn’t be fair to the real girl, and it wouldn’t be fair to her family.
She had to make things right, and then she had to make a clean break.
“You have a very expressive face.” Shubin stepped away from her, back toward his bedroom door. “Most feia aren’t so…”
“Truthful?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Obvious. It’s not in our nature.”
“But it’s in mine.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “Come here. I want to give you something.”
Deflection. He wanted her to be thinking about something besides her sadness. Funny how quickly she got a sense of him. Unlike Fedir, who tried to hide his personality, Shubin didn’t seem afraid of her. Or what she’d think of him. “You’ve already given me something,” she said. “Shelter. A place to rest.”
“This is more important.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. He stopped short, turning to face her. “I haven’t seen anyone except Fedir and Grisha, even though there are buildings big enough to house a hundred people, but you’re the only person who appeared to help us.”
His face got serious, dimples disappearing, lips firming into a frown. “Your friends were right. I did collapse the tunnel. The fire was my fault.”
“What do you mine?” she asked, changing the subject away from him being responsible for something she was certain couldn’t be his fault. She couldn’t have said how she knew it, but she did.
“All the things you see.” He gestured toward his shelves.
“What do you do with it?” she asked. “Besides collect.”
He smiled, just a quick flash of dimples before he leaned over and withdrew something sheathed in leather. “What is it?” she asked, bouncing toward him. She tried to look over his shoulder, but he was so much taller than her when he stood. “A magic wand? A magic flute?”
Snorting, he pulled an intricate carved knife from the sheath.
“A magic knife?”
“Just a knife,” he said. “Here.” He waited while she stared at it. How should she grab it? By the hilt? Should she hold her hands out like she was accepting an offering?
In a move too fast to track, he flipped the knife into the air and caught it by the blade. He held it out to her, handle first. She took it carefully. “Obsidian?” she asked. It had the same green-black sheen as the stone he’d put in her hand earlier. "What do you think I'm going to do with this?"
"I think you're going to protect yourself." All signs of humor left Shubin.
"Do you really think I'm going to need it?" Sure the city seemed dangerous, but again, she'd only met three people. No one had harmed her so far, and she couldn’t stab the wind. Or an earthquake. Or fire.
"Why do you think Grisha and Fedir left?” Shubin went to the door. He looked outside. Tatiana walked up behind him; she couldn't see anything but that didn't mean there wasn’t something there.
"Do you feel something?" she asked. Tatiana shut her eyes and tried to imagine what she should feel. Would it be a prickling on the back of her neck? Goosebumps? How was she supposed to know when she was in danger?
Shubin turned around and smiled. His dark eyes seemed to dance, and he lifted his eyebrows. “Do I feel something?”
She touched his shoulder, stood on her tiptoes and peered past him. “Yes. Is there a feeling that feia get? Should I know when something is after me?”
His gaze roamed her face, but the smile remained on his lips. “You are interesting, exchanged girl…” He met her gaze and held it. “No. It’s not a feeling. Not yet. Maybe one day you’ll be as close to Korolevstvo as those of us who were made here. Until then, use this—” He took her hand in his, his touch gentle but firm. “You kill anyone who would harm you.”
“I don’t know if I could do that.” The obsidian blade was icy cold in her grasp.
He stared at her a moment longer before he touched his thumb to the corner of her mouth. His hand was so large his finger wrapped around the back of her neck. “I think you could. You are strong. I can see it.”
What did he see when he looked at her? How could someone who’d just met her see strength when all she’d ever seen was someone who was failing—physically, sure—but also at life.
“You don’t believe me.” Statement of fact.
“I want to,” she said. He still hadn’t moved his hand, and she reached to cover it with hers. Funny how his skin against hers felt so right. It was similar to how safe she felt with Grisha.
Forge and Fire (The Replacement Book 1) Page 8
