Breakfire's Glass

by A. M. Valenza

  "Porfiry, she is sick," Vasiliy whispered. "She is dying."

  "Keep her awake," Porfiry snapped. "Bolster her. She is out of life."

  Katerini looked at Vasiliy. He was a tad taller than her, she realized. Just the merest inch or two. Irritating. His blue eyes glowed, the same color as the fleece and thread. Beautiful. She raised a finger and he looked at it. Somewhere in the distance, Porfiry was talking to Alexey, saying something. "Vasiliy," Katerini said. "Nikolai spun his life into the thread. He took my hair. My hair, Vasiliy. I punched him."

  Vasiliy blinked. "He did not ask?"

  "No," she said, her head rolling forward. She threw it back again with some effort. "I do not think I hate either of you so much anymore. I just feel empty. Nothing. Why did Porfiry look so sad at the Palace of Pale Stars? I was so irritated when he made that stupid face—" Her knees buckled. Well, one of them did. The other one was broken. Strange. She didn't feel a thing. "Vasiliy, spin the rest of the fleece into thread. Weave a tapestry. Like Maryana said. Or was it Melorya? Both, probably."

  "Alexey will," Vasiliy said.

  "Yes, I came to beg him, I remember," Katerini replied.

  "Her bag," a new voice said, trembling with false confidence. She saw Alexey stood next to her, his gloved hands outstretched hesitantly. She snapped her teeth at him and laughed when he recoiled. Her head lolled forward and Vasiliy quickly pulled her against him again. Alexey disentangled the bag off her back. She heard him rustling through it. "There's some fleece—this thread is so fine! I can do it. I can do it, but I don't understand how—"

  The voices faded into noise. Vasiliy kept shaking her awake. She wanted to hit him. Yell at him to stop. She wanted to sleep, didn't he realize? Then Porfiry tapped her on the head. A cool feeling spread down into her bones. She glared at him. He blinked, and—

  Her eyes felt like bruises. She was lying down on something soft. A bed. In a red and gold room. A very gaudy, messy red and gold room. She rolled her head to the side, nearly vomiting from the motion, and saw Vasiliy turn to look at her. He blinked owlishly over a plate of food. Damn mute. She fell back into darkness, tumbling in and out of splintered consciousness. Each time she saw either Porfiry or Vasiliy, never both, and Porfiry always tried to talk to her.

  "Katerini, you must stay awake this time." His sharp fingers were cool against her cheek. "You—"

  Bah. She ignored him.

  She dreamt of cold, of darkness and glittering stars. Crystalline eyes watching her. Hands like frost and diamonds clasped her own, pulled her gently. She shook them off, annoyed. She was sick of the cold. The hands came again, and she slapped them hard, snarling. She heard a quiet laugh, and those dreams faded away. Good. She was too irritated for that nonsense.

  Slowly, in a whispering way, she began to see visions. She saw Vasiliy standing in front of a massive loom, clacking the shuttle back and forth, the material he wove a shining, shifting blue. Next to him Alexey sat on a red stool, spinning the rest of the fleece on a spinning wheel, his eyebrows pulled tight with fierce concentration. His feet worked the treadles tirelessly, piles of glowing fleece bathing him in soft blue light. Had Nikolai really made so much? And where was he?

  She did not see Nikolai, not for a long time. Only Alexey and Vasiliy. Somewhere deep inside, she knew it was Porfiry who showed her these things. From his sharp fingers he rolled droplets of his scorching magic into her mouth, filled with memories and muffled thoughts, and he did not show her Nikolai's corpse. He did not want to worry her.

  Finally she saw it, however, or the shape of it, draped in a gorgeous cloth the color of Nikolai's blue magic. Vasiliy and Porfiry handled the tapestry, Alexey hovering around them anxiously as they tucked it securely around Nikolai's corpse. The tapestry sank downwards, losing its color and shriveling, the threads turning black and brittle. Ashy shadows exploded outwards, then sucked back inwards with a crack. For a brief moment, she saw glittering eyes blinking under wild black hair. The beginnings of an infuriating grin.

  The vision jerked her into wakefulness.

  A quiet squeak alerted her to someone in the room, someone who was not Porfiry or Vasiliy. They would never make such an undignified noise. Her eyes snapped to Alexey, who had been trying to adjust her pillows. He went pale and backed away, though not quick enough. Her hand shot out and clenched his arm in a steel grip. He froze.

  "Alexey," she croaked. Her grip became water, hand slipping down to land on the blankets. Bah. Alexey blinked rapidly. He hesitantly came closer, touching her arm with one finger. When she didn't bite, he carefully lifted her arm and placed it on her stomach. He trembled as she watched him.

  The emptiness boiled up inside her, threatening to encase her in loathing and guilt. Nikolai. Her mouth stiffened. He had listened to her. He did not say she was a monster after she had talked with him, atop the Svarinard in a freezing cave. But she would not stop feeling like one until she spoke with him, with Alexey. Nikolai had pushed her to admit her regret. She must be the one to ask for forgiveness.

  Bah.

  This would be annoying. The poor bastard looked like he was going to faint. He could barely meet her eyes, his gaze skittering away and his hands twisting together painfully.

  "Alexey," she said again. Her voice crackled and popped, so raspy he jumped and hurriedly offered her water, to which she growled. Jumping again, he hid the glass behind his back. Ugh. Like a skittish fox. She wanted to yell at him to grow a spine. Instead, she said, "When I hurt you—ripped out your eyes—I did something horrible to you. You did not deserve it. I am—" She coughed, and he pushed the glass into her hands, helping her drink.

  She was too exhausted to stay awake for much longer, could feel the sleep creeping back into her eyes. She waited, panting with effort, until he met her eyes again. Said, "Thank you, Alexey."

  His eyes widened as Katerini's drooped.

  "For saving Nikolai," she murmured.

  Alexey leaned forward, saying something urgently to her, but his words blurred and she was asleep again.

  After that, the dreams stopped and she fell into a black slumber. She did not know how long she slept. The last thing she remembered thinking was she would have to thank Porfiry for the dreams, and how much of an unpleasant experience that would be. Never mind her debt to Alexey.

  Then her eyes fluttered open. She stared at the canopy of the bed. She was in a different room now, this one dark blue and silver, with splashes of black. Neat and clean, with the thick scent of incense. It was smaller than the last one, no windows, and a fireplace was located opposite the bed. A low flame crackled in it and filled the room with blessed warmth. Hanging on the walls were two great tapestries, each depicting a constellation in an array of shimmering black and blue, silvery thread making it seem as though they actually twinkled. She recognized them easily: the Hoarfrost Owl, two heads looking east and west with four wings unfurled for flight; and the Glacial Wolf, six legs pawing the fabric of the sky while three jaws nested three deep, and filled with a thousand snapping teeth each, snarled viciously.

  By the burn of the lingering magic, she suspected this was Porfiry and Vasiliy's room. She wasn't sure how to feel about being moved to their chambers, and was glad for the hot sensation around her hand distracting her. Slowly, she turned her head to the side.

  Nikolai sat next to her on the bed, his fingers tangled with hers, and smiled widely when she looked at him. "My lovely Katerini is awake."

  She stared at him. His eyes shimmered from beneath his thick black hair, brighter than before, and all his color was back. He wore a loose black shirt over his Darkrow pants, and nothing else. Something was different. She blinked. Couldn't place her finger on it. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, his fingers tightening in between hers. Then he lingered, his breath hot against her cheek. She did not mind, closing her eyes. Her lips twitched as a scent touched her nose. Mint.

  "I rather think your brothers like me," he said when he pulled back. "And Alexey too."


  Katerini opened her eyes and scowled. "This is how you greet me?" She turned her head away. "Bah!" He laughed and she turned back to him, taking in his smiling face. She could see his eyes clearly, she realized, and reached up their tangled hands to touch right below his eyes. They were grayish-blue, mostly gray, but the blue lingered beneath. Spinning his magic must have taken the life from them. He leaned forward and nuzzled her, rubbing their noses together.

  "I missed you, my lovely one."

  She made a face. "What's this? Stop that." She pushed his face away. He sat back, the smiling becoming borderline idiotic. She narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

  "I love you."

  She blinked.

  His smiled widened. "I suppose I'll begin to blink too. Porfiry and Vasiliy tell me it's a family trait. Alexey does it too, you know? He says he didn't use to. I can't wait."

  She blinked rapidly, then growled, "Are you an idiot?"

  "A fool in love, my lovely Katerini." His eyes were serious. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing gently.

  She looked at the canopy. "And Chornish? I thought you two were lovers."

  "We are," Nikolai said, scooting closer. "I—How should I say this?—I am not asking for what your brothers and Alexey have, the three of them together. Gavrila has, ah, fleeting lovers other than me, as do I—ah, um, occasionally." Katerini snorted and Nikolai grinned sheepishly. "He does always come back to me, and I to him. We've been together since we were children, lovers for quite a while too, and we decided long ago about this—this way of being." Nikolai shifted unhappily. Katerini waited. It was clearly something which he did not expect her to understand, which meant others had not understood before her. "He is restless. I was restless for a time, and though I love Gavrila and would never leave him, I want you as well." He bowed his head, looking at her through his lashes and hair. "Do you dislike it?"

  She wasn't quite sure what to make of Chornish, other than she was fine with him. He didn't bother her. He was quiet and thoughtful without being sly, unlike Nikolai. Their relationship was an odd one, true, and she didn't have a single qualm with it. Not one. It was silly to make a fuss over nothing. Nikolai was certainly fool enough to love more than one person.

  "Gavrila liked you, you know? He whispered to me that day, in the Wandering Wolf. He says you are good for me because you aren't reckless, that he wouldn't have to worry if I would come back or not." Nikolai shrugged, a blush staining his cheeks. "I love you both. I hope you can come to love me," Nikolai said, filling the silence. He was nervous, his hands trembling, and his eyes kept darting away from her face.

  "I do not feel desire the same as you," she said, one last argument. He tipped his head to the side in question. "To bed people." His eyebrows shot up. He grinned. She sighed through her nose, long and drawn out. "You grinning idiot. You must be the type that falls for the difficult ones."

  "I am. I am and I want to be your idiot, your fool. May I? Please?" Nikolai leaned forward, staring intently into her eyes. "Bedding or not, just let me be yours, Katerini."

  She opened her mouth and the door swung open, Porfiry and Vasiliy striding in with suspiciously blank expressions. Nikolai went bright red. Katerini rolled her eyes and tried sitting up, wincing. Nikolai helped her as Porfiry and Vasiliy came to stand on the other side of the bed. She eyed them.

  "Thank you," she said as Porfiry opened his mouth. "I know you sent the dreams to me. And I would like to thank Alexey, if he would see me." She did not feel her last thanks was enough. She had been too ill.

  Porfiry blinked. Flicked his black eyes to Vasiliy. "Katerini, you nearly died."

  "I gathered," she said sourly.

  Porfiry stood there, Vasiliy hanging over him.

  The silence stretched.

  Finally Nikolai laughed, clapping his hands, and said, "Well, isn't this nice! They were worried about you, Katerini, did you know?"

  She gave Nikolai an unimpressed look while Porfiry scowled. "Yes, I know." She frowned, recalling something that had been bothering her. "Alexey did not make the tapestry."

  "He did not know how," Nikolai said. "I never thought you would go to him for help. Quite frankly, I didn't know he was a thread mage too. He spun the rest of my life very well." He gave a breathy little laugh. "He's very eager to learn from me."

  "Yes," Porfiry hummed. "Saving your life was somewhat of a combined effort. Very clever of you, Darkrow Nikolai," Porfiry said, "to think of evading the price. Do not try it with an actual demon, however." Nikolai chuckled as Porfiry slipped something from his cloak. The mirror wrapped in a cloth. "Now that you are both awake, I must ask—what do you plan to do with this?"

  "Ilya," Nikolai answered. "He is dying."

  Porfiry pursed his lips, but Katerini spoke first. "Yes, Porfiry, it is a risk. He may not wish for his health. He could wish any number of things, really, from omnipotence to omniscience, to conquering the world." She held up a shaking hand, the weakness in her limbs upsetting. "This feeling is awful, however, and Ilya lives with it every day." Porfiry stared at her shaking hand until she could no longer hold it up. It flumped onto the covers, and Nikolai grasped it tightly. "And the mirror is not powerful enough to grant those sorts of wishes. I'm sure Nikolai has a cunningly emotional speech prepared for Ilya—" Nikolai nodded, smirking, "—and, just like he conned the mirror of its price, he'll con Ilya into wishing for his health."

  Nikolai frowned. "Con is much too strong a word."

  Porfiry raised an eyebrow. "Very well. However, the mirror will be sent back to its owner immediately after its use. Vasiliy and I have set a spell on it to do so." He twirled the mirror between his fingers. "Wars are fought over objects such as these, you realize. A Darkrow has lost his life over it."

  Nikolai bowed his head.

  Katerini, however, reached out and grabbed it. Porfiry let her, and she threw it on the nightstand with a clang. "It's atrocious," she spat. "Tell that weepy Breakfire to take his pathetic wibbling elsewhere next time he gets rejected. What a child."

  Porfiry smirked. "Yes. We plan to." He and Vasiliy shared a look. "I suppose neither of you know the rest of the story. We will have to relate it when you are stronger, Katerini. It is highly amusing." He leaned down and kissed Katerini on the cheek, Vasiliy imitating him. She grabbed their faces before they could pull away, returning their kisses. Porfiry and Vasiliy blinked.

  "Thank you," she growled again, red-faced with effort.

  "We are glad you are alive," Vasiliy whispered. She saw the ghost of a smile on his lips.

  "Yes. And we are glad you do not hate us," Porfiry added. "We are honored to be your siblings."

  She harrumphed and folded her arms. "Do not say I would make an excellent demon."

  Porfiry's mouth twitched into a small smile. "Yes, Katerini."

  Porfiry and Vasiliy fussed over her before they left to be with Alexey, poking and prodding and ordering Nikolai to help her eat—she snapped her teeth at this, Porfiry hissing right back at her to stop being stubborn—and when the door shut with a click she rubbed her chest in irritation. Their magic was curled around hers and seeped slowly into her molten core. It did not mix very well, scorching and searing her, squishing the breath out of her lungs at times. Yet she knew it kept her alive while she replenished her strength. She had eaten away her life magic, after all, to the brink of death. She was surprised she hadn't died on the way to Kalinstad. Shuddering, she slid back down under the covers and sighed, feeling her eyelids droop.

  "May I stay?" Nikolai asked softly. What a stupid question. She nodded, already on her way to sleep. He lay down next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and shifting closer. She leaned her head against his chest, wrinkling her nose. His breath reeked of the stew she hadn't finished, the pleasant mint smell gone.

  Still, she felt warm.

  Chapter Eight

  To say Alexey liked Nikolai was an understatement. Even his fear of Katerini did not keep him away for long. He was too excited to meet another
thread mage, one who was significantly more skilled than he was, raw power aside. Nikolai thought he was funny. As Katerini recovered, the room was filled with the clack and whirr of spindles as Nikolai showed Alexey all his tricks and taught him new skills. Of course, since Alexey was in the room, so were Porfiry and Vasiliy. They watched silently, or read, or dozed on the divan.

  Katerini was surprised to learn Porfiry enjoyed sleeping, though there was something strange about how he did it. It bothered her so much that she sank down into her bedcovers and ignored them all, usually napping until supper. Eating proved to be difficult, more difficult than walking—and walking had been very difficult indeed. Nikolai tried to hide his trepidation behind a smile each time she couldn't finish a meal or fell over, but she could see it linger around the edges of his mouth and eyes. He felt guilty. He had recovered wonderfully from his brief death.

  "Hmm, your wounds will scar," Porfiry murmured to her, clicking his tongue in annoyance. Katerini looked over her bare shoulder at him, harrumphing. Nikolai was with Vasiliy and Alexey, who had offered to take him into Kalinstad proper. Unlike the Palace of Pale Stars, the Palace Dyed in Red was outside of the city's pale. It was a thin excuse to get Nikolai and Alexey away long enough for Porfiry to talk to her. She knew he had wanted to since her slips in and out of consciousness.

  "Inconsequential," she replied, taking the damp cloth Porfiry offered and wiping her arms and chest. She sat on a stool while Porfiry inspected her wounds. "I have scars from glass making as well."

  "It bothers me, Katerini," Porfiry snapped. He rubbed a tapered nail on one of the raised welts lashed across her back. "These are unsightly. I should be able to rid you of them. Vasiliy and I will make a cream for you." He nodded, the matter decided. She gave him a flat look as she handed back the cloth. Fussy.

  Porfiry dampened the cloth again and wiped her back. A thick silence fell, broken only by the quiet sounds of water and Porfiry's huffs of exasperation. She smoothed her hair out of the way as he dried her back.