Magic of Fire and Shadows (Curse of the Ctyri Book 1)

by Raye Wagner

  Brida’s mouth dropped open.

  Danek cleared his throat. “How long ago did he leave? Could I catch up with him?”

  Vasi shook her head. Even if he could, she knew her father wouldn’t want to put Danek at risk, so she lied. “He knew we’d need you here and asked that you stay. I’m sorry.”

  The young man took his disappointment well. With a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and, addressing the room, said, “Then I’ll be outside making sure things are done properly.”

  His words spurred Brida and the cook into action, which was a mercy as the tsar’s men and women hadn’t stopped packing during the exchange.

  With all of the activity and people moving in and out of the house, it should have been easy to grab the doll and Casimir’s knife, but Vasi was stopped three times before she could even leave the kitchen. Every step Vasi took, someone asked about where something should go or if it was worth keeping. Despite her hurried answers, a couple hours passed before Vasi finally made it to her room.

  There was so much to do. Vasi changed into a plain coarse shift, drab and brown. She laced up her boots and pinned on her threadbare cloak, hoping to make it to the woods for at least a few hours this afternoon.

  “There you are,” she whispered, kneeling by her bed. She reached into the hole she’d made last night in the mattress, plunging her hand deep into the down. She fished around the feathers for several seconds, their hollow shafts poking her, and then her fingers brushed her prize. Wrapping her hand around the hilt, Vasi pulled out the familiar jeweled weapon. The gems glistened up at her, winking in vibrant greens and blues.

  Out of her window, the sun started its descent to the horizon; the sky outside was splashed with oranges and golds, and Vasi slipped the knife and doll into her pockets. In a small sack, she packed flint, a salve for scrapes, and a change of clothes—what she remembered her mother taking on their excursions into the forest. Grabbing the heavy cloak, Vasi only needed to pack food and make an offering to the djinn before she left.

  The bustle had diminished. Many of the tsar’s servants were now gone, likely with the laden carts to unpack at the duchy. Once Marika got home, Vasi would be yoked with more work, and then she would never be able to leave. Something about the departure of the other servants made Vasi feel the need to hasten hers, and she ran toward the kitchen, skidding to a halt in the hall when she heard Marika snap, “Insufferable.”

  Run!

  Run? Vasi turned, her muscles coiled to sprint, but then Marika called out as she stepped into the hall.

  “Ah, here you are, Vasilisa.” Marika sounded infinitely pleased. “Come in here, girl.”

  As Vasi’s whole body tingled with the need to run, she stepped through the doorway.

  Marika stood in the center of the great hall, the room filled with their possessions. The chaise lounge from the solar remained as well as the tea table and chairs. Several trunks were stacked in the center of the room.

  “Where have you been?” Marika asked as she glanced at Vasi’s travel attire. “Or should I ask where do you think you’re going?”

  20

  Marika closed the distance between them, and that’s when Vasi noticed her stepsister sitting on a trunk by the door, her emerald cloak wrapped tightly around her as if she were trying to disappear into the folds of fabric. Gruesome streaks of black and gray ran down her painted face as if tears had poured from Roza’s eyes unchecked for some time before she smeared them across her rosy cheeks. Her usual energy was absent, and her gaze glassy.

  “What happened to Roza?” Vasi asked.

  Marika narrowed her eyes. “Roza is fine,” she said with a wave of her hand. With a forced smile that Vasi knew well, Marika faced her daughter. “Aren’t you, my sweet? Just a taste of what it’s like to be with royalty, right?”

  Roza flinched at her mother’s address but said nothing.

  Brida walked from the kitchen into the great hall and then spun to leave.

  “Brida,” Marika snapped. “Take Roza to her rooms and see that she is bathed. She’ll also be having supper in her room tonight.”

  “But, mum, her bed has already been sent to the great house of Trava—”

  “Then put her in Vasi’s room, you imbecile,” Marika barked. “Vasi won’t be staying.”

  Unease skittered down Vasi’s spine. She’d expected Marika and Roza to settle at Trava first, but perhaps there was cleaning at the great house that needed to be done. That would explain—

  “The tsar has already given his consent to the wedding, and Lord Baine is anxious to possess his bride.”

  Marika’s words were a physical blow, and the air rushed out of Vasi’s lungs.

  “Lord Baine?” Dread settled deep within her belly, pulling Vasi off-balance. She ran through Marika’s words over and over again, but there was no sense in them. Vasi was engaged to Henryk, who had said he would help her marry Nikolai. There was no mention of Lord Baine today. Had she missed something in that brief moment . . . “I beg your pardon? Roza is marrying Lord Baine?”

  That would certainly explain Roza’s tears.

  Brida led Roza from the great hall. Vasi’s normally haughty stepsister walked gingerly with her head bowed. Surprising sympathy welled within Vasi, and she reeled to Marika. “Why would you make her marry him? He’s awful.”

  Marika’s red lips pulled up into a cruel sneer. “No, Vasilisa. There would be nothing to be gained by having Roza marry Lord Baine. When Casimir returns from negotiating peace with Cervene, Prince Nikolai will marry Roza.”

  Two guards stepped into the great hall. “Lady Kavka?”

  “Yes?” Marika and Vasi answered at the same time.

  And then Vasi knew. Vasi would be the heir to the duchy if her father were to die. But if she were married, Marika would be able to inherit the lands and the title. It was the only loophole in their system of royalty for a widowed spouse to take possession of what they’d only married into. But obviously Marika wasn’t content to wait, and her stroke to force Vasi to marry Lord Baine was doubly vicious. Vasi gaped in shock and horror, her skin crawling with disgust. “But you can’t. The tsar promised me to the prince.”

  “What good would that do?” Marika asked with a cruel gleam in her eyes. “No. I convinced him that it is in all of our best interests to have you wed Lord Baine.”

  Vasi shook her head, having a hard time fully grasping her situation. Her stomach dropped, and she worried she’d be sick. She would rather be a servant to the Cervene Queen Regent than to be married to the Duke of Strasny. “Please,” she begged. “Please, tell me you won’t.”

  “You pathetic girl,” Marika said with a shake of her head. The cloying scent of her lavender perfume wafted through the air as if to slap Vasi across the face. “I already did. He’ll be here within the hour to take you. I hear his lands are exquisite, and I know you’ll feel at home there.”

  “Only because he bought everything we own.” Vasi had done nothing when he’d taken those things, but she wouldn’t be a fool this time. She stood tall. “I won’t marry him. I’m not yours to give away; you can’t do that.”

  “Oh, you’re wrong, Vasilisa. I can, and I did. Guards,” Marika said, addressing the tsar’s men. “Please help me escort Vasilisa.”

  The two men moved toward her, and Vasi panicked. Coherent thought fled, and she darted from the room. Running toward the kitchen, Vasi knew if she could get outside, she’d have a chance of escape. She rounded the corner into the kitchen and ran right into a wall of muscle.

  Arms encircled her, squeezing the air from her lungs as an unfamiliar man stared down at her. His eyes were bright with anticipation, and his square jaw jutted forward with a look of fierce determination.

  “This is the one?” he asked, looking up over her head for confirmation.

  Vasi’s heart raced, and she thrashed, desperate to escape.

  “Yes, Mikael,” Marika said as she passed. “Put her in here until Lord Baine arrives. I’m sure he’ll h
ave a different way to tame her.”

  The man chuckled, and Vasi pushed off the ground with her feet, trying to knee, scratch, and claw her way out of his grasp. The man just laughed again and, clasping her by the arms, picked her up. His grip tightened like a vice until Vasi thought her arms would break. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her nose ran. She screamed and thrashed with all her might, hurling incoherent pleas and insults as she struggled to free herself. Her mind replayed the moment in the study with Lord Baine when he expressed his interest in her and how Marika’s abuse made her more beautiful. Worse even than his words was the flame of passion that lit his eyes as he spoke. More than anything, Vasi never wanted to see the duke’s hunger directed at her again.

  A whisper of hope feathered against Vasi’s heart as she felt the guard’s grasp loosen, but then she was soaring through the air for a heartbeat before she crashed. White light exploded over her vision, and her left side screamed in pain. Barrels tipped, spilling their contents, and Vasi fell to the stone floor of the cellar. Gasping for air, Vasi tried to sit up and get her bearings.

  The light in the cellar dimmed, and her adrenaline pulsed. Scrambling up the stairs on her hands and knees, Vasi shouted, “No!”

  Before she could make it up the steps, the door slammed shut, and darkness enveloped her. She crawled up the rest of the stairs, her hands chafed and tender from the rough stone, and as she reached the last step, she heard the lock click and Marika say, “No one is to open this door.”

  Vasi screamed and pounded on the rough wooden door until her throat burned and hands bled. Unwilling to accept defeat, she sat on the step to rest.

  Get up. Be ready to run.

  Vasi startled at the voice. With a deep breath, she scrambled to her feet, ready to pounce. A moment later, the lock clicked. A sliver of light shattered the darkness, and Vasi blinked to adjust her vision.

  “Hurry,” Roza whispered. “The duke just arrived, and Mama is outside greeting him.”

  At the mention of Lord Baine, Vasi’s heart clenched in fear. “Please, Roza, you have to let me out—”

  “What do you think I’m doing, you idiot?” Roza mumbled, averting her gaze.

  Vasi stepped into the dim, cold kitchen and stared at her stepsister. “Why are you helping me? You’ve never come to my aid before. This isn’t some sort of trap—”

  “Of course not, and why I’m helping you doesn’t matter. We have to go now. Your father’s manservant is waiting out back to take us to the Celestial Sisters for sanctuary while the kitchen girl distracts mother and Lord Baine.”

  “Danek and Brida?” Vasi asked in shock. Roza had gone to the servants for help? Vasi’s mind spun with the uncharacteristic behavior, but she couldn’t even grasp reason.

  “I don’t know their names.” Annoyance overtook Roza’s ravaged features. “And it doesn’t matter; we have to go now if we’re going to escape.”

  “I can’t go to the Celestial Sisters,” Vasi said, stepping away from Roza. “Going into their convent is a final decision, and Tsar Baine sent Father to Cervene. I need to find the djinn and stop the war.”

  Roza grabbed Vasi’s wrist. “Don’t be a fool. If you run into the woods, Lord Baine will find you. He probably anticipates it because he brought men with dogs. The convent is less than a mile away. We’ll be safe there; perhaps they can even get us out of Beloch.”

  Why would Roza want to leave now? All of her dreams were coming true. She was set to marry the prince and become the tsarina. But the anguish in Roza’s voice and her ravaged features spoke volumes more than what Vasi thought Roza wanted, and her eyes shone with desperation.

  But it didn’t matter. Vasi couldn’t go hide with old women who claimed to have had magic once. She needed real magic. Djinn magic. “I’m sorry, Roza. I’ll not go. But you can.”

  Roza frowned. After a brief moment, she shoved a small pack to Vasi and said, “There’s a little food in there; it was all I could get. I hope you have a plan.”

  Vasi didn’t have a plan so much as a direction to head toward, but she nodded anyway.

  Voices spilled down the hall from the great room, and Roza’s eyes widened. “Go now!”

  Vasi didn’t need to be told twice. But something in Roza’s haunted look made Vasi turn back and say, “Thank you.”

  Roza’s eyes filled with tears. “You fool, just run.”

  The voices drew nearer, and Marika said, “I’m so glad you decided to back me in this.”

  She sounded pleased—and like she was licking her chops.

  “In truth, I was surprised at how easy it was. There was already a plan in place for Casimir, and awarding him a duchy first might’ve cost me something, but she’ll be worth every coin.” Lord Baine continued, “There is something endearing about her naivety.”

  “I warn you, you’ll need to be firm with her. She’s headstrong, and she may attempt to run away.”

  “I came prepared.” He chuckled a low throaty sound. “The idea of giving chase isn’t altogether repugnant. But once we leave, how I am with my wife will be none of your concern. Vasilisa will be mine, and you’ll stay out of it.”

  A new wave of horror washed over Vasi, and she darted into the night and toward the forest.

  Vasilisa didn’t stop. She ran into the woods, the brush whipping against her as she passed. Her feet pounded with the same fear that pulsed with her heartbeat. Ferns and saplings over grew the familiar paths she’d once walked, the forest reclaiming its space. Vasi slipped and stumbled on a mossy patch, tumbling forward into the shrubbery, reopening the abrasions on her hands. The spongy wet ground saturated her skirt, chilling her skin beneath.

  Panic pulled her up, her blood pounding in her ears, demanding she escape. Vasi brushed her palms off on her skirt, smearing long streaks of sludge and blood, and continued running. Terror overrode whatever plans she’d had, and her sole focus was escaping Marika and Lord Baine.

  Hours passed, and night fell around her. The moon’s waning crescent flitted in and out of visibility, obscured by the same clouds hiding the stars. The air hung heavy with unshed moisture, and the decomposing vegetation on the forest floor perfumed the air with her every step. The farther into the forest Vasi fled, the denser the canopy became; the deciduous trees clung tenaciously to their leaves, and the faint light filtering through cast the wooded world in shades of deep gray. The only noises were the rustle of leaves overhead, chirping crickets, and several loud bullfrogs.

  Vasi slowed her pace and wiped her tears, smearing grit and mud across her cheeks. The salty moisture stung the scrapes on her hands, and she wiped her face with the sleeve of her cloak. She blinked as the reality sunk through her panic; Vasi was lost in the woods of the witch and djinn. She sucked in a breath and muttered, “This is exactly where I . . . need to be.”

  As her adrenaline waned, exhaustion washed over her. Her pulse slowed, and her legs wobbled like wet noodles. Vasi tried to distinguish a path through the dark shapes of trees, but the trunks and limbs twisted, becoming hideous monsters, inhuman creatures, and she covered her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. She reached for the doll, and somehow, fisting it in her free hand, the shapes solidified to dark trunks once again.

  Moving through the forest became increasingly difficult, but in her mind, Vasi could hear her mother’s voice urging her to go just a little farther. Tears streamed down her face, and Vasi stumbled forward, pushing through brambles and brush, feeling them bite into her skin. When a clearing of soft grass opened up before her, Vasi whimpered, a plea to the Celestials above and the djinn in Ctyri. She needed to stop.

  You need to rest, but not for long.

  Wrapping herself in her threadbare cloak, Vasi sat in the damp grass and leaned her head against a tree trunk. She’d been running for hours; she just needed to sit down for a minute.

  Wake up! Lord Baine’s men are tracking you.

  Vasi leaped into the air, her heart racing and skin prickling with fear. She’d fallen asleep? A fresh wave o
f panic thrummed through her, and as she glanced at her surroundings, she ground her teeth in frustration. Danica and Vasi had frequented this meadow in the past; it was not nearly deep enough into the forest to stay hidden. And she’d probably left a trail.

  She’d need to be more careful. Much more careful.

  The rising sun filtered through the leaves, dappling the forest in greens and grays and golds. The early morning chill numbed Vasi’s fingers and toes, and she shook her arms and stomped her feet to get the blood flowing again.

  A twig snapped, and Vasi froze. The low murmur of voices flitted into the clearing, and Vasi cursed the voice in her head for not giving her more warning. With only a sense of their direction, she darted back into the woods, all the while murmuring to the djinn for aid and hoping the dogs hadn’t found her trail already.

  21

  Adaline

  Adaline’s hand shook as she lifted a teacup to her lips. Training with Evzan was a piece of cake compared to required social gatherings. Her stomach churned with anxiety, and the lukewarm tea did nothing to settle her. She tightened her grip on the curved handle, and little warm droplets splattered onto her hand and then dripped onto her silk dress. At least the awful gown was black and wouldn’t show the evidence of her nerves. Very carefully, she set her cup down, the two pieces of china clattering against each other. She glanced up from her disastrous tea, only to find every occupant of the room watching her.

  Lovely.

  “Uh . . . the weather is too hot lately, don’t you think?” Adaline asked the plump duchess across from her, hoping the question was sufficient enough of a contribution so Adaline could let her mind wander back to fighting Beloch or her lessons. The inane conversation was not the sole fault for her wandering thoughts. This morning, she’d had another—impossible—magic lesson with Dimira, but Adaline needed her magic to work, so impossible wasn’t going to cut it.