Through the White Wood

by Jessica Leake

  I wished I could discuss this with Babushka. More than ever, I wished I knew who I was, where my power came from. I was afraid I’d never have the chance to ask her again.

  Chapter Six

  THE NEXT MORNING, KHARAN MADE GOOD on her word, greeting me at my door shortly after I’d awoken and gotten dressed. Breakfast had been set out for me on a tray in my room—a steaming bowl of kasha—and it embarrassed me to think of how hard I must have been sleeping to not have heard the servant enter with it. The bed, stuffed with down and piled with furs, had been so comfortable that not even thoughts of war, or my village, or Dedushka had kept me from sleeping like a hibernating bear.

  “Vera wanted me to remind you to eat if you haven’t already,” Kharan said as she led me down the stairs from the upstairs chambers to a lower level. “She’s overly concerned about whether everyone has eaten.”

  I smiled inwardly at that. Babushka hadn’t been like that at all. We were all responsible for making sure we got enough food to eat, and it was rare that any of us were ever completely full. “There was kasha waiting for me when I woke up, and I ate every bite.”

  “Ah, what a relief. You missed dinner last night, though. Vera was beside herself over that,” she said with a glance over her shoulder at me.

  “I was asleep. I went back to my room after talking to you, went to bed, and I’ve only just now woken up. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so long.”

  “I did the same when I first got here. It’s just what happens when you’ve reached the end of a journey. It’s exhausting.” She stopped then at a small wooden door where a cold breeze escaped into the hall. “After you,” she said, holding open the door.

  When I walked through, I found myself in the dvor. The sun shone down on the snow of the stable yard, and I saw a small wooden house that was surely the banya. For a moment, I contemplated asking to go there; it had been far too long since my last bath, but then other sounds drew my attention away. The familiar animal sounds—a horse’s neigh, a goat’s bleat—released some of the tension within me. I was drawn to the quiet warmth I knew I’d find within. The stable had always been a place of escape for me—much like the woods beyond our izba. The animals never teased me or whispered behind my back.

  The inside of the stable might have sounded like ours in the village, but it looked nothing like it. It was larger than my izba, for one thing, and built of the same stone the palace was constructed of. The animals, too, were no ordinary beasts. Aside from the three sturdier horses that had pulled the sleigh that brought me here, the rest were clearly the prince’s riding horses. Even I could see they were extraordinary creatures with arched necks and streaming manes and tails; their coats gleamed in the dim light.

  An older man came forward then, his beard dark and oiled. His boots were polished to a high sheen despite being in the stables, and his clothing was richly embroidered. “I am Nicholas Annenkov,” he said, “Master of the Horse.”

  I gave him a slight bow. “Ekaterina Alexeyevna.”

  “Ah, yes, your reputation precedes you.”

  I stiffened, though I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised that everyone, including a member of the prince’s senior druzhina, would have known about what I’d done. “I understand if that makes you wary of me being around the horses.”

  “No less than any of the others close to the prince. Even Boris, with his excessive strength, has managed not to injure one of my horses. I can only hope you will prove to be the same.” He turned toward Kharan. “Have you come to ride?”

  She shook her head. “Not today. I’m just showing Katya around. We came here to admire the horses.”

  He smiled with approval. “There are many here to admire. Most are friendly, but mind the prince’s stallions,” he added to me. “They are fiery in temper. If their ears are back, do not approach them.”

  “I’ll be sure to heed your warning,” I said.

  “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

  I watched him walk away for a moment until he disappeared into a room near the back end of the stables.

  Groomsmen remained, but they were busy tending to the horses: feeding them, brushing out their coats, mucking out their stalls. They bobbed their heads at Kharan when she passed by, and I got the impression that she spent a lot of time in the stables. I paused as one horse poked her head over the stall door, her eyes as huge and dark brown as a doe’s, and she deigned to let me stroke her velvet nose. Her coat was pure white and silky smooth, even with her heavier winter hair. I turned to move on to the next, but she nickered so softly and beseechingly that with a little laugh, I resumed my petting.

  “Aren’t they lovely?” Kharan asked as I wandered down the long aisle, admiring sleek coats and silky manes. “Daichin looks a little rough in such illustrious company.”

  The pony in question was nodding off in his stall, lower lip drooping and eyes half-closed. I smiled. “He may not be as sleek, but I imagine he’s a lot warmer in the winter.”

  “His fat stores help with that, too,” Kharan said with a fond look toward the sleeping pony.

  The mare’s obviously sweet nature made me wonder: If it came down to it, could I take one of these horses and escape? I would cover far more distance and faster on horseback, but it would have to be an exceedingly docile one, for I had very little experience riding.

  But it only took a moment of thinking to realize that the vast majority of the horses were far too beautiful to take. The grooms would know immediately, and it would make my crime that much worse. There were other horses that were humbler, but I feared being labeled a horse thief, especially from the prince’s own stables. Better to escape on foot.

  Stables were usually somewhere close to an exit from the dvor, I realized, and this was true, but it was the main one—the one I’d come through yesterday. The one that was well watched. I would have to seek another way out.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to ride today?” Kharan asked, interrupting my reverie with a question far too close to my thoughts for comfort.

  “I’m sure,” I said with a weak smile.

  “There’s something else you might like to see.”

  I gave the mare one last pat and then followed Kharan through a side door in the barn. It exited right beside a small building with only two narrow windows, which I found odd until I walked over to them and heard a faint flapping of wings. Inside were hooded birds of prey: no fewer than three gyrfalcons, all snowy white with black markings. They were the largest of the falcon species, but they were still only half the size of Elation. If this would have been her fate—to be tethered to a post by a short length of rope in this dark little building—then I was glad I’d asked her to stay in the woods.

  “These are the prince’s falcons I told you about,” Kharan said. “I prefer horses because then I don’t have to worry about having my eyes gouged out by talons.”

  “No, only falling and breaking your neck,” I said wryly, and she snorted.

  Just then, we could hear voices behind us, and when we turned, we saw the prince accompanied by Grigory. Grigory spoke rapidly, while the prince’s expression could have been carved from stone. A little chill chased over my skin at the sight of him, this prince who held my fate in his hands, but who was little more than a boy himself. I snuck glances at him as I pressed close to the mews, hoping he wouldn’t notice me here. He was dressed in a black, heavily embroidered kaftan, trousers, and tall, black boots trimmed in fur. The gold threads of the embroidery reminded me of the tent I’d slept in. With his dark hair, the overall effect was striking.

  Kharan, though, stepped forward and raised her hand in greeting to the prince. He said something to Grigory, and then they walked toward us. “I was just showing Katya your falcons,” she said when he was close enough to hear her.

  “I’m glad you’re showing her around,” the prince said, while Grigory looked frustrated that their conversation had been interrupted.

  “Gosudar—” Grigory began, but the pri
nce shook his head.

  “Not now. Perhaps Kharankhui will know more.”

  Grigory immediately turned to Kharan. “Might I have a word?” he asked, and Kharan shot me an exasperated look that made the corner of my mouth curl up before I could hide it again.

  “Yes, fine,” she said, following him to the other side of the dvor.

  I looked back at the gyrfalcons through the window, and when I next glanced at the prince, I found him staring directly at me. Little shards of ice dug under my skin as I met his dark gaze.

  “Hello, Katya,” he said.

  “Gosudar,” I said with another awkward curtsy.

  He nodded toward the birds within the mews. “Would you like to see them?”

  “If you’d like,” I said cautiously. He looked at me with a curious expression, nothing like the one he’d worn in the throne room. It seemed to erase some of that dark, brooding aura he had. He had strong facial features: a sharp, straight nose, angular jaw, a mouth that reminded me of a longbow just barely drawn.

  “Perhaps they will cheer you for the loss of your own.”

  “How did you know?” I asked, trying very hard not to let my disbelief show—I was surprised he cared.

  “Kharankhui told me about your eagle—and the bond you have with it. I was surprised your eagle didn’t continue to the city with you.”

  Speaking of Elation brought a lump to my throat. I swallowed uncomfortably. “She wouldn’t have liked the mews.”

  He watched me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Then perhaps we could have come to another arrangement for her. I have to admit I’m curious to see your interaction. Kharankhui said the eagle not only slept in the tent with you but came to your defense against the raiders.”

  “She did; she has always been protective of me in that way.” I didn’t tell him that I’d asked her to fight them. For some reason, I was afraid of anyone knowing the full extent of our ability to communicate.

  “That’s an extraordinary bond,” he said. “I’m afraid my birds aren’t quite so impressive, but I’ll show you anyway.”

  He brought out one of the gyrfalcons into the light, where it turned its head toward me at my little intake of breath, its head covered in a small leather hood.

  “This is Reys,” he said, allowing the gyrfalcon to rest its impressive talons on his thick leather glove that stretched all the way to his elbow. “She is my least experienced gyrfalcon, so I try to handle her as often as I can.”

  “She’s beautiful,” I said truthfully, admiring her snowy plumage. It made my heart ache for Elation. Unable to help myself, I reached out and touched the feathers of her wing, like satin under my fingertips. But then she flapped her wings agitatedly, stirring the prince’s hair and making me jump back. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I forget that not every bird is like Elation.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “It’s good for her to be reminded that humans are not here to hurt her.” He lowered his arm a bit, and Reys seemed to calm. “My mother was like you—she loved birds of all kinds. Being around them always makes me think of her. She would have loved the chance to see your eagle,” he said, his voice sounding suddenly gruff, and as I looked at his face, I could see the shadow of loss, the same that held me in its grip. I thought of the terrible rumor that the prince murdered his own parents. Was his grief an act? It seemed real enough.

  “I always heard the princess was as kind as she was beautiful. I’m sorry,” I said, knowing how ineffectual the words were. “I never knew my own mother,” I added quietly, just so he’d know I did understand. “But I think knowing her for a while only to have her die would be worse.”

  His brows furrowed, and I could feel the threads of shared loss tying us together. I wanted to snip them with sharp shears before they became too strong, but his quiet interest drew me in against my will. “I’m not sure that’s true,” he said. “I at least have memories to sustain me. It must have been very hard for you growing up.”

  “In some ways, it was, but not because I didn’t have a mother.”

  He glanced at me. “Who raised you?”

  I didn’t want to talk about them—the memories were too painful—but as I opened my mouth to change the subject, the truth poured out instead. “I was taken in by an old man and woman who asked me to call them my babushka and dedushka.” My tongue tripped over Dedushka’s name, and the prince’s gaze held mine. “They raised me as their own,” I said, the tears trapped in my throat, and I coughed as I tried to hide my grief.

  “I’m sorry you had to leave them behind,” the prince said, and I didn’t bother to correct him—to tell him the truth about Dedushka. “But I can’t imagine a small village like that ever being able to appreciate or even accept someone like you.”

  I wanted to argue with him, but of course it was the truth. “It’s hard to accept someone’s ability when they use it to destroy half the village.” I bit my tongue. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to say such things when the prince had only just forgiven me for my crimes the day before.

  But he only shot me a ghost of a smile. “You’re in the right place now—many of the others here were pardoned for crimes they committed inadvertently because of their powers.”

  I looked up at that.

  “Kharankhui has no doubt shown you what she can do, and you’ve already seen Ivan’s power. Grigory and Boris are also gifted with abilities.”

  I raised my eyebrows at that. That was more people with abilities than I’d ever expected to meet. I remembered Kharan saying something about Boris’s strength earlier, and I thought back to the battle with the raiders, but it had all been so chaotic. Grigory could take control of trees—at least, that’s how it seemed from my perspective from the sleigh. “Boris’s ability is his strength?”

  The prince nodded. “He is easily stronger than ten men, and he has a gift for swordplay.”

  I thought of Boris sitting by the fire, serving his delicious stew. He wasn’t an overly large man, and there’d been nothing to indicate he had an ability. I wondered how many others there were out in the world—people I’d met but never knew had a power like mine.

  “They all once struggled with control over their power, just as you do now,” the prince continued. “They have experience with it, and they can help you—if you’ll let them.”

  I met his dark eyes. “And then will I be forced to join your war?” I asked.

  “You will not be forced to do anything—I doubt I could even make you fight if I wanted to,” he added with a grin. Almost against my will, my lips pulled back in a return smile. “You have heard, perhaps, that I have been gathering people with abilities like yours.” When I nodded, he said, “But even as I have found such people, so, too, have our enemy. They have made many alliances with people with elemental power—earth elementals.”

  “Earth elementals,” I repeated, dumbfounded by all the things I was learning that I’d never even dreamed of in my village.

  “Grigory is also an earth elemental, but his power to bend trees to his will is small compared to what the others can do.” He narrowed his eyes. “To what they have done already.”

  As if he sensed we were talking about him, Grigory walked toward us from the other side of the dvor. Kharan, I noticed with a sinking stomach, had disappeared. I hadn’t spent much time with her, but she still made me feel like I had an ally. Grigory stood there, staring at me in a cold way for several moments until the prince finally said, “I thought we had concluded our conversation, Grigory.”

  “Forgive me, Gosudar,” Grigory said with a slight bow, “but there is more I must tell you.”

  “Whatever you have to say can wait,” the prince said, and I tried not to take satisfaction from the way he cut off Grigory so completely. “You’d be of greater service to me if you agreed to give Katya a demonstration of your abilities. Go and find Ivan for us, and we will show Katya that her power can be controlled.”

  The small bit of joy I’d felt at Grigory being put in his p
lace disappeared. The last thing I wanted to do was summon my power here . . . before the prince.

  Grigory hesitated for just a moment before he turned on his booted heel and left—presumably in search of Ivan.

  “There’s been enough talk,” the prince said, moving toward the mews with Reys. “It’s time we showed you.”

  The cold spread across my skin as I watched the prince. His face wouldn’t look nearly so beautiful when it was splintered into a million pieces by my ice, and I feared that they were all horribly wrong about my being able to control it.

  It was decided that the best place for such a demonstration was in the wooded gardens within the palace walls. Ivan must have been close by, for Grigory returned quickly with him. Once we reached the garden, Grigory immediately stood beside the prince, as though in his absence I might have suddenly become a threat.

  “Gosudar,” Grigory said, “I’m not sure this is the safest place for you to be should things go wrong with the girl.”

  The look the prince gave him in response was scathing. “It is not for you to decide.”

  Grigory bowed his acquiescence, but he shot me a look full of such malice that my skin erupted in ice. “What would you have me do?”

  “Give Katya a demonstration of your power,” the prince said with a nod toward the trees in the garden.

  “As you wish.”

  Grigory walked over to the middle of the garden that was absent of any other plants, the ground covered in snow. Falling to one knee, he placed his palm on the cold ground. He closed his eyes, and there was a great rumbling beneath us. In the next instant, a tree burst free from the earth: small at first, it quickly gained height and foliage until it was a massive oak tree with a wide trunk. Grigory stood back up, and the tree ceased growing. It towered over all the other trees and defied the season with its verdant leaves. The moment Grigory had broken contact with the earth, it seemed that his power ceased to flow. Unlike my own cold fire.