Through the White Wood

by Jessica Leake

As though he’d heard my thoughts, Septimus said, “You will have to disrobe, Prince Alexander. The flames will destroy your clothing.”

  “I must walk through the flames naked?” he asked, a nervous grin playing at the edges of his lips.

  “Yes,” Septimus said.

  The prince took off his clothes without hesitation, beginning with his beautifully embroidered tunic. It fell to the cavern floor, and the reflection of flames danced over his skin. I turned my gaze away, only to find Kharan watching dispassionately, as though this was something she saw every day. Ivan and Boris wore similar expressions, though perhaps Ivan watched the net of flames with a touch of nervousness. Aemilia was the only one who had her eyes averted. I dared to look again, and now Sasha was completely naked, his back to the rest of us, facing the fire before him.

  The muscles in his back flexed, and I tried not to let my gaze stray lower.

  It seemed we all held our breaths. The quarry was heavy with tension.

  The prince glanced back at me over his shoulder, just once, and as our gazes caught and held, I was glad I hadn’t averted my eyes. He gave me a confident flash of teeth, and then he strode through the flames.

  A cry escaped my lips despite myself, for the fire blazed so powerfully we all had to shield our eyes. When I could look again, I saw nothing but the flames, and my breath hitched in my throat.

  Had it burned him to ash?

  That last smile he’d given me kept replaying in my mind over and over until tears welled in my eyes and then froze against my ice-cold skin.

  Suddenly a figure stepped toward us from the other side of the net, orange and red and gold flames creating the image of a man, one made entirely of fire. None of us said anything, none of us breathed. It was as if I’d frozen us all.

  Only Septimus was capable of movement, and with the golden box outstretched, he walked toward the fiery figure of Sasha. “You must touch the fire again.”

  A finger made of flame reached for the box. The moment he made contact with the fire inside, the flames receded from his body with a powerful whoosh, as though a tempest had manifested in the quarry.

  Sasha was left completely untouched by the fire that had raged over his body—his hair and skin without ash or singe.

  But naked. Very, very naked.

  Ivan was the first to recover, to bring the prince his clothing, but still Sasha remained unembarrassed. “I didn’t burn,” he said with wonder. “Katya, did you see?”

  “Yes, Gosudar,” I said, keeping my eyes on the floor. He seemed in no hurry to put his clothes back on.

  “Gosudar, there are ladies present,” Ivan reminded him gently when Sasha merely stood and stared at the net of flames.

  “Oh yes,” Sasha said distractedly, finally consenting to being clothed again.

  Septimus raised his hands over the net of light and dispelled it with a few muttered words. He turned toward the prince. “The fire recognized the power in your blood. It will obey you now.”

  Sasha glanced down at his own hands like he’d never seen them before. He held them, palms up, and suddenly, twin flames as bright as the peacock feather sprang to life above his hands.

  He met my gaze, a slow smile overtaking his face as the light of his flames turned his silver eyes golden.

  There was no mistaking it now:

  The prince was the firebird.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  SEPTIMUS LED US BACK OUT OF the quarry, and we emerged to find that the world had darkened around us. Elation flew over as soon as she caught sight of me, having waited at the entrance for us. The moon rose like a beacon in the night sky, but even its luminance was challenged by the lights of the city, which spread before us, twinkling like the stars as lamps and torches burned.

  I couldn’t stop imagining the prince as a man on fire, consumed by flames and yet still alive.

  “I cannot thank you enough for your help, Septimus,” Sasha said, and the sorcerer bowed his head.

  “It was my pleasure to help you unlock your family’s legacy. I hope it will serve you well in protecting your land and its people.”

  “We may not be welcome at the imperial palace,” Sasha said, “but there must be somewhere we can find a good meal.”

  “The finest food in the Mediterranean can be found here,” Septimus said. “I know of an inn that has the best fish and wine.”

  “Will you join us? And you, Aemilia?” Sasha asked. “I would like to thank you both properly.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Septimus said.

  “Of course,” Aemilia said with a bow.

  We were silent as we followed Septimus back through the city, all still in shock, it seemed, from what we’d witnessed. Ivan kept sneaking Sasha looks like he was afraid he’d suddenly combust.

  “This could make all the difference,” Kharan said to me, her expression calculating. “Fire is strong against earth.”

  I thought of Sasha walking through flames hot enough to burn through marble, and hope blossomed within me. The Byzantines had refused to aid us, but perhaps his newfound power would be more than enough.

  The city was still alive, even at this time of night. We passed many people traveling through the streets, some returning home after a long day’s work, some visiting shops that were still open, and others seemed to be exploring the city as we were. Only this time, we didn’t have far to go. Septimus led us to an inn on top of one of the seven hills of the city, where he spoke a few words to the innkeeper, and we were immediately ushered to the roof.

  It was readily apparent why such a location was chosen for anyone who came to the inn to dine, for the whole city stretched before our eyes. In the distance, I could make out the domed roof of Hagia Sophia and the tall columns of the imperial palace.

  Sasha ordered a feast of seafood, fresh greens, herbs, bread, and olive oil to be brought to the rooftop. He even remembered Elation and gave her a leg of goat to eat, which she graciously accepted.

  It was the freshest-tasting fish I’d ever eaten, delicately cooked in butter and wine and herbs. The bread was light instead of dark, and the olive oil was liberally poured over everything.

  “This is delicious,” Boris shouted after almost every bite, all trace of his seasickness gone, and his appetite returned in full force. “Is it not?” he asked, and we all nodded, mouths full.

  “It may even be more delicious than anything you’ve made,” Kharan said, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of her lip.

  Boris dropped his knife, a line of worry creased between his brows. “Are you serious?”

  “No, of course not,” she soothed as she poured herself another glass of wine.

  Satisfied that his own cooking skills were not inferior, he turned his attention to the innkeeper and spent nearly half an hour asking every detail of the preparation of the meal. The innkeeper was patient, though, and answered his every question. When he was finally able to extricate himself from the conversation, he walked over to Sasha and bowed.

  “If His Highness would permit, there are musicians staying here who would like to play for you.” It was clear that Septimus had told the innkeeper that Sasha was a prince, and we were being treated well accordingly.

  “Yes, send them up,” Sasha said.

  The innkeeper bowed again, left, and returned a few minutes later with a trio of musicians: two men and one woman. All three wore elaborately brocaded tunics with colorful geometric patterns; they were similarly styled, except the woman’s tunic had very full sleeves. She was veiled, but her dark hair peeked out at the top of her forehead, and her eyes were shining with anticipation. She carried no instrument at all, and I wondered if she would be singing. One of the men, his beard neatly trimmed, carried a lyra, a stringed instrument that had the most hauntingly beautiful sound—I’d heard it before in my own village. The other man carried a slim reed instrument that I’d never seen before.

  They tuned their instruments for a moment in the corner of the roof, and then they began, their song
slow and lilting. It was like the night sky, dark and intense. But then the woman opened her mouth and sang, the words unknown to me, and the tempo increased until it was like a tempest swirling in the darkness. The music moved through me, making my heart beat until it followed the same fast-paced rhythm.

  My gaze was drawn to the prince, and as I glanced his way, he stood and came over to me. His expression determined, he held out his hand. “Will you dance with me?”

  I nodded and took his hand, the music filling me with an abundance of energy. He pulled me close, and the heat of him enveloped me, chasing away my own aura of cold. The music led us, and we danced at a wild pace. This was no courtly dance, not one of civility and restraint. It was wild and free and breathless as a storm.

  I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him, and when the music slowed again, only then did I feel like I could take a proper breath.

  Even with one song ending and another beginning, the prince didn’t let me go. He held me close, and said in my ear, “Now I may finally be worthy of you.”

  I laughed. “Is a prince not worthy of a peasant?”

  “I thought you’d understood after hearing Baba Yaga’s tale of Winter. You are the Ice Queen’s daughter, which makes you a . . .” He lifted his eyebrows in question.

  “A princess,” I said, realization dawning.

  He grinned and spun me around. “And even if you were not, you’d still be the most powerful elemental, far greater than a mere prince.”

  “That’s debatable, but I’m having far too much fun dancing to argue.”

  The music sped up again, the lyra and the woman’s voice beautifully matched.

  The prince pulled me even closer to him, his strong arms wrapped around me as we followed the music’s frantic tempo. We danced until a sheen of sweat covered the prince, and even I felt warm. While we’d been enjoying the music, the others had been enjoying the wine. We returned to find Kharan entertaining the others with tales of reindeer and hunting with wolves, her eyes bright from drink.

  The prince held out a chair for me, and I collapsed into it with a smile. He sat in the chair next to mine after pouring us each another goblet of wine. One of the candles had gone out on the table, and the prince lit it with a flick of his fingers. I envied his control.

  “I suppose with this newfound power you won’t have need for mine,” I said as casually as I could while the prince took a sip of wine. I wasn’t sure what I wanted his answer to be.

  He set his goblet back on the table. “How can you say that? Don’t you remember what the bannik said? Fire and ice are unstoppable against earth.” His gaze met mine. “That is, if you’d be willing to stay with me when we return.”

  I met his eyes. “I want justice for Babushka and all others like her. I want revenge on the earth elementals and the soldiers alike. But I fear that my power is still not under control. At the battle after I discovered my village destroyed, I killed some of your soldiers along with the enemy. And then there’s Dedushka and what happened in my village. I’m terrified I’ll do it again. Worse, when I release the cold fire—truly release it, not just freeze water of a pond or river—it drains my energy.”

  The prince was deep in thought for a moment. “Perhaps if you had somewhere for that energy to go—something that could contain it for you, for a time. Then it wouldn’t continuously pull power from you. Much like the flame in this box vanquished my own flames.”

  “In the quarry—how did you do that so easily?”

  “Because I can feel it inside me, part of my blood, waiting for my command.”

  Perhaps that was the piece I was missing: the prince was used to giving commands. He had grown up giving orders for others to follow, whereas I’d been raised to do as I was told. And to not ask questions. Especially about my power.

  It made me think of what Queen Ciara had said to me before: that I was afraid. All my life, I’d tried to avoid using my power since all it brought me was censure and ridicule. And then when I did, it brought death and destruction. Seeing the prince use his so naturally and easily made me feel both ashamed and determined.

  It was time I accepted the truth: my power could make all the difference in this war, and I would gladly make myself into a weapon if it meant saving the people of Kievan Rus’.

  Much later, after the musicians had left, and the wine had been drunk, we made our way back to the ships. The innkeeper offered us lodging, but the prince was anxious to leave for Kiev as soon as possible, and he hoped to meet with the king and queen tonight after they had dined at the imperial palace.

  Boris had been sent to deliver the message asking to speak with the king and queen, and to retrieve our horses. Septimus and Aemilia had returned to their homes, so it was only the four of us and Elation as we entered the shipyard. Elation perched comfortably on my arm, no doubt full and happy after her own feast on the inn’s roof.

  “The food and drink was too delicious,” Kharan said, dragging her feet. “I wish we could sleep for days.”

  She threw her arm around Ivan companionably, and he shook his head. “And you have had too much of it.”

  “Why must you be so serious, Ivan?” Kharan said with an exaggerated eye roll.

  He answered her with a grunt, and as she laughed, a commotion rang out over the shipyard, drawing our attention. Shouts, wails, and the rattle of chains came from just beyond where the two knarrs were moored. It was coming from a ship.

  Kharan stopped laughing immediately, her eyes clearing of mirth.

  The prince glanced her way. “Kharan” was all he said, and she melded into the shadows.

  We waited for what felt like an eternity for Kharan to return, all of us tense—even Elation, who trained her eyes in the direction of the sounds. She could understand me, but I wished to understand her, for I was sure she could see far more than we could from where we stood.

  “Are the king and queen’s ships in danger?” I asked Sasha. “Are pirates attacking?”

  He didn’t take his eyes off the direction Kharan had disappeared. “No, I suspect those sounds are from something far worse than pirates.”

  Elation turned her head toward a spot just beside the prince, and suddenly, Kharan appeared. “It’s a Drevlian ship,” she said.

  “And its cargo?” the prince asked with a grim expression.

  “Captives. I could hear their cries for mercy; they are Rus’.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “Others, too, from the steppes.”

  “What will they do to them?” I asked, but there was a sick feeling inside of me that made me think I already knew.

  “Sell them,” Sasha said. “This is why the empresses denied my request for aid. If the Drevlians are here, we can be sure that the empresses have sanctioned—and possibly even encouraged—their trade.”

  Disgust and a cold fear for them gripped me. I knew what it felt like to be bound, to be handed off to someone who could do any number of horrible things to you. But I’d been held prisoner by a prince who’d given me a tent, a room in a palace, and soon, my freedom. These captives wouldn’t have the same fate.

  “We have to save them,” I said, my hands curled into fists at my side.

  Ivan narrowed his eyes before turning to Kharan. “How many soldiers did you see?”

  “At least twenty,” she said.

  Ivan leaned toward the prince. “Gosudar, this seems to be too dangerous a situation. We’ll be far outnumbered, and we won’t have the support from the empresses. If anything, they may be complicit in the Drevlians’ trade.”

  The prince straightened his spine and met Ivan’s gaze without blinking. “They are my people. I won’t abandon them to their fate.”

  Ivan sighed and bowed his head. “Yes, Gosudar. I await your command,” he added formally.

  “You and I will engage the men,” Sasha said to Ivan. “Kharankhui, Katya, you will lead the captives off the ship and to safety while we engage the Drevlians.”

  “I can kill them all myself from the shadows, Gosudar,”
Kharan said, and the prince considered for a moment.

  “We don’t know whether an elemental will be on board,” he said. “If so, you won’t be able to do it alone, and we can’t risk them moving the captives before we can rescue them. No, it has to be all of us working together.” Suddenly his silver eyes were on mine. “Though if you wish to stay behind, Katya, I will understand.”

  Anger over the captives’ plight and a desperate determination solidified within me, hardening to ice. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help.”

  The prince smiled at me approvingly. “I just wanted to give you the choice.” He looked toward the knarr. “But first, we will need weapons.”

  After we’d returned briefly to our own ships and retrieved weapons—a broadsword for the prince, a dagger for Kharan and one for me that I had no hope of wielding properly, a sword and bow for Ivan and a longsword for Boris—we made our way to a hill just above the port, where we had the perfect vantage of the Drevlian ship. It had a single mast with a billowing white sail, and many men on board. As we got close enough to see with clarity, the captives were located toward the stern of the ship, chained to the mast. There were people of all types: men, women, even children. At the sight, rage boiled up inside me, tightening my grasp on my dagger.

  “Fire arrows until we draw them away from the ship,” the prince told Ivan, and he nodded. The prince turned his attention to Kharan and me. “When you see that the majority have left the ship, you and Katya work on freeing the captives.”

  “Yes, Gosudar,” Kharan said.

  Ivan got into position, plucking an arrow from his quiver and drawing his bow back. He sighted carefully for a moment, let out his breath, and let the arrow fly. It flew straight and true, slamming into the chest of one of the Drevlian men. He fell as all the others on board froze. Ivan nocked another arrow and let it fly again, this time hitting a man near the mast. When he, too, fell, the Drevlians finally realized where the arrows were coming from. While some fired back with arrows of their own, others began to pour off the ship like ants from a mound.

  Ivan continued to fire upon them until they were too close for arrows to be effective, and then the three men met them head-on with their swords. The prince was a blur of movement, cutting down the Drevlians easily, and Boris took out many with broad strokes of his sword. There were more men than we’d thought, as more appeared from within the ship’s hull.