Of course she wouldn't have been, Gennadi thought. Had her family not come to her aid, Ettore would have finished what he'd started. And who knew how many vulnerable women in other villages he had also targeted?
When Zaira was calm, Gennadi thought, she surely knew that. But guilt was a horrible, mind-twisting thing. Her loved ones had come to help her and had clearly been cursed for it. Though that was entirely Ettore's fault, she had escaped the curse. Just as the fact that he had taken lives in the Arena was solely the fault of King Nazar, he still saw some of their faces, saw their blood soaking into the dirt, sometimes before he fell asleep. It was the guilt of the survivor, the feeling that it was somehow wrong that he'd made it through everything when others hadn't.
Then the door exploded open behind him and Zaira's seven brothers and sisters piled into the room, charging at her attacker.
Ettore raised his hand. Lightning flashed from his hand and forked out, striking two of Zaira's would-be protectors in the chest. Then he drove his hand down, and a heavy wood-framed painting that hung on the wall crashed down, felling her eldest brother.
But by the time this was done, the other four were upon Ettore. Though Ettore managed to hurt another one with a close-range bolt of electricity, Zaira's sister drew a knife from her boot before he could attack her, and she drove the blade into his chest.
Ettore made a low, choking sound, blood bubbling up between his lips, and then he smiled, slowly and horrifyingly, and clenched his hand.
A few feet away from him, Zaira collapsed.
"Zaira!" her sister screamed, running to her and cradling the tiny woman in her arms.
Then the room shattered into light, light so bright it was painful to look at, and Gennadi threw a forearm up in front of his eyes, squinting.
The old sorcerer stood in the doorway, glowing with fury as he took in the scene before him. "You," he snarled. "You brats! Was taunting him as a boy not enough? I told him to take pity. I took pity. Never again!"
"He killed her!" Zaira's sister screamed. "Your boy murdered her!"
Before she could say anything else, Zaira's sister was lifted into the air, her body twisting and reforming. Soon, the other six joined her.
"You want to take his life?" the sorcerer asked. "Murder him, steal all of his years away, because of... of that? That deformed thing? Very well," he hissed.
Their bodies shrank, thickened, as hair grew wild and unkempt. "Bloodthirsty wretches," the sorcerer said. "Since you've proven that's what you are, that's all you'll ever be. You will murder all who venture near you. And you will not feel the release of death, not until someone regards you without fear." He dropped them back to the ground, looking upon their new bodies with a sneer. Then he moved to his son, taking his hand. "And may you someday," he continued, his voice breaking, "may you someday kill someone who is as dear to you as Ettore was to me."
Then Gennadi found himself back in Vedrana's Forest, staring at Zaira, less than a foot of space between them.
She might well have been here the last time he'd struck her family down. Probably had been. He never noticed her, as terrified as he had been, focusing solely on these much-feared enemies.
How many times had she seen her siblings die?
He looked away from her, saw the age-old grief in the eyes of the Dwarves, and wondered how long they had waited out here.
"Were you cursed as well?" he asked softly. "Cursed to watch all of this?"
Zaira shook her head. "I wanted to stay with them. But first, before I came here... I haunted Ettore's father. I hounded him to his grave."
"Good." He cleared his throat. "How do I... can I help you?"
Smiling now, Zaira held out her hand, and he took it. As soon as he grasped her hand, her body came further into focus, until she stood before him looking just as real and whole as he did.
She hurried away from him, grasping the hand of one of the Dwarves. The Dwarf's beard receded, fading away from the face as the body itself grew taller, leaving a clean-shaven man with shaggy blond hair and dark eyes. Her eldest brother, the one who had worked tirelessly to care for them all. He smiled and dropped to his knees, embracing his sister. She held him tightly for a moment and then moved on to her next sibling.
A few moments later they all stood as they once had been, their eyes shining with tears. And then, one by one, they faded from sight. Zaira was the last, giving Gennadi a wide smile and a nod of thanks before she disappeared.
Gennadi remained still, staring at where they'd been standing, and then he yelped in surprise when Emeline took hold of his shoulder.
"What just happened?" she asked. "The Dwarves―where...?"
"Come on," Gennadi said, tugging her back toward the cabin. Once they were inside, Gennadi rattled off everything that had happened, realizing only when Emeline stumbled over to the fireplace to add another branch or two that his teeth had started chattering.
Emeline plucked at her wet shirt, frowning down at the soaked material. She didn't mind light rain, or even a storm on a summer day when the droplets were warm. But of course this never-ending challenge of a forest would have freezing rain.
At least they didn't have to worry about the Dwarves anymore. Poor people.
She started to say something, and then her voice froze in her throat when Gennadi laid a hand on her back, lazily rubbing some warmth back into the skin. Emeline glanced to the side and Gennadi's hand stilled, his expression growing worried. "Is that all right?" he asked.
"I... well, yes, that is, but I just..."
"I'm not after anything else," he said. "Promise." At the uncertain expression on her face, he went on. "It's not that I haven't thought about it―believe me, I have―but if you don't want to, then that's the end of it."
"But I want to want to. Does that make sense? I want to be... well, normal."
He took her hands. "When I was back at my village, I knew a man who only felt love for other men. Another man who only loved women. If there are people who want to bed one instead of both, then it only makes sense there are those who want none at all. Right?"
"It truly doesn't disappoint you?" she whispered.
"You could never disappoint me. If I want something physical, I have two hands." She blushed at that, and he smiled. "Anything you want to try, I will try, and gladly. But only if you want to."
"And if I never do?"
"Then that's fine." She smiled and lay down in front of the fire, and he stretched out behind her, being careful of both his arm and her leg. "We make a pair, don't we?"
"We do," she agreed, overtaken by a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire.
*~*~*
Emeline took off her shoes and waded into the water. She had some grand ideas about catching a fish, but really, if all she accomplished was helping her leg feel better, that was just fine.
"Watch out for fanged triggerfish," Gennadi warned. "Not their spawning season yet, but that doesn't mean they're not around."
Emeline nodded. The fanged triggerfish made life miserable for the armorharts, especially during spawning season, leaping out of the water to try and take a bite out of them. Fortunately, the thick scales on their necks and bellies helped protect them, but she'd heard tales of what could happen to a panicked or ill armorhart that made the mistake of wading into the river when too many fanged triggerfish were about.
Looking around once more, Emeline saw nothing to be concerned with. She closed her eyes, focusing on the current pushing against her legs. On the river stones, smoothed by flowing water and slick with algae. The warmth of the sun, which reached her face even in this most worrisome of places.
Then she looked over at Gennadi. He was holding a pointed stick and staring into the water so intently that it made her laugh.
The river was remarkably clear, knee-high at this point, and Emeline could see the tops of her feet. She could also see a hint of her reflection, and she almost laughed again at how wild her hair was.
Then she frowned and leaned
closer. Some odd trick of the light was making her hair look shoulder-length, not waist-length, and―
Hands erupted from the water, grabbing her arms and yanking her under before she had the chance to draw a breath, let alone shout for help.
Gennadi heard a splash and looked back, expecting to see Emeline sitting in the river, sputtering indignantly and saying something derogatory about nature again.
She was nowhere to be seen.
"Emeline?"
Gennadi splashed back to the place where he'd last seen her, searching the water. River rocks were visible, some small darting fish. Nothing more.
"Emeline!"
There had been no singing. No sound, nothing.
He stared downriver. Perhaps Emeline had just been further out than he'd thought and then fallen. The current may have carried―
Then Gennadi closed his eyes. She wouldn't have gotten deep enough for the current to catch her without him noticing. Whatever had happened, it hadn't been a simple fall.
Night came, and he spent it by the river, watching.
The second night fell, and he stayed again, though now his face was somber rather than hopeful.
On the third day, Gennadi gathered large stones from the riverbed, leaving a clear trail back to the cabin. Though he couldn't bear to dwell on the thought, he didn't truly believe Emeline would come back to follow it.
Reluctantly, he went to the prize he had hidden inside a hollow tree. He half-expected it to be gone, drawn back into its master's body by whatever dark magic had allowed them to be reborn, but the heart was still there, wrapped in bloody canvas.
He needed to get back to the castle and make sure the queen believed he'd done his duty. Make sure she wouldn't send out more hunters.
Gennadi started off in the direction of the palace, but almost immediately his steps slowed.
He would give it one more day.
*~*~*
Everything was in shades of blue.
Emeline looked around, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the odd light. The woman in front of her stared at her, looking near panic. Emeline looked around warily, half-expecting one of the Dwarves or something even worse to come racing at her, its teeth bared.
"Where am I?" Emeline asked. Then she shook her head. That wasn't important, not really. "Send me back, please."
The woman shook her head.
"Why not?"
"I need your help."
"With what?" The woman simply turned and walked away, and Emeline hurried after her. "Need my help with what?"
"You need to avenge me."
"Um. I... I'm not really the avenging type," Emeline said. "I'm honestly lucky I've survived out in Vedrana's Forest this long. You don't really want me to fight someone for you. So if you could just send me back home? Please?"
The spirit hovered closer, and as she did, a bright white line formed around her neck. The mark of a rope.
"You need to avenge me," she repeated. "I can't send you home until it's done. A rusalka has touched you, and my death must be made right before you can be free again."
Emeline closed her eyes. "Wonderful."
"I apologize. I sensed energy and I reached up."
"So what do I need to do?"
"A body must be burned."
"Oh. So the one who killed you is already―I see," Emeline said, grinning. "All right. That I can do. I thought you were going to ask me to kill someone."
The pale woman just regarded her sadly, and Emeline quickly stopped smiling. However relieved she was, surely none of this was funny to the dead woman. "I apologize," she said. "I didn't mean to upset you. Where's the body?"
"It is Above. I will show you."
Above, Emeline thought. That sounded promising. If she could just get back―
"Do not think about leaving before the task is done. You can only wander so far. Otherwise the water that flows around you will invade your lungs."
Emeline blinked at her. "Thank you for the warning. What's your name?"
"Estera."
"All right, Estera. I'll... I'll burn this body for you. I won't try to leave."
"Thank you."
One minute everything was blue, and the next everything was red and gold and brightly lit. Emeline wasn't in a graveyard as she'd expected, but in a small clearing in the forest as the sun descended. There was a shovel in her hands, and dark earth at her feet, recently turned. Before she could think too closely about what she was doing, she drove the point of her shovel into the dirt.
Emeline was nine shovelfuls in when she paused. The rusalka had said her death had to be made right. But was there a way to make a death right? She'd still been hanged; burning the body of the person who'd done it to her wouldn't change that.
And she was stalling.
Three feet down into the ground, she was sweating heavily and her arms felt like dead weights attached to her shoulders. She leaned against the shovel, panting. "I'm not stopping," she said, in case Estera was somewhere close by and watching. "Just resting." She closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths, and then she dug out another shovelful.
The shovel hit something other than dirt, and Emeline knelt down, anticipating having to dig out another wandering tree root.
Instead, her hand touched another hand.
She stumbled back with a startled cry, staring at the corpse's pale fingers. After everything else she'd seen out here, she expected them to twitch.
The hand didn't move, and Emeline finally got to her feet, gingerly digging down around the rest of the body. Such a shallow grave; it was a miracle the animals hadn't gotten to it yet. Cloth draped over the legs, a dark skirt. Estera's murderer was a woman, then. Steeling herself, Emeline reached the head, and put the shovel down in favor of carefully brushing the dirt away. Granted, this was a murderer, but that didn't mean it felt right to just jab a shovel down at her face.
After she cleaned the dirt, Emeline knelt there, unable to move or speak.
It was Estera, her eyes closed, a mottled bruise taking up half her neck.
She must have taken her own life, Emeline thought. Such a thing would have barred her from most cemeteries. It was surprising that the body hadn't been burned before now. Someone she knew must have prevented that.
"Who buried you?" she asked.
"My brother," Estera said, fading into sight a few feet away. She stared down at her own corpse sadly. "Please burn it."
"But I... it's you; I―"
"And I committed a horrible sin. My brother meant well, but he made a mistake in not allowing our fellow villagers to put me on a pyre. Burn it, and I'll be free."
She held out her hand, and Emeline hesitated, and then reached out to her. A ball of blue flame appeared in Estera's hand, turning to red as Emeline's fingers touched hers.
Emeline stared at the fire she held, turning her hand this way and that. Then she carefully lowered her hand, and touched the flames to the edge of Estera's dress.
She quickly stepped back as the body ignited, burning unnaturally fast, dark smoke rising into the air. Emeline covered her nose and mouth with her hands, not wanting to breathe it in.
"Do not go further," Estera warned, when she reached the edge of the clearing. "Once the body is fully burned, then you will be free as well." She smiled. "Thank you so much."
It wasn't as if she'd had any choice, Emeline thought, but she still smiled back. "You're welcome."
The wind scattered the ashes, blowing them away into nothing. Emeline looked over at Estera again, starting to ask if that was it. To her surprise, instead of still smiling, the rusalka was hunkered down on the ground, hands covering her face.
Oh, Goddesses. Was this hurting her?
"Estera?" she said, hurrying over to her. "Are you all right?"
"No! No, of course I'm not all right! It didn't work!"
Emeline's heart sank. "But it―all of your body burned, I―"
"I know," she wailed. "I don't know what else to do! Rusalkas have been freed li
ke this before! When their murderers have been killed, or after the murderer confesses, has to admit the truth... the truth!" she exclaimed, her expression growing hopeful. The rope mark along her neck glowed painfully white. "Tell me the truth; make me confront it!"
"I... I'm not quite sure what you mean."
"Tell me how wrong it was," Estera said, getting to her feet. "I was weak, and a coward, and I―"
"I am not saying that to you."
"Emeline―"
"No," she said, turning away and walking to the end of the clearing again.
But what if it was the only way to get out of here? Emeline wondered.
Still. No. She could not look at that poor dead girl and call her a coward.
Her act was considered a cowardly one by many, Emeline admitted. To their minds, she had denied the Goddesses their chance to give her the end of life as well as the beginning. She'd never believed that herself, but...
"Think on your choice," Estera whispered. "And remember that the living wait for you, too."
Chapter Fifteen
"You took so long," Ilari said, eyeing the contents of the bag hungrily. "I was beginning to think you'd betrayed me, Huntsman."
Gennadi shook his head. "No betrayal, Your Majesty. It's simply more complicated to track a person than it is to track a beast."
"Good, good. The heart?"
Gennadi approached the queen, letting the cloth sack fall open. Ilari beamed at the sight of it―at what she thought was her own mother's heart―and Gennadi suddenly felt ill. "Is there anything else, my queen?"
"No. You may go," she said, reverently taking the heart. Gennadi was almost to the door when Ilari called out, "Unless, of course, you would like to request a reward?"
Gennadi paused. Such things, he knew, had to be dealt with very carefully. He turned, gave a bow. "I would not ask for that which I feel I don't deserve. I was merely doing what my queen asked of me."
"A splendid answer," Ilari said. "Otherwise your reward would've been to help Grisha see precisely how long a man can live without his heart. He's gotten so curious since he's learned of your mission, you see." She waved a now-bloodstained hand in dismissal. "Go on, then."
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