A Wolf for a Spell Page 13

  Katerina, of Baba Yaga’s kind?

  Katerina, with powers?

  The realization nearly knocked Nadya to her knees. She clutched at the wall. A hundred memories flooded Nadya’s mind. Katerina, who could touch flowers that poisoned others. Who could heal wounds from the forest when no one else could.

  Powers.

  A witch.

  Katerina was a witch.

  “No,” he said. “No, we will wed. And then my great hunt will find Baba Yaga and burn the forest. And any man, woman, or child who doesn’t join…will be executed. I will send messengers to the village at once.”

  Footsteps shuddered across the floor, and the door opened so quickly that Nadya barely had time to jump back against the far wall as the tsar and his guards entered the corridor. His brow creased at the sight of her, but a forced smile stretched across his face. It did not reach his eyes.

  “I am glad to see Katerina improved,” he said. “Clearly, you have had a positive effect on her.”

  The guards moved into position beside Katerina’s door once more. As Tsar Aleksander walked away, he called behind him, “Do make sure you stay within Katerina’s rooms. If you leave, I will know.”

  Nadya darted inside the bedchamber and shut the door behind her, breathing hard. Executed. The tsar had just said that anyone who did not join him in hunting Baba Yaga would be executed. Everyone in the village, the other girls at the orphanage, Mrs. Orlova. Nadya felt the urge to protect them all.

  Katerina was still in bed, the blankets damp with sweat. She was shivering.

  The conversation Nadya had overheard echoed in her ears as she took a cautious step forward. She could barely look at Katerina. Not because of the realization that Katerina was a witch, but because Katerina hadn’t said anything in protest when the tsar threatened the village. Nadya swallowed and took a breath. “The tsar said that anyone who doesn’t hunt Baba Yaga will be executed.” The words were sticky and hot in her mouth.

  Katerina mopped her damp forehead with a handkerchief. “It is necessary. She is a threat to our village. To me.”

  Confusion swelled inside Nadya. How could the witch she’d met, the one who had helped Nadya without question and who had never even heard of the tsar, be a threat?

  She had always admired Katerina. But in this, she was sure Katerina was wrong. The words pressed against her lips, but she held them in, afraid that if she let them out, everything would change between her and her friend.

  But everything had changed. Katerina didn’t live in the orphanage anymore. And she was marrying the tsar even when he didn’t love her, when he was threatening everyone in Katerina’s old life. If Katerina sided with the tsar in this, all friendship between her and Nadya would be broken.

  She feared that even more than the tsar’s threats.

  “The tsar wants to execute us,” Nadya repeated. “How can you agree with that?” She remembered the chill of the tsar’s words. “He…he doesn’t care that you’re sick.”

  Katerina spluttered, her breathing quickened. “He does, he promised…” She hesitated, clasping the blanket with clenched fingers. She avoided Nadya’s eyes as she continued. “He hates witches, but he knows how to rid me of my powers. By marrying him. He says that’s what happens when a witch marries a human. It would mean no one need fear me for what I am. It’s a service to his people. And me.”

  The words hung in the air, crackling and threatening thunder. Nadya finally broke the silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’ve never wanted to be a witch,” cried Katerina. “I won’t be a witch, I just…I can’t!”

  “There are worse things to be than a witch,” said Nadya. “We can trust Baba Yaga. I’m sure of it.”

  “You don’t understand,” said Katerina. “No one has wanted me. This is my chance at a family.”

  “We’re family!” said Nadya. She’d never admitted it out loud before, never allowed herself to think it in all the times she’d fantasized about running away into the forest. But it was true. Katerina was her family, the orphanage her home. “And the tsar is threatening our home!”

  Nadya had a choice. She could stay here as nurse to Katerina, stand by and watch as the tsar hunted Baba Yaga and threatened the village. Or she could warn Baba Yaga and Mrs. Orlova of what was coming.

  “Come with me,” she said.

  Fear flashed in Katerina’s eyes. “I can’t…”

  “I’ll help you, and Mrs. Orlova. You’ll be well again, and—”

  “You can’t cure me, Nadya. Baba Yaga has cursed me.”

  “She hasn’t,” Nadya pleaded. “I’m sure she hasn’t!”

  “She told me to embrace my magic, the forest. That my life depended on it. What is that but a threat?”

  Nadya suddenly felt cold, though the windows were closed and there was a fire in the grate. “What if it was a warning?”

  Katerina almost smiled. Her gray face brightened a little. “If it is, then I’ll be cured once I marry him. I won’t be a witch anymore, and I won’t be threatened by powers I no longer have.”

  “I’ll go to her and ask,” said Nadya. Katerina’s smile had given her hope. “She won’t harm me. I’ll find out what she meant, why you’re sick. But if I’m right, if she didn’t curse you, promise me we can ask him to stop the hunt.” She pressed her hands on Katerina’s arm.

  There was a long silence. The doubt on Katerina’s face made Nadya’s insides ache. But Katerina swallowed and croaked, “We can try. But he might not…”

  That was all Nadya needed to hear. She leaned forward and hugged Katerina, then grabbed her cloak and the dagger from Baba Yaga and moved toward the door.

  With a final wave goodbye, Nadya re-entered the silent corridor. She gave a small smile to the guards. “Just going to the kitchens—Katerina would like some tea,” she said, then raced down the stairs before they had a chance to reply or comment on her outdoor clothes.

  She’d only made it to the first landing when something grabbed her arms. The dagger was yanked from her grip.

  “Well, well,” said the tsar’s voice. “Looks like you know more about Baba Yaga than you’re letting on. It seems I’ve underestimated you.”

  “I really shouldn’t be taking you here,” said Oksana, her fingers clutching her skirts. “We’ll be in so much trouble if anyone sees us.”

  She led Zima down narrow corridors, up stairs and then down again, her golden hair glimmering in the torchlight. It wasn’t the shortest way to the great hall, Oksana said, but it was the way least likely to attract attention. As they turned a final corner, an enormous room opened out before them, its ceiling tall as the sky. Zima stepped onto the wooden floor, and her footsteps echoed as though bouncing off the walls of a canyon.

  A door slammed on the far side of the room, and Zima jumped back in surprise. Oksana caught her arm, and together they ducked into the shadows, peering around the corner into the brightness of the great hall.

  A group of men marched in, their shoulders square, hands firmly on the swords at their hips. All of them were in uniforms that matched Izel’s, except one. A man stood in front with thunder in his expression and lightning in his eyes.

  There was a sudden trill in Zima’s ears. The voices of the forest had surged, as though something had excited or frightened them. But she couldn’t understand what they were telling her.

  The man at the front strode into the middle of the room. A cloak the color of midnight whirled behind him as he turned to face the men in uniform who followed behind.

  “Rumors have reached me that you were seen with an old woman matching Baba Yaga’s description,” said the man, sharp as the sword at his side. “Why was she not brought to me?”

  Zima followed the man’s gaze to see Izel standing in the middle of the group, his arms pinned behind his back by two other large men. He bowed his head, his eyeglasses slipping to the end of his nose. “She was no witch, your illustrious highness.” He squeaked in fear, or perhaps it was the effort o
f lying.

  From the way the others looked at the man in the dark cloak and the way Izel bowed his head, this man could only be the tsar.

  Everything about him was thick and angular. He had an arrowlike nose poking out over the thick beard. When he stood, it was with one foot in front of the other, as though he were ready to begin moving again. His voice rumbled in his square chest.

  “Ah, indeed? See, I know you are lying, because you would not have hidden her from me if you were not,” said the tsar. “Tell me, did she curse you?”

  Izel shook his head. “No, your illustrious highness.”

  “Did she overpower you in any other way?” He had lowered his voice, but the words still carried across the room, clear as the shriek of a falcon.

  Izel shook his head, his lips pressed closed. His eyes kept darting to the tsar as though he were trying to bravely meet the tsar’s gaze, but his quivering jaw gave away his fear.

  The tsar nodded his chin at the men holding Izel, then gestured toward the door behind them. One of them gave Izel a sharp punch to the stomach, and as Izel doubled over in pain, they began to drag him away.

  Zima wanted to scream. Oksana clapped a hand over her mouth, pulling her back.

  The tsar stood, his face now hard as stone. “Take her as well,” he said to the guards. Two guards stepped forward. In their arms was a writhing and kicking Nadya.

  “You can’t do this!” Nadya shouted. “You can’t hurt Baba Yaga!”

  The tsar’s shrill laugh pierced the air.

  “What concern is it of yours, little one?” he said, with a look a hawk might give to the mouse in its talons.

  “If you hurt Baba Yaga, what are you going to do to Katerina?” she said, venom in her voice.

  The tsar didn’t answer. He merely smiled at her, as though she’d guessed a delicious secret.

  Nadya kicked, and the tsar flinched. “I would advise you to keep quiet in the dungeons. Crying makes the rats hungry.”

  With that, he swept from the room, his midnight cloak dissolving into the murky darkness of the corridor.

  With trembling steps, Zima and Oksana retreated from the horrible scene into a secluded corridor.

  Until now, the danger had been only a possibility, something that could be stopped. Like a vision or a frightening dream. But now she could fully imagine the tsar setting fire to the forest, hunting her pack, hunting her.

  He knew she was here. And she was in danger every second she remained in the castle.

  Oksana gripped Zima’s shoulders, pulling her out of her thoughts. “We need to get back to the kitchens,” she said, and began to steer Zima in that direction.

  “No!” Zima reached out to halt Oksana. She was out of time. She couldn’t depend on Izel’s or Nadya’s help anymore. She swallowed, trying to ignore the realization that it was her fault Izel and Nadya were imprisoned. And now it seemed Katerina was in as much danger as the others. “I need you to show me the rest of the way to Katerina’s rooms,” Zima said.

  “You saw what I saw,” Oksana mouthed, keeping her voice low. “He is looking for you. It’s too dangerous!”

  “You’re right—he’s dangerous,” she said. “But something is wrong—I’m worried Katerina is in danger from him.”

  Oksana bit her lip. “We don’t even know her,” she said.

  “We know him,” said Zima. The tsar had shown that he was willing to dispose of anyone who crossed his path. “We can’t leave her with him.”

  Oksana was trembling. She looked as though she could still hear Nadya’s screams. But after a moment, she pressed her lips tight and nodded.

  Together they trekked in silence down long halls and up winding staircases, past painted walls and carved doorframes. But even the beauty and wonders of the castle couldn’t distract Zima from the uneasiness that gnawed at her bones. Compared to the clamor of the kitchen and servants’ quarters, these areas were eerily quiet. The only sound was Zima’s panting breaths as her old body wrestled with the long walk and steep steps.

  Oksana peeked around a corner at a thick wooden door. “The guards are gone,” she said in a hushed voice. She unlatched the heavy door and gestured for Zima to follow her, quickly.

  Zima pressed down the memory of the men dragging Izel and Nadya to the dungeons.

  They entered a room with arched ceilings and painted walls. The air was thick with the comforting smell of pine trees. The bed was empty, the vacant room swathed in shadow.

  Snowflakes had begun to sail through the open window on an icy wind. In front of the window, tied around a bedpost, was a thick rope matching the fabric of the bedclothes.

  Zima dashed to the window. The rope floated down the wall to the ground below. There was no sign of Katerina anywhere.

  Something growled at Baba Yaga from the shadows. A pair of bright eyes narrowed at her.

  Snow had begun to fall, and it coated the ground in powdery drifts. Baba Yaga stepped back, and a misplaced paw slipped on one of the patches of ice dotting the ground. She retreated another step. What was this creature? The eyes moved closer, and the shape of a boar emerged from the darkness.

  The boar stared at her with angry eyes. She and Ivan must have stumbled into its territory, and it was ready to brutally defend itself. It stamped its hoof, ready to charge. Baba Yaga could almost hear the boar’s heartbeat, as rapid and tense as her own—she had never had to defend herself in an attack before. Would she even know how?

  She hoped that her wolf instincts would flare up and tell her what to do, but nothing happened. Instead, she tried to make herself as fearsome as she could. Her fur bristled as she brandished her claws and bared her fangs. But the boar was not afraid. It charged.

  Baba Yaga leapt over him, and with surprising speed the boar turned, ready to circle her and attack again with the points of its gruesome tusks.

  Stop! she called to the creature. I am the protector of this forest, and you would do well to obey me.

  The boar paused, taking in her words, but dismissed them. Again it stormed toward her, and Baba Yaga backed into a tree. She ducked to the side to get out of the way, but the boar was too quick. Even in her wolf body she struggled to match its speed. It raged at her, coming closer. She would have to attack.

  She raised her paw, uncertain.

  The boar squealed as something slammed into its side, sending it tumbling to the ground.

  Baba Yaga blinked. Her eyes adjusted. Ivan stood before her, a dagger in one hand and a large stick in the other. He swung the stick at the boar. The creature snorted and charged toward its new enemy. The boy swung the stick again, knocking the boar’s hooves out from under it. It hit a tree and shook to right itself, looking dizzied by the unexpected attack.

  Ivan withdrew a rope from his pack and deftly tied a loop. As the boar charged at him, he lassoed its front legs. It strained against the rope, but Ivan made a swift knot that held in place. The boar glared with rage in its eyes, but Ivan watched it calmly.

  “I have no wish to kill you,” he said. “But I won’t let you hurt her, or me.”

  Baba Yaga watched him in surprise. Boar had been known to kill men in sudden attacks, and yet Ivan had stepped in to protect her. Any other human would have run or climbed the nearest tree to escape, but Ivan had stood his ground.

  He looked at her. “You have not had to fight a boar before?” he said.

  Baba Yaga shook her head. I am like you—I prefer to leave the forest be.

  “We should put as much distance between us and him as possible,” said Ivan, and this time he walked with a steady stride, not wandering as he had done thus far on their journey.

  Baba Yaga took a last look at the boar. It watched them in anger. It would escape its ropes sooner or later, but if they were far enough away, it would not track them.

  She sprinted to catch up with Ivan. The icy ground was hard against her paws.

  They walked for some minutes in silence. Baba Yaga paused, allowing him to lead, and she couldn’t help but
notice that Ivan stood taller, more sure-footed. He sidestepped thorns and leapt with agility over unexpected pits half-concealed by bushes and branches. He no longer seemed in danger of being taken by surprise by the forest. Even the snowdrifts and ice slicks didn’t faze him.

  She had thought him too weak to defeat the tsar, but he had not hesitated to put himself in harm’s way to protect her. He had demonstrated in these few days together that he was more of a leader than she had ever been in her hundreds of years as Baba Yaga.

  Ivan deserved to know the truth from her.

  They could not be far from the hut now, a few hours at most. The sky was painted with swirling gray clouds that would obscure the rising full moon. She had already waited too long to tell him.

  As she trotted to catch up with him, Ivan stopped and took a seat on a fallen tree, grabbing some thick brown bread from his sack. His movements were sharp and agitated.

  Baba Yaga crept close to him, watching his face as he ate silently. There was anger in his eyes, which surprised her.

  We need to keep moving, she said. They had to get to the hut tonight.

  Ivan’s head jerked to look away from her imploring eyes. “I am done walking for the night.”

  We are so close, pleaded Baba Yaga.

  Ivan’s eyes snapped to her. “Why are we rushing? This was my request. And I don’t even know if I want it anymore.”

  No, no, they couldn’t give up now. Not when they were nearly there.

  What’s wrong? she said.

  He ignored her at first, but when she asked again, he said at last, “When that boar attacked, you said it should obey you. Why is that?”

  Baba Yaga averted her gaze.

  “You are more than an ordinary wolf,” he said. “It’s not just that you can speak.” He took a bite of his bread and glared at her. “Have you lied to me? Were you ever taking me to Baba Yaga?”