Mistress of the Solstice (15 page)

Heat hit his face without warning, the path in front of him erupting
into fire. Ivan froze in his tracks. He almost let his relief carry him
straight into the next trap. Not that he could do anything to stop it.

Raven did not warn him it would come so soon.

The narrow path in front of him was an inferno, the fire consuming it
left and right, straight to the edges of the swamp water now spreading on
both sides. Ivan could feel the heat biting into his skin, dissolving
the last bits of the numbness caused by the magical mist. The fire was
slowly approaching, its fiery tongues snaking along the path toward his
feet.

“Whatever you do, don’t turn
back,” Raven had told him. “You
would want to turn and run away, but as soon as you do, the fire will
consume you. This is why most of the suitors who try to brave the East
Tower leave no trace behind.”

Ivan shivered. The old bird seemed to take pleasure in telling him those
details. Now that he was facing the trap, the knowledge of what would
happen to him if he failed didn’t help one bit.

He carefully breathed in. The air stung and his
insides protested at the sudden pain.
Don’t move.
Don’t. Move.

The fire was upon him. He could see its red tongues raging around him,
licking his skin. He felt his skin emanate hissing sounds as it bubbled
and burst, running down his exposed flesh. His eyes hurt, but closing
them did not help, for the fire reached up to his face, singing his
hair, peeling away his eyelids. The pain was impossible. He had never
felt anything like it.

He knew he shouldn’t scream, but what really stopped him
was no longer any conscious knowledge but the fact that screaming
required breathing in, and he knew his smoldering lungs could possibly
take no more. Yet, if he failed to breathe, he would die.

Assuming it mattered.

Raven had said that if he withstood this trial he
wouldn’t be harmed, but that didn’t
seem to matter either, for how could he live much longer without skin,
with the smoldering flesh rapidly withering in the unbearable heat. He
could
smell
it, a
sickening smell of roasting meat that made the bile rise into his
throat. But he couldn’t vomit either. He had no breath
left.

Good bye, Wolf. Forgive me for failing.

And then, just as suddenly, it was over. The heat dissipated, leaving
behind a cool breath of the night air. It carried the damp chill of the
swamp, so welcome on his burning skin.

His skin.

It couldn’t possibly be there, could it?

How could he possibly have lived through that?

He counted under his breath and slowly opened his eyes.

The path in front of him was clear, tall grass on either side glimmering
in the scarce light from the nigh sky. It wavered in the breeze,
parting before his feet into the thin, scantly trodden path he had been
following.

It did not look as if it had been touched by fire at all.

Ivan took a deep breath, enjoying the cool relief it brought to his
tortured insides. He breathed some more, letting his muscles unknot
before he dared to lift his hands up to his eyes to survey the damage.

His skin was all there, smooth and white, calloused at the fingertips.
Ivan sighed. He shouldn’t be surprised, he knew. Raven
told him this would happen. Yet, after being consumed by the fire, it
was hard to imagine how he could still feel so whole.

Too much. This had been too much. How could he possibly go on?

He took another step along the path. Then another.

Don’t stop. Not when you are so close.

His feet carried him forward, first slowly, then faster as he finally
saw the roughly hewn wall looming ahead. It was so close he could see
the cracks in the moss-covered stones, perfect footholds for someone
trying to climb up. Nothing to it, just like Raven said.

A dark winged shape swept overhead. Ivan dropped to
the ground and rolled over, barely avoiding the sweep of the
razor-sharp claws.
Focus, you fool. The last
trap.

Too late, he remember Raven’s warning.
“Stop, as soon as you see the wall.
Don’t take another step before you see the
creature.”

Had he messed it up?

His silent attacker circled and returned for another
pass. Crouching, Ivan reached for his dagger.
“Don’t fight it,”
Raven had said. “Don’t even try. You
cannot possibly win. Above all,
don’t look at
it
.” The warning echoed in
Ivan’s ears just in time as he was about to turn his
head. If only the damned thing would make more sound. How was he
supposed to resist if he couldn’t even look at it?

How could he possibly survive its attack if he couldn’t
fight back?

The sweep of air at the back of his neck was his only warning. He was
too slow this time. A sharp claw grazed his shoulder, biting deep into
the skin. He forced back a cry as he rolled over the ground again, this
time in the right direction. Toward the water. Here.

The dark gleaming swamp puddle at the foot of the castle reflected the
moonless sky, the tower at his back looming over it like a cliff. He
could see the movement over it as the creature swept down again. Dear
gods. So huge. It could probably kill him with a single strike. And now
that it drew blood—

He held still, bracing for his next move. He could see the creature at
his back growing in size as it advanced, impossibly fast. Claws, bigger
than Wolf’s, gleamed on its paws, raised for a strike.
Silver-white eyes focused on him with cold precision. Dear gods.

The creature’s face was that of a woman, beautiful and
calm, like the treacherous swamp waters. It had breasts, naked and
full, their skin gleaming white as they swelled at the base of her
long, slender neck. The rest of the body was covered with fur, the
creature’s bear limbs and bat-like wings a terrifying
contrast with the cold beauty of its face.

Frozen in fascination, Ivan nearly forgot to move in time. At the last
minute, he dove out of the creature’s way.

It recovered, beating its enormous wings, raising the wind in their
wake. But this small delay was enough. Ivan was ready this time as he
shot out his hand and splashed water from his flask over the flying
creature.

He expected more, a hiss, or perhaps a scream. Instead, the creature
just dissipated, like a wisp of black smoke from a dying stove.

Once again, the air was clear, the night cold and still, as if nothing
had happened here before.

Trembling, Ivan sank to the grass. He did it. He had bested all of the
Mistress’s traps. Now all he had to do was climb up and
claim his prize.

He looked up the rough, moss-covered stone wall.

He was not sure he had enough strength left to do it.

 

Marya

T
hat night, I had the dream again. I was walking through the forest,
clenching something in my hand. Something oval and warm to the touch. I
wanted to open my hand and look, but the force of the dream drew me
forward to the hedge that glistened with sunlight from beyond the
distant tree trunks.

It was hard to reach the hedge. My feet sunk deep into the forest floor.
Raspberry brambles grabbed at my clothes, holding me back with their
sticky hands. Hazelnut bushes slapped me in the face. Young fir trees
tried to prick me through the thin cloth of my dress. But I was
persistent. I knew I had to reach the hedge and step out into the
sunlight.

As always in my dream, as I finally tore free from the
forest’s clutches, I found myself in the glade next to
the Sacrifice Pool. In the very same place where each year a chosen
maiden submerged into the water to be swallowed forever by
Kupalo’s love and my father’s need.

A man was waiting for me in the glade. A dark man crouching by the
water. As I stepped out of the forest and saw him, fear engulfed me. I
knew the man was about to turn his head and I was desperately afraid to
see his face. As I saw his muscles tense and his head begin to turn, I
screamed.

And woke up.

I sat up in bed, my heart beating, my eyes slowly adjusting to the
darkness from the bright sunlight of the glade in my dream. I was alone
in my room. It was night. There was no strange man. Everything was
well.

And then I saw a shape by the window.

A man.

Horrified, I watched him step from the shadows toward me, slowly coming
into view. In the dim light I watched his face, his straw hair, his
eyes smiling at me with such gentleness that my heart nearly stopped
beating in fear of scaring it away. He stopped in front of me, looking
straight into my eyes.

“Hello, Marya Tzarevna,” he said,
and the sound of his voice made me shiver.

Except, strangely, my fear was gone.

Holding my gaze, he stepped forward and lowered to a crouch beside my
bed, so that his face was level with mine. Warmth tingled in my
awakening body. I suddenly felt easy, as if the sun has come out from
behind a cloud. He smiled and I suppressed the urge to smile back.

“You are even more beautiful than I
remember,” he said quietly. It was a statement, not
a question or an invitation to speak. So I continued to look at him,
feeling my body slowly warm under his gaze.

I should have called the guards. There was an intruder in my bedroom at
night. Yet, I could not imagine any danger coming from this harmless
looking boy. After the terror of my nightmare I wanted to enjoy the
feeling of calm he emanated, if only for a moment.

I suddenly became aware that I was naked under the covers and pulled my
blanket up to my neck. He drew back and, searching around with his
eyes, found my dress, thrown over the back of the chair. He picked it
up and handed it to me. It seemed natural, like a
child’s game. I pulled the dress over my head and stood
up, straightening it out.

And came to my full senses.

I was alone with a man, who had obviously overcome all my deadly traps
to come to my bedroom at night.

“How did you get here?” I
demanded.