Shadow and Bone

CHAPTER 19

MY LIGHT KEPT US warm through the night in the lee of the rock. Sometimes I dozed off and Mal had to nudge me awake so that I could pull sun across the dark and starlit stretches of Tsibeya to warm us beneath the furs.

When we emerged the next morning, the sun shone brightly over a world blanketed in white. This far north, snow was common well into spring, but it was hard not to feel that the weather was just another part of our bad luck. Mal took one look at the pristine expanse of the meadow and gave a disgusted shake of his head. I didn’t have to ask what he was thinking. If the herd had been close by, any sign they had left would have been covered by the snow. But we would leave plenty of tracks for anyone else to follow.

Without a word, we shook out the furs and stowed them away. Mal tied his bow to his pack, and we began the trek across the plateau. It was slow going. Mal did what he could to disguise our tracks, but it was clear that we were in serious trouble.

I knew Mal blamed himself for not being able to find the stag, but I didn’t know how to fix that. Tsibeya felt somehow bigger than it had the previous day. Or maybe I just felt smaller.

Eventually, the meadow gave way to groves of thin silver birches and dense clusters of pines, their branches laden with snow. Mal’s pace slowed. He looked exhausted, dark shadows lingering beneath his blue eyes. On an impulse, I slid my gloved hand into his. I thought he might pull away, but instead, he squeezed my fingers. We walked on that way, hand in hand through the late afternoon, the pine boughs clustered in a canopy high above us as we moved deeper into the dark heart of the woods.

Around sunset, we emerged from the trees into a little glade where the snow lay in heavy, perfect drifts that glittered in the fading light. We slipped into the stillness, our footfalls muffled by the snow. It was late. I knew we should be making camp, finding shelter. Instead, we stood there in silence, hands clasped, watching the day disappear.

“Alina?” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. For what I said that night, at the Little Palace.”

I glanced at him, surprised. Somehow, that all felt like such a long time ago. “I’m sorry, too,” I said.

“And I’m sorry for everything else.”

I squeezed his hand. “I knew we didn’t have much chance of finding the stag.”

“No,” he said, looking away from me. “No, not for that. I… When I came after you, I thought I was doing it because you saved my life, because I owed you something.”

My heart gave a little twist. The idea that Mal had come after me to pay off some kind of imagined debt was more painful than I’d expected. “And now?”

“Now I don’t know what to think. I just know everything is different.”

My heart gave another miserable twist. “I know,” I whispered.

“Do you? That night at the palace when I saw you on that stage with him, you looked so happy. Like you belonged with him. I can’t get that picture out of my head.”

“I was happy,” I admitted. “In that moment, I was happy. I’m not like you, Mal. I never really fit in the way that you did. I never really belonged anywhere.”

“You belonged with me,” he said quietly.

“No, Mal. Not really. Not for a long time.”

He looked at me then, and his eyes were deep blue in the twilight. “Did you miss me, Alina? Did you miss me when you were gone?”

“Every day,” I said honestly.

“I missed you every hour. And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. I’d catch myself walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. And then I’d realize that you weren’t there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me. I’ve risked my life for you. I’ve walked half the length of Ravka for you, and I’d do it again and again and again just to be with you, just to starve with you and freeze with you and hear you complain about hard cheese every day. So don’t tell me we don’t belong together,” he said fiercely. He was very close now, and my heart was suddenly hammering in my chest. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now.”

He lowered his head, and I felt his lips on mine. The world seemed to go silent and all I knew was the feel of his hand in mine as he drew me closer, and the warm press of his mouth.

I thought that I’d given up on Mal. I thought the love I’d had for him belonged to the past, to the foolish, lonely girl I never wanted to be again. I’d tried to bury that girl and the love she’d felt, just as I’d tried to bury my power. But I wouldn’t make that mistake again. Whatever burned between us was just as bright, just as undeniable. The moment our lips met, I knew with pure and piercing certainty that I would have waited for him forever.

He pulled back from me, and my eyes fluttered open. He raised a gloved hand to cup my face, his gaze searching mine. Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught a flickering movement.

“Mal,” I breathed softly, gazing over his shoulder, “look.”

Several white bodies emerged from the trees, their graceful necks bent to nibble at the grasses on the edge of the snowy glade. In the middle of Morozova’s herd stood a massive white stag. He looked at us with great dark eyes, his silvery antlers gleaming in the half light.

In one swift movement, Mal drew his bow from the side of his pack. “I’ll bring it down, Alina. You have to make the kill,” he said.

“Wait,” I whispered, laying a hand on his arm.

The stag walked slowly forward and stopped just a few yards from us. I could see his sides rising and falling, the flare of his nostrils, the fog of his breath in the chill air.

He watched us with eyes dark and liquid. I walked toward him.

“Alina!” Mal whispered.

The stag didn’t move as I approached him, not even when I reached out my hand and laid it on his warm muzzle. His ears twitched slightly, his hide glowing milky white in the deepening gloom. I thought of everything Mal and I had given up, the risks we’d taken. I thought about the weeks we had spent tracking the herd, the cold nights, the miserable days of endless walking, and I was glad of it all. Glad to be here and alive on this chilly night. Glad that Mal was beside me. I looked into the stag’s dark eyes and knew the feel of the earth beneath his steady hooves, the smell of pine in his nostrils, the powerful beat of his heart. I knew I could not be the one to end his life.

“Alina,” Mal murmured urgently, “we don’t have much time. You know what you have to do.”

I shook my head. I could not break the stag’s dark gaze. “No, Mal. We’ll find another way.”

The sound was like a soft whistle on the air followed by a dull thunk as the arrow found its target. The stag bellowed and reared up, an arrow blooming from his chest, and then crumpled to his forelegs. I staggered backward as the rest of the herd took flight, scattering into the forest. Mal was beside me in an instant, his bow at the ready, as the clearing filled with charcoal-clad oprichniki and Grisha cloaked in blue and red.

“You should have listened to him, Alina.” The voice came clear and cold out of the shadows, and the Darkling stepped into the glade, a grim smile playing on his lips, his black kefta flowing behind him like an ebony stain.

The stag had fallen on his side and lay in the snow, breathing heavily, his black eyes wide and panicked.

I felt Mal move before I saw him. He turned his bow on the stag and let fly, but a blue-robed Squaller stepped forward, his hand arcing through the air. The arrow swerved left, falling harmlessly into the snow.

Mal reached for another arrow and at the same moment the Darkling threw his hand out, sending a black ribbon of darkness rippling toward us. I raised my hands and light shot from my fingers, shattering the darkness easily.

But it had only been a diversion. The Darkling turned on the stag, lifting his arm in a gesture I knew only too well. “No!” I screamed and, without thinking, I threw myself in front of the stag. I closed my eyes, ready to feel myself torn in half by the Cut, but the Darkling must have turned his body at the last moment. The tree behind me split open with a loud crack, tendrils of darkness spilling from the wound. He’d spared me, but he’d also spared the stag.

All humor was gone from the Darkling’s face as he slammed his hands together and a huge wall of rippling darkness surged forward, engulfing us and the stag. I didn’t have to think. Light bloomed in a pulsing, glowing sphere, surrounding me and Mal, keeping the darkness at bay and blinding our attackers. For a moment, we were at a stalemate. They couldn’t see us and we couldn’t see them. The darkness swirled around the bubble of light, pushing to get in.

“Impressive,” said the Darkling, his voice coming to us as if from a great distance. “Baghra taught you far too well. But you’re not strong enough for this, Alina.”

I knew he was trying to distract me and I ignored him.

“You! Tracker! Are you so ready to die for her?” the Darkling called. Mal’s expression didn’t change. He stood, bow at the ready, arrow nocked, turning in a slow circle, searching out the Darkling’s voice. “That was a very touching scene we witnessed,” he sneered. “Did you tell him, Alina? Does the boy know how willing you were to give yourself to me? Did you tell him what I showed you in the dark?”

A wave of shame rushed through me and the glowing light faltered. The Darkling laughed.

I glanced at Mal. His jaw was set. He radiated the same icy anger I had seen the night of the winter fete. I felt my hold on the light slip and I scrambled for it. I tried to refocus my power. The sphere stuttered with fresh brilliance, but I could already feel my reach brushing up against the boundaries of what I could do. Darkness began to leak into the edges of the bubble like ink.

I knew what had to be done. The Darkling was right; I wasn’t strong enough. And we wouldn’t have another chance.

“Do it, Mal,” I whispered. “You know what has to happen.”

Mal looked at me, panic flaring in his eyes. He shook his head. Darkness surged against the bubble. I stumbled slightly.

“Quick, Mal! Before it’s too late.”

In one lightning movement, Mal dropped his bow and reached for his knife.

“Do it, Mal! Do it now!”

Mal’s hand was shaking. I could feel my strength ebbing. “I can’t,” he whispered miserably. “I can’t.” He let go of the knife, letting it fall soundlessly into the snow. Darkness crashed in on us.

Mal disappeared. The clearing disappeared. I was thrown into suffocating blackness. I heard Mal cry out and reached toward his voice, but suddenly, strong arms had hold of me from both sides. I kicked and struggled furiously.

The darkness lifted, and that quickly, I saw it was over.

Two of the Darkling’s guards had hold of me, while Mal struggled between two others.

“Be still or I’ll kill you where you stand,” Ivan snarled at him.

“Leave him alone!” I shouted.

“Shhhhhh.” The Darkling walked toward me, one finger held to his lips, which were curled into a mocking smile. “Quiet now, or I will let Ivan kill him. Slowly.”

Tears spilled onto my cheeks, freezing in the cold night air.

“Torches,” he said. I heard flint striking and two torches burst into flame, lighting the clearing, the soldiers, and the stag, which lay panting on the ground. The Darkling pulled a heavy knife from his belt, and the firelight glinted off Grisha steel. “We’ve wasted enough time here.”

He strode forward and without hesitating slit the stag’s throat.

Blood gushed into the snow, pooling around the stag’s body. I watched as the life left his dark eyes, and a sob broke from my chest.

“Take the antlers,” the Darkling said to one of the oprichniki. “Cut a piece from each.”

The oprichnik stepped forward and bent over the stag’s body, a serrated blade in his hand.

I turned away, my stomach heaving as a sawing sound filled the stillness of the clearing. We stood in silence, our breath curling in the icy air, as the sound went on and on. Even when it stopped, I could still feel it vibrating through my clenched jaw.

The oprichnik crossed the glade and handed the two pieces of antler to the Darkling. They were almost evenly matched, both ending in double prongs of roughly the same size. The Darkling clasped the pieces in his hands, letting his thumb roll over the rough, silvery bone. Then he gestured, and I was surprised to see David emerge from the shadows in his purple kefta.

Of course. The Darkling would want his best Fabrikator to fashion this collar. David wouldn’t meet my gaze. I wondered if Genya knew where he was and what he was doing. Maybe she would be proud. Maybe she thought of me as a traitor now, too.

“David,” I said softly, “don’t do this.”

David glanced at me and then hurriedly looked away.

“David understands the future,” said the Darkling, the edge of a threat in his voice. “And he knows better than to fight it.”

David came to stand behind my right shoulder. The Darkling studied me in the torchlight. For a moment, all was silence. Twilight had gone, and the moon had risen, bright and full. The glade seemed suspended in stillness.

“Open your coat,” said the Darkling.

I didn’t move.

The Darkling glanced at Ivan and nodded. Mal screamed, his hands clutching his chest as he crumpled to the ground.

“No!” I cried. I tried to run to Mal’s side, but the guards on either side of me held tight to my arms. “Please,” I begged the Darkling. “Make him stop!”

Again, the Darkling nodded, and Mal’s cries ceased. He lay in the snow, breathing hard, his gaze fixed on Ivan’s arrogant sneer, his eyes full of hatred.

The Darkling watched me, waiting, his face impassive. He looked nearly bored. I shrugged off the oprichniki. With shaking hands, I wiped the tears from my eyes and unbuttoned my coat, letting it slide over my shoulders.

Distantly, I was aware of the cold seeping through my wool tunic, of the watching eyes of the soldiers and the Grisha. My world had narrowed to the curving pieces of bone in the Darkling’s hands, and I felt a sweeping sense of terror.

“Lift your hair,” he murmured. I lifted the hair away from my neck with both hands.

The Darkling stepped forward and pushed the fabric of my tunic out of the way. When his fingertips brushed against my skin, I flinched. I saw a flash of anger pass over his face.

He placed the curving pieces of antler around my throat, one on each side, letting them rest on my collarbones with infinite care. He nodded at David, and I felt the Fabrikator take hold of the antlers. In my mind’s eye, I saw David standing behind me, wearing the same focused expression I’d seen that first day in the workrooms of the Little Palace. I saw the pieces of bone shift and melt together. No clasp, no hinge. This collar would be mine to wear forever.

“It’s done,” whispered David. He dropped the collar, and I felt the weight of it settle on my neck. I bunched my hands into fists, waiting.

Nothing happened. I felt a sudden reckless shock of hope. What if the Darkling had been wrong? What if the collar did nothing at all?

Then the Darkling closed his fingers over my shoulder and a silent command reverberated inside me: Light. It felt like an invisible hand reaching into my chest.

Golden light burst through me, flooding the clearing. I saw the Darkling squinting in the brightness, his features alight with triumph and exultation.

No, I thought, trying to release the light, to send it away. But as soon as the idea of resistance had formed, that invisible hand batted it away like it was nothing.

Another command echoed through me: More. A fresh surge of power roared through my body, wilder and stronger than anything I had ever felt. There was no end to it. The control I’d learned, the understanding I’d gained collapsed before it—houses I’d built, fragile and imperfect, smashed to kindling in the oncoming flood that was the power of the stag. Light exploded from me in wave after shimmering wave, obliterating the night sky in a torrent of brilliance. I felt none of the exhilaration or joy that I had come to expect from using my power. It wasn’t mine anymore, and I was drowning, helpless, caught in that horrible, invisible grip.

The Darkling held me there, testing my new limits—for how long, I couldn’t tell. I only knew when I felt the invisible hand release its grip.

Darkness fell on the clearing once again. I drew a ragged breath, trying to get my bearings, to piece myself back together. The flickering torchlight illuminated the awed expressions of the guards and Grisha, and Mal, still crumpled on the ground, his face miserable, his eyes full of regret.

When I looked back at the Darkling, he was watching me closely, his eyes narrowed. He looked from me to Mal, then turned to his men. “Put him in chains.”

I opened my mouth to object, but a glance from Mal made me shut it.

“We’ll camp tonight and leave for the Fold at first light,” said the Darkling. “Send word to the Apparat to be ready.” He turned to me. “If you try to harm yourself, the tracker will suffer for it.”

“What about the stag?” asked Ivan.

“Burn it.”

One of the Etherealki lifted his arm to a torch, and the flame shot forward in a sweeping arc, surrounding the stag’s lifeless body. As we were led from the clearing, there was no sound but our own footfalls and the crackling of the flames behind us. No rustle came from the trees, no insect buzz or nightbird call. The woods were silent in their grief.