Through the White Wood Read online

  After traveling until the sun hung low in the sky and the chill in the air took on a vicious edge, Ivan finally slowed the sleigh. I sat up a little straighter, taking note of our surroundings. We were still deep in the forest, enormous pine and fir trees on either side of us, no hint of a city nearby.

  Babushka taught me at a very young age not to ask stupid questions, so I didn’t ask whether we’d arrived at our final destination. It was clear that we had not.

  Ivan slowed the horses to a plodding walk, and up ahead in a clearing, I saw the points of tents with small gold flags flying from their tops. The sounds of men and a large, crackling fire greeted us, and our horses perked up noticeably.

  So many others waiting for us made my shoulders tense. I’d become used to Ivan’s silence—at least enough that I no longer feared he would suddenly attack me—but I didn’t relish walking into a circle of strangers.

  “The horses need rest,” Ivan said without turning around. “We will stop here for the night.”

  I said nothing, only glanced at the sky to be sure Elation was still with me. It took me a moment to find her, but then I saw the gleam of her feathers against the green of the pine trees. I closed my eyes in relief. She had flown away on our journey once or twice—presumably to hunt or find water—and each time she returned I was nearly moved to tears.

  Ivan guided the sleigh to the very center of the camp, so close I could feel the warmth from the fire, and then jumped down in a surprisingly agile way for his age. He held his hand out to me as a small company of men surrounded us.

  I forced myself to meet their eyes unflinchingly even as memories of the last time I faced a contingent of men threatened to drag me under.

  “The grand prince has ordered you to be escorted to Kiev with enough men to keep you safe should we encounter any raiders,” Ivan said. “The road to the city is not always secure.”

  I nodded once even as my mind raced ahead. As frightening as they might be, raiders could provide the chaos I needed to get away. I had enough knowledge of the woods that I could keep myself alive; I could find food, at least, and shelter, and make a fire. I wasn’t helpless. And I had Elation.

  I came back to myself only to find the men still staring at me, their air expectant. Only then did I realize that they had been asking questions I’d failed to respond to.

  “Is she mute?” a man with a pointed sable beard asked with a sneer. “Is this the power we’ve sought? The only woman in Kievan Rus’ who does not speak?” His close-set eyes narrowed slyly as he laughed, making me think of Sergei and Rodya—brothers in my village who’d taken great joy in tormenting me.

  Both dead now.

  The other men joined in laughing, all save Ivan. He’d been so quiet that I’d almost forgotten he was there. He stepped forward now. “It is not for any of us to question what Katya’s powers are. We have our orders.”

  “Right. I’ll take the girl to her tent,” the man with the pointed beard said, and I felt my heart sink.

  Ivan nodded. “That’s fine, Grigory. I need to look after the horses.”

  Grigory grabbed hold of my arm, but my skin immediately turned to ice, and even beneath my thick coat, I think he could feel the blast of cold. He dropped my arm like a hot coal. “Follow me,” he growled.

  I kept my head held high even as my stomach quivered. Would they restrain me again, as my villagers had?

  I hadn’t used that terrible fire again on my villagers, even when they’d captured me. The thought of using it here and now entered my mind, a little shudder of horror going through me. Never again did I want to be responsible for that much death and destruction.

  We walked past the roaring central fire, and I noticed an iron pot steaming with some sort of stew. A few of the men sat around the fire while still others tended to the horses. Several tents were set up in a half-circle around the fire. But Grigory led me past all of these. My skin grew increasingly icy until my breath came out in plumes of cold air.

  Soon we were well out of earshot of the other men, and Grigory whirled on me. “Your village made some wild claims about you, but I know they are lies.” His eyes flashed angrily at me, his bushy eyebrows drawn low. “The prince has searched the world for someone with that kind of power, and I can tell that someone isn’t you.”

  I didn’t understand his anger, but it made me want to make a run for it and damn the consequences. Instead I faced him. “I wish it was a lie.”

  He took a step toward me, and the cold within me spread, protecting my skin as though anticipating a blow. “Had I been there, I would have demanded you prove yourself. No doubt this is a waste of time—something the prince, with all his riches, has very little of. Even now, his enemies plot to move against him. Yet here we are, spending more than two days away from the palace, hunting a girl who will prove to be yet another charlatan.”

  How I wished I was a fraud! I’d already spent countless hours begging God to turn back the hands of time, to take away this hateful power. And now, to stand accused of faking it for my own profit brought pinpricks of anger on the heels of my fear. “Then take me back to my village and fail to bring me before the grand prince. It makes no difference to me.”

  Like a snake striking, his hand darted out and grabbed hold of me. This time, his grip was strong enough to hurt—if my arm hadn’t already been well protected by ice. He flinched in surprise, but soon his surprise turned to cruel amusement. “So, you do have power—your skin can turn to ice. How impressive,” he added wryly. “Still not quite the talent that was promised. We were told you could wield an ability slightly more . . . destructive.”

  I could, and I had. Faces of villagers frozen in death flashed before my eyes. The death that I had brought about. “Once my ice-cold skin was all the power I had, and I wish it was still true.”

  “Prove it to me,” he said in a tone dripping with venom. “Prove that you aren’t another charlatan drawing interest from the prince only to trick him again.”

  I swallowed hard. “I cannot.”

  “You see!” he shouted, practically in my face. I tried to yank away, but he held me tenaciously.

  Suddenly, a girl appeared beside us, and Grigory dropped my arm like it burned him. She watched us both, her eyes as dark as her hair, with her slender arms crossed over her chest. At first glance, I thought she was younger than I was, but as I took in the worldliness hidden in the depths of her gaze, I realized she was probably older, though not by much. I wondered how I hadn’t noticed her approach.

  “What are you doing, Grigory?” she asked, and her accent immediately identified her as from the steppes in the east. There was a traveling trader who sometimes visited our village who was from that far-off place. I remembered his face, wrinkled and kind.

  Grigory’s mouth opened and closed several times, leading me to believe he was as surprised to see the girl as I had been.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Katya Alexeyevna is to be brought before the grand prince, unharmed.”

  “I wanted to be sure this girl wasn’t another fraud,” Grigory said with an accusatory glare at me, like I’d somehow provoked him into acting this way. “And she told me herself she can’t demonstrate her power. The prince shouldn’t waste his time on her.”

  Grigory’s unprovoked anger at me had been strange enough, but the fact that he seemed most upset about my supposed lack of powers both confused and worried me. As far as I knew, I was being brought before the grand prince for sentencing. But there had been no mention of that so far—only my power. Were the rumors about the prince seeking out people with abilities true?

  The girl’s gaze shifted to me briefly, and I tilted my chin higher. Everything had been taken from me, but I refused to cower. “The prince can decide for himself,” the girl said. “But we must follow our orders.”

  Grigory looked like he wanted to argue, but apparently the invocation of the prince’s name was enough to dissuade him.

  “Ivan needs your help with the sleigh,” she
added.

  Grigory turned to me, his face still dark with anger. “Come on, then.”

  The girl let out a snort. “As if I’d let you lead her to her tent now. Of course I’ll do it. You should have fetched me the moment she arrived.”

  Grigory shot me a look but thankfully relented. It wasn’t until he was well on his way back to the entrance of camp, though, that the ice on my skin receded.

  “I’m afraid Grigory only has two moods: hostile and disgruntled,” the girl said with a faint look of disgust. “But he does have his uses.” She turned to me. “You aren’t hurt? He looked more hostile than disgruntled today.”

  I thought of the way Grigory had grabbed my arm. If it weren’t for my defenses, I’d likely have nasty bruises. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

  “Good. I’ll show you where you can rest,” she said, gesturing for me to follow. “My name is Kharankhui, by the way,” she tossed over her shoulder at me with a smile, “but you can call me Kharan.”

  “Katya,” I said.

  Warily, I continued to follow her until we arrived at a round tent that could easily sleep five men comfortably.

  “Here we are,” Kharan said, gesturing toward the enormous tent.

  “I am to sleep here?” I asked, unable to keep the incredulity from my tone. “Alone?”

  Kharan smiled. “The grand prince sent this tent to be used only by you.”

  “It’s . . . beautiful,” I said truthfully, gazing up at its deep-blue sides trimmed in gold. As I looked closer, I saw that gold stars had been embroidered throughout, so that the whole thing resembled the night sky.

  She held aside the front flap, and I found I didn’t even need to duck my head to enter. Once inside, my boots sank into plush silver fur. The inside of the tent was nearly as elaborate as the outside, with tapestries, a wide bed with richly brocaded blue-and-gold coverings and a midnight black fur, a small table with a bowl for washing, and two ornately carved chairs.

  I hadn’t seen such finery in all my life; Babushka’s humble izba was furnished with far less.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, and it was the confusion that made a prickle of unease trace down my spine. I was being brought before the prince as a criminal, yet I was given my own lavish tent?

  “Did you think we would keep you chained like the cruel people of your village?”

  “I don’t know what to think.”

  “It’s clear you don’t know the value of your abilities,” she said with a side glance. “I can tell you that they make you worth more to the prince than any of the fine things found in this tent.”

  Her answer so surprised me that I let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “Does he value monsters so highly? Murderers, too?” Perhaps he did, if the rumors about him were to be believed.

  She appeared unperturbed. “A dog may be kicked so many times before it turns around and bites. Are humans any different?”

  Yes, but does a dog revel in it once he has bitten? “I should think humans would be held to a higher standard than animals, so yes.”

  She looked at me appraisingly. “You have a very noble view of humanity.”

  I tried to silence myself, but I was genuinely curious. “And you don’t?”

  She shrugged. “It depends on which particular group of humans we’re discussing.”

  My gaze continued to roam before finally landing on a chest big enough to hold a full-grown man.

  Kharan must have followed my line of sight, for she walked over to it and threw open the lid. “The prince wanted to be sure you had clothing.”

  Inside were garments that glittered like gemstones: deep carmine, sapphire, emerald, and lighter colors like jade, aquamarine, and topaz. I could tell from a few feet away that they were all heavily brocaded and embroidered, trimmed in fur and silk.

  My chest at home contained two outfits, and I was wearing my nicest one—usually only worn for festivals. I thought of my own clothes now hidden under the fine robe Ivan had given me—my white linen rubakha, embroidered with carmine-colored thread that trimmed the neckline and wide sleeves, the one I’d always been so proud of, now looked like what it was: peasant clothing. Even my lovely red wool skirt with what I had always thought of as intricate white embroidery might as well have been moth-eaten compared to the fine garments within that chest.

  “Surely this is too much for someone like me,” I said, my eyes still on the chest. The gowns were lovely—lovelier than I’d ever seen, but they were intimidating in their beauty. All this for a prisoner? But I thought I knew the reason for such finery, and the whispers of worry in my mind intensified. Were the tent and the gowns bribes? Was the prince trying to entice the poor peasant girl to join his dark army with gifts of more value than she’d ever seen?

  I also couldn’t help but fear, like Kharan’s kindness, that it was some terrible deception. Like the old tale of a witch in the woods feeding children all kinds of delicious treats . . . only to fatten them up and eat them.

  “The prince can afford it, so why not take advantage of his generosity?”

  Because these were clothes fit for a boyar’s wife, not a peasant like me, I responded in my head.

  My expression must have still been one of dismay, for she arched an eyebrow and said, “Would you have been more comfortable with rags?”

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but in my experience, people don’t usually do things for me out of the kindness of their hearts.”

  “No one here is trying to trick you, Katya. You’re safe here with us. And not even Grigory would dare cross the prince. The prince said you’re to be protected.”

  I didn’t know what to say, other than I knew it couldn’t simply be out of the goodness of his heart. He had to have a purpose for treating me so well. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to find out what it was.

  A rustle at the flap of the tent drew our attention, and in the next instant, the flap was blown aside to reveal Elation swooping over our heads. Kharan took a step back, surprise and alarm clear on her face, but then Elation landed on the top of one of the chairs, perching there as though it was especially for her.

  A moment passed, and the three of us stared at each other, one after the other. The strangest urge to laugh gripped me.

  “I hope this eagle is yours and not some poor confused bird who has mistaken this tent for her tree,” Kharan said finally.

  I smiled. “I wouldn’t say she’s mine, but I do know her.”

  “You’re a falconer, then?”

  I shook my head. “Not exactly. She’s more a friend and companion than anything.”

  “It’s been too long since I saw someone who had such a close relationship with an eagle. There were many in my tribe who hunted with them, but I never had the affinity for it.” She watched Elation with a wistful look. “The prince enjoys falconry and keeps many birds of prey, but none so large as this.”

  Finding that the prince and I had birds of prey in common did nothing to comfort me. I didn’t want to see him as human at all. Not with such a beastly reputation. I wanted, suddenly, to ask her opinion of Prince Alexander, but something stayed my tongue. Kharan might have been courteous, even friendly, but I also couldn’t forget to whom she owed her loyalty.

  Keep your own counsel, Babushka always said, and so I did.

  I said nothing, my hand gently stroking the soft feathers on Elation’s head.

  “How long has the eagle been with you?” Kharan asked.

  “For as long as I can remember.” The eagle had appeared one day in the woods just beyond the village, where I often gathered herbs, and had watched me, but I’d thought nothing of it. Until she was there the next day and the next, and then I’d find her watching from the trees closer to the village—her beautiful golden eyes interested and, to my lonely mind, friendly. It had seemed just a figment of my imagination, really. But soon I began to think of her as my friend.

  I’d started talking to her then. First, only in my own head, but later, in whispered co
nfessions.

  It wasn’t until recently that she had shown any sign other than her constant vigilance that she cared for me at all.

  I thought of that dark night in the woods, alone and hunted, terrified of not only my pursuers but of my own self—of what I’d done. The eagle had descended from the sky like the firebird of legend, her feathers illuminated by the glow of my small campfire. She’d brought me a hare. She kept me alive. But most of all, she offered me what I wanted most: companionship.

  “An eagle is a good friend to have, falconer or not.” Kharan’s voice broke through my thoughts. She nodded to herself once, her gaze turning faraway again. After a moment, she gestured toward the flap of the tent. “I’m sure you’re thirsty after that journey. I’d meant to have water waiting in a pitcher, but it took them longer than they expected to set up this tent—they only just finished before you arrived. I’ll return shortly with water and news of supper.”

  “That’s kind of you—thank you.”

  When she left, I took better note of my surroundings. I ran my hand over the softness of the fur on the bed, examined the comb made of bone upon the small table, and ultimately found myself drawn to the chest of beautiful clothing.

  Whoever had packed the chest was clearly familiar with dressing wealthy ladies, for it was filled with not only the gowns but with glittering jewelry, embroidered and gemstone-studded belts, silky veils, and two woolen cloaks trimmed in fur. Three pairs of slippers were included, each more impractical than the next: two made of soft deerskin and one of gold silk. I glanced down at my leather boots lined with rabbit fur that, while not as pretty, were much more capable of handling a sleigh ride through the snow.

  More important, it was Dedushka who had made them for me.

  It’s usually the city dwellers who wear boots, he’d said one cold night when he’d returned home with doeskin and rabbit fur, but I thought you should have a pair to keep your feet warm when you’re in the woods.

  You’ll spoil the girl, Babushka had said, eyes narrowing in disapproval. Get her used to a life she can never have.

  Dedushka hadn’t responded for a moment, only continued to sharpen his skinning knife. It won’t hurt to give her something special for once.