“FASTER!” BEATA URGED THE SLEIGH driver.
Marynka didn’t see the bewitched young man whip the horses into a frenzy, but she felt the sleigh jerk forward. The dark trees lining the road through the snowbound forest flashed by like phantoms.
“You were supposed to melt the ice and drown her in the lake,” Beata snapped. “You were supposed to distract her while I went after the prince. What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I just don’t know!” Marynka might’ve said more to defend herself if, at that moment, Prince Józef hadn’t knocked her sideways, fighting to free himself.
The two of them fell against Beata, against the hard seat, grappling wildly as the horses gained speed, carrying them away from the frozen lake and the Silver Palace, rushing the prince away like a whirlwind.
Sparks filled Marynka’s vision as his fist struck her chin, snapping her head back. The anger in her blood turned to fire. Her palms glowed the red of molten metal, and Józef cried out in agony as her touch burned through his sleeve, through fur lining and silk and tender skin.
“You,” he gasped out, wrenching his arm free and clutching it to his chest, cringing away from the lethal heat rippling off her body. It shimmered the air and melted the snow swirling around them. Flames licked up Marynka’s arms as she shed her human appearance. Her eyes were living embers and her teeth glinted like daggers.
“Me.”
A biting wind, like a cold breath, nipped the nape of her neck, tearing the fur cap from her head.
Marynka twisted, looking back, hair streaming in the air. The rest of the sleigh party was dashing after them, and at the head of the cavalcade, gaining fast, were two riders galloping like demons.
A girl and a boy by their clothing. Great sprays of snow and mud flew up from their horses’ hooves. Torchlight traced the path of the girl’s long silver braid.
Beata let out a hiss.
Marynka felt a jolt of something close to guilt. She shoved the feeling—and the prince—down, climbing and kneeling atop the seat, gripping the back of it, facing the riders pursuing them. This was how it was supposed to be, this desperate struggle between them. This was all she needed. This was what she’d wanted. The two of them unhinged and breathless and wreaking havoc. No room for confusing feelings, no thoughts, just adrenaline and the thrill of Zosia chasing after her.
This is all you need.
“Lose them!” Beata shouted to the sleigh driver.
They drew ahead, veering from the main road with a spray of frozen earth, flying into the trees to a clamor of sleigh bells and the eerie, joyful music of the kulig, following what was likely only a hunting trail.
The forest swallowed them up.
Their pursuers didn’t slow.
They came, driving their horses on, riding knee to knee. Galloping across the treacherous ground at breakneck speed, black branches and needles of ice lashing at their faces like moths drawn to a flame. Night descended; the dusky blue of the sky deepened to black. Shadows bled over the landscape, oozing up from the ground, reaching to embrace them.
Oh, Midnight, is this all you’ve got? If you’re going to hold back here, you’re going to lose.
The cold hit Marynka’s teeth as she barred them in a grin. The prince shielded his eyes as Beata lit up like a living sun. Light seared the air with its incandescence. The night flinched back, the white radiance emanating from Beata devouring the shadows.
But still they lingered, a pack of writhing, monstrous black shapes, snapping at the sleigh’s runners like wolves chasing down prey. The night had claws, and it was fast and hungry. The darkness leapt.
Marynka shrieked as a talon of shadow caught at her robes, trying to drag her from the seat. She jerked back, fabric tearing, but Beata reacted faster, shoving her sideways out of the way. “Get down!”
A second talon curled around Beata’s torso. Her violet eyes widened. She let out a choked sound, and then she was gone. Ripped from the sleigh with a rush of air, her cry echoing in Marynka’s ears, drowned out by the thunderous drumming of hoofbeats.
“Beatka!” Marynka screamed, hanging over the back of the seat. “Beatka!”
And still the riders were coming on, Zosia and Kajetan, leaning forward so their faces pressed almost to their horses’ manes, the beasts foaming with sweat. And beyond them, the rest of the sleigh party.
A blistering, soul-deep fury filled Marynka. In that moment she hated Zosia as she’d never hated anyone in her entire life. Paint bubbled where her hands gripped the seat, peeling away to reveal the charred wooden bones of sleigh.
Józef was shouting at the driver. But the man stared blankly ahead, still under Beata’s spell. Marynka stopped thinking of the prince and his heart; there was only the furious pounding of her blood, the heat at her fingertips, only Zosia. Everything else fell away.
Sparks skittered off her skin. Heat scorched and steamed the winter air.
Another talon of shadow lashed out.
Magic shuddered through Marynka’s bones and down her arms. She threw her hands out and fire exploded before her. A whirlwind of flame howled through the air, searing the shadows, burning the darkness to tatters.
Terror seized the horses. The sleigh swerved wildly, bowling and jolting down a slope. The breeze rose to a shriek, carrying sparks, great clusters of them like fiery birds.
Stray branches caught aflame. The forest glowed a hellish red. The scent of charred pine filled Marynka’s nose. A scorching wind lifted her hair.
The forest groaned. Trunks swayed. Great roots pulled out of the frozen soil as if the ancient trees were fleeing. The wind screamed like a thing alive. A kind of horrified wonder seized Marynka, awe at the clash of their magic as it bent and broke the forest. The sound of it was terrible, ruthless: the dry crash of splintering wood, the howls of terror from those in the sleigh party.
You and I, we’d be unstoppable.
Her eyes locked with Zosia’s, and Marynka thought vaguely that if she died in the midst of this fight, she wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t mind if they went down together here. Suspended between the cold dark of night and the furious heat of day. She half hoped Zosia would end her now, so she would be caught in this moment always.
She recoiled as a branch caught her across the cheek. Blood spat hot down her collar.
The sleigh flew out of the trees, listing sickeningly around a bend, saplings snapping beneath the runners. The sky opened up, bright stars flashed overhead.
There was a cry of alarm from the prince. The slope of a hill rose on their left; to the right, the ground was rapidly giving way to a deep ravine. The path was narrowing.
A flutter of panic filled Marynka’s chest. A tiny voice was screaming at the back of her head that they needed to slow down, to stop.
But Marynka had never been good at stopping.
Night reached for her with another claw and Marynka spun, throwing both hands out, pushing back with everything she had. Fire streaked the wind. She looked to Zosia and saw her eyes widen, felt a fleeting flash of triumph.
But Zosia wasn’t looking at her. She was looking up the steep slant of the hill to their left.
There was a great rushing roar like that of a river. The trees bowed as an avalanche of snow came crashing down the slope. Impossibly fast. Impossible to avoid. Marynka had one last fleeting glimpse of red light glinting off the belled harnesses of the horses, off the distant sleighs of the kulig still following. She saw Zosia’s lips move, her mouth forming a single word before the wave of snow washed over them and she was dragged under by a cold, white sea.
“Marynka!”