“You look like the Alkonost, the siren of sweetest songs. Melodies that trap a man in a girl’s gaze,” Danilo said as we were at a French restaurant an upstart sous vide chef had towed all the way from Paris, deep into the Urals, out of love for a fair Russian maid. Now, the maid was fat, a mother of four, and they served the best French onion soup and duck confit this side of Mount Azov. Podentsky was a cosmopolitan town, rich in minerals, rich in imported wines.

“Are you calling me an animal that wrecks men’s hearts?” I asked, teasing. It was good to have Danilo aone, away from his stone singing with Azovka, who had been keeping him all to himself. They had been practicing on the veins of ore in Copper Mountain. Bringing statues to life, enchanting flowers out of trees of rock. But I had my spells, and babushka’s lessons. Baba Yaga was preparing to take me to my first Black Mass. Word had spread in the still hours of Podentsky it would be at Wolf’s Den in the Emerald Forest. It was a time for the villagers to come together, don pagan dvoverie double faith costumes of hair, hide, and grasses, masks, to dance and fuck the night away.

“No, you are just a bird brain,” Danilo said, as if complaining loudly. He clutched my hand at the neck of my wine glass, gracing my muscled, rounded hands with his firm gold slender fingers. I shivered in delight. “I can tell when you are lying.”

I froze. “About what?”

“The great smokestack the dacha armory has become. I hear you cursing and uttering cantrips. Azovka comes with you. You steal your father’s malachite spear. Tell me, dear Katinka, do you still want to be in the Copper Guard – or are you a witch?” he winked.

My heart sank. Could he love a witch? “My mother was one. Baba Yaga told me so,” I admitted. “She was the Lapis Witch, and her and Azovka’s aunt did not get along. Aunt Cecilia thought she owned all the men in Copper Mountain, all the miners and Copper Guard. But my mother Alina would have none of that. She kept Stepan, dedushka, all to herself. That did not strain Alexei and Stepan’s friendship though… can you love a witch, Danilo?” I asked with a verdant green tone. Like peacock ore.

“Truth is, my godsmark has always itched at the magick around you.”

“What?”

He cupped my hand to his cheek. “Azovka, I may be a dimwit, full of humor and wine, and lazy as a bent over tree, but I promised my troth to you, witch or not. I knew a year ago.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me!” I demanded, relieved though. “It could be of great use when I become the Copper Guard Captain. Azovka and I have been practicing spells from a “cursed” spellbook. Do not tell Prokovitch or dedushka, Danilo!”

He shrugged as if struck by lightning, rattling in his seat. A trickster gleam was on Danilo’s lips. “Oi! It’s none of my business. I’d like to carve you something, Katya. I do so much work on the mineral ore and sheets of precious and semiprecious stones on Copper Mountain and the hinterlands for Azovka – but what could I make for you?”

I smiled, dreamy. “Tsar Nikolai gave Anastasia a Faberge egg for her birthday. Make me an egg of sapphire, lapis, and diamonds, with silver gilt in between. Then, you will win back the pieces of my heart you lost to the piebald deer.”

He winked. His sorrel hair was all mussed. I straightened it. “It will cost me all my money, after I buy you and Azovka train tickets to Moscow. Perhaps the Tsar will need to commission a stone spell from me himself to be able to afford you the materials for this Faberge egg. But alright, we have a deal. But you will owe me a kiss when I finish it. I will purchase the materials at St. Basil’s. So, if you are a witch, are you leading the Black Mass tonight everyone is buzzing about?”

I smiled. “Look for the maiden in Lapis. Azovka wants to hog me the whole night.”

“Witches in Podentsky are kind. Beyond the Malachite Walls, they are fierce and often eat children. They tried to eat little orphan me many times, and their spells smell of corruption.” He leaned in close, across the table, to whisper into my ear. “You smell like the Dove Book, Katya. The sacred stone of the Alatyr. A Stonecutter’s wet dream. I often see you in my dreams, wet or not.”

I blushed to high hell, my cheeks burning. We were in a dark corner – the lover’s corner. “Save a dance for me, Danilo,” I whispered. “I want you all to myself, Danilushko. I want Azovka all to myself too. But you two need each other, and I feel you both don’t need me…”

There were tears in my eyes, and I sniffled, my large biceps curling. Danilo came to my side and clung to my curves, rubbing my back, nuzzling my blonde curls and pudgy cheeks.

“We need you most of all, Katya. You always undersell yourself. Can’t you see, that out of all of us, it is only you that gives Azovka the strength to become Mistress of Copper Mountain? Look at how Alexei Popova relies on Stepan Petrovich. You Petrovichs are a mighty bunch. And you believed in me – the moment I wandered into Podentsky, you gave me a place to stay. Come, let us dance with abandon at the Black Mass tonight. I want to see you shine. Now, your secret is out. You are my witch’s heart. And a pink wet witch is a terrible thing to lose.”

I rested my head on his chest. I was 5’11 now, had a growth spurt this fall, but winter was setting in, and if all went according to plan, I’d turn nineteen at St. Basil’s Cathedral with Danilo and Azovka.

“I love you both so much. Danilo, between you and Katya – I could never choose! I want to marry you both.”

“We will be the ones serving you, laying down our lives for our leader. Azovka may be royalty, but you are the tsarina of our hearts. Did you know Azovka goes to her room when she is tired and weeps out your name? Drawing the ore up for my workings is exhausting on her, and her limbs are stiffening. I must stone sing to her each day, so she does not join her ancestors as a statue.”

I froze. “You should have told me sooner. There are treatments Copper Guards give their Ladies and Lords. Ointments. Herbal baths. Tonics. I will go to the chemist today and get the materials I can. I need to tend to Azovka tonight. How often do you oil her?”

He looked like a deer in the headlights. “Oil – oil a girl?”

I sighed. “You are delightfully dimwitted, Danilo. Azovka is made of stone. We must ready for the Black Mass. I must go to the Copper Mountain.” I slapped copper coins down on the table – the only form of currency in Podentksy – and paid for our date. I smiled. “I love you, Danilo. You will take my last name.”

“I’ll always be right behind you, last name or not.”

He held the door for me. I set Igor on his sleigh, and I rode to reach Azovka in time.