《Witches Burn at Dawn ✔》17. Yaroslava

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For the first time in my life, I feel welcome in St. Daktalion city. I feel like I belong to something bigger than my little world of doubts. It's a strange thing though, dangerously fragile.

Nilam and I spend the rest of the night at the apartment, but Mir doesn't come home. A part of me worries that I've gone too far, forcing him to feel things for me that he'd once felt for Polina, but then another part of me remembers what he made me feel, and my anger kindles back aflame.

At least I didn't use magic.

A comfortable sort of silence surrounds Nilam and me as we drink tea and watch TV. We don't talk much, at least until Laverna returns from the club, a trail of smeared lipstick on her neck and a tipsy smile across her lips. As I see Nilam guide Lav to the couch and pour her a cup of tea, nodding to her inarticulate babbling I can barely make sense of, I wonder what kind of past these two share. They talk like they know each other, know each other's fears and dreams.

When Laverna dozes off on the couch and Nilam snoozes in front of the TV at dawn, one question keeps bothering me. I don't want to sleep. I don't sleep. I can't sleep.

I haven't closed my eyes, not for a minute, since I woke up in the graveyard, and I don't feel the need. Is it something that happens when you're only half alive? Your bones sleep for you? Or is it because my soul is still somewhere in the dark, and I have nothing inside this body to travel across the dreams? Because I'm a meager reflection of myself, of my memories, not even whole and complete? Can it even be fixed?

Maybe it's a gift not a curse, for what kinds of horrors my subconsciousness would have invented otherwise.

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At lunchtime, Adélard and Kadri arrive. I don't know how, but Ady has found hook-nosed Euklas who Nilam saw in Jasna's visions.

"You're not coming?" I grimace at my discouraged voice when Nilam turns in the opposite direction as we all walk into the street. Laverna has sneaked out of the apartment an hour ago, too.

"Naw, I won't go near the university." Nilam shakes his head. He looks sleepy, his blue hair disheveled, and yet the flash in his eyes suggests he has a busy plan for the day. "I haven't been there for any of my last exams and...Well, I have plenty to do in my club." He gives me a lazy smile. "You'll be fine."

I hope he's right because the ice-melting glares Kadri cuts me from under her blond bangs all the way to the university make me queasy, stripping me of all my confidence.

The University of St. Daktalion stands on the outskirts, on the rise from where the old part of the city looks like a painting of wide streets and stone buildings. Two angelic statues guard the campus entrance: one of them is white, its wings spread and its head held high gazing upon the sky; another is black, its wings folded, its head dipped low as if staring into the underworld beneath their feet.

According to legends, the university ground is where those first four mages lived, from where they vanished forever one night. And the angels were put around the city to protect the lands from the bygone evil.

The city mayor, Corneille Lishan, and the most respectable members of the society whose children study here invest great money to make the university look polished and regal, but behind the green lawns and shiny traceried windows, the walls are still doleful and radiating ancient mysteries. I shiver at the thought of demons those mysteries might conceal.

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"Yara, will you recognize Euklas if you meet him?" Ady asks as we walk along a narrow path, avoiding the main lanes. The campus is crowded like a market square.

"I think so," I lie. People keep casting the three of us weird glances, and I can't figure out if those glances are of derision or lionizing. "Is there something I should know about Polina? Is she famous here or something? Used to go streaking around the campus?"

Still, I remember Lav telling me that Polina is a religious girl so it can't be it. My outfit is quite dull, jeans and a pullover can't draw much attention, nor can Ady who's an example of a person wearing all shades of beige today. And Kadri's almost a nun in her blouse all buttoned up and a satin scarf winding around her neck.

"They don't stare at you," Ady explains, his face clouding over. "They stare at us."

"Why?"

Puffing out her cheeks, Kadri snorts. "They always stare."

Intrigued, I look at Ady and Kadri's linked hands, a gesture full of trust and support. I'm about to ask them whether they're dating or--

"Holy Angel!" I'm a breath away from tripping at a sudden spark in my memory. I can't recall faces, sure, but I can recall the emotions my memories caused me. Trust and support. "Adélard." I've heard this name before. "Lishan? You're Lishan. I know you, you're the mayor's son." Lishan's bloodline is one of those that trace back to the supposed times of the mages.

Ady rolls his shoulders, composed as ever. A royalty by blood. "Took you long enough."

Pursing her lips, Kadri's steals another glance at me, but this time I notice wariness in her eyes. And it dawns on me. It's not the disdain that I see in her eyes--it's fear, she still dreads the things she's heard I'm potentially capable of. Just give them time to know real you, Nilam's words echo in my mind.

Only I don't have time, do I?

I turn to Kadri, striving to sound amiable and harmless. "And you must be Kadri Embladottir, the daughter of the priestess of the St Daktalion's Angelic Order and Ady's fiancée." That's why people stare. When I saw these two on the news once, I stared, too. And laughed. Isn't it crazy? Corneille Lishan, who--as unreliable rumors claim--killed a priest before becoming the mayor, is now happy about his son getting engaged to a pious girl? Seems too pure to be true. And too convenient for both the mayor and the Church, a way to secure each other's ultimate support.

Now, though, looking at their tightly clasped hands and remembering how Ady rushed to shield Kadri when I pretended to demonstrate the powers I no longer had, I find another emotion clawing at my guts. Jealousy. If their love is real and strong despite everyone's stares and gossip, despite all the humiliation that follows, I envy them. And even if their union was fiction and then turned into something sincere, I envy them anyway. If something real can be arranged on purpose--I envy for I've never accomplished that.

Yet something doesn't fit in my theory.

"Did I miss your wedding?" I carefully continue to coax them into a conversation as we stop in the shadow of a column, watching students pile out of the lecture hall.

"No, you didn't," Ady mutters, his gaze fixed on the people. Nothing gives away his thoughts behind his mask of politeness. "Can we now search for Euklas, please?"

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I pretend to survey the crowd. "Why aren't you? You're old enough now."

"Yaroslava, what kind of magic did you perform?" Kadri asks suddenly. "Have you ever cursed anyone?"

My eyes flick sideways at her, surprised. I'm nearly a head taller than Kadri, but her bright eyes pierce me like arrows shot from the heavens above. She doesn't try to appear as tranquil as Ady, and the flicker in her gaze, the glint between perturbation and curiosity, reminds me of... Bogdan.

"No," I begin slowly, still unsure why she's asking. Has she cursed someone or is it a test for me? "But I can't say I don't know how."

A test. Because I meet a wordless question in her eyes now.

"Are we talking about a curse of death or just of bad luck?"

For a fleeting moment, Kadri hesitates, her expression troubled. "Bad luck."

Are you sure?

"Well, you need three fern flowers"--I tick off on my fingers--"dried raskovnik leaves, and something from the person you want to curse, like a lock of hair. You incinerate the ingredients, and bury the ashes under the window of the person you want to curse." I pause. "It only works if you truly abhor your enemy though."

"Are you two done?" Ady interjects from behind my back, annoyance creeping into his tone for the first time. "We're still looking Euklas."

"The last question." Kadri nods. "Yara, do you feel the weight of your sins?"

Tremor surges through my body, and I practically feel my face growing wan. The confidence, the genuine interest behind her words is nothing but bloodcurdling. That's why she reminds me of Bogdan--she believes that I'm doomed to infinite suffering, punished by the Angels for poisoning my soul with magic.

Yet, my pride prickles. This girl, who's never had to fight for her life, who's never had to choose between safety and deceptions, whose worst fear is probably missing Mass, thinks she can teach me how to atone for my sins?

"And what are those?" I force a nonchalant laugh up my throat. "Enlighten me, Kadri."

"Girl, please," Ady grumbles. "Can't it wait, really?"

Kadri ignores him. "Magic is a sin, Yaroslava."

That's it. My temper flares, rampant like the cacophony of the students' voices around us. "You know, I once had a friend who believed in the evil nature of magic, too," I say, spite camouflaging the hurt in my tone. "He even declined my offer to endow him with powers. Do you know what happened to him? He's dead, Kadri. Period. All I did was try to survive. So no, I don't feel the weight of my sins. Do you?"

Nervousness is evident in her motions as she pulls her scarf tighter around her neck. "I have no sins."

"Really? Then how do the mayor's son and the High Priestess's daughter end up running from a supernatural hunter? Did you two break the rule of not sharing a bed before marriage and used Morox to compel the person who caught you to forget?"

"Girls!" Ady barks, the irritation in his voice plain now. "Are you done? I think it's him."

I arch my neck to see a boy in a brand new coat and with an absorbed expression, carrying a bunch of books and papers. He's of my age, his nose hooked, but I can't say if it's really him.

"Is it him?" Ady prompts. "The documents on the only Euklas I found in the university's online archives have this boy's photo."

I shrug, watching the boy weave his way past other students. "I think."

"One hundred percent?"

"Ninety...nine?" But I know how to check it.

I start through the crowd, after him, gesturing for Ady and Kadri to follow. "Euklas?"

He tosses me a quizzical glance over his shoulder, smirks as he recognizes Ady and Kadri, but Polina's face evokes no emotions of his.

"Can I talk to you?" I continue. "One of your old friends sent me."

"I have no interest in my old friends," he says without stopping.

"Maybe they have some in you."

"Doubt it."

I match my pace to his when we're in a small alley between buildings, the trees pouring shadows across Euklas's face and hiding us from most people. "Do you know Vlad Voskresenyev?"

"Who?' His brows furrow, perplexed. "No."

"Yaroslava Slavich?"

"That girl is dead."

The disregard in his answer coils my temper again, but this time something else is buried beneath it. Hurt. Kadri disparages me, Nilam's left me here today, and my new life is nothing but a fake. I'm still a witch and a sinner and a liar, homeless and miserable. Dead.

As if a safety clicked on a gun, my vision goes crimson. Enough of pretending to be patient, to be lenient to everyone's ill-made choices. My hand closing in a fist, I strike Euklas in his ribcage so hard his back slams against the cafeteria wall we're next to.

"What the-- Yara!" Ady yells, his eyes running around to make sure nobody sees us behind the trees. "We're not here to make it to the local news."

Every muscle in my body tenses as my knuckles throb from a strike. Euklas. A fancy new coat and a fresh start in university as he's always dreamed. And his old friends are nothing, unworthy of his time. He wasn't better than me, taking someone else's money. Too coward to make his hands dirty, but smart enough to level his fingers at which car to steal.

Had I still had my scar, I would have squeezed Euklas's nerves now until he nearly choked on his fear, giving him some taste of my anguish. I don't even care right now how crazy I may look.

"You piece of shit," I hiss into his face as he shrinks away from me, his coward hands up in surrender. "Wayra, Qing, and Yaroslava? Who ditched his friends that night? Who called the cops? Say it, Euklas! You left them there to die!" Ady seizes my arm a second before I manage to hit Euklas again. I spit at his coat instead. "Why you did it?"

If Nilam talks a beat slower than people usually do, Euklas speaks in sprints, as though he's already lost the race and now is desperately trying to catch up. "I was scared!" he yelps. "Yara was a jinx, everyone knew that. She would have killed me, everyone around her died, she burned her own family in her house and..." he stumbles, catching his breath. "And this girl told me I could get out, start a new life. I didn't know they all would die."

Confusion draws my brows together, dousing off my temper. "What girl? Jasna?"

"No, Jasna found me when she learned I knew that girl. She wanted the name, but we only met once, at the Crown & Arrow."

"Yara?" Kadri tugs at my sleeve.

I shrug her hand off. "What's Crown & Arrow?"

"A tailoring establishment, they design clothes and host masquerade parties sometimes. They--"

"Yara?"

"What, Kadri? I'm busy." I tilt my head to see what she's nodding at. And I go rigid.

Mir is standing in the alley a few feet away, observing my performance with utmost curiosity. "Can I talk to you, Fire Girl?" he asks as my baffled eyes meet his.

"We'll keep Euklas company," Ady says as though sensing that I'm about to refuse. "Go."

Today's weather is what you can call perfect late spring, it's not hot nor cold--a day I'd love to spend wandering the streets and alleys and thinking of everything and nothing in particular. Yet, I find myself reluctant to take several steps toward Mir, my boots shuffling across the old cobbles. "What do you want?"

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, his back erect, his expression turning unreadable. "Your bones are gone."

"What?" Involuntarily, my fingers reach into my own pocket to squeeze the piece of my skull that I once wanted to bury but couldn't, the only thing that is left of the real me.

"Did you take them?" Mir asks.

I feverishly scan my thoughts, rewinding the last night. Nilam, Lav, and I were together all the time, but each of us went to the bathroom a few times. And Ady and Kadri were alone while waiting for me to change in my room. Technically, everyone had both time and an opportunity. Including me.

"No, I didn't even know where you stashed my bones," I hate the frightened chill running down my spine. "What are you saying, Mir? Someone can burn my bones and kill me any moment now?" No, they can't. I still have a small piece of my skull. But if the thief lays their hand on that piece too...I'm done.

Mir's eyes soften a fraction. "No, nobody's killing you. Your bones haven't left the apartment, I have the place spelled. I would have known. Someone just moved them."

"And you can't find a bag of bones in your own apartment? Do you lose human remains often like that?"

Considering me, he rubs the scar on his lower lip. A habit, it seems, rather than a deliberate gesture. "Just tell me you didn't do it."

"I did not." Isn't my heartbeat thundering in panic enough? "And how about that credo of yours? Innocent until proven guilty, right?"

He's about to say something, but then the muscles in his neck twitch. His pupils widen as his chest starts to rise, drawing breath, but--stops short as if there's no air. Motionless like a rock, Mir stares at me, and I stare at him, both sharing each other's uncertainty transforming into alarm.

"Mir?"

He doubles over in front of me, his shoulder smashing against the nearest tree, keeping him from collapsing to the ground. His whole body trembles, but all his new attempts to breathe fail.

Trepidation grips me. "Mir?" I take a step forward, to help him, worried he can black out, but he throws his hand up in the air between us.

"Stay away from me," he rasps, clutching to his heart, his face ashen as one of a corpse.

My eyes dart to Ady and Kadri between the trees, but they argue with Euklas, paying us no attention.

"...why are you so interested in Yaroslava Slavich anyway?" Euklas's voice blends with the rustling leaves.

I want to shove Mir's hand aside, making another attempt to come closer, but he pushes me away. "I said don't touch me!"

"But you--"

"Yara, please."

Please? Oh, no. He must be in delusional, agonizing pain.

Seconds stretch on as I watch his hands close into fists, his knuckles going practically blue, not even white. A gust of wind sweeps past us, tousling my and Mir's hair, and he lifts his face toward it, letting the breeze caress his hollow cheeks. Slowly, but gradually, his spasms cease. He draws a ragged breath, then another, gulping the air like it's the last of it in the whole world.

There are a million questions I can possibly ask right now, but I find none trustworthy enough to actually vocalize. Is he sick? A mundane disease or a magical one? Is it a spell went awry? A malison? Did someone do this to him and, if so, how long ago? And why his stubborn ass wouldn't tell me if I've literally read an entire library on mages and witches? I can help!

Is he sick despite or because of resurrecting me?

I bite the tip of my tongue, restraining my urge to strangle him and save him at the same time.

Finally, some color returns to Mir's cheeks. He drags in a lungful of air, pushes himself away from the tree, and straightens his shoulders. His expression is unfazed once again, as if nothing happened. I gawk at him, speechless. But something did happen. He was clawing at his chest, his face went pale, and he couldn't breathe...

It's his heart, it's failing.

But his heart can't fail if the dark magic pumps the blood in his body. Unless his magic is shattered, it doesn't work, and, instead of granting him powers, it feeds on his own vitality.

"We'll talk about your bones later," Mir says, his expression schooled into cool neutrality.

I raise my eyebrows, showing him that I expect an explanation, but he pretends he doesn't notice it. Yet, there's a shift of emotions in his eyes, a shift that made me trust Vlad once. A strange mixture of apprehension and hope that scares and tempts. Complicated in its simplicity.

"...she was no one, Lishan!" Euklas's voice rings in my ears. I flinch and forget all my thoughts for a moment, and feel small and worthless again, a girl with no home. "She was nothing!"

Mir's gaze flicks to Euklas, then back to me. I don't know if he can read my emotions, but his eyes narrow. "Later," he repeats. And then he heads off.

When Mir walks past Euklas I hear Euklas murmur something about unnecessary violence. Before I grasp the meaning behind his words, Mir lifts his hand and punches Euklas's right in the face. Kadri gasps, Ady sighs. Euklas whines as blood spurts from his broken nose. And all I can do is stare while Mir strides away without apology.

My breath catches.

Mir has just hit that boy for nothing. Mir has just hit that boy for me.

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