years learning about the monsters. She knew this forest. She had told them where to set up camp—she had led them away from the mavka. More than that, she had defeated them.
She was, against all odds, some kind of queen. The mavka had proved that.
As if feeling his gaze, she looked up. He saw, for the barest second, a flash of gold in her green eyes.
The air thickened with things unsaid.
She got to her feet. She wore only shades of blue. The color of vila. He wondered if it was on purpose. She moved deliberately. No move out of place. No sign of nerves. Lukasz wasn’t sure if it was magic or the tutelage of cats, but even covered in dirt and with tangled hair, she looked like royalty.
Lukasz didn’t move. Didn’t reach for his lighter. Didn’t reach for a cigarette. God knew he wanted to, if only for something to do. But she had him, God. She had him, and he didn’t want her to know it.
She stood in front of him, looking down, thin arms crossed. Fingernails like claws rested on the torn lace of her shirtsleeves, and her hair had only gotten wilder overnight.
He wasn’t quite sure why he said it, but when the silence reached a breaking point, Lukasz offered, “I understand if you hate me.”
With great care, she lowered herself to a kneeling position beside him. Lukasz stared warily back. With the unwavering stare of an animal, she took him in her gaze and held him there.
A growl caught the edges of the words, making her voice rasp.
“I do not hate you.”
Her long hand reached out and brushed over his shoulder. Her fingers slipped under the edge of his coat, moving it away. Lukasz wondered if she could hear his heart quicken.
“First rusalki. Now nawia,” she murmured. She had an odd way of speaking, placing the emphasis on the wrong parts of each word. He could have listened to her mistakes forever. “Where does it end?”
“It ends with my brother.”
Still, she did not look up.
“But where is he?” she asked, almost more to herself than to him.
“I’m looking for him,” said Lukasz levelly.
“No,” she returned. “You are looking for trouble.”
She pushed aside the half-opened shirt. He felt her lift the silver cross out of the way. Her nails scraped lightly over his bare skin. He felt her spread out the five fingers, fitting them into where the five cuts from the nawia had been. Her fingers curled in like claws.
“You’re not the first one to tell me that,” he said, as evenly as he could.
Her perfect face, with those high cheekbones, those thick lashes, fell slightly to the side. Then her eyes flashed to his. He hoped she did not feel his heart stumble under her palm.
“And how has it worked out for you?” she asked. “Looking for trouble?”
He didn’t know what made his throat tighten, her or her words. All he knew was that, one way or another, as long as she didn’t move, she had him.
“It varies,” he said at last.
She smirked. It was soft, almost mischievous. God, she had him. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was a monster. Maybe she only lived in darkness, only in this forest; maybe she bled silver instead of red.
She took her hand away. Lukasz let out a breath and wanted it back.
“I propose a deal,” she said.
Her hands were folded in her lap. They looked like the pale translucent hands of a rusalka. And he wanted them back on his skin.
“What deal?” asked Lukasz, still dazed.
Her gaze burned. She had the unshakable calm of a predator at the top of the food chain.
“I am queen. I will take you to the Mountains. You are a dragon slayer. You will slay the Dragon.”
He could hardly believe it. Relief flooded through him; for the first time in months, the sense of dread, of responsibility—it all lifted. He could hardly believe his good luck. With her guiding them, they could be in the Mountains in a few days’ time. In a week, maybe less . . .
Franciszek.
It felt almost like hope.
Then Lukasz remembered his hand. Shaking when he’d raised it to the Dragon, then betraying him when he’d swung for the nawia. His heart sank. He was finished hunting dragons. Even if he’d wanted to—and he didn’t—there was no way he could take down the Golden Dragon. He knew it.
But she didn’t.
“All right,” he said, holding out his right hand. “Deal.”