Wicked Saints (Something Dark and Holy #1) - Emily A. Duncan Page 0,5

stronger. Not Kostya. She was losing everything, she couldn’t lose him, too.

I will not trade my safety for his life.

Her throat closed with tears. “I won’t leave him!”

“Nadya, you have to.”

She couldn’t break free. She could only stumble as Anna pulled her to a mausoleum, kicking the door open. The last thing she saw before Anna pulled her into the dark was Kostya, his body shuddering as another bolt thudded into him.

2

NADEZHDA

LAPTEVA

When the faithful turned to the god of protection against a wandering horde from the north, they expected his blessing, only to be slaughtered in the war that followed. Their folly was in forgetting Veceslav was also the god of war, and iron must be tested.

—Codex of the Divine, 4:114

Anna pushed past Nadya, slamming the door closed and barring it. Nadya struggled to stop her—Kostya was going to die if she didn’t do something—but Anna moved in front of the door, blocking Nadya’s way.

“Nadya,” she pleaded softly, everything she wasn’t saying thick in her voice.

This had always been a possibility; Nadya knew her friends were willing to die for her. The only thing she could do now was make sure their deaths were not in vain. Mourn the loss later, survive now.

She clenched her fists and turned away. Stairs descended into darkness before her. She nearly tripped on the first step and learned the hard way just how far down they went. Anna grabbed her arm to steady her and she realized the priestess was shaking.

“Can you get us some light?” Anna asked. There were tears in her voice, just barely restrained.

The darkness was choking, but Nadya found the silence even more disconcerting. There was nothing, even though the battle raged on just outside. They should be able to hear the clash of metal and screams of battle nearby, but all was quiet.

Light Nadya could do. She pulled at her necklace, finding Zvonimira’s bead and the candle flame that marked the goddess of light. She sent up a weak prayer; nothing but a feeble petition for something that could not save them.

A thread of holy speech moved through her lips in a whisper as Zvonimira acknowledged the prayer. White light sparked at her hands. Pressing her fingertips together, she formed a ball of light that could be spun into the air, illuminating the space around them.

“Golzhin dem,” Anna cursed under her breath.

Helpless, Nadya could do nothing but follow as Anna started down the steps. Her best friend was probably dead. Everything she had ever known destroyed. Each time she blinked the High Prince’s cold smile flashed before her. She would never be safe again.

I would take months of carving out a mountain of potato peels over this.

Nadya didn’t know if any of the nearby military camps were still standing, or if the Tranavians had ravaged them as they moved deeper through the country. If she could make it to the capital city of Komyazalov and the Silver Court, there was some hope, but she doubted it possible with the High Prince only steps away.

Nadya was supposed to remain a secret for another year, training in the holy mountains with priests who—while they did not have magic themselves—understood the fundamentals of divinity. Like how a peasant girl could be the one thing that would save Kalyazin from the heretics’ torches. But war didn’t care for carefully laid plans.

Now the war had taken everything from Nadya, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Her heart ached, the vision of Kostya staggering with crossbow bolts slamming into his body the only thing she could see.

Anna led her down the stairs and into a long, dank tunnel. It didn’t look like anyone had been down here in decades. After a few minutes of silent walking, Anna paused in front of an aged wooden door set into the wall. She shoved her shoulder into it until it opened with a pained groan. Dust rained down on their heads, spattering Anna’s headscarf like snow.

Inside was a storeroom filled with traveling clothes, racks of weapons, and shelves of carefully preserved food.

“Father Alexei was hoping this place would never be necessary.” Anna sighed wistfully.

Nadya caught the warm violet tunic and pair of dark brown trousers Anna lobbed at her. She pulled them over her thin garb. Anna tossed her a thick, woolen black coat and a fur-lined hat. Anna pulled on her own set of clothes before she moved to the weapons rack. She gave Nadya a twin set of ornate voryens. She paused,