For the moment, that wasn't a problem. Right now, she wasn't interested in escaping.
Ljuba had been cautious enough to bar the door before removing the slat and taking flight; this time there would be no unwelcome intrusions. Kneeling, she pulled back one of the rich carpets covering the floor, then spilled the contents of the vial she'd brought from her experiment-room—a room from which Semyon thought he had barred her—onto the smooth marble. Eyes shut, the young woman concentrated, calming her mind, cooling her thoughts… She spoke a few cold, careful words, and felt the Power stir…
Ljuba looked down at her handiwork: the potion had frozen to a smooth sheet of ice. It would melt of its own accord soon enough, leaving nothing but a trace of dampness for prying Semyon to find, but for now, it formed as fine a mirror as anyone could want. Carefully, she began to concentrate, and saw the icy surface grey, then clear. Gently, now, gently…
There he was, there was Finist, and with him, that young woman‑Maria Danilovna. Ljuba stared at them both intently, and what she saw was…
Love‑clear, strong, shining love.
«No…» It was an involuntary moan. «Akh, no…»
But there it was, no denying it. Finist did love this Maria, she loved him, there was no room at all for Ljuba…
And why should that hurt? Why should she care? For a bewildered moment, Ljuba didn't know herself at all. She trembled on the verge of something new, something wondrous…
Something weak. Something stupid and useless and weak. Recoiling in self‑disgust, frightened at how near she'd come to losing precious control, Ljuba forced out as ugly an oath as she could find, taking fierce joy in the vileness of it.
Fool, fool! Just because he was the first man in God knows when to be gentle in your bed, there's no reason to wail like some stupid girl bemoaning the loss of her virginity! He's your road to power, no more, no less.
It was a long time before she could force herself to believe that. But at last, staring into the icy mirror, Ljuba managed to calm her mind till she could watch almost dispassionately. Soon she saw Finist fly angrily away. But what was this? She sensed someone else's triumph at that. Not the sobbing Maria, but someone akin, closely akin… Delicately, Ljuba widened her scan and found Vasilissa.
«Why, you little fool!» Ljuba told her contemptuously. «Don't you realize this is only a lovers' spat? Don't you realize he'll be back?»
Wait, now… Idiot indeed, this young woman, weak and fragile of mind. Ljuba could sense the uneasy workings of that mind even from here, feeling how it teemed with old fears, old superstitions…
«So very fearful," Ljuba said slowly. «So ready to believe almost anything, anything at all… So willing to be led.»
The young woman licked her lips thoughtfully, a cat considering potential prey.
Vasilissa awoke with a start. Someone was calling her name. The demon? Had the demon returned for revenge?
No, this was surely a woman's voice, sweet and warm and loving. Bewildered, Lissa pulled aside the bed curtain, and gasped.
There, shimmering and faint as heat-haze, a woman stood. Woman? This radiant being was surely more than that, this being with the waterfall of golden hair and the beautiful face and the rich, glittering, golden robes…
«An angel," breathed Vasilissa. Hastily she stumbled from bed and fell reverently to her knees. «Are you an angel?»
«I am… Call me a messenger," said the shining being. «Come to tell you how to save your sister.»
Vasilissa drew in her breath sharply. «But she's already safe! The demon is gone!»
«Gone, Vasilissa, but not banished. He will return.»
«No!»
«Do you doubt me, child? Do you dare?»
«Oh, no, I didn't mean any discourtesy! I only meant — "
«Come, child, enough. Would you save Maria's soul?»
Her soul!» gasped Vasilissa. «Of course I would!
«Listen, then…»
Please, tell me what I must do!» The golden being smiled faintly.
Ljuba broke contact with a gasp of exhaustion, falling full‑length on the floor. Ugh, but the melting potion was cold and slimy! With a little cry of disgust, the young woman wearily dragged herself to her feet, and collapsed onto her bed. Lying there, staring up at the embroidered canopy, she began to laugh.
The little idiot had thought her an angel, and believed her every word! But would she be able to carry out her instructions properly? Ljuba's laughter faded. All at once she found herself shaking with a chill that had nothing to do with the physical. What if the stupid girl went too far? What if, in her zeal, Vasilissa decided to act on her own, or tried something too dangerous, or—
Stop this! Ljuba snapped at herself. It would work, of course it would! She didn't dare start doubting now. It would work, and Finist would be hers.
But… if it failed…
Ljuba groaned in dawning horror. If her plan failed, she might just have given what amounted to Finist's death sentence.
I've got to stop her!
Struggling to her feet, Ljuba tried again and again to restore the mental link with Vasilissa, tried till her head ached and her body shook with exhaustion. But it was useless; she hadn't the strength. Whether she willed it or not, her plan had been set into motion.
She wouldn't weep anymore, Maria told herself fiercely. Yesterday had been… yesterday, and though she ached to recall the words she'd said in anger, the past wasn't to be changed. Tonight she'd sit here in her bed‑chamber, and hope—no, she would believe that Finist would forgive and return. Together, they'd find a way out, a way that would see Danilo yielding to them, and letting them wed. «Wed," Maria said softly. «Wed to Finist…» That he was a prince did give her pause, just a bit, and the fact that she'd be a princess in a city foreign to her.
But she could endure anything, adapt to anything, with Finist at her side. And at any rate, as a boyar's daughter, she'd been trained to accept that someday she would marry a noble who would almost certainly be a stranger to her, who might take her away to foreign lands. Who just might turn out to hate and abuse her… Maria shivered at the thought. Wonderful, to think of Finist as her husband instead—warm, kind, loving Finist…
Why was I such a fool? When he asked me to wed him, why didn't I just fling myself into his arms? Why, oh why did I send him away? She bit down on her lip, hard. He must return to me. Dear Heaven, he must!
He'd been flying for what seemed an eternity, right through the night and the next day, pausing only to snatch a dove on the wing—as falcon, he wasn't squeamish about raw food—flying on till sheer wing-weariness drained the anger from him.
Akh, Maria, why was I such a fool? Why did I pressure you like that? Why didn't I give you more time to think things through? The prince stabbed his talons fiercely into the branch on which he perched. I can't leave it like this! God, no, I've got to go back!
Wings spread, Finist leaped into the air once more.
Maria started violently as someone knocked on the door to her bed‑chamber, thinking for one wild moment, Finist! But that was ridiculous, he'd have no need for a door.
«Maria? Are you still awake?»
«Lissa!» Maria cast one last, longing glance at the window and the empty night sky beyond, then sighed and went to open the door to her sister. «Lissa, love, what is it? What's wrong?»
The young woman was virtually shaking with tension, but she blurted out, almost defiantly, «Nothing! Why should anything be wrong?»
«Akh, Lissa. What is it? The foul dreams again?»
«No, I—I just couldn't sleep, and I thought I'd see if you were awake, too. See, I—I had the servants prepare us some warm milk. I thought we could drink it together, the way we used to do when we were children.»