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bonds.
    Besides, I had better things to do. This night with Kirill was all I
needed to draw my thoughts away from men for a while, to satisfy the
urges of my flesh, to prepare me for another glorious Solstice.
    I looked at his sleeping form stretched beside me, and let him go.
    I did not bother to collect my dress, still heaped at the foot of his
bed. He would wonder when he woke up, but that was not my concern.
Let him wonder, and treasure the memory for as long as he chose.
    As a dove I flew away into the night air. In my bird form, I flew
through the tall grass fields, bathing in the night dew to wash off his
sweat and seed, his smell that I did not want to carry with me into the
palace. Then I went home.

 
    Ivan

    “ H ere,” Wolf whispered.
    Ivan peered into the moonlit glade. Tall grass shimmered silver in the
waning moonlight, blending into the shade of thick firs at the far end.
The lake on the other side was barely visible through the tall reed
fence that left open only a narrow strip of water, its small black
tongues lazily lapping at the muddy bank.
    “Keep to the trees,” Wolf said.
“If he sees your tracks, he won’t
land.”
    Ivan held his breath as he crept around the glade toward the water. The
gnarled old log loomed out of the grass like a sinking ship, raising
its twisted finger-like twigs toward the darkening sky. Careful to
leave no tracks, Ivan leaned over the log and spread the thin net over
its surprisingly smooth surface. Touching it brought to mind another
analogy. Old bones. Ivan hastily withdrew his hand, pausing at the edge
of the trees to marvel at the way the Net blended with the wood. Even
if he looked very hard, he couldn’t see it at all.
    A distant shriek brought him back to reality even before he felt
Wolf’s teeth tugging his shirt. Their sharp pull nearly
sent him tumbling over. He dove for the cover, forcing his shallow
breath out through his nose, so that no sound would escape. Still,
when he finally settled in his shelter of drooping fir branches and
looked at the glade again, he nearly cried out in surprise.
    The log was no longer empty. A large bird perched on it, so black that
its feathers seemed to draw in the moonlight, a pit of darkness from
which the dark glistening bead of an eye darted in desperate glances at
the lake and the forest ahead. The eye emanated a light of its own—a
deep amber glow that reminded Ivan of the pit of a dying fire.
    “Now,” Wolf whispered.
    “But—” Ivan’s
voice caught in his throat as he saw Raven glance his way. It seemed
impossible that anyone could hear him from this distance. But Raven was
an Immortal, and one lesson Ivan had learned well during his travels
with Wolf was not to underestimate the Immortals.
    Still, he was supposed to come out of hiding only when Raven was caught
in the Net. No matter how hard he tried, he could see no trace of the
Net on the smooth surface of the log. Nor did Raven behave like he
imagined a trapped bird would. No agonized beating against the
unbreakable magical bonds. No deadly swipes from a razor-sharp beak. He
just sat there, calm, as if taking a rest after a long flight. If
anything, he looked bored.
    “I said, go ,”
Wolf growled.
    Startled, Ivan stumbled forward into the opening as if pushed by an
invisible hand. He briefly wondered if Wolf had actually used magic,
despite his promise never to use it on Ivan. But there was no time, and
nothing that Ivan could do as he approached the protruding log through
the dew-covered grass.
    “Hello,” he said shakily.
    Raven cocked his head to one side. His bored expression changed to one
of amusement.
    “I—I—” Ivan stumbled. He knew
it wouldn’t be easy to trap an Immortal and force him
to do his bidding, but this absence of resistance was more unnerving
than any fight. “I have you in my
power,” he said, forcing his voice steady.
    Raven shifted on the log, and only then did Ivan notice how he was
shuffling his feet, as if they were