11. River
I brace to endure until the sun comes out and the gods are forced to leave. There is nothing left for me here, and Ida was right. Even if I do let my chaplet float down the river, no one will want it. It might be the prettiest and the costliest of all, bought dearly with my blood. And yet, it will be scorned and ignored. It will drown, sealing my fate.
Death.
“Home?” Woland asks, turning so he can look at my face.
When I ignore him, looking stubbornly aside, he sighs with impatience and grabs the back of my head, forcing me to look up.
“So you’re going to let that mortal humiliate you,” he says, scorn in his eyes. “And I was just starting to respect you.”
His words cut deep, and I growl, grabbing his forearm to make him let go. His muscles bunch under my fingers, hard and unyielding. He’s so much stronger than me.
“Let go,” I bite out. “I don’t care what Ida thinks about me. And I don’t care whether you respect me or not. I don’t need anyone but myself, so fucking let go.”
He doesn’t, rubbing his forehead with his other hand as he sighs again. Suddenly, he seems tired.
“I shouldn’t have forgotten how young you are,” he mutters. “Your willpower fooled me, but truth is, you’re an innocent little lamb.”
I bristle at being called innocent but before I have time to give him a cutting answer, he lifts his head and smiles, his eyes glittering with mischief. For a moment, he looks utterly beautiful in a wicked, forbidden sort of way. My breath stutters.
“Come on, poppy girl,” he says, lowering his face to mine as his hand slithers from the back of my head down to my nape, his fingers warm and gentle. “You don’t really want to go home. What you actually want is to one up that girl. How dare she speak down to you, hm? Let’s show her. And I’ll show you, too.”
I blink, glancing at the edge of the river. Almost everyone is gathered behind the maidens, who stand on the low bank, their chaplets in their hands. They throw sultry looks at the men preparing in the water, their wet bodies gleaming silver under the moonlight.
Even the gods and creatures inside the circle stopped dancing, gathered close to the river and watching. We’re the only ones left behind.
“What will you show me?” I ask, my throat dry. I’m afraid to trust him, but by the gods, he’s right. I don’t want to hide. For once in my life, I want to go out there and triumph.
“How dear you are to me,” he whispers, dropping his head low to place a chaste kiss on my cheek. “The most beautiful girl wearing the most beautiful chaplet. Of course, I want you.”
My breath catches in my throat and I blink, trying to hide how deeply his words have touched me. I try to convince myself he’s lying, but this feeling is too good to let go yet. Judging by the smile crinkling his eyes, he knows how I feel.
“What do you want to do?” I ask, my throat dry.
“Let your chaplet down the river,” he says, eyes glittering. “And you’ll see.”
He walks away, throwing me one last look over his shoulder, his eyes bright in his dark face. I clench my fists, my heart pounding with indecision. Because yes, I want to take part in the ritual. I want my chaplet to float with the others and be caught. But how will he…
Woland stops at the edge of the circle and raises his arms, a dark, powerful god calling on his power. When he takes the next step over the invisible line, his body ripples and morphs, suddenly becoming something else.
I gasp, staring at him in disbelief. He turns fully around, grinning. His smile is the same, smug and a bit mocking, white teeth flashing in his swarthy face.
But everything else is different. He’s transformed himself into a mortal man, the finest I’ve ever seen. His body is sculpted to perfection, taller by a head than the tallest of our village men, broader in the shoulders, with narrow hips and long legs.
His skin is tanned and golden, his eyes dark and long-lashed, his hair short and black. And he’s naked. When he turns away from me, I watch, hypnotized, as his long cock swings with the movement, soon hidden by the curve of his round, muscular ass.
“Wait for me, lads,” he calls out in a low, pleasant voice that rings out over the excited din.
I grab my chaplet, suddenly determined to do something. And even though it doesn’t sit right with me to follow his orders, because I don’t trust him, I still take off as if in a dream. Down to the river, following the devil in the deceitful, golden skin of a man.
When Ida turns at the sound of his voice and takes him in, her jaw grows slack, her eyes wide, and I can tell immediately she wants him.
Everyone wants him. And while they admire his beautiful mortal body, I can’t help but be awed by his power and the ease with which he changed his appearance. I want to wield magic like that. If he offered to teach me, I’d follow him without hesitation.
If I trusted him to keep his word.
I stride to the edge of the river, taking my chaplet off my head. As if expecting me, the crowd of gods and creatures parts, eyes in unnatural colors tracking my movements. I can’t stand with the other girls since I’m trapped in the circle, so I am doubly exposed.
What am I doing? A small voice in the back of my head reminds me I don’t trust him. I don’t know what he’s planning.
But it’s too late to turn back now. People have noticed me as I stand by the river, just inside the circle. There are whispers and murmurs, and Ida’s narrowed eyes are on me.
I glance at Woland as he makes his way through the water, his strong legs effortlessly pushing against the lazy current. It’s obvious he’s the strongest swimmer there and the finest man.
“Who are you?” Janek asks, his brow furrowed as Woland stands next to him with a curt nod.
“Just visiting. Wanted to have a spot of fun. Your most beautiful girl caught my eye,” he says with a wink, like it’s all a game.
Janek glowers at him, Ida covers her mouth just after it stretches in a wide, pleased smile, and my heart sinks. Of course. How stupid of me to put my trust in the devil.
But if I turn and run now, it will be even more humiliating, so I brace myself, clenching my jaw, and prepare to watch my beautiful chaplet be spurned by all as they hunt down Ida’s. I prepare to watch it drown, which is not just proof that nobody wants me.
It’s a portent of death.
“Ready, boys?” Ida asks in an excited voice, raising her beautiful chaplet high over her head.
Excited shouts answer. She walks into the river, raising her dress to keep it dry, and other girls follow. They are further down the stream than the boys, and I am the furthest of all. My chaplet will be ahead of all the others.
I sigh and get ready to throw it into the river. If I’m lucky, it will disappear around the bend before it drowns.
“Now!” Ida shouts, letting her chaplet float down with the current. I throw mine, gritting my teeth, and the girls splash out to the bank while the boys start swimming, their arms beating down the dark water.
Woland easily takes the lead, the strokes of his arms even and sure. Janek, who desperately tries to outswim him, moves with jerky, forceful bursts. The chaplets float smoothly, mine first, Ida’s a few paces after, and then the rest.
“Come on! The blue one, the blue one!”
“Catch mine and I’ll reward you!”
“The one with the white ribbon!”
The girls shout from the bank, encouraging the boys. Usually at this point, the spoils of war are already divided and everyone knows which chaplet to catch. For example, Janek is destined to get Ida’s.
But Woland’s appearance unbalanced everything. A gorgeous man like that, strapping and strong, is a right catch, even if he’s a stranger. And Ida has her eyes on him, not on Janek, as she shouts, directing him to her chaplet.
When he passes by the one with the white ribbon, and then the blue one with wilting cornflowers, two girls cry out in disappointment. He doesn’t spare their chaplets a glance, not even touching them as his arms spear through the water with precision.
Ida grows bolder, her eyes glittering with triumph as she puts her palms around her mouth to make her voice louder.
“Get my chaplet, stranger, and I’ll give you pleasure you’ll never forget!”
I clench my fists at my sides as Woland’s perfect teeth flash briefly in a grin. I wonder how many women, mortal or not, he’s had in his long existence. Somehow, I doubt Ida can show him anything he hasn’t seen before, but then, I am no different. I have nothing to offer him.
Why does he want me? And why does he change his approach so haphazardly, going from manipulation, through violence, to seduction? I don’t understand him at all, and so I don’t anticipate his movements. I don’t know whether he wants to help me, hurt me, or maybe make me jealous?
Does he hope that once I see him lapping at Ida’s honey after he catches her chaplet, I will somehow be moved to let him claim me? Like I am that stupid and weak. I snort, feeling a little better about myself.
He can scheme all he wants, I decide. Every time he humiliates me further, I’ll just have better reasons to deny him. Because I am so well used to this. I lived as a despised outcast all my life.
Woland swims closer and closer to Ida’s chaplet, and I am almost serene as I watch him hunting his prize. The boys in the river aren’t as calm. They scream and shout, splashing water with violent strokes of their arms, desperately trying to get ahead of him. Janek’s face is set in anger as he races after Woland, already doomed.
“There it is! Just reach out and catch it!” Ida screams from the bank, her voice feverishly excited.
I stand still, watching Woland’s every move. He’s just one arm stroke away from her chaplet when he pauses, flinging water from his face. He looks over his shoulder, his eyes flashing gold as he sees me.
Janek’s almost on him when Woland laughs and rushes ahead, as fast as a pike. He reaches out, his fingers grazing the wet flowers of Ida’s chaplet. They curl around it, and then, with another laugh, he grasps it and throws it behind him.
The chaplet smacks into Janek’s face while Woland swims ahead, faster now as his face tenses in concentration.
His goal is obvious. The only chaplet ahead of him is mine.
For a moment, everyone falls into a stunned silence, and then, shouts burst out. Janek raises Ida’s chaplet in triumph, but his face looks sour. Woland made it clear he could have had it but rejected it.
In favor of catching mine.
Ida’s angry eyes fall on me, and she mouths a furious word. Witch.
As if the only way I could have gotten a man to pursue me was through magic. I snort. I wish I could tell her I don’t care for Woland. He’s a manipulative, violent demon and a liar.
And yet, when he grabs my chaplet and turns in the water, grinning at me while wet poppies glitter in his possessive hold, I can’t help the rush of triumph and other rare emotions that glow in my chest. Not even the dismayed or shocked shouts around me mar my joy as I grin back, suddenly feeling like the queen he promised I would be.
He is the most beautiful man of all, and he caught my chaplet. At this moment, I don’t care who he truly is. Because he chose me. And no one has ever done so before.
Woland swims and then wades over to where I stand. The bank is higher here, so he lifts himself up with grace while water glitters down his muscular back, and then stands in front of me, tall, handsome, and unsettlingly naked.
“I believe this is yours,” he says, his eyes laughing as he hands me my chaplet.
Around us, raucous laughter and shouts rise. My face flames with embarrassment as understanding dawns. I was so enraptured by the experience of being chosen that I forgot the next part. Did I just agree to… No.
I take my chaplet in silence, suddenly tongue-tied.
I know I’m not required to let him fuck me. But that’s what always happens. The boy who gets the chaplet has the honor of being the maiden’s first Kupala lover. And if he still wants her in the morning…
Her husband.
Woland laughs under his breath as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I look up, flustered and defensive.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “I won’t steal your maidenhead if you still have it. But we must give them something, hm? Hold still.”
I obey his command out of sheer uncertainty. This situation is utterly new to me and, judging by the murmurs and excited voices rising in gossip, to everyone else, too. I don’t know how to behave in my new, if temporary, role of the most desired maiden, so I do as he says.
Woland cups the back of my head, his warm fingers tangling in my hair, and leans in. I gasp softly, my breath shuddering out of me as I stare up into his eyes. They flash gold, just for a moment, reminding me who he really is, and then his mouth is on mine.
I’ve never been kissed before, so I am utterly still as his mouth presses into mine, moving slowly. His lips are warm and soft, the kiss unhurried but demanding. When his tongue flicks at the seam between my lips, I part them for him, and he sucks my lower lip into his mouth with a sigh of pleasure.
That’s what undoes me. Not the feel of him, not the sight of his glorious mortal body. It’s the soft, honest sound that makes me kiss him back.
As soon as my mouth moves against his, hesitant but eager, a deep moan vibrates in his throat. He grabs my hand and presses it to his naked chest, angling my head back with his other hand. When his tongue slicks inside my mouth, I gasp, grabbing onto his waist. My chaplet falls into the grass, forgotten.
And I’m suddenly afraid I’ll fall.
Woland nips on my lower lip hard, his mouth curling in a smile when I hiss from the pain of his bite. He pulls back, watching me with glittering, golden eyes. Whatever he sees in my face must please him very much, because his grin widens, gaining a mocking edge.
I make to pull back but he holds me tightly.
“The show isn’t over yet,” he whispers, untangling his fingers from my hair.
He raises his hand slowly and holds it above his head. I look at him in confusion and he arches an eyebrow as if to say, “wait and see.”
Then he snaps his fingers. The world grows silent for one heartbeat. And then the music, which became just a gentle background noise during the chaplet ritual, swells and speeds up with wild, harsh sounds that are nothing like our music.
My knees weaken and my heart spasms, trying to synchronize to the tune. A cacophony of sounds bursts all around us, and Woland throws his head back and laughs while his skin turns dark gray again, antlers sprouting from his head, the hands holding me growing claws.
“What is this?” I whisper, terrified, while a pulsing beat slithers inside my body, rushing my blood to flow faster and faster as my hands grow clammy.
“What did you do?”