Chapter 33 Wife
Chapter thirty-three
Wife
She is gone when I wake up, and I realize with chagrin her pain slipped away from me in my sleep. I’m no longer hurting—she is.
“Where are you?” I ask, already getting up to look for her so I can steal her torment again and make it mine.
“With Rada. Don’t come here. I’ll be ready to go with you in two days if you want me there.”
“Jaga, please, can’t you just…”
“No. You said it didn’t mean anything. Act like it.”
I busy myself putting my throne room to rights, then settle in the Devil’s Cauldron, where it’s drizzling, and let rain soak me while I listen to prayers.
Some are small enough to grant without appearing there in person, people asking for lost jewelry to be found or a blessing.
I answer only those prayers that explicitly name me.
Many mortals pray to the gods in general, or to “anyone who listens”, and I ignore them. They won’t serve my goals.
When Jaga’s bleeding is over, I bring her to the Devil’s Cauldron for a lesson in disguising her magical signature. She flies a few circles around me, laughing, and I wait indulgently, happy because she is happy.
“So how do we make sure Perun won’t catch us?” she asks when she’s done, her cheeks red from exertion, eyes bright.
“It’s hard and limiting,” I explain bluntly to make sure she understands.
“You won’t be able to use your magic unless I stop time, and you will have to keep all of yourself tucked away behind strong shields.
Perun and others don’t rely on appearance, but on a person’s specific flavor of magic when they want someone found. ”
She cocks her head to the side, studying me. The day is dull and cloudy, and her face is the brightest, most beautiful thing against the backdrop of leaden skies.
“So how come he doesn’t sense you in Woland?”
“Because my magic and essence change when I shift. Woland isn’t just a different body—he has different magic, a different mind, everything. But I’m not going as Woland. I want to try talking to people myself, maybe find out what Perun is scheming. We’ll both be disguised as mortals.”
I don’t tell her the third reason—that this is a new thing I haven’t tried with her before, and Nyja is right. My most important goal hasn’t changed.
Jaga claps her hands with a laugh. “Exciting! You should go as a venerable old man, wise and weary. Mortals always trust their elders.”
I smirk and shake my head. “No. This is my disguise.”
I let my magic shape and shift me, bulking up my limbs, dusting my skin with a golden tan. My hair grows short and blond, and Jaga gasps, outraged and breathy, when I stand in front of her as the man who won her poppy chaplet so long ago.
Just like then, I am naked, and I turn, preening for her perusal.
“And? Do you see any room for improvement?” I ask in a handsome, masculine voice that sounds lighter, more boyish than my own.
“Put on some clothes,” she bites out, fuming. Her gaze is turned firmly ahead, and she refuses to look at me. I laugh.
“Is this enough?”
I make for myself a pair of loose trousers that sit low on my hips, showing off the deeply cut muscles that point like an arrow toward my cock.
I can’t help it. We’re going to do something fun and forbidden, something that might just work.
Jaga is by my side. I need nothing else for this day to be perfect.
“Will you stop?” she asks, turning away after giving me barely a glance. “This is a serious matter!”
I shrug. “Do you know why I loved coming to your Kupala Night?” I ask, making myself a tight shirt that is decent enough not to be obscene, but only just. “Because I got to have fun and feel young again. Seducing you, chasing other boys in the river, dancing… It reminded me that life is worth living. I feel the same thrill today. Don’t take it away from me. ”
She gives me a look that’s a bit grumpy, a bit miffed, like she pities me again. Then her gaze trails down my chest, where the buttons strain against my muscles underneath, and she rolls her eyes.
“What’s the point if I know you don’t really look like this?”
“The point is fun. Also, have you considered I can look like anyone and anything, in public or in private? And you, too. You could be a man if you chose. Fuck like one.”
She blinks in surprise, and I chuckle under my breath. “Come on. Disguise yourself, and then I’ll show you how to keep your signature hidden. It should be easy for you.”
She nods and closes her eyes in concentration. Her hair loses its color, becoming a muted sort of dull brown. Her skin grows swarthier, losing the freckles, and she drops lower, the boots replaced by sturdy, practical shoes. She has on undyed linen clothes, a warm vest, and an ugly gray kerchief.
In front of me stands a washed-out woman, one whose appearance I can’t even describe, because she’s so unremarkable.
I stare, confused. Jaga watches me back with a pair of brownish-gray eyes.
“This is what you chose?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief. “Jaga, you could be anyone. You can make yourself more beautiful than Mokosz, so why would you…”
“I stood out all my life and prefer to be forgettable for once,” she grumbles, and even her voice sounds dull.
“We make such an odd pair.” I shake my head, still unable to get used to her.
“What now?” she asks, folding her arms obstinately.
“All right. You know how you hide your soul, right? You have shields and barriers that stay on all the time, keeping you tucked into your body. I want you to sense for the subtler parts of you that you unknowingly project. Your magic, but also a certain aura of your being—an essence, if you will. I see it as a reddish halo. It smells like poppies and lovage, and it tastes sweet and burnt, like fire, honey, and other things.”
She nods and closes her eyes, frowning. It takes her just a moment to grasp it, and the halo and scent of her grow more potent. I step closer to breathe her in, because I can’t deny myself the pleasure.
Jaga lets out her tongue and tastes the air, recoiling slightly. “Lovage, honey tinctures, and wine,” she mutters. “And… something fruity but bitter. Rosehip? Oh, and gritty but sweet. Poppyseeds.”
“Good,” I murmur, my voice dropping lower, because it is shockingly arousing to see her taste her own essence. “I want you to pull it all closer now. Tuck it all deep in your body and wrap yourself in a protective cloak. Exactly like you do with your soul.”
She does it on the first try, just like with flying. I shake my head.
“How did you do this? It’s perfect.”
She opens her eyes with a shrug, avoiding my gaze. “I suppose hiding myself comes easy. It’s letting myself be seen that’s hard.”
I wish you’d always let me see you. I don’t say it out loud. She’d hate it.
“Let’s fly around the island to see if you can hold it without issues, and then we’ll be ready to go. Switch back to your normal appearance. The fog hides us here, but we could be seen if Perun has spies watching the island.”
We fly together, and Jaga grows bolder with every swooping spiral and dive she tries out.
I watch her, circling lazily, then challenge her to a race to the cliffs.
She laughs with belly-deep enjoyment and whoops when it starts to drizzle.
Her face and lips are wet with rain when she hovers in front of me with a smile so wide, it’s impossible not to return it.
“You love it,” I murmur, taking in her starry eyes and red cheeks. “You love flying.”
She nods, shaking with joy. “It makes me feel free like nothing else ever did. Thank you for teaching me.”
She pulls closer, her gaze dipping to my mouth, and I hold my breath. Jaga taps my shoulder and speeds away through the rain.
“First to Struzina!”
I shake off my disappointment and race after her, giving it my all. She wins by a hair’s breadth, and I congratulate her grudgingly.
“It’s time to go.”
We descend into the foggy shelter of Devil’s Cauldron and change our looks until Jaga is the most forgettable woman that ever lived, and I am a handsome devil in disguise. I check if all of her essence is hidden, then strengthen my own barriers.
“I’ll grab you if anything goes awry, so stay close,” I say, cupping her cheek. “Now… To the mortal world.”
I pull her into my arms. It’s not necessary, but I’ll take advantage of every excuse to hold my beloved.
I let the world go out of focus and pull us toward the blander, less exciting reality that neighbors Slawa.
Jaga gasps, clutching me tightly, and I pull us faster until we appear just outside a small village bordered by woods on two sides, where the first prayer I heard came from.
“Let’s go in and mingle, and I’ll do my miracle once I find the right house. Remember, no magic.”
“Wait.” Jaga grabs my sleeve. “We’ll look suspicious coming out of the woods with no bags. They’ll think we are bieses or witches. We need baggage so we can say we’re traveling.”
I nod and stop the time, filling the space around us with shadows. “We can do magic here. Make us some bags, woman. You’ll know what’s proper.”
“Woman.” She scoffs under her breath, spreading her hands over the ground.
A pile of baggage appears, two walking sticks and two large bags with pots and pans tied to the straps. I grab the bigger one and grunt. It’s heavy. Very realistic.
“I put everything there I would have taken with me if I had a chance to leave my village when you cursed me,” she says with a nasty gleam in her eye. “Put those muscles to use.”
It’s a cool but sunny day here, and people are out and about. A short man chops wood outside a large cottage, and he stops when he sees us.
“Good day! What brings you here?” he asks, wiping sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
“We’re traveling to see relatives,” I say with a grin, pulling Jaga closer. “We just got married, and they invited us to winter with them. This is my wife, Alina.”
Jaga stiffens with a subdued growl, though her face remains impassive. I want to put my arm around her, but the blasted bag is in the way. I settle for taking her hand.
“You’re going south, aren’t you? Good choice,” the man says with a nod. “Winters are milder there. Will you stay the night? We don’t have an inn, but old Kata lets rooms to travelers, she’ll have you.”
“We just might, because my husband gets so easily tired after only a few hours of walking,” Jaga says with a mean bite.
The man startles, giving her an odd look, and I suppress a snicker.
“You’ll ruin your disguise. You can’t speak like your usual fiery self while looking like a meek mouse of a woman. Now be a good wife and give me a doting look.”
“Be a good husband and drown yourself in a well.”
“But that would poison the water.”
“You’re right. In the river, then.”
“Do you have a zerca here?” I ask the man. “A blessing would be welcome. We still have a long way ahead.”
The man points us toward the zerca’s cottage a few houses down the main road, and we take off.
“You could have introduced me as your sister, or better yet, an aunt,” Jaga fumes quietly, gritting her teeth. “No one in their right mind will believe we’re married! You saw the way he looked at us.”
I grin, because this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. “He wouldn’t have believed we’re related, either. I tried telling you, but you were adamant to be a mouse.”
“Stop teasing me. I almost grew a mouse tail before I remembered I can’t do any spells.”
“Mhm. That’s why I don’t do this often. It’s hard not to use magic when it’s at the core of you, is it?”
“Good day,” Jaga calls out to a man in his forties tending a garden by the house we were shown. “Are you the zerca? Blessings be!”
He gets up from where he kneels on a thick cloth spread on the ground and rubs dirt off his hands. His eyes are bright and shifty, instantly taking in our attire. His lip curls just a little before he smoothes his expression.
“Guess what his vice is,” I say to Jaga.
“Good day, travelers,” he says with a shallow nod. “What can I do for you?”
“A blessing,” Jaga says with a small smile. “We’ve come a long way and still need to go much further. Also, do you know how safe these woods are to travel? We heard many stories along the way, but it’s hard to say what’s true these days.”
The priest’s expression grows troubled, and he shakes his head with exaggerated regret, his long, brown hair swaying with the movement.
“Oh, you will need blessings for sure, on such a perilous journey. And not just the usual ones, I’m afraid. There are many bieses in these woods, and only the strongest blessing will protect you. I will make a sacrifice in your favor.”
He watches us expectantly, and Jaga gives him a sour smile. “He wants a large payment by the sound of it.”
I reach to the pouch at my belt and take out two rough, misshapen pieces of silver. “Will this suffice for a sacrifice? We don’t have much to offer, as we’ve come from far away.”
The zerca takes the silver with a barely suppressed sneer, and gives us an insincere smile.
“I will do my best to plead with Perun for a safe passage for you.”
“Curse him with something horrid, like incurable hemorrhoids,” Jaga says spitefully as we walk down the road, and I search for the person who prayed to me.
“I will do no such thing. He will find a bag of gold under his bed soon, and a sign of Weles burned into the floorboards so he knows where it came from.”
She stops, staring at me with outrage. “You cannot reward such greediness! Zercas are supposed to help people!”
“I’m only interested in making that zerca help me, dear wife. This is the house.”
I stop time, plunging us into a soft, downy darkness. Jaga glares at me, which looks utterly misplaced on her plain face.
“Can’t you find some good, hard-working zercas and recruit them? Instead of the greedy leeches?”
I lean in, and my grin widens when she recoils, avoiding the glittering gaze of my long-lashed eyes. “Dear wife, we’re supposed to make millions of people believe in me again. If I only answer the prayers of the good ones, I’ll gain maybe a handful of believers.”
“Fine. What are we doing here? Another bag of gold for a greedy bastard?”
“We’re going to heal someone.”