Chapter 38
Chapter thirty-eight
Prophecy
Fear skitters down my back and settles in my gut like a heavy stone. I’m distracted, and my magic stops flowing. Jaga huffs impatiently, feeding me more through the bond, but I’m already gathering my shadows, ready to leave.
“I knew this wouldn’t work.”
“Don’t you dare!”
She kisses me hard, biting into my lip until blood flows, and then her blood joins mine, too. She must have pierced her tongue. I swallow this wicked potion, both of us together, and forget I was supposed to leave.
“Keep going,” she tells me, her voice a sharp command that makes my pulse race. “Bring his temple to the ground. Now!”
I refocus, finding that weakest spot, so much weaker now, and rain destruction on the white walls. Jaga sucks air out of my mouth, and we keep kissing. It’s messy and chaotic, my tongue seeking hers while she pulls too many breaths into her lungs, gorging her soul on my magic.
There is a mighty crack below us. The ground shakes, and I push harder, spending the magic faster than she gives it, but I feel it, it’s almost done, and I just need a…
“WELES!”
I jerk as Perun’s voice booms through the air. Jaga hisses, pushing us to the side half a second before the space we’ve just occupied sizzles with lightning.
I stop time, spending the last of my magic. “We must go. He’ll dismantle it soon. He rules time magic, too.”
The bond between us singes hot as Jaga pushes a roaring fire into my mind, magic so powerful, it makes my vision black out. “Now! Finish it!”
I obey. My body shakes, fear riding me, but her voice rings stronger than my terror, and I find that weak spot again, sending all of Jaga’s magic into it.
I have no way of checking if it worked with the time held still, so I grab her closer and whisk us away just as another lightning bolt cuts the sky in half.
We reappear in the Hall of Fires, both alive, clinging to each other. Jaga shakes, and I laugh soundlessly, breathless and lightheaded. I can’t stop even as my allies gather around us, asking what happened, did we make it out all right, did I do it, where is Chors?
My laughter cuts off, but just then, Chors appears in a flood of moonlight, sporting the widest smile I’ve seen on him yet.
“You did it,” he says, laughing. “It fell, and Perun rained lightning and thunder in his fury, turning it into a heap of steaming rubble. You won, Father. You won!”
He hugs us both, Jaga and me, and we laugh together, trading kisses and garbled words of joy, her lips on my mouth then on his cheek, his lips on mine for the briefest moment, a rare affection that I’ll treasure.
Our allies rejoice, and there’s suddenly music out of nowhere, food and drink, and fires so bright, it’s almost like a sunrise in my beautiful hall made of gems.
Jutrzenka appears, golden and triumphant, looking like Jaga, yet not. Her face is her own, but freckled, her hair red, and she comes to me, bubbling with pride. When her lips seek mine, I push her away and embrace her with one arm instead.
“Good job. You did well.”
I turn back to Jaga, who pulls me in for a kiss that steals my air. Chors holds her hand, smiling that most gorgeous smile in the world, and I don’t mind it at all today, his and her kisses, their hands entwined. It’s only right. We are a family.
We won.
The music grows louder, and Jaga pulls me into a fast, rhythmic dance, her face red and joyful spinning in front of me like a sigil of my own, a brand burned into my soul.
Her hands are bold and possessive, pulling me closer, and I steal kisses from her sweet lips.
All the sustenance I need is right here, inside this woman.
I breathe into her mouth, making her soul grow red around her shoulders, and she feeds me the excess of her magic until we are both at full capacity, too powerful to conquer.
“You make me invincible,” I growl into her ear, this victory getting me drunk like the finest poison.
“And you make me afraid,” she murmurs, and I don’t think it’s right, so I ask her to repeat her words, but she waves me away with a smile.
I dance with Nyja, too, and spin Jutrzenka around a few times. Strzybog comes over to share drinks, our elbows entwined as we down glass after glass of the kind of vodka that would kill a mortal after a sip.
Jaga throws off her coat and draws glances with her bare arms and corseted breasts. The music and alcohol swirl in my veins, and I pull her closer, turning her back to me as I grind my erection against her ass.
“Oh, please,” she laughs, throwing her head back on my shoulder. “You’re a beast.”
“Your beast. Come on. Let me fuck you. No one will bat an eyelid since it’s a proper revelry, and fucking and orgies are allowed.”
“Orgies?” she asks with a coy laugh when I grip her breast through the leather. “Who would you invite to join us?”
“No one, but they can watch. I’m generous like that. How do I take this off?”
“You don’t. I won’t fuck you, Weles. We’ll be done soon, and it will be over.”
She turns, gives me a soft kiss on the lips, and walks away before I have time to grab her. I stare after my girl who won’t be mine, my heart sinking into a poisonous pool of resentment, hate, and longing.
Oh, that fucking tease.
The King of Bees comes to my side, offering me a cup of mead held in a palm made of insects, and I push Jaga out of my mind. We won. Anything is possible, and I will win her, too. She wants me, that is plain.
“What now?” the King asks in a dry whisper. “You stopped him, but it’s not over.”
My smile shrinks, and I down the mead in one go, the alcohol too weak to affect me.
“No, it’s not. We must take Wyraj, but we can’t do that before…” I sigh, frowning into my empty cup.
“Before your beloved gives you her soul.”
I look up, leveling him with a sober look. His eyes are visible among the crawling multitude of his face, and they watch me with uncanny concentration. He could do it, I think. He could claim Jaga for himself and defeat us all.
“Perun will try something again, but he is a slow thinker,” I say to change the topic even as cold shivers of suspicion and jealousy crawl down my spine.
“I’d say we have at least a few weeks to figure out how to bleed him dry.
For now, we must celebrate. We did a great thing today, and you had a crucial part in it. ”
He nods, not humble and not proud, and moves away, buzzing as his hand detaches from his body, becoming a tiny swarm that brings him a fresh cup of mead.
I look in on Jaga through our bond, barely peeking to make sure she’s safe.
She’s flying as cold, autumn dusk settles around Nawie, and her whoops of joy are muted by the fog.
I retreat before she notices my presence.
The bond between us has grown wide and solid thanks to the enormous amounts of magic Jaga sent through today.
Just one more moment of intimate connection, one more step, and I will meet my goal. And after that, she’ll never be free of me.
“Will you finally tell me why you hate Jutrzenka?” I murmur in Chors’ ear, finding him alone by a pillar, gazing into a fire.
He looks up with a small smile and shakes his head. “It’s long in the past. You haven’t told me everything that happened to you, either.”
“That is because I’m your father, and it’s my role to shelter you, no matter how old you are,” I say, putting in effort to sound jocular, though I am perfectly serious.
Chors is innocent, but not like Jutrzenka. Some parts of normal experience have been denied him, and for a long time I thought I was to blame because I didn’t give him a mother. But he simply was this way—a man who only watched and never took part.
Until Jaga.
“I want to shelter you, too, Father,” he says, his eyes sparkling in a mischievous smile. “Besides, you have far more important things on your mind, do you not? I heard you and Jaga are doing well.”
“Insolent brat,” I mutter with affection. “Yes, we’re doing better. Are you going to take her from me again?”
My tone is light and teasing, but I need reassurance. Chors snorts with amusement and nods. I blink, taken aback. I did not expect it.
“I’ll definitely take her from you if you hurt her again,” he says with a low laugh. “So be on your best behavior.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Yes. Someone should, or you’ll grow too cocky for your own good. She needs a lot of love.”
I growl, gripping my cup so hard, it shatters in my hand. “And you’ll give her that love if I fail? Is that what you’re saying?”
He cocks his head to the side, thinking, then smiles. “Yes. I think I could, because loyalty and friendship look a lot like love in the right light.”
“But you don’t love her.” I shake my hand off, my shadows already at work, swiping away my blood and removing the shards. “Why are you riling me up?”
“You tend to destroy the best things in your life when you’re too happy,” he says with a sigh, stretching his arms high above his head. “I’m helping you feel less satisfied so you don’t mess it up again. You’re welcome.”
He walks away without a backward glance, leaving me feeling sheepish and angry. Chors doesn’t know Jaga intends to leave, or that I have no idea how to stop her despite telling myself otherwise. I don’t need any help to feel miserable.
“Nyja!”
Strzybog’s frantic voice carries above the revelry, making everyone hush. I push that way, moving past the rodzanicas, who whisper in each other’s ears with bland, careful smiles. Nyja stands rigid by a fire, her eyes completely white, a shattered plate at her feet.
“Nyja, what’s wrong?”
Strzybog shakes her, and I grip his arm, pulling him back with force. He turns to me, angry for interrupting him, and I gag him with my shadows.
“Silence. Listen.”
The goddess shakes without making a sound, her entire body convulsing in a fit as white foam gathers in the corner of her mouth. Strzybog exhales in understanding, and I let him go. He’s seen this once before—Nyja’s trance.
She makes a hoarse, deep sound that reverberates through the Hall until the soles of my feet tingle unpleasantly.
Dark, primal magic gathers around her, whipping her hair this way and that as her hands become rigid, fingers poised to scratch and attack.
She wears a red dress, and it grows wet, turning a darker shade as Nyja’s body sweats blood.
I put around her an invisible but strong barrier, making sure no one can come close and harvest her blood. She would have done the same for me.
Behind us, people whisper in the hush—“She’ll say a prophecy, be quiet, wait!”—and I can’t help but think how unfortunate it is that she heard the call here, among so many.
They are our allies, but I don’t trust them with the sacred words Nyja is about to speak. I consider moving her somewhere else despite how dangerous it is when her mouth falls open, dripping crimson, and her voice, horrible and distorted, comes through.
“A blade that was wet with the blood of a girl
In a time that was stolen for a cheated fate
Shall slaughter one brother as the other prevails.”
Nyja screams from pain, releasing all the magic forces swirling around her, and crumples to the floor. I gather her blood before I release the barrier, and Strzybog falls down to his knees in front of her, cradling her face in his hands.
“Take her to bed,” I tell him, my thoughts reeling. “She needs to sleep it off.”
When Strzybog leaves with Nyja in his arms, Chors and Rod come closer, Jutrzenka in their wake.
“What did that mean?” Rod asks, pulling on his moustache. “Was it about you and Perun? ‘Slaughter one brother as the other prevails’—does it mean one of you will die?”
I shake my head, helpless and afraid, because I have no idea. “Gods cannot die,” I grit out, though I don’t know anymore.
“But Nyja’s prophecies always come true,” Chors says, his eyes dull and worried as he watches me tensely.
“Dola, what do you think?” I ask my favorite granddaughter as she appears by my side. “Can a god die?”
She shrugs, and my heart sinks. The rodzanicas always know the most about the meanders of fate, but if she can’t explain the prophecy, I don’t think anyone can.
What’s worse, any of my allies can now betray me and run with the news to Perun. Nyja’s prophecy is the best possible peace offering. If Strzybog comes to his father bearing it, he will be forgiven and elevated.
Fuck.
“No god has ever died before,” Dola says in a low, murmuring voice. “But times are changing. The ancients fall in love with mortals, and mortals become gods. The world is in turmoil.”
I stare at her with dread, and she nods once, her piece spoken, and walks away. Jutrzenka grabs my arm, batting her lashes at me.
“Weles, you are so wise! You must know what this means.”
I shake my head helplessly. “I don’t. It’s the strangest prophecy I’ve heard.” And I wouldn’t tell you if I knew.
A portal of flames opens by my side, and Jaga steps through, her cheeks flushed from the cold wind, eyes joyful. She takes one look at the grim faces around her, and sighs with annoyance.
“I see we can’t get a break. What happened?”
I stare at her, dozens of thoughts rushing through my head, strange-shaped and impossible. Blood of a girl. Time that was stolen. And another prophecy, the one that started it all. Young mortal woman who should have died at twelve.
Is it really too much of a leap to connect the two? Both prophecies speak of the end of the war, one god’s fall, the other’s victory.
Are they both about the same mortal girl?
“Come with me,” I command, grabbing her wrist in a hold she won’t be able to wiggle out of. “I always think best when I’m fucking.”