Chapter 50 Maminka, Systritsy, and Bratya
MAMINKA, SYSTRITSY, AND brATYA
“Women are the earth’s oldest prayer. Soft as moss, fierce as fire. They carry seasons in their blood, stars in their bones, and rivers in their breath. To be a woman is to be the first miracle the world ever knew.”
—Eyleen ársa
Noel
Isit on Theron’s belly as he sleeps beneath me. Usually, he wakes before I do, but the past two days have worn him out. The room is quiet, the hushed sounds of the forest outside barely breaking the silence in our home. It’s still dark, though the sun will likely rise in an hour or two.
For the past two weeks, I’ve relied on the sun, moon, stars, and weather to tell the time.
At first, it felt strange not having a clock in every building, something I hadn’t realized I took for granted.
But I’ve grown used to it. I’m no longer running after time, no longer chasing hours that slip through my fingers. It’s . . . refreshing.
So much has changed in me over the time I’ve been here.
I lost my mother. I discovered who my father is.
Arnold is gone. Gregor returned. I became the leader of a prophecy and met my other half.
Never in my life did I think I’d say that—I have someone I will spend the rest of my life with.
It’s strange, but not in a bad way. I’d even say . . . it’s good. Different, but good.
Tonight is the bonding ritual, our version of a wedding.
In just two weeks, I’ve experienced more than I ever thought possible.
A lifetime of events condensed into weeks.
And from now on, I know things will only get scarier and infinitely more serious.
But in a way, I’m doing what I’ve always wanted, what I could never do before. I’m a leader. Lidé?en.
My body rises and falls with Theron’s steady breaths. He looks so peaceful. A massive wolf who could tear lives apart, now resting soundly in the nest-bed. The thought tugs a smile to my lips. When did I become so unhinged that the idea of him doesn’t terrify me anymore?
Theron has changed me. More than I ever could have imagined possible.
And I’m grateful for it. I thought I was strong before I came here, but tonight, I’ll become stronger. I’ll awaken, fully bonded, and finally be able to harness the power within me.
I lift my hand, focusing on the living wooden wall to the side of the nest. A beautiful blue rose takes shape in my mind, its petals vibrant and lush, just like Mother used to love.
Within moments, the wall responds, and small blue roses bloom into existence. Seven vibrant flowers unfurl, their color deep and rich. My smile widens as I watch them, their elegance takes my breath away. I love them. They’re so beautiful to me.
Then, I close my palm into a fist, my gaze fixed on the little bush.
The flowers shudder, and thick, dark thorns twist from their stems. Some curve at their edges, transforming the serene beauty into something dangerous.
A flicker of satisfaction sparks within me.
Dark thoughts stir. I shake my head. No. Not that.
Soon, Theron will wake, and we’ll part ways to prepare for the ritual. For our “wedding.” But what if . . . A grin spreads across my face. Theron’s shaft is already pressing against my lower back. I could—
The grin grows even wider.
Reaching for his tail, I run my fingers through the silky fur.
Last time, I couldn’t help myself. It’s just so irresistibly soft.
I trace my nails along the length of his tail, brushing against the skin beneath the fur.
Theron’s eyes snap open. With a jerk, he sits up, and I laugh as I tumble backward from the sudden movement.
Before I can fall too far, his large arms catch me and pull me back to him. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, meet mine. “My mate,” he murmurs, his voice raspy with drowsiness.
A shiver runs through me at the sound. Goddesses, am I really this desperate? The damp heat pooling between my thighs answers for me.
“You’re wanting,” he says as he tugs me closer. His arms wrap around me, and my body clings to his, drawn to him as if it’s beyond my control.
“Why do I react like this?” I ask, placing my hands on his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heart beneath my palms.
“Why do you find your mate desirable?” he asks back, a teasing glint in his tired eyes.
Leaning in, he traces his tongue across my face. I hum, savoring the warm, wet glide against my skin. The sensation, once strange when he healed me after our first meeting, has become something I enjoy, something that leaves me “wanting.”
My gaze roams over his face. His beautiful eyes, the glistening wetness of his nose, and the gleam of his fangs. He’s so majestic.
I wanted to give him a gift, but I don’t have much here yet. A thought occurs to me. “Theron,” I whisper, leaning toward him.
He hums in question.
“I want to express my gratitude, a gift, for everything that you’ve done for me.”
“You are my gift,”
“Something for our wedding. Or bonding ritual,” I say, lifting my right arm.
I open my palm, and grow the most beautiful blue rose I’ve seen.
It has the most petals, and it glows more than the others.
More than the roses in my mother’s garden, more than the roses around Father’s grave.
Even more than those I grew myself inside and outside our home.
This rose is special.
Theron watches in fascination as the petals bloom. “I’ve never seen a rose quite like this.”
I smile and put the rose behind his ear. It suits him so much.
“Thank you, my golubenya rozia.” His lids grow heavy as his breath slows and his pupils grow to swallow his hazel gaze.
“What’s golubenya rozia?” I ask.
“Blue rose.”
My heart pounds so frantically in my chest, it might shatter my rib cage. On impulse, I catch his tongue with my lips, and a low growl escapes him.
Theron moves fast, his paws gripping my thighs and cheeks, lifting me with ease to settle over his hard shaft. The moment he brushes against my aching core, I wince.
“Goddesses . . .” My sensitivity is unbearable, and it only makes me want him more.
Leaning back in his arms, I look up at him, my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
“We shouldn’t.” The words slip out even as I hate myself for saying them.
The sun will soon rise above ávera, and Theron will have to go.
“We have time.” His voice, deep and low, sends shivers racing across my skin as his claws trace light patterns over me.
“We don’t,” I murmur, though a smile I can’t hold back softens my quiet protest. “Did you choose your bratya yet? It’s Zephyr, Aeson, and Kael, isn’t it?”
Theron hums, his mouth quirking slightly at the question.
Yesterday, after we questioned Gregor, we met with the three of them. Theron had informed them of their upcoming missions, and now, today will be their last day in ávera.
We’re truly sending the vólkins to scatter across the land, to search for the other five and prepare for what’s coming.
We’re truly going to war.
Aeson will go with two warriors of his choosing, as will Kael and Zephyr. I know they’d prefer to go together—close friends bound by loyalty—but something in my gut tells me they need to go separately.
Theron, Elder A?na, and I discussed this in detail, considering everything we know about their origins and strengths.
Aeson, with his fur as bright as freshly fallen snow, is best suited for the cold north.
Kael’s brown fur, tinged with golden undertones, fits the southern territories’ sun-drenched lands.
And Zephyr, his fur dark and rich like the forest floor, belongs to the west, where the woods stretch endlessly.
It’s the best strategy, but knowing that doesn’t make it easier.
“We already discussed that we’d all be each other’s bratya,” Theron says.
Elder A?na told me that when mates perform a bonding ritual, the vólkin must choose a few of his closest brothers to stand by his side, even if they aren’t related by blood. These bratya help the groom prepare for the ritual, providing guidance and support.
The bride, on the other hand, must choose a maminka, literally meaning “mother.” Traditionally, the bride’s own mother would take on this role, guiding her through the preparations and overseeing the systritsy, the bride’s chosen sisters.
These sisters could be blood related or not, depending on the bride’s circumstances. But I have neither.
Elder A?na, with her wisdom and warmth, will be my maminka. Na?a, Mina, and Essin will stand beside me as my systritsy.
“Do you think Gregor believed our act yesterday?” I ask. The information he gave us is crucial, if it’s true. But doubt lingers in the back of my mind.
“Of course,” Theron answers with a grin. “We executed everything as planned. I was the bad ‘officer,’ and you played the good one perfectly.” He pauses, his grin shifting into something darker. “I had to remind myself it was all an act. Otherwise, I’d have killed him on the spot.”
Before I can respond, Theron moves with the speed and grace of a predator, flipping me over in seconds. His body cages me as his weight presses me into the bed-nest.
“Having you choose another over me was painful, my little dove,” he growls, his voice rough and his eyes boring into mine.
The door swings open.
Both of us freeze, then turn our attention to Elder A?na as she steps into the room.
“Now, now,” she says as she motions with her paw. “Come on in.”
In a flurry, dozens of nymphí rush inside, their glowing forms filling the space. Before I can process what’s happening, they lift Theron off me. How are they even doing that? Theron probably weighs more than all of them combined—thrice over.
“I trust neither of you has eaten a thing this morning?” Elder A?na asks with a grin that’s far too knowing.