“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. Nyjastands 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 Irelease 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.”
