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.”
Chapter thirty-nine
Pathetic
“Let me go at once!” Jaga screams when I pull her through the shadows into my throne room. “I’m not going to let you fuck me, so don’t even…”
“That’s not it. I need them to think I don’t know what it means, though they’ll figure it out soon enough. We need to talk.”
I snap my fingers, making the fires burn brighter, and knock on the table to summon her dewberry wine. It always helps me focus, and I need it right now. Jaga watches me, suspicious.
“What are you talking about?”
“Nyja said another prophecy.”
Her breath catches, and she joins me at the table, her eyes creased with worry and excitement.
“What prophecy? Does it cancel the first? Am I free?”
I pause and look up from the bottle of wine in my hand. I haven’t considered this.
“It’s never happened before,” I say slowly. “Her prophecies always come true, but this one is odd. We’ll have to ask her onceshe regains consciousness, but Nyja will know as much as we. She is only the conduit for the words, and she usually doesn’t know what they mean.”
“A conduit?” Jaga frowns, accepting a cup of wine. “Thenwhogives her the words to speak? Is there another god, someone hidden, someone more powerful than all of you?”
I snort. “No. No one gives her the words. Her power simply acts, looking into the future and translating what she sees there into a poem. Nyja always prophesies about things related to her in one way or another. It’s a magical skill, not a message from a hidden god.”
Jaga eyes me dubiously, then takes a sip from her cup. “What was the prophecy?”
I say it in full,“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.”
Jaga grows completely still, her eyes wide and terrified, her lips wet and trembling. Her reaction confirms my suspicions, but before I can say it, she stands abruptly. She conjures a tall mirror in front of her and stares at her reflection.
“Is it time yet?” she whispers under her breath, so quietly, I barely hear it.
She is dressed, as always, in black, leather trousers, a corset, and a red, leather coat, her red boots tall and high-heeled. Her hair is loose, her eyes mismatched since she doesn’t bother to hide their colors.
I don’t understand why she watches her reflection so intently. Nothing has changed. She looks like herself.
