I storm into the bathroom, filling the enormous bath with water with a snap of my fingers. The water is so cold, ice forms on the surface at once, and I get in with a series of crunches, my feet punching through the thin barrier. I lie on the bottom in my clothes as the surface above me freezes solid.
It barely helps. I want to take her up on her offer, even now, as Weles. If she’s pretending, I’m confident I can break through that with enough attention and roughness, all the things she likes.
What stops me is the fear sex won’t change anything. If she looks at me with the same cold disinterest while I’m inside her, it will destroy me.
“Fuck you, poppy girl,” I mouth, bubbles rising to the iced-over surface, where they freeze.
I bleed more and more magic into the water, cooling it until the entire bath is a block of ice with me like a strange insect frozen within. My blood cools enough to clear my head. At last, I feel confident I won’t try to hurt Jaga just to wipe that smirk off her face, but still, I stay in there, deprived of oxygen and warmth, for half an hour longer just to be sure.
Oh, the things I do for love.
When I emerge, Jaga is still eating. As every day in the past month, I arranged for her to have a large variety of dishes in the futile hope that maybe she’d cave and eat if she saw something she liked.
In the past, she almost always ignored the feast laid out for her. Today, she ate everything. Her cheeks have filled out considerably, and her collarbones, while still prominent, aren’t as alarmingly sharp.
It’s impressive, I have to admit. Few people possess a handle on magic so precise, it allows them to speed up digestion and the following transmutation of food into flesh. She’s crammed weeks of refeeding her starved body into a little more than an hour.
“Did you learn this from Nienad?” I ask, my clothes still dripping with cold water, frost in my eyebrows and hair.
I am cold, cold and calm, and I intend to stay this way.
Jaga shoots me a disinterested look. “No. I experimented when you were busy pampering yourself in the bath. It worked.”
“Experimented—on yourself. You really don’t care about your body, do you?”
She huffs and puts away her fork, all plates empty and shining with the remnants of butter.
“I can experiment on myself, because I’m immortal. Nienad picks helpless people he deems disposable to run his experiments on. It’s something you condone and encourage.”
“You mean the rot.” I nod, watching her closely. She’s not angry, exactly, not as she used to be, but there is a definite air of menace around her. “You don’t agree with our methods.”
The look she gives me is beyond contemptuous. I have to bite back a smile, because finally, she’s not indifferent. Shecares.I can use this.
“Do you want me to stop the rot program? I will. For you.”
The ice in my hair melts, water trickling down my shoulder-length hair as excitement heats me up from within.
But Jaga laughs with obvious scorn. “Do what you want. I don’t give a damn.”
My elation turns into burning fury, and I clench my hands and teeth to hold back words and deeds that will alienate us beyond redemption. It’s like the ice bath never happened.
When she shoots me a sly glance, the corner of her mouth curling in a smirk, I know she’s doing this on purpose. I am like a fiddle she masterfully plays. It’s infuriating.
“Fine,” I say after I get a grip on my voice, cooling myself forcefully with magic. “Would you like to see more of Nawie today? I can take you to Wiosna, or show you the souls. Or we can just wander.”
She pauses, her eyes firmly focused on the table, forehead lined with a frown. She’s surprised, having expected me to go on like before, hoarding her to myself in this room. But the fact I’m old doesn’t mean I don’t learn. Going out is what broke our standoff.
We need more of that.
“You’ll follow me everywhere like a faithful dog, I take it.”
Dog. If that’s what I am then you’re my bitch.
I keep the sharp retort to myself, instead replying in the most pleasant voice I can squeeze out through my clenched teeth.
“Yes. I’ll be your guard dog so Mokosz doesn’t kidnap you again and bury you somewhere no one can reach this time. You’re welcome.”
It’s cruel to remind her, and as Jaga’s shoulders tense, her throat moving with a nervous swallow, I look away in shame.
