“What was that?” she hisses, furious and afraid. “You never said you could do that through the bond!”
“I wanted to help you,” I say, remembering not to say‘just’, because that lie wouldn’t go through my cursed throat. “The sooner you learn the dance, the faster we’ll have the knife. I won’t do it again if you hate it so much.”
“I hate it,” she hisses. “Stay out of my head!”
“I promise,” I say with contrition that’s utterly false even though my words are true. The trick to giving honest promises is to mean them, and I do, utterly.
Weeks pass. Jaga works herself to the bone, spending long hours dancing with me as she slowly masters the opening sequence, and then the rest of her days in the torture chamber. Since Rada and Wiosna aren’t allowed in my dancing space, they often sit on a bench outside the torture chamber’s door and remind Jaga she must eat or wash.
My witch has gained a mad, sleepless look. She’s just like she was before, after I saved her from her grave, yet this time, it’s not apathy that deprives her of sleep and sustenance. Jaga races with time, with herself, and with her heart that beats to the rhythm of my seduction.
It’s not like before, when I drowned her in love in the rebel base. I fought my feelings back then, trying to master her while remaining the master of myself, and of course, I failed. This time, I fully accept my love and adoration. I am lost and fallen, obsessed with her, and so my intentions are born out of love and yearning.
I want my beloved to love me back. And because I am a possessive, jealous god, I want her to be completely mine in every way possible.
“That was absolutely perfect,” I praise her when she dances the complete sequence without errors for the first time.
Jaga wipes sweat off her forehead, breathing hard from effort. “I didn’t feel anything. I can’t hear time, or whatever you call it.”
“No, you wouldn’t, not the first time. But you will. You’ve done it already, remember?”
She shakes her head morosely, and I put my arm around her, congratulating myself when she doesn’t shake it off. She’s been much more accepting of my worshipful words and casual touches ever since we started spending so much time together.
“I have an idea. Why don’t we try obliterating some souls, hm? That should lift your mood.”
She huffs without humor. “Or make me even more frustrated if I fail at that, too.”
“You won’t fail. You’ll be a natural, I can tell.”
“A natural at killing souls? My, you know how to pay a compliment.”
“I just meant you know what a soul is, how it feels, where it sits inside a person,” I say gently, taking her hand. “You’ll have no trouble finding them, and you have enough power to destroy the built-in protections. You are a natural—because you’ve brought your soul so far past the limits. I’m proud of you.”
She smiles, squeezing my hand, then frowns lightly and lets go. Ah, yes. Here she is, Jaga reminding herself not to fall for me again, because I’ll hurt her so bad. I pretend not to mind as I take us both to the dungeon level where I keep the Perun-marked abominations.
“Here. Let’s try with this one first.”
I open the cell of a man whose wife Nyja killed a few days ago, trying to find a way to remove her mark. So far, she’s had no success, and her victims keep dying.
Jaga braces her shoulders when I drag the man out, bound and gagged with my shadows. I stand right behind her, close enough to feel the tension gripping her nape.
“It would be easier if I knew he was a despicable man,” she says through clenched teeth. “But he’s just a man like many. He doesn’t deserve it.”
“Of course he does,” I murmur in her ear, putting my forearm around her collarbones and pulling her to me until she relaxes against my chest. “You are not delivering a punishment for a crime, love. You’re delivering consequences. Did he go to Perun and let himself get marked without a shred of hesitation?”
“Yes,” Jaga hisses. “But…”
“No but. Stupid choices lead to suffering. He deserves all the consequences after making a stupid decision, but also, whatyou’re giving him is mercy. His soul will not suffer once you do it.”
Jaga laughs under her breath, bitter and dark, slithering out of my grip. “You are right. Stupid choices lead to suffering. What now?”
I step closer, just enough to hover at the boundary between comfortable and too close, and lower my voice so she’s forced to stay near.
“I want you to look at him with your magical eye and find his soul. It’s usually nestled in a person’s heart, sometimes in their throat or head, especially behind their eyes. It’s tiny, far smaller and quieter than the ancestral soul. I see it as something akin to a pebble, but alive and pulsing with a faint, hidden light.”
She takes a deep breath, shakes out her hands, and closes her green eye. It doesn’t take her more than a few seconds.
“I see it. In his heart. It’s… A greenish sort of brown.”
