“Very good. Now try to feel it with your magic. It will try to repel you, but ignore it and keep looking at the protections. Enough brute force will burn through them, but you can be more efficient if you find a weak spot on the protective shell.”
Jaga points her open palm at the man’s chest, and he crumples to the floor, dead. I blink. Yes, his soul is gone, a burning hole where his heart used to be.
“I was never good at being efficient,” Jaga says with a shrug. “All right, then. It was easier than I expected. You were right. Destroying souls is my special talent.”
Her mouth twists in self-loathing as she turns to me, and I shake my head.
“You are powerful, and great power can be destructive as well as creative. Neither is bad or good, they are simply two ways to express your magic. In healing, sometimes you have to destroy a part for the whole to get better. This is similar. We’re cutting outthe illness so humanity can thrive. You did a good thing even if it seemed terrible. Just like cutting off a limb, is it not?”
“Oh, that silver tongue,” she says with weary fondness. “I’d better go and do some real healing, although at this point, I’d rather throw out all my subjects and start anew. I fear they’ve deteriorated beyond the point of no return.”
“I’ll get you new ones, my love.”
But she shakes her head. “You know, I recently realized we might actually survive, and after that, I’ll have to live with myself somehow. Stop trying to corrupt me. If I am to be bad, I’ll do it on my own terms, without your help.”
She leaves, and I clench my fists, giving in to my fear just for a moment, letting it spread in my chest and stomach, wrapping its vines around my throat and lungs. I’m doing everything I can, and she will still leave me in the end, and I’ll never have her soul.
After a few minutes of despair, I bury that fear deep down and strengthen my resolve. I’ll do anything it takes. Day after day, I’ll chip away at her shields until she lets me in.
Jaga hears time for the first time when Nawie disappears under thick, white piles of snow. She spends the day playing outside with Dar, who is her favorite person. The boy develops fast for his age, his potent magic making him coordinated and verbally communicative far earlier than his peers.
He can fly decently and spit tiny balls of fire, and Jaga chases him through the snow, then throws snowballs for him to melt with his dragon breath. Rada watches it with a bright smile, wrapped in three coats and a blanket. Chors comes, too, and they both stand side by side in silence, watching my fiery poppy girl fly hoops around the beautiful dragon child.
“Jaga, burn!” Dar shouts with a wicked laugh before spitting fire right at her. She pulls up an effortless shield and tells him off so harshly, tears gather in his eyes. Jaga lets him climb into herlap and explains in a low, serious voice that if he ever does the same thing to his mother, she will be hurt.
“But I know,” Dar sobs, rubbing his face against her chest. “Mama can be hurt. But Jaga is strong.”
She loses a long, weary breath and kisses the top of his head. Playtime is over, and she gives the dragon boy back to his mother, then nods at me.
“Let’s go, then,” she says grumpily. “Such a waste of time.”
And yet, that’s the day she does it. Jaga completes two flawless sequences, then freezes suddenly with her arms poised like wings readied for a flight, and stops breathing. I don’t dare move, watching her intently. She takes a careful, soft step back, then another to the side, breathing faster and faster, before she loses her footing and has to catch her balance.
But I already know. She turns to me with awe shining in her eyes, and we stare at each other. She is terrified and shocked, and I am so proud and in love, I can barely stand it.
“I heard it,” she whispers at last, her eyes still wide with disbelief. “I… We can do this. I can do this.”
I lose the fight with myself and go to her, taking her face in my chilled palms. I wait a moment, giving her an out, but she is so stunned, she doesn’t react, so I kiss her with all my yearning and fear.
She did it. We are one step closer to getting the knife, defeating Perun, and her leaving me forever. I almost beg her not to go, or maybe to leave the knife in the past so she will stay by my side forever, because that’s all I care about. But I can’t.
The words would be a lie, and they won’t go through my throat.
Chapter forty-one
Love
Jaga
It’s winter solstice today. Weles claims the holy day will not make my dance into the past any easier, but I don’t think he’s right. The world’s axis is tilted as far as it can go, making the night long and potent, and I believe it fuels my magic. I will not miss a step tonight. I will not err or stumble.
“You could wait,” he says, pulling on his beard before he clenches his fist in frustration. “You have stepped into the past only a handful of times, and never that far. You should practice and…”
“I’m going.”
He is reluctant to let me, I know. If I do this tonight, our days of dancing together will end, and Weles will have to face his fear for good. Will he risk it all and attack his brother with the knife I bring him? Or will he hide forever?
I pity him, though I shouldn’t. He’s made his bed, and yet, I can’t help but want to avenge him. Everything Perun and his gods did to him was horrible. If I could, I would crush them all myself, gouge out their eyes and stomp them into the ground.
