Jaga focuses, scrunching up her face, and rises slowly, pushing my thorns out of her body. I tense, because it fucking hurts, and I can tell from her expression she’s in pain, too. They weren’t made to be forcibly removed. Her blood pools around my cock, and she swipes it away with a murmured spell, so cautious and smart.
When it’s done, Jaga stands above me, and I am reminded of the last time I did it. I lay in the grass then, too, and she stood, slowly stepping back toward the forest as she wove my defeat.
Her soul binds my legs and arms, but it lets go of my throat. I cough, then smile.
“You did well. You should rule the world, Jaga.”
She ignores my words and creates clothes for herself, the same as always. Her hair smoothes and twists into braids, and she stretches her arms high up with a pleased purr. Only when she glances at me last time over her shoulder do I think I see hurt in her eyes, but she turns away before I’m sure.
“Do not touch me again. I’ll stay until we attack Wyraj, and then I’ll go. Do not try to stop me.”
Chapter forty-six
Roost
“Well, you fucked up,” Nyja says, though her voice sounds sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Weles. I know it was hard. Personally, I agree with you. You secretly wanted her to defeat you, and so you didn’t try your best. But that’s what happens when you’re in love.”
She tips back a cup of her favorite wine and sighs, looking at the waterfall we sit by. “I am going to miss this.”
“We might win yet,” I mutter, though I don’t believe it myself. “Jaga is strong. She could…”
“Jaga has her own goals and dreams,” Nyja cuts in, shaking her head. “She told you she’ll only go to Wyraj, didn’t she? Oh, Weles. She won’t fight Perun for you. I’m guessing Jaga wants to have her revenge on Mokosz, which is just as well. Cheer up. It’s a beautiful night, maybe our last.”
We don’t fuck, though she’d probably be willing. Nyja has a pragmatic outlook on our likely defeat and imprisonment. She’llenjoy her life to the last minute, then fight and give it her all, knowing we will lose, anyway. I admire this about her.
We go right before dawn, when Jutrzenka is the most powerful. A full moon is close, so Chors is strong. The snows have melted in the south, and the King of Bees buzzes with the nearness of spring. The spring equinox is less than a month away. There will never be a better time than now.
As I stand before my allies, ready to take us all into Wyraj, I don’t know what to say. False promises of victory get stuck in my throat. Jaga watches me with cool detachment, neither hostile nor friendly. At last, we are what she claimed—just allies.
“Let’s burn down the Great Oak,” I finally say, and they nod and murmur in agreement.
I wrap them in my shadows and we’re off. My stomach is queasy with terror, but I don’t fight it anymore. The fear is there, and it will always be there until Perun is gone. I accept and embrace it. It’s what makes me a person.
I will act despite my fear today, because even if I’m going to lose, I am done being a coward.
The knife Jaga brought from the past sits at my belt just in case. No one but her knows I have it, since I am still pretending not to know what Nyja’s latest prophecy was about. In the light of day, it seems like such a silly precaution.
This weapon is so flimsy, so very inadequate. Perun is larger than life. A blade like this can’t defeat him.
But we’re not going to face Perun today.
“We’re here. Stay alert.”
We appear among soft grasses as the first rays of golden sun peek over the horizon. It’s endless summer in the south of Wyraj, and the grass is green and bright with wildflowers, the trees swaying in the balmy breeze.
Ahead of us stands the Great Oak. I plug my nostrils with my shadows to protect myself from its overpowering smell. The treeis enormous, its trunk so thick, two hundred people could stand around it arm in arm, and still, they wouldn’t cover its entire circumference. It reaches high, high into the sky, its branches spreading far and wide.
A small town could be built in the shade cast by those branches. They are thick and gnarly, some of them centuries old, some counting thousands of years.
Bies souls roost in the canopy as high as the eye can see. They fluff their feathers or call, caw, and clack, a multitude of swallows, storks, and crows enslaved by Perun. Then, there are other birds, the eerie, quiet ancestral souls ready to be picked up by storks and planted inside mortals before birth.
My allies spread out carefully, and I watch the skies, expecting dragons or angry gods. But nothing happens. The sun pushes higher and higher over the horizon until we’re bathed in the golden light. Jutrzenka raises her arms and spins with a joyful laugh, her golden dress flaring around her knees.
I wait, tenser and tenser. This feels like a trap. All my instincts scream for me to go home, but it’s just the old terror. I see the spot where I was buried from here, a darker patch in the ground just by the trunk.
It’s only fear.
“I can’t believe Perun’s not here yet,” Nyja murmurs, standing by my side, her eyes watchful and alert.
