She pulls her hand from under Chors’, her fingers flexing like she’s fed up with his touch. Nyja scoffs.
“Your presence puts all of Nawie at risk. What will you do about it?”
“She’s my guest,” I growl, sending Nyja a quelling look. “I won’t let her leave even if she wants to.”
Nyja’s nostrils flare with an angry inhale, and the nearest fire burns brighter, as if fed by her air. “I rule by your side, whether you like it or not, and I will have a say. Protection has a price,poppy girl.What will you offer us to make it worth the risk?”
“I’ll fight on your side,” Jaga says with confidence, as if she’s given this some thought. “Is that good enough?”
Nyja settles back, slightly appeased. “We’ll see. You do know how my prophecies work, don’t you? As long as you have a soul, your fate is inescapable. Some tried to flee it through death, only to be reborn to the same destiny. Your case is different. You will either die forever or be claimed. You won’t be free, girl. The fates never meant it for you.”
“The fates meant for me to die as a girl,” Jaga hisses through clenched teeth. “I’ll take my chances.”
Nyja shakes her head in clear scorn, then turns to me. “I’m happy with this arrangement—if you meet my condition.”
“Allies?”
She nods. “Allies. You see it, don’t you? We can’t do it alone. You admitted as much. You’re weak, Weles. How will you protect her, hm?”
I tap my fingers on the table, watching Jaga even as she steadfastly avoids my gaze. Nyja is right, but it doesn’t change the fact I’d rather spend a month on Jaga’s torture wheel than beg for help.
“There’s no one we can trust.” I say this looking at Jaga. It’s completely truthful.
Nyja rolls her eyes.
“No one’s asking you to trust them. Use them, Weles. Once upon a time, you were great at that. Pushing people where you needed them with only a bit of power or a flattering word.”
I sigh, looking up at the glittering obsidian ceiling. I might as well kill two birds with one stone, appeasing Nyja and making Jaga jealous. “Jutrzenka?”
Chors sits up, hiding his hands under the table. “It will be difficult to reach her.”
I look at my son with a frown. “How so? Strzybog can talk to her. I know he’s lousy, but Nyja keeps him faithful. He won’t fuck up.”
“Jutrzenka isn’t very powerful,” he counters, avoiding my gaze.
“Who, then? Dola won’t come if her sisters aren’t included, and I don’t trust them. Oh, I know! Do you want me to find Swietowit, dig him out of his grave, and dust him off? He’ll probably be madder than a tangle of worms after all those centuries he spent in their company. A fine ally!”
Nyja slams her fist into the table. I laugh, and it only makes her more incensed. “This isn’t a joke! Perun’s almost defeated us, and we only survived thanks to a freak accident. We won’t be that lucky the next time around.”
“Am I the freak accident?” Jaga asks Chors in an undertone, and he huffs with amusement.
“We should go,” he whispers, leaning closer to her until his lips almost brush her ear. My teasing mood instantly sours. “When Mom and Dad fight, all souls go into hiding.”
“Mom and Dad.” She snickers, turning to him, and their noses almost collide.
Oh, fuck this.
“No allies,” I growl, my voice sounding just like Woland’s.
Jaga’s head jerks up, and she takes me in with wide eyes, as if to make sure I haven’t transformed. I give her a wide, mirthlessgrin, and her mouth twists in disdain so deep, it would be hate in another light.
“Like I said,” she enunciates clearly, a challenge burning in her eyes. “You are a conceited coward, too proud to ask for help, too inane to win on your own.” She turns to Chors. “Why don’tyouclaim me? You at least have courage.”
Red mist covers my vision, and I clench my fists to keep myself from reacting. Chors laughs uncomfortably, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to rule, nor do I want to. Nyja is a better bet.”
Jaga gives my goddess a long, assessing look, then scoffs under her breath. “I’d rather not.”
“Likewise,” Nyja hisses. “I’d rather handle slugs for all eternity than touch your hideous soul.”
