I sip Jaga’s wine and do my best to keep myself distracted so I don’t seek her out and do another foolish thing that will only drive her further away.
“I swear, why do you invite him to your bed all the time?” I ask Nyja.
Her being with Strzybog has always baffled me, since she is so much better than him in every way.
“He’s obviously a coward, and much worse than me. Don’t you see? He’s playing it safe, seeing who will win. If we manage to defeat Perun by some miracle, he’ll claim he was on our side all along, but he’ll never take a risk to support us.”
Nyja lights a long, wooden pipe filled with a herb that she claims helps her sleep, numbing the cries of nawkas clamoring for her love and attention at every hour of day and night. Even the Mother of Nawkas has to sleep sometimes.
“He’s the best fuck I’ve ever had,” she says after puffing out a perfect smoke ring. “Including you. I don’t mind him when his mouth is busy with things other than talking.”
I snort. “I can understand that. Have I told you what Perun did to Mokosz? Fuck, you should have seen her.”
We laugh together, and she gives me her pipe to smoke. It’s a pleasant diversion from the terror brewing in my gut, roiling and all-encompassing, and the yearning in my chest that grows more unbearable with every hour spent without Jaga’s company and her voice in my head.
When the made up stars on the illusive sky above us twinkle, and Nyja smiles at me the way she used to centuries ago, I consider kissing her.
But Nyja isn’t the one, and her kisses will never quench my thirst.
The next morning, after a sleepless night I spend haunting the corridors of Nawie, Jutrzenka crosses over Struzina and lands in the fragrant grasses of my island. As soon as I sense her in my domain, pleasant tingles race down my spine. Finally.
I find Jaga in the torture chamber, draining pus out of the utopek’s stomach. I grab her hand and pull her with me into my realm of shadows.
“Come with me. And don’t betoojealous.”
Chapter twenty-six
Dawn
We emerge on the island to a glorious, sunny morning. It’s a bright summer day, clear-skied and crystal-aired. A golden brightness surrounds Jutrzenka like a halo.
Jaga freezes when she sees her, her eyes narrowing with instant dislike. My heart soars. She can pretend all she wants, but I can tell sheisjealous, since she’s heard enough hints about my intimate past with the goddess of dawn.
“You’re the daughter of Mokosz,” Jaga says in a low, growly voice.
I wince.Ah.So maybe she has another reason to hate her.
Jutrzenka smiles dreamily, stepping from foot to foot with somnambulic slowness. Her hair is golden and smooth like the surface of a lake, running down her back to her thighs. She wears a thin, golden shift, something a bride might put on for her wedding night, and her cheeks are rosy, lips full and pink like the sky at sunrise.
She’s beautiful without a doubt—until I look in her eyes and remember why I’ve been so reluctant to make her my ally.
Jutrzenka is mad in the gentle, strange way of children. It’s a madness of innocence and youth, the result of being forbidden to grow up. Mortal beliefs shape us all, and mortals have decided the goddess of dawn must be just like the freshest time of day: forever young, innocent, ripe with possibility.
She wears an open, beatific smile, and even though her features are similar to those of Mokosz, her expression mars the resemblance. Mokosz is shameless and worldly, and even her best pretense at girl-like innocence looks artificial and poised.
Jutrzenka is completely genuine in her utter inexperience with the world, people, and herself.
Centuries ago, she decided that I must be the one who’ll steal her innocence and teach her everything she doesn’t know. I refused then, creeped out by her childlike behavior, and she’s been pining ever since.
“My mother put such pretty flowers in your hair, but you ripped them all out and made her sad,” she tells Jaga, and something glimmers in her eyes, something mean and incongruent with her gentle air.
Jaga’s fists clench as she takes an impulsive step closer, ire burning in her eyes.
“Her brain is addled,”I tell her.“She can’t help it, so please, don’t attack her or make a scene.”
I grin when Jaga pivots to me, baring her teeth in a snarl.“Make a scene? I’ll do what I damn well please!”
“I apologize for my wording.”I don’t make an effort to look apologetic at all, even though I am sincerely sorry for making her angry.“Jutrzenka is an innocent. In some ways, she is more childlike than most children. Think of the dawn and how mortals see it, and you’ll understand.”
