She takes a deep breath, presses her lips together in an approximation of a smile, and turns back to Jutrzenka.
“I hate your mother,” Jaga says, eyeing the goddess warily. “I will make her hurt one day for what she did to me. Is this going to be a problem between you and me?”
Jutrzenka smiles sweetly, turning around until her shimmery shift flares out, revealing soft thighs, her skin fresh and pink.
“I will have him,” she trills happily, pointing at me. “I will seduce him and make him mine. Is this going to be a problem between you and me?”
Jaga shoots me a vicious look and turns on her heel, stopping when she faces the view. Long grasses sway in the breeze among a few gnarled trees, and ahead, Mogila looms, its peak disappearing in a dense cloud of fog even on such a sunny day. I brought her here through my shadows, and I don’t think she knows how to go back underground.
“Ask me nicely and I’ll give you a dignified exit, Your Awkwardness.”
“Fuck you.”
She snaps her fingers, and a doorway made of flames appears in front of her, sizzling. The edges burn, but within the tall rectangle I glimpse the glimmering jewels of the Hall of Fires. It’s a proper portal, and Jaga made it with a snap of her fingers.
She is, without a doubt, more powerful than me. I shiver with yearning so strong, it hurts like a stab. I don’t even want her to be mine anymore. I just need her to make mehers.
Jaga exhales sharply, bracing her shoulders, and she looks so much like a goddess, her leather clothes predatory and bold, the fire framing her with an aura of righteous wrath. She hesitates, not stepping through yet.
I sense a shakiness through our bond, a kind of anxious awe, before she clenches her fists and goes through. The fire flaresbrighter, then shrinks toward the center, until both it and the doorway are gone.
“Impressive.”
Jaga doesn’t reply, and I turn to Jutrzenka, pulling at my goatee with discomfort. I have eradicated most of my nervous ticks and tells over the centuries, but she creeps me out in ways that are hard to pin down.
When our eyes meet, her entire face brightens with a sweet, radiant smile. I clench my hand behind my back to stop fiddling with my hair. The smile is wrong. It reaches her eyes, but there is something ancient in them, something that belies her innocence and sweetness. I shudder, wondering, not for the first time, if her mad, girlish behavior is just a carefully cultivated pretense.
“I will not be seduced,” I tell her firmly. “We are allies, joined to fight together, and after the war is over, we will go our separate ways. Do you understand?”
She tilts her head to the side, watching me carefully before she smiles again.
“I understand you believe that. I am inexperienced, Weles, but I already know many things from my mother. They will please you. And what I do not know, you will teach me. Like a good father.”
“I am not your father. Dadzbog is,” I grit out, shuddering at the thought of her speaking this way in bed.Father.Definitelynotmy kink.
“I wouldn’t mind it if you were.”
Fuck, I should have listened to Chors and excluded her, but it’s too late. My options are limited, anyway, and it looks like Strzybog won’t join us.
“Not happening. Come with me. Now that you’re here, we can sit down for a proper council.”
I offer her my arm, and she wraps both hands around it, clinging to me with an enraptured expression. I plaster a cool,polite smile on my face and pull us into the shadows, taking her right to the Hall of Fires. She’s been my guest before. Well, captive. Small difference.
As soon as we arrive, I make to step back, but Jutrzenka releases a high-pitched, obstinate sound and clings to me harder. I glance at Nyja, who nods grimly, then at Chors. He looks at the goddess of dawn with a strange expression, something like dread, or maybe disgust. He’s weak and sickly with the new moon a few days away, and I worry about him. When I glance at Jaga, I catch her already watching him with a frown.
“Could you sit by Chors?”I ask her, knowing she’s the only person apart from me who’ll give him comfort.
Her eyes widen in surprise, then she nods, moving to his side.
“Here.”
I lead Jutrzenka to the enormous oval table I made from obsidian and gold to impress my allies. I pull back a chair for her, and she’s compelled to release me and sit. I manage to move out of her reach before she grasps me again, and she pouts with disappointment.
Nyja takes Rod by the elbow, leading him toward Jutrzenka without a word, and they both flank her. Chors holds on to Jaga’s hand and leads her to the same side of the table, with Jaga sitting next to Rod, and Chors on her other side. I give him a sharp look, but his eyes are turned firmly ahead, his grip on Jaga’s hand white-knuckled.
What is going on?
The King of Bees is the last to sit, and it’s strange to watch, because he doesn’t have joints and muscles like us. His body scatters from its standing position, then reassembles on the chair, buzzing all the time.
