Jaga sits on top of a lying poludnica, choking her, while above her, black stones glitter in the air. Somehow, the poludnica has managed to close her maw, and Jaga huffs in frustration, trying to get her to open it. She’s tired, bad burns on her face and neck where poludnicas must have grabbed her.
I fall to my knees by her side, put my hand on the poludnica’s forehead, and send darkness right into her brain, killing her instantly. Jaga looks up. I grab the back of her head, slicing a deep wound into my tongue with a spell.
“Drink.”
I press my lips to hers, and she grows rigid, her hands pressing to my chest to push me back. I hold her tightly, my thumb swiping across her chin to remove my son’s mark.
My blood floods her mouth, and she swallows. Her hands slide up to my shoulders, then to the back of my head, and she buries them in my wet hair as she gives me that kiss I’ve craved for so long.
I moan into her mouth, greedy and careless, and she sucks my tongue into her mouth, swallowing my blood in deep gulps. Desire and relief pour through our bond, so clear and obvious, and I kiss her harder, pulling her into my lap until she straddles me.
“Please, take it. You need it.”
I don’t give her time to reply but breathe a full breath into her mouth, and she shakes, pulling me closer by the hair. She swallows my air like she does my blood, and I feel it now, her pleasure, orgasmic and clear, just like mine when she gives me her magic.
“More,”I whisper in her mind, exhaling into her hot, sweet mouth.
She grunts from desire, taking my breath and magic, then grows still. Her hand leaves my hair, and something screeches very close. I realize how loud it is, the battle still going on around us. I was so wrapped up in her, I forgot where we were.
As I pull back, Jaga rolls off me and straddles a poludnica she’s brought to the ground by her dirty, dark blond hair. I just see deep, bloody gashes disappearing from Jaga’s neck, healed by my blood. That is enough.
While Jaga calls forth her obsidian stones, holding the poludnica by her scrawny neck, I jam my fingers into the bies’ eyes, two in each, and pour poison inside. She convulses with a high-pitched, horrible screech, and goes rigid, foaming at themouth. She isn’t dead, but she’s paralyzed, and will be dying for a long time.
“I had her,” Jaga says with a frown of disapproval. “You didn’t have to.”
I stroke her already healed neck. “But I wanted to. She made you bleed.”
A look of astonishment flashes in Jaga’s eyes. She shakes her head as if to clear it, then gets up and offers me her hand. I don’t need it but take it nonetheless as I roll to my feet. Anything to keep touching her.
I look around. Rod and Dola are fighting the last two poludnicas, and Chors is up, looking at the sky with a tight expression. The King of Bees is still wrapped around Dadzbog, but I see the flames burning holes in the blanket of insects.
“Chors wants to fight,” I murmur, letting go of Jaga’s hand. “I’ll help him.”
As soon as my son leaps into the air, I follow. He doesn’t spare me a look, his eyes focused tightly on his target.
Dadzbog roars, exploding in a blinding brightness. Burned bodies of insects rain down with a dry patter, and he shoots higher, moving through air too fast to catch him. Chors shouts in anger and pursues him, and I follow, knowing he can’t fight alone today. As soon as we pass the cliffs, Dadzbog dives into the water.
There, Swarog’s body floats right under the surface, pale and weak, and Dadzbog swims him out, disappearing in an eyeblink. They are gone, back to Wyraj, where they will lick their wounds. It’s over. We’ve won.
Chors dives into the sea with a cry of disappointment, and I make to follow, but an enormous wave crashes into me just as I’m about to break the surface.
“Leave me,” Chors’ voice speaks out of thin air next to me. “Go to Jaga.”
I sigh, worry twisting around my heart like a poisonous vine.
“Fine. But we’ll have to talk soon.”
He doesn’t reply, and I shake off the water, soaring through the air back to my allies. Nyja’s nawkas are already hard at work extinguishing the fire that’s burned down a large swathe of the forest on the side of the mountain. I send my shadows to snuff out the few remaining fires, and go to the southern shore, where Jaga, Rod, and his daughters gather what remains of the King of Bees into a pile.
“That’s why I don’t get him,” I complain with a sigh, letting my shadows loose to join the search. “Why would anyone want their body to be made up of thousands of tiny parts? How does he fuck? It’s bothered me for ages.”
Rod snorts, his eyes twinkling handsomely as he bends by Jaga’s side, dropping more insects onto the pile. “Is that really what bothers you most?”
My eyes narrow as his arm brushes hers, and I wonder if Chors isn’t the only son I must be wary of.
Chapter twenty-eight
Clouds
