Page 19 of A Song of Saints and Swans
My thoughts felt sluggish as I struggled to make sense of the scene before me. Never mind where this woman came from or if she meant us harm, I was more confused by how Jarilo had magically reverted to his cocky, aggravating self.
As if wehadn’tjust shared what felt like a seismic event.
Did it mean nothing to him?
“Jar,” Rena sighed, rubbing her temples. “Unhand the Rusalka.”
Rusalka?!
“Butwhy,dearest?” he chuckled, jiggling his prize, seemingly just to make the undead siren hiss again. “She’s cute… in a feral sort of way.”
It was my turn to hiss as my vision turned red. If this zombiethought she was going to put a single claw on what wasmine—
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let’s all just take a breath and chill.”
My attention snapped to a human man trotting down the hill, slightly winded but clearly trying to appear friendly by flashing a charming smile as he approached. He was bearded, built, and handsome—if you were into a pedestrian flavor of attractiveness—but I highly suspected he had more muscles than brains.
He reminds me of Nox.
If the big dumb one would crack a smile now and then.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he slowly spoke, spreading his hands as if approaching skittish horses—or drunken humans. “Margo thought you were breaking into our home…”
Just as my brain caught up with the fact heknewthe monster Jarilo had captured, his deep brown eyes met hers. I gasped as I witnessed a gaze full of lovefor a creature who would just as soon devour him as invite him into her soggy bed.
How has she not eaten him already?
Rusalka were the spirits of women who died by suicide, doomed to haunt the woods and lure human men to their deaths at the bottom of the marsh—after fucking and sucking them dry. That this human had a romantic relationship with one was more shocking than Jarilo turning into pure flame.
Or taking orders in the bedroom…
“Oh, there’s definitely a misunderstanding.” The god laughed humorlessly before unceremoniously dropping the Rusalka. “This is notyourhome. TheVardobelongs to our swan queen over there, a perfect creature who has been divinely chosen by fate herself…”
What the fuck is he talking about?
“Always so dramatic,” Rena sighed again before walking closer, no doubt to intervene.
“…chosen to be the consort of the goddess of winter’s death and dreams”—Jarilo gestured at his twin, who’d now frozen mid-step—“and the god created in the image of our supreme ruler himself. The god of war, springtime, and vegetation. Only one of the most important gods in the pantheon.” Another pointed pause. “Me.”
Perun help us.
“You’re gods?!”The Rusalka shot to her feet and ran behind the human, as ifhecould protect her from Jarilo’s wrath—or excessive posturing.
Highly unlikely.
“Please forgive my brother,” Rena soothed—a phrase I noticed she said a lot. “He gets a bit…protectiveof what he’s decided belongs to him.”
“And toyou,”Jarilo huffed, raising a brow at his twin, and I stilled as it finally registered he’d declared I washerconsortas well.
Goddess, I want that…
“Don’t be silly, Jar.” The goddess in question airily laughed, making me frown. “If Anthia needs anyone, it’s—”
“It’smydecision,” I haughtily cut in, invoking the queenly air Jarilo had bestowed upon me, while figuratively shaking in my boots. “I’ll be the one deciding what andwhoI need—thank you very much.”
The gods stared at me in shock, but I set my jaw and stubbornly held my ground,daringthem to argue while inwardly praying I wasn’t being too demanding.
I want this more than anything.
