Page 37 of A Song of Saints and Swans
I now knew Jarilo was a more complex individual than I’d originally given him credit for, but his tortured bad boy routine was getting old. While his cocky behavior wasn’t entirely a false front, he mostly used it as a protective shield.
And that's a defense mechanism I understand completely.
But he’d also allowed me a peek behind the mask, to the devoted man beneath who I now trusted enough to spend the rest of my life with.
While enjoying all the benefits of being with a god.
As I’d hoped, experiencing Jarilo’s vines in bed hadn’t inspired panic. Instead, I’d felt held and cared for, even as the god of spring fucked me senseless. The sensation was like the security of a weighted blanket—borderline discomfort that translated to comfort, thanks to the controlled environment and who I was with.
Why won’t he allow others to provide him with the same?
While talking to an earthly creature like me might be difficult, it made no sense that Jarilo wasn’t allowing his twin to help with whatever was troubling him—especially when Marena was the nurturing fixer type.
Our mistress mommy.
Thinking about Rena's dominating nature must have sent out a blast of pheromones, as her half-corporeal form circled me with an icy caress before returning to her flying position. To my disappointment, Jar didn’t immediately chase it with his equally addicting heat, but from what I could tell, his attention was straight ahead on our rapidly approaching destination.
The mystical island of Buyan.
We landed at the base of a mountain just as the wind picked up, sending waves crashing against the rocky shoreline at our backs. I shifted into human form, and my gods followed suit, although Jarilo again stumbled a little as he did so, making Marena frown in concern.
Before either of us could comment on his uncharacteristic clumsiness, the Gamayun demanded our attention once more.
“High atop this mountain exists the World Tree!” the strange half-bird creature loudly proclaimed, dramatically gesturing with her wing. “Its roots exist in the Nav, with Veles and the dead, while its branches stretch to the Prav—the realm of the gods. Inside the trunk lies theAlatyr,the father of all stones…”
Jarilo interrupted her history lesson by cursing under his breath. When I sharply glanced at him, I froze at howpalehe looked, but he still offered me a wry smile before addressing the divine messenger. “Enough clucking. Can we please get to the part where Anthia does her hero thing?”
Hero?!
The Gamayun did not look amused at being interrupted, but took the hint to wrap it up. “How astute of you to realize Anthia has all the makings of a hero, but behind every noble warrior are those who have their back.All three of youneed to ascend this mountain together, to uncover the secrets of theAlatyr…and collectively heal.”
Instead of his usual snark, the god of springtime simply glared at the messenger, the rapidly changing weather casting a sickly greenish hue over his pallid skin.
He looks like death warmed over.
“Why didn’t we simply land on the summit to begin with?” I huffed, compelled to keep things moving.
The Alkonost scoffed, giving me a judgy once-over. “Why would we mess up our feathers in these high winds? You fools are on your own.”
What a drama queen.
“It’s barely a spring breeze,” Rena laughed, even as her gorgeous red hair formed a halo of chaos around her freckled face. “I’ll race you to the top, Jar,” she playfully crooned, and I bristled, ready to defend Jarilo this time.
Can’t she see he’s unwell?
My protectiveness only lessened incrementally as I realized the goddess of winter’s death knew exactly what she was doing. Her green eyes were locked on her brother in challenge, and he glared at her in return.
Oh, it’s on.
As much as I disliked the conflict, I bit my tongue, respecting their long history enough to stay out of it. Even the Gamayun and Alkonost shut the fuck up for the godly showdown.
And youknowit’s serious when the peanut gallery gets quiet.
“Must you be such a child, Rena?” Jarilo coolly spoke, although I caught a hint of anger simmering beneath his tone.
Marena raised an eyebrow, equally frosty. “What’s the matter, Jar? Afraid I’ll win? Let’s make it interesting with a wager. Winner. Gets. One. Secret.”
There it is.
