Page 28 of A Song of Saints and Swans
What did I miss?
Nox squinted at the human. “Official business. God tier shit.”
“Last I checked, you were onlydemigods.”I haughtily sniffed, invoking my best Jarilo impression. To my surprise, the god didn’t seem to enjoy my snobbery—rewarding me with little more than a pinched smile.
What is going on with him?
“Enough talk!” Tan ironically interrupted, briskly clapping his hands. “Everyone headed north—come climb aboard this crazy train. I simply cannot wait another moment to wrap my lips around some fried food before pouring vodka down my throat.”
“And complete our assignment?” Asa raised an eyebrow, smoothly trampling Tan’s innuendos. His boyfriend made a noncommittal sound before waltzing into the hut. Asa followed him, and Nox stood to do the same when Konstantin spoke again.
“We’re coming with you. Both of us.”
“Oh, hell no,” Nox growled, taking a menacing step toward the other man. “That fucking bloodsucker isn’t setting foot in the same—”
“They have information that could help you—especially the‘bloodsucker,’”Rena quietly cut in. When the Rusalka simply stared at her, she added, “I don’t believe you died by suicide, Margo, although Konstantin may be correct that whatever was in your drink that night led to your death.”
Vasi was watching the goddess closely. “You think there’s a connection here?” When Marena simply nodded, Vasi’s gaze drifted to Jarilo. “Sounds like Matthew and his associates had a fetish for using others as test subjects, whether shifters, humans, or god—”
“Did someone sayfetish?”Tan popped his head out of the open doorway again. Nox angrily huffed, pushing past his fellow Rider to disappear inside theizba—no doubt to find somewhere to sulk.
Vasi barely batted an eye. “Ignore him. I’ve added additional rooms, so there’s plenty of space for extra guests and grumpy bears who need to hibernate.” Her aquamarine eyes settled on me. “Or for private conversations between old friends.”
I sighed in resignation.Thiswas why the hut was insisting we all bunk together—because when fate decided you needed to unpack your baggage, first you needed to hop on for the ride.
Witchy-Woo
ANTHIA
“Tell me about the letter.”
I huffed a laugh as I turned to face the witch, busy fussing with her loom. Vasi hadn’t been kidding when she mentioned adding more space to her one-roomizba—including the crafty witch-cave we’d escaped to together.
Adding three loud and enormous men to her life probably inspired the renovation.
“Okay.” I took a breath, knowing my oldest friend had no patience for beating around the bush. “This time I was invited to a vague yet specific location, supposedly for actual answers about my heritage. You know, as opposed to the mysterious hints and centuries-late condolences found in past letters.”
It was hard not to be bitter, considering it had taken the unidentified sender hundreds of years to even give me this crumb of information. Then again, whoever they were had shown an impressive amount of tenacity by continuing to contact me when they clearly weren’t getting a reply. And how they knew to find me through the dusty emporium is beyond me.
Serious witchy-woo.
“Yes, you were invited to the Baltic Sea…” Vasi mused. “The broadness of the location implies whoever summoned you is capable of knowing exactly where you are at any moment and powerful enough to magically appear anywhere along the shoreline.” After pausing for dramatic effect, she casually added, “It could be the Sea Tsar.”
“Who the fuck is the Sea Tsar?” I blurted out, which made Vasi laugh. She was naturally more reserved than me, but possessed a dry sense of humor beneath her gruff exterior, along with a mischievous streak that occasionally came out to play.
All qualities that match her Riders perfectly.
“He’s also known as the Morskoy Tsar,” Vasi continued, pulling a thread of weft through the warp with her shuttle. “Essentially, he’s the god of all waterways, as ancient as the sea itself. To confuse the issue, both Veles and Mokosh are also said to rule over waters, and some even believe Perun is the Sea Tsar. In short, anyone who thinks there’s only one way to tell a tale has never experienced Slavic folklore.”
I chuckled, pawing through the pile of gorgeous skeins Nox adorably kept buying for his witch. “Kind of like how Vasilisa the Brave seems to show up ineveryfamousskazki?”
The real-life Vasilisa grinned, displaying the delightfully frightening iron teeth of the Baba Yaga. “Precisely. In fact…” She paused thoughtfully before turning her full attention back to me. “When I was still apprenticing with my predecessor, a prince found his way to our hut, claiming his father had been tricked into trading him to the Sea Tsar for a favor. He’d been left on the shore, but escaped into the forest before his new owner could collect him. The Yaga told our visitor that the Tsar had twelve daughters who frequently bathed at a nearby lake—shapeshifters who could transform from humans to birds…”
A tingle of intuition rushed down my spine, making me shiver. The hut was rocking back and forth as it carried us through the forest, and I hoped the movement hid my visceral reaction.
Of course, Vasi missed nothing. Her sharp eyes narrowed, but instead of commenting, she refocused on her tale. “The prince found the bathing pool and captured one maiden by stealing her featherskin—which stopped her from flying away. By and by, they fell in love, and he returned with her to the Sea Tsar’s palace, where perhaps they lived happily ever after… or perhaps not. The rest is oral history, I suppose.”
Bedtime stories with Vasi.
