Mistress of the Solstice (12 page)

K
irill was insatiable. As he took me again and again
with carnal passion, he drove me to the point where I could not stop
either, shaking in climax after climax to his rhythmic moves. I never
had such a good lover before. Or perhaps I forgot?

When he finally rolled off me and fell asleep by my side, I briefly
wondered if I should keep him, but dismissed the thought. I tried it
before and it never worked. All my love slaves had outlived their use,
became shadows of their former selves in a matter of weeks. Perhaps it
was my father’s jealous magic that never tolerated any
man by my side. Or perhaps it was my own, the magic of the Mistress
of the Solstice that drew life and love out of everything living, the
magic that taught me the hard way not to keep any mortal bonds.

Besides, I had better things to do. This night with Kirill was all I
needed to draw my thoughts away from men for a while, to satisfy the
urges of my flesh, to prepare me for another glorious Solstice.

I looked at his sleeping form stretched beside me, and let him go.

I did not bother to collect my dress, still heaped at the foot of his
bed. He would wonder when he woke up, but that was not my concern.
Let him wonder, and treasure the memory for as long as he chose.

As a dove I flew away into the night air. In my bird form, I flew
through the tall grass fields, bathing in the night dew to wash off his
sweat and seed, his smell that I did not want to carry with me into the
palace. Then I went home.

 

Ivan

“
H
ere,” Wolf whispered.

Ivan peered into the moonlit glade. Tall grass shimmered silver in the
waning moonlight, blending into the shade of thick firs at the far end.
The lake on the other side was barely visible through the tall reed
fence that left open only a narrow strip of water, its small black
tongues lazily lapping at the muddy bank.

“Keep to the trees,” Wolf said.
“If he sees your tracks, he won’t
land.”

Ivan held his breath as he crept around the glade toward the water. The
gnarled old log loomed out of the grass like a sinking ship, raising
its twisted finger-like twigs toward the darkening sky. Careful to
leave no tracks, Ivan leaned over the log and spread the thin net over
its surprisingly smooth surface. Touching it brought to mind another
analogy. Old bones. Ivan hastily withdrew his hand, pausing at the edge
of the trees to marvel at the way the Net blended with the wood. Even
if he looked very hard, he couldn’t see it at all.

A distant shriek brought him back to reality even before he felt
Wolf’s teeth tugging his shirt. Their sharp pull nearly
sent him tumbling over. He dove for the cover, forcing his shallow
breath out through his nose, so that no sound would escape. Still,
when he finally settled in his shelter of drooping fir branches and
looked at the glade again, he nearly cried out in surprise.

The log was no longer empty. A large bird perched on it, so black that
its feathers seemed to draw in the moonlight, a pit of darkness from
which the dark glistening bead of an eye darted in desperate glances at
the lake and the forest ahead. The eye emanated a light of its own—a
deep amber glow that reminded Ivan of the pit of a dying fire.

“Now,” Wolf whispered.

“But—” Ivan’s
voice caught in his throat as he saw Raven glance his way. It seemed
impossible that anyone could hear him from this distance. But Raven was
an Immortal, and one lesson Ivan had learned well during his travels
with Wolf was not to underestimate the Immortals.

Still, he was supposed to come out of hiding only when Raven was caught
in the Net. No matter how hard he tried, he could see no trace of the
Net on the smooth surface of the log. Nor did Raven behave like he
imagined a trapped bird would. No agonized beating against the
unbreakable magical bonds. No deadly swipes from a razor-sharp beak. He
just sat there, calm, as if taking a rest after a long flight. If
anything, he looked bored.

“I said,
go
,”
Wolf growled.

Startled, Ivan stumbled forward into the opening as if pushed by an
invisible hand. He briefly wondered if Wolf had actually used magic,
despite his promise never to use it on Ivan. But there was no time, and
nothing that Ivan could do as he approached the protruding log through
the dew-covered grass.

“Hello,” he said shakily.

Raven cocked his head to one side. His bored expression changed to one
of amusement.

“I—I—” Ivan stumbled. He knew
it wouldn’t be easy to trap an Immortal and force him
to do his bidding, but this absence of resistance was more unnerving
than any fight. “I have you in my
power,” he said, forcing his voice steady.

Raven shifted on the log, and only then did Ivan notice how he was
shuffling his feet, as if they were tethered to the wood. He also
imagined he saw a delicate web-like thread glimmer against
Raven’s wing, but he couldn’t be sure.
He forced himself not to stare.

“As far as I understand the rules,”
he said, “you must now do what I
say.”

A click of a beak sounded too much like a suppressed chuckle. Or did
Ivan imagine it?

“Ask away, boy,” Raven said.
“What is it you want to know?”

Ivan froze. Was he so easy to read, or did Raven already know what
Ivan wanted? And if so, did anyone else know too? Ivan suppressed the
thought, glancing back into the fir thicket that he knew hid Wolf, the
silent observer. Only one could ask questions. He wished bitterly that
he didn’t have to be the one.

“Why do you think I want
information?” he asked cautiously.

The dry eye glistened with amusement as Raven clicked his beak again.
Its edges looked sharp, and more powerful than the teeth of a wild
beast. Only now, up close, did Ivan realize how much larger Raven was
compared to any other raven he had ever seen.

“Because,” Raven said,
“I know my true worth. I assume you do too, since you
went through all this trouble on my account.”

It would have been so much easier if Raven looked even
a little bit unnerved. As far as Ivan understood, the power of the
magic net could trap Raven for eternity, far longer than the span of
Ivan’s mortal lifetime. But now didn’t
seem to be a good moment to bring it up. He threw another helpless
glance at Wolf’s hiding place. How did he agree to end
up with the task of questioning Raven?

“Your true worth?” he asked.

This is your quest,
Wolf
had said.
You’ll know what
to do.

Back then, Ivan had been certain he would. Yet now, under the
penetrating stare of his captive, he wasn’t sure
anymore.

This time the sound that escaped Raven’s beak seemed
more like a snort.

“If you’ve gone through all the
trouble of capturing me and you don’t know what you
want of me, I pity you, boy.”

Ivan took a breath. “I am told this net will hold you
captive until you bargain your way out.”

Raven gave him a long look. “Those who would bargain
must know what they want. Do you?”

Why was this so difficult? Ivan knew what he wanted. Right? He cleared
his throat. “Tell me how to get into the East Tower
of the Castle.”

The amusement in Raven’s eyes veiled with pity.
“Are you sure this is truly what you
want?”

“Yes.”

“Easy,” Raven said.
“Take the path over there. It leads straight to the
tower wall. The stones are so beaten that a sleek boy like you can
easily climb it. There’s only one window on that side,
at the second storey. It will take you into a circular room, into the
heart of the East Tower. Hardly worth the trouble of capturing me, is
it?”

Ivan shook his head. “I’m told
there’re traps on the way to the
wall.”

“Oh?” The black eye rolled in its
socket. “And who told you that?”

Ivan sighed. “The same person who told me that to gain
your freedom, you have to answer all my questions. And that the Net
makes it impossible for you to lie.”

“A wise person indeed,” Raven said
thoughtfully. “I only wonder why the very same person
couldn’t tell you what you need to know and save us
both the trouble of this spectacle.”

He sounded so much like a grouchy old man, one of those that sit by the
well in every village, endlessly chatting about their neighbors. Except
that this old man was so different, Ivan reminded himself. Bird form
was only a small part of it. He had to watch himself, or Raven could
easily trick him to his doom.

“Tell me how to avoid the traps,”
he said.

“Who told you they can be
avoided?”

Ivan met the creature’s eyes.
“
Can
they be avoided?”

Raven’s gaze wavered and lowered to study the specks of
moonlight glistening on the drops of dew. The air smelled of night
lily, a heady scent that easily went to the head. Ivan inhaled it,
wishing that he could be far away from here. If only he could ever find
peace.

“Yes, they can be,” Raven said at
length.

Ivan exhaled slowly, forcing his breath to quiet down.
“Then, why didn’t you tell me about
them in the first place?”