Mistress of the Solstice (29 page)

With broom in hand, Baba Yaga clambered in and tucked her dress neatly
into the mortar’s opening.

“Can I go with you?” Ivan asked
from the doorway.

“Don’t be a fool,
boy,” she snapped. “The Stream
doesn’t reveal itself to mortals, remember? How
exceptional do you think you are?”

She swept the air with her broom. The wind, raised by the motion,
whistled through the glade. The hut’s door banged
against the logs of the wall. The hinges wailed.

The mortar lifted off and was gone in a cloud of dust.

“Thank you,” Ivan called after
her.

He turned and walked back into the hut, carefully closing the door
behind him.

“Now,” Wolf said. It was so
unexpected to hear his voice after the long silence that Ivan jumped.
“Let’s go and catch some more
rabbits. The old hag’ll be hungry when she comes back.
You don’t want to end up in her
kettle.”

“I thought we were past that,”

“You think too much, boy. Move.
Go.”

“How is it that you didn’t tell me
about your curse before we came here?” Ivan asked
following Wolf out onto grass damp with evening dew.

“I did tell you,” Wolf snapped.
“You just didn’t listen, as
always.”

Ivan sighed. Wolf did say Ivan would have to do all the talking. If
he’d understood what that meant, though, he could
perhaps have prepared better. But, it was useless to argue with Wolf.
Besides, it hardly mattered anymore.

The wolf’s gray tail blended with the shadows on the far
side of the brook. Then came the sound of cracking, and a short squeak.
A moment later Wolf reappeared, a limp furry shape hanging from his
mouth.

“One,” Wolf said, laying the kill
at Ivan’s feet. “Get yourself busy.
We’ll need at least nine this
time.”

Ivan sighed and settled down to clean the meat.

 

Marya

M
y dream tonight was much more vivid. Except when I stepped through the
forest hedge to enter the glade by the Sacrifice Pool, it was suddenly
dark, and although the man turned to face me, I could not make out his
features in the dim light. Then, we were no longer by the Sacrifice
Pool, but in my chamber. He was in front of me, beckoning. Unsure, as
if sleepwalking, I followed him to the dark quadrangle of my bed that I
could sense more than see in the depths of the circular room. I longed
to see his face, I was not afraid anymore, but all I could see was a
pale oval in a frame of black hair.

“You must sleep now,” he whispered,
and I felt his hands search for the ties that undid my dress, I felt
the silky cloth slide down my shoulders, sweep across the skin of my
stomach and thighs, and collapse in a heap around my feet. I felt his
hands run along my naked body in a way that made my skin rise in
goosebumps. This was not the touch of a man who wanted to soothe me to
sleep. This was the touch of arousal, and my body responded to it.

Part of my mind wanted to protest, but another, stronger part, longed
for this closeness. I gave in to the excitement, ready for whatever
was to come.

He took his hands off me and stepped forward to turn down the cover of
my bedding for me. I slid under it. And then, he took off his garments
and slid under the covers after me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but his hand covered my lips, stifling the
words. His face was so close that it almost touched mine. His breath
was cool but it burned me as he whispered:

“Hush, my sweet Marya. You must relax
now.”

I shivered as I felt the smoothness of his bare skin next to mine, the
closeness of his body. Something about it was unthinkable, yet in some
other way it seemed right. Unable to control myself, I sank into his
arms, feeling that I belonged there, in this embrace that was better
than the caresses of all the lovers in the world.

My burning body yielded to the touch of his cool hands with the thirst
of a wanderer stranded in a desert. My mind, a separate entity at the
edge of my consciousness, screamed something that I
didn’t want to hear. I let it go, I shooed it away like
a bothersome fly. I gave in to the bliss no man in the world could give
me.

Until now.

My arms reached out in response to his caress, but he gently pressed
them down to my sides. He whispered in my ear, but I
couldn’t hear the words. Only the coolness of his
breath, the way it touched my burning skin, bringing a tension that
coiled inside me until it broke loose in intense desire.

My mind circled somewhere above, flapping its silly wings.

His hands drove me to the edge of ecstasy and kept me hovering there
until I could feel my body no longer. I was all ecstasy, a pure essence
held together only by my lover’s immense skill. Just a
little more and my ecstasy would be released and I would disappear.

I longed for it. I wanted us to become one, stone and moonlight,
coldness and fire, but he skillfully held me at the edge, touching me
with nothing but his hands, his whispers in my ear sweet, senseless and
tender like a lover’s talk.

Once I opened my eyes and saw him, his onyx-black eyes glowing in his
pale face, indistinct in the darkness of my chamber. He leaned forward
and kissed my eyes closed, but as I searched for his lips with my
hungry mouth, they were gone.

I wished he would ravage me like my father did with his women, satisfy
his wild passion for young pretty flesh on me. I knew he wanted it too,
for his hands faltered in their controlled movements and he held me in
an embrace that was no longer designed to please me, but to quench his
own thirst. And then, as his passion echoed through me, as I felt his
quivering muscles, his manhood pressed tight against my body, I finally
came undone, my ecstasy releasing itself in a surge of such power that
for an endless instant I forgot who I was.

I did not remember what came later, or how he finally
left me, dazed, empty of every feeling except my devotion to this man
and his greater cause.
I am Marya, Mistress
of the Solstice, daughter of Kashchey the Immortal, the best man in the
whole world.
With that thought, I sank into a deep
sleep…

The dream went on. Again, I walked to the Sacrifice Pool and again I saw
the dark man sitting, crouched by the water. But this time a feeling of
joy engulfed me and I stepped through the forest hedge and called out
to him, my lover.

He turned his head.

It was Kashchey.

My mind screamed in agony, but I smiled.

His lips smiled in return, but his eyes were cold.

Once again, I forced my mind to retreat and gave in to the happiness of
seeing him here. It overwhelmed me, leaving no room for cold. I ran to
meet him. He jumped up and lifted me in his arms, circling the glade
with me.

I wanted to hold him, but I could not. I held something important
clenched in my hand, though I did not know what it was.

I searched for a place to put it down, but Kashchey stroked my body with
such passion that I forgot.

“I was waiting for you, my love,”
he whispered.

He lay me gently on the grass and stretched next to me. My heart
quivered with bliss as I watched him undo the strings of my dress until
his hand found its way inside to caress my swelling breasts.

“Someone will see us,” I whispered.
“We should go inside.”

He leaned over me and this time there was a smile in his onyx-black
eyes.

“No one ever comes to these woods,”
he said. “And I can’t wait. I want
you now!”

He pulled my dress open all the way, leaving me naked below the sky.

I closed my eyes and gave myself to the touch of his hands. The forest
stood still around us and the slow river followed its endless course.

There was nobody else in the world.

Nothing else mattered.

The strange, oval object I had been clenching in my hand rolled out of
my open palm and disappeared in the tall grass. It rolled to the edge
of the water and I heard a splash as it disappeared into the amber
depth of the lake.

I never learned what it was.

As I opened my eyes, I saw Praskovia standing by my bed. It was very
early, but the first beams of the morning sun had already crept in
through the narrow stone window.

The day of the Solstice.

The longest day of the year.

As Praskovia handed me my morning drink, I saw her hands tremble as they
clenched the clay mug. I sat in my bed and sipped the hot herb brew,
studying my handwoman.

Her face was pale and her eyes red. If I didn’t know her
better, I would have thought she was crying.

“Praskovia?” I asked handing her
back the empty mug.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Are you feeling well?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I stood up and pulled my silky black dress over my head.

“You can’t fool me, you
know.” I peered into her eyes.
“You must tell me what’s
wrong.”

For the first time in memory, she avoided my gaze.

I heard wings flap behind me as Raven flew in through the open window.

“Leave her alone, Marya,” he said.
“She’s under
orders.”