Mistress of the Solstice (34 page)

In a few moments we all heard it.

Distant splashing, a rustling of reeds around the bend of the lake, a
faint sound that became louder as something—somebody-came crushing
toward us through the forest undergrowth.

A silhouette took shape, visible through the
reed-choked shoreline against the flashes of the bonfire. A man
carrying something heavy in his arms. A
body…
A naked woman.

“Alyona.” My eyes welled with tears
as I watched Ivan lay her gently on the ground at our feet.

She looked quite dead. Splotches of green weeds covered her arms and
legs and tangled in her long wet hair. She was paler than the moon now
shining brightly in the sky, and her half-opened eyes held no spark of
life in them. Her skin was torn where her body must have brushed
against underwater rocks, and a grimace of agony bared her teeth,
twisting her once pretty face into an ugly snarl.

I felt nausea rise, as if somebody had punched me in the stomach. My
legs folded under me and I sank to the ground by
Alyona’s side. Tears prickled at the back of my throat.
I swallowed them, forced them down as I took her cold stiff hands,
clenched together in what must have been an attempt to free herself
from the deadly weeds.

Never before had I been forced to see the result of my deeds. And now,
there was no way to deny this anymore. I killed her. I had killed many
others before her.

What have I done?

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I made no move to hold them back
anymore.

“Don’t worry,
Marya,” Ivan said gently. “She
will be all right.”

Once again, he pulled out the glowing vial from his belt. Mesmerized, I
watched him open the lid and sprinkle water over
Alyona’s body.

As soon as the droplets touched her face, her grimace smoothed into a
peaceful expression. Color flowed back into her cheeks. Her eyes closed
and then reopened, filled with new life.

“Mistress,” she whispered.

I wanted to speak, to reassure her that it was all over, but the
treacherous tears were back in my throat. I held the tears back. My
voice stayed with them. All I could do was shake my head, clenching her
now-warm hand in both of mine.

I had never seen the Water of Life do its work before.

The words of the prophecy rang in my head.
He bringeth new life for the new
sacrifice.

I looked at Ivan in wonder.
How did he do it?

And then another, horrifying thought came,
unbidden.
What will happen to my father now,
without a soul to feed him?

“Get up, girl,” the Gray Wolf said
to Alyona. “It’s over. Nobody is
going to hurt you again.”

“Here is your dress,” Ivan said,
reappearing from somewhere with her ceremonial dress in his hands.

We helped her back into the dress and I smoothed her hair, still unable
to speak. Then Praskovia and her maids stepped out of the forest from
the direction of the bonfire glade and silently led Alyona away.

“Now,” my father said to Ivan.
“Give me back the Needle.”

The Gray Wolf stepped forward to Ivan’s side.
“I’ve volunteered to be its keeper,
Kashchey. We have some business to finish.” He
smacked his lips and I saw the glistening Needle sticking out of his
mouth, between his teeth, just as if he were chewing a glistening stem
of grass.

I saw my father go pale.

“Give it to me!” he demanded.

“Come, Kashchey. Let’s settle some
scores, shall we? You owe it to Marya.”

To me?
What kind of
nonsense was this? I was the one who owed everything to my father. My
powers, my high station, my life. What could Wolf possibly mean?

“Leave Marya out of
this.” A falter in Father’s voice
made me shiver. Was he
afraid
?

He didn’t devour the virgin’s soul. Of,
Gods, I failed him, all because of my foolishness.

Wolf took another step toward my father. “You owe her
this, Kashchey. She always thought you were her closest kin. Have the
courage to tell her yourself. Whose daughter is
she?”

“Mine!”

Wolf bit gently on the Needle in his mouth and my
father’s face twitched. In pain? Anger? I
couldn’t tell.

“Let it be, Wolf,” Raven said
quietly. I turned to him in surprise. Such pain in his voice.

Stop!
I wanted to shout.
Stop hurting my father and Raven, the two
wise, powerful beings who made up my whole world. Stop causing them
pain.
And more than that, I realized. I did not
want to learn why this conversation pained them. If I did, my whole
world would fall apart. I knew this much.

But I had no power to stop it.

“All right!” Father said.
“So, Marya is Raven’s daughter. What
difference does it make?”

What?
The world around me
was going mad.
Me? Raven’s
daughter?

“He gave her up of his own free
will!” my father said.

Wolf shook his head. “His spirit was broken, Kashchey,
and you took advantage, because she was so perfect for you.”

Enough. Stop this madness at
once.
“What are you all talking
about?” I demanded.

Wolf turned his gray snout to me.

His eyes shone like two yellow moons, moons marred with vertical slits
of deeper orange. His gaze drew me in. Two pools of light filled my
vision, momentarily blinding me with their brightness. Then the light
faded to normal, and I stood looking at a forest meadow, and a cozy
little house cradled in the curve of a quietly tinkling brook.

I’ve seen this place before. Where?

In my dreams, perhaps?

A young woman ran into sight. She was laughing. A wreath of wild asters
crowned her head and she carried a bunch of forest bluebells. She sank
onto the grass by the brook and dropped the flowers, breathing heavily
and looking with expectation back in the direction from whence
she’d come.

She was so beautiful that my breath caught with longing. I watched the
perfect movements of her slender fingers stroke the flower stems, then
smooth the waves of her long black hair. I admired the elegant line of
her neck, and her clear green eyes, glowing like two emeralds in her
warm, lively face. They were filled with laughter, and like her whole
being, emanated happiness and health.

She could have been the image of me, had she not been so warm, so happy,
so full of life and love. No one would ever mistake her for me.

Who is she?

The girl didn’t have long to wait. Another shape emerged
from behind the bushes at the edge of the glade. A man. Pale,
dark-haired, with dreamy eyes and a beaked nose.

He sat on the grass next to her. They looked into each
other’s eyes and laughed. Then she fell into his arms
and, after a lifetime of embraces and kisses, settled with her head on
his lap. She was like a cat, playing with her bluebells, quite content
with herself. The man looked down at her with such happiness that my
heart ached for him.

Distantly I could hear faint sounds from the world I’d
left behind when I submerged into the yellow depths of
Wolf’s eyes, but they meant nothing in the face of this
strangely familiar scene.

It was like looking into my Mirror, but infinitely more real. I could
even smell the flowers in her hands, the fragrance of her skin, fresh
like water in a clear forest spring.

The love in the man’s eyes was unbearable to watch.

“I have to go, Elena.” His voice
was low, and deeper than I would have expected from his slight frame.
And it was so familiar that I could almost sense his presence,
somewhere, just out of my reach.

“Will you be long?” she asked, much
too busy weaving together a garland of bluebell stems to return the
man’s look.

Such anguish in his eyes! Such pain at leaving her!

Why am I forced to watch this?

I struggled to break free, but couldn’t. Wolf held me
firmly in his power.

“No, my love,” his voice was almost
a whisper. “I’ll be back
soon.”

She lifted her head as he stood, but she didn’t get up
with him. She lay sprawled on the grass, watching him like a playful
kitten.

The man shifted shape.

It was fascinating to watch. I must look like this when I change into a
dove, but I’d never watched myself do it. He bent and
his form shrank into a small black shape. Where a man had stood a
moment ago, there was now a bird.

Raven?

He spread his wings and flew out of sight.

I drew away from Wolf, breathing hard. Everyone
watched me intently. But I had eyes only for the black bird, motionless
on his branch.

“Raven?” I gasped.

“What did the beast show you?” my
father demanded.

For the first time in my life I ignored him. I couldn’t
take my eyes off Raven’s still form.

“You had a human form?” I
whispered.

He shut his eyes.

Wolf nudged me. “That’s not the end of
the story. Watch closely, Marya.”

“What is this?” I demanded.
“What kind of magic are you imposing on
me?”

“The same magic as is contained within your Mirror.
The magic of the Primals. Now, watch, girl, before I lose my
patience.”

I didn’t want to watch. But I couldn’t
help it.

The maiden, Elena, was now alone. She left her bluebells heaped on the
grass and walked into the house. A moment later she came out again to
look up into the sky.

And then a new figure appeared in the glade.

My heart leapt, then stood still in my chest.

He walked with the confident, springing steps of a born charmer, a
conqueror who had just spotted prey worthy of his attention.

My father, Kashchey the Immortal.

I’d been told that, in the old days,
he’d used charm to win his women rather than brutal
force. Even in my day I had seen it often enough to recognize that
seductive look on his face. Worse, I saw a matching look of interest in
the girl’s green eyes, imperfectly concealed by a
charming expression of boredom.

I didn’t need to watch further to know what happened
next.

“Enough,” I said, stepping away
from Wolf. “I don’t want to watch any
more. I don’t see why you have to show me
this.”

My father’s victories over women often had unfair and
destructive consequences, but I’d learned long ago not
to care. Now, here, in my unbalanced state, I didn’t
want another desperate story forced on me. So, my father had taken away
Raven’s love. That was between the two of them. Why did
I have to care?

Wolf’s rumbling growl vibrated through the ground.

“Step away from him, Marya!” my
father ordered. “You don’t have to
submit to this nonsense!”

“Oh, yes, she does.” Wolf smiled
through clenched teeth. He looked into my eyes again with his shining
yellow gaze and I couldn’t resist him anymore.

It was as I’d expected. The airy-headed maiden fell head
over heels in love with my charming father and followed him to his
castle. In her short farewell, she told Raven that Kashchey was her
true love, and the silly bird-man gave her his blessing instead of
beating some sense into her foolish head.

His grief was hard to watch. He shook with it for what seemed like
weeks. Months? I could not tell. When he had finally composed himself,
he walked out of his little cottage and, under a dawn sky, he turned
himself into Raven again. And then, he had spoken the words whose power
shook the glade, the forest, and the cottage.

I didn’t understand them, but as a shape-shifter, I
knew. He had forsaken his human form. He had locked himself into his
bird form for eternity.

This was why I had never known he had been a human once.

But there was still more to see.

The vision shifted to our city, to the plaza in front of the castle that
I instantly recognized. Elena emerged from the main gate and walked up
to two people waiting for her on the cobblestones. The first, a tall
thin girl with a long braid, looked familiar. The way she moved, the
majestic posture that made her look like a noblewoman despite her
simple peasant dress. She turned and I saw the familiar curve of her
neck, the line of her round cheek, sweet and glowing like a young
peach.

Praskovia?

I knew she’d been a beauty in the past, but
I’d never realized the majesty of her noble grace. It
made here stand out even next to Elena, surely the most beautiful woman
in the world.

A movement in the tall narrow window above their heads caught my
attention. My father’s face came into view. He also
spotted Praskovia. The predator’s glint in his eyes had
returned. But his look quickly faded to boredom as he slid his eyes
over Elena. Neither of the girls noticed him.

I recognized the man standing next to them. He was younger, and his
beard and long straight hair weren’t white, but his
light blue eyes shone with that same spirit I’d seen
earlier today in my father’s dungeon. The man I saved
from my father’s wrath, now lying upstairs in the
castle, safe in my servants’ care.

Praskovia’s father.

The scene changed, and with a sinking heart I looked into a clearing at
the side of the lake, the very same one in which we now stood. I looked
down into the mirror gleam of the Sacrifice Pool with its treacherous
currents rippling underneath the smooth surface. I looked up, and saw
my father and Elena walk out from between the trees and stop to admire
the view.

My skin crept as I recognized this scene.

My dream.

Except that now I was an observer, not a participant as I watched Elena
walk next to my father in springy, vigorous steps. Blessed Kupalo, what
was my bond to this woman?

My heart ached to break free, but I couldn’t move. Even
if Wolf released me now, I wouldn’t be able to stop
watching.

I could sense everything through a double pair of eyes. Watching from
both aside and within, I felt the touch of the gentle summer breeze,
the silky grass at my feet, the pleasant coolness emanating from the
water. I sensed the love she felt for the man walking next to her, the
man who thought of her with nothing but boredom, whose eyes were
already set on his next innocent victim.