Page 53

An Imbalance in the Scales of Nature

As they rode into the night, Adelina’s ribs tightened. She wasn’t at all sure if it was from the fracture or the shame holding her in a tight grip. Her head and muscles ached, and all she wanted to do was sleep. To rid herself of the hellish nightmare in which she lived.

The constant motion of riding did nothing to soothe the nausea churning inside her, or the gritty sensation in her eyes.

When they finally stopped to make camp, a handful of soldiers set about their hunt for food, while she conjured a fire and with the sluggish help of Damir, built her canvas tent. A gentle rain patted against the fabric.

Filip remained close by, keeping an eye on her and her husband. Since she’d done as he’d commanded and killed the council member and her apprentice, it seemed he was rewarding her with time with Damir.

They should never have died in the first place.

Damir rested one of his bound hands on her wrist, dragging her away from her sour thoughts.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For saving my life. I can’t even begin to think about what you must be going through.”

She looked at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. “Don’t thank me. I am no better than he is.”

“Hey.” He tilted her chin until she faced him. “Look at me. You are nothing like him. Don’t ever let him make you believe it. He wants to break you.”

She shook her head as her eyes prickled. “He already has.”

Brushing him off, she set about collecting sticks to keep the fire burning through the night. She couldn’t bear to face him or hear his words. Shame consumed her, and it wouldn’t be long before he saw it, too.

Once the sun set and their bellies were full, Filip and the soldiers retired to their tents. Damir was kept away from her—concealed within a tent manned by those on watch for the night.

Tossing and turning, unable to rid her mind of the images of severed limbs and bloodied bodies, she groaned and sat up. Dragging a hand over her face, she strained her eyes in the dim light of the fire shining through the thin walls of her tent.

She rummaged in her cloak pocket, then drew the book she’d taken from the library.

With a flick of her finger, she conjured a ball of light, which hovered over her shoulder.

Flicking through the pages, she frowned as she traced the unfamiliar words with her finger.

What could they mean, and more importantly, why would this volume about nether magic be written in a different language to the first one?

Checking the front and back pages, she searched for a clue—anything to help her understand the book’s contents—but came back equally mystified.

Tucking the book away, she collapsed against the ground and clamped her eyes shut. She knew, if she were lucky enough to find sleep, she’d be haunted by the faces of those who’d perished. There’d be no escaping the nightmares awaiting her.

She found herself in the cave again. Water dripped from the walls, patting the floor in a steady rhythm.

Darkness blurred her vision, making it almost impossible for her to make out the jagged surfaces of the cave.

Why had her dream brought her here—to the place where Svarog had shown himself to her?

“Hello?” she called—her voice echoing onwards, distant and detached from her body.

Somewhere ahead, a golden light popped into existence, then spun and swelled. She shielded her eyes from its brightness, and when the light dimmed a fraction, Svarog stood in its place. The mighty dragon, God of Sun, yet she did not feel his benevolence.

“Why have you brought me here?” She crossed her arms. “I presumed you preoccupied with whatever it is you gods do in when you’re not in this realm.”

“I can ssssensssse the ache in your heart,” he said tenderly as his tail wrapped around him. “I am ssssorry for the pain you endure. ”

She scoffed. “Forgive me, but I don’t believe you. You chose me, yet you have left me to face this darkness alone.”

“I may be a God, but I have no physsssical being in your realm—you manifesssst me in your mind when I need you to ssssee me,” he said—his gaze gentle on hers. “However, I have ssssenssssed the sssscalessss of nature are imbalancssssed.”

“You’re late on your assumption.” She rolled her eyes. “Many have already died. More are likely to.”

“I undersssstand your contempt, but I have appeared to you in your dreamssss for a reasssson, Adelina,” he said.

“You oncsssse assssked me why V elessss would allow Antanov and Filip to be reborn into the physsssical realm. I have ssssincsssse pondered your quesssstion and believe I may have your ansssswer.”

Despite her prickling annoyance, her attention piqued. “Tell me.”

“Much like how you and Filip are each other’ssss natural balancssssse, Velessss issss mine.

” His voice deepened with a note of what she considered disdain for the God of the Underworld.

“He alsssso doessss not have a physsssical pressssencsssse in your realm for issss sssshackled to the realm in which he rulessss. I have come to believe hissss dessssire for dominion liessss elssssewhere.”

He let his words hang in the air, allowing her to draw her own conclusions.

“You think Veles wants to dominate the living plane?” She raised a brow. Despite her scepticism, her blood cooled.

“Why elsssse would he be concsssserned about the three countriessss? Why would he care whether Filip or Antanov ssssuccsssseeded in gaining control?” he questioned.

“I asked Filip the same things, but, of course, he avoided them,” she said.

“Assss godssss, we are sssseparate from the living plane, but I have causssse to believe Velessss hassss grown bored. He sssseekssss a new kingdom.” His wings flared, whipping a breeze through the cave.

“He wants to break through to the living realm.” An icy shiver jolted her.

Nodding, his beady eyes fixed on hers. “I ssssee you have found ssssomething to confirm our ssssuspicionssss.”

“The book?” she said. “Well, perhaps not. It’s written in a different language unless you know how to translate it.”

“I can blessss you with the knowledge.” As his slippery words left his mouth, a golden light shone from him, enveloping her. “Conssssider it my way of adjussssting thosssse sssscalessss.”

“Let’s hope it’s enough.” She straightened her back, rejuvenated with a new sense of purpose. He’d helped her, after all. “And I hope your words prove true. Otherwise, I will add your trustworthiness to the list of things I have already lost on this dark path.”

His forked tongue flicked out the corner of his mouth. “Farewell, Adelina Orlova.”

She bolted upright, a layer of sweat lining her forehead. Feeling the warmth of his magic on her skin, she could’ve sworn the dream had been real.

Leaning forward, she grabbed the book and flipped through the pages.

She couldn’t afford to draw any attention in her direction.

When she landed on the centre page, she squinted.

Smothering a laugh of amazement, she watched the letters shift and reorganise themselves into words she could comprehend.

If the god she’d trusted could do one thing to help her, it was surely that.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The passage spoke of the living plane, the Underworld, of Svarog and Veles—two halves of the same soul.

A mirror image to her and Filip. Yet the difference was the gods had been at war with each other for centuries.

The text spoke of Veles’ failed attempt to break through the barrier between realms a millennium ago.

And history was repeating itself—he was using Antanov and Filip as his emissaries.

If they succeeded, a hole would be ripped through the barrier.

Veles and the demons of the Underworld would be free to roam the realm.

Mind reeling, she stashed the book away and fought the urge to scramble out of her tent and go to Damir.

This was yet another secret she must keep from her husband—keep him safe—and find a way to stop Filip.

More than ever, she longed for the one book she needed above all else—the one Yelena swore was in the library in Saintlandsther Council.

The one Filip had likely stolen when he’d cleared out the entire astral magic collection.

She prayed a quick thanks to Svarog for reminding her of her purpose.

∞∞∞

Songbirds woke her. Sunlight shone through the thin canvas of her tent, and the early morning breeze made her teeth chatter. Whipping on her cloak, she tugged it tight about her shoulders. When she climbed out of the tent, a waft of roasting meat filled her nose. Her stomach grumbled.

Soldiers sat around a fire, eating their meal. Damir was positioned nearby, hunched over a small portion of burned scraps. She beelined for him.

Glancing up, he gave her a tired smile. “Morning.”

“Morning to you, too.” She lowered onto the ground beside him. “Where’s Filip?”

“Off speaking with some General, I think.” His gaze hollowed. “There’s been talk amongst the men of the siege planned for Temauten. There’s no way for us to even warn our families.”

“No,” she admitted. “But when the attack starts, head straight to your home. Get our parents out of Aramoor. Urge them into the forest, and as far away as they can get. I don’t want them to be there when Filip forces my hand.”

He nodded, then clasped her hand and squeezed. “I’ll make sure they’re safe.”

Within the hour, the camp was dismantled, the horses saddled, and Filip led the army back to the meandering dirt path leading to the forest along the Temauten border.

The following ten days’ journey to the border passed at an excruciatingly slow pace. The serenity of the forest was a welcome sight for Adelina—its peacefulness cleansed her mind of the trauma she’d faced at Saintlandsther and gave her a moment of respite from what was to come.