Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“We don’t keep a tight count, but somewhere north of three hundred thousand.”
I stop short. Three hundred thousand people. “That’s so many.”
A shadow appears in her orange eyes. “There used to be many more, but each war has a cost, and my people are not fighters in the same way some of the others in this realm can be. We’ve suffered heavy losses over the generations.”
I saw the dragon and the tentacled person and the winged monster. All of them look stronger and more fearsome than Rusalka, at least physically. “And having a baby . . . a human leader . . . will benefit them all? That will protect them?”
“Yes. That will boost the naturally occurring magic in the territory. That helps crops grow, soothes the weather, makes it easier for our healers to do their jobs—all sorts of things.” She speaks absently as she guides me up the manor steps and opens the door. “It’s why my people elect the most powerful of us to be leader when the time comes. If the leader’s magic starts to wane, then a new leader is chosen. We don’t bother with bloodlines the way the other territories do, and we’ve benefited as a result.”
So many people. I could help so many people. Yes, the thought of having a child and leaving them behind hurts in a way I don’t know how to conceptualize. But I’ve been dealing with hurt for my entire life. What’s one more to add to the list, especially when the benefit is so expansive? “I’ll do it.”
Rusalka stops short. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll have your baby—the baby. Whoever’s baby. I consent.”
She drops her arm and turns to study my face. I don’t know what she sees there, but it doesn’t seem to make her happy. Her gorgeous face is carefully blank, some of the fire in her deep-orange eyes banked. The banked fire feels like a loss, but I don’t understand how I could lose something when I don’t have anything.
Rusalka shakes her head. “That’s not—”
Something snaps inside me. I’m so heartily tired of being told I don’t know my own mind. “I would very much appreciate if you and Azazel and whoever else would stop telling me things I already know. I am aware I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. I want to help.” All my life, I’ve never managed to measure up to anything, and now the only thing I have to do to help what I think is essentially a country full of people is the one thing I was taught was my purpose for existing.
Have a baby. And I don’t even have to marry some man who’s supposed to lead the relationship and shove me into a box that seems designed to suffocate me.
Rusalka tenses like she’s going to keep arguing, but she finally nods slowly. I can’t help sweeping my gaze over her. We’ve only been around each other for a day, and I’m already getting used to how perfectly the nonhuman parts of her meld with the rest of her. None of the demons I’ve seen depicted in church were feminine—none of the angels, either, now that I think of it—but if ever there was a person created to tempt me . . .
But I don’t really believe that, do I? Rusalka may be a literal succubus, but even with her powers of seduction, she’s shown me more care than most people I’ve known my entire life. More care than Ruth, even, because the only thing Rusalka questions is my decision to have a baby, not every element of my very existence.
She takes a deep breath. “If that’s still your choice at the end of the week, then I’ll honor it.” She holds up one black claw before I can protest. “We have seven years, Belladonna. One week is a small enough ask to make.”
“But—”
“I would like you to join me tonight for some entertainment.” They don’t give me a chance to respond. It feels like one moment I’m trying to find the words to tell them that I don’t need a week to make my decision, and the next Rusalka is stopping in front of my room and laying their hands on my shoulders. They peer down at me, as if searching for the answer to a question I don’t understand.
Rusalka presses a light kiss to my forehead. It’s a touch that should feel innocent—it’s certainly far from any known pleasure zones—but it goes through me like a tornado of fire. I shiver and stare up at them. “What are you doing to me?”
“Nothing.” She smiles slowly. “Yet.”
8
RUSALKA
The moment I open the door to my bedroom, I register that I’m not alone. In the beat it takes to draw my powers around me, encircle my body in flames, a figure steps out of my closet, one of my favorite dresses draped over their arm. I recognize them immediately—Ramanu, one of Azazel’s pet bargainer demons, high enough up the chain of command that they wouldn’t dare trespass without explicit permission.