Page 86 of Devil's Deal

“Did she now?” Wiosna mutters, her voice carrying a threat.

“Blessings upon Ola and her baby,” I say, nodding solemnly. “Let Mokosz watch over them both. So, do you believe there are any people who’d rather come to me about delivering a baby or sitting by the dead? Or am I just a curious novelty?”

Ida smiles, all pretty and dimpled. I find myself watching her not with envy, as I once did, but with pleasure. She really is a marvelous beauty and definitely doesn’t need my potion. She’ll still want it, though.

“Well, my mother is on your side and so am I, though with Janek unable to perform recently, I won’t have any reason to call on you. I’m working on my friends, but you know the way it is. The elders decide on the most important matters, and to them, whoever lives in the whisperer’s cottage is the whisperer.”

I nod thoughtfully. Getting the cottage is my priority, anyway. It was supposed to be mine after Wiosna died.

“Thank you for telling me. And how are you?” I ask, putting my hand on her shoulder to stop.

We’re alone among the meadows, long grasses swaying in the hot wind of the late summer morning. In the distance, I see a few kerchiefed figures bent low, their sickles flashing in the sun.

“Everything good at home?”

She sighs, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know. I hate dousing Janek, because he is so numb afterward. Not like himself. But I’m afraid to stop. He really… What he did…”

She looks around, suddenly watchful and tense, and my heart aches for her. The pretty, vivacious Ida, the Kupala queen, deserves so much better than a violent husband.

“He forced himself on me a few times,” she murmurs, her face averted and burning with shame. “I didn’t want to because of the itching, and he just… He just put his hand over my mouth and made me. I fought but… I was too weak. A woman fighting for her dignity will never be as strong as a man who wants to fuck.”

She laughs bitterly. I don’t know what to say other than curse her husband, which won’t do anyone any good. So I’m silent, and we both stand there, surrounded by the comforting susurration of the wind combing through the grasses.

“My mother said to just let him next time and pretend to enjoy it so he’s done faster,” Ida adds ruefully, still not looking at me. “He is my husband, after all. He has a right to me.”

I grit my teeth, wishing I could tell her it’s not the case, that she is her own woman and doesn’t have to cater to her husband’s wishes, but that would be a lie. A woman belongs to her husband in body and soul. It sounds romantic before we get married, and young girls are sheltered from the ugly reality of what such ownership truly means.

“It shouldn’t be like this. I’m sorry, Ida. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Her eyes flash up in surprise, but she shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry. You helped me more than anyone did. It’s just… I wish that medicine weren’t necessary. He can be sweet, you know, and good to me. It’s not all bad. But it’s like the medicine takes away all of him, the bad, yes, but the good, too. He’s just… numb. Like he doesn’t care. And yet, it makes me feel safe. I don’t know, maybe I’d be happier if I had children. That’s what mama says. She was miserable until she had me and my siblings.”

“Do you want to get pregnant? We can adjust the dose so he gets some spirit back, but it’s risky,” I say, turning to practicalities when I don’t have words to comfort her.

Nothing short of promising to poison her husband seems adequate, and I already know from Bogna it’s not the right thing to say. Women are so strangely protective over the men who hurt them.

I suppose I’m no better. Didn’t Woland knock me about, threaten me, kill my friend and make me watch? Didn’t he sic a beast on me? And I still opened my legs for him.

But it’s just like Ida says. There is good with the bad.

“Not yet, but thank you,” Ida says, her cheerful, confident mask falling back into place as she looks up with a small smile. “I’m grateful for the respite from his attentions, truly. I’ll enjoy it for a bit longer. Besides, my sister is pregnant with her first and I wouldn’t want to steal her thunder. Say, Jaga, when will the beauty potions be ready? I’d like to get one.”

I smile, and we walk again, the village getting closer. “In seven days. And you’ll get a supply for free if you agree to be my eyes and ears. I want to know what Czeslawa is doing and if people are pleased with her services. You’re good at gleaning every piece of gossip, I know. Everyone wants to talk to you, because you’re such a pleasure to be around.”

She giggles at the compliment, and the innocent, arrogant girl is back for a moment, replacing the disenchanted wife.

“Well, I can tell you right now she talks shit behind your back,” Ida says, her eyes glittering with the excitement of sharing something I don’t know. “She’ll say things like, ‘A young whisperer such as Jaga wouldn’t know how to treat this,’ or ‘This only works for experienced whisperers,’ or she might insinuate you’re a witch. She keeps saying how unlikely it is that a normal young woman could have slain such a cursed beast like the werewolf without magical help… Uh, Jaga, why are you smiling? I’d be furious.”

Yes, I’m grinning, and even though Czeslawa’s badmouthing bothers me—mainly because I’m still terrified of being accused of witchcraft—it also makes me triumph.

“Because she calls me a whisperer,” I say with glee. “If even she admits I am one, that means I’ve come further along than I thought. Thank you, Ida.”

She nods with a smile, throwing her long, wheat-colored braid over her shoulder.

“I’ll keep listening. And you save the best potion for me,” she says with a cheeky grin and runs off down the path among the cottages, a picture of youth and happiness.

A chicken digging in the dirt by the path clucks in fright, jumping away in a flurry of feathers when Ida passes it at breakneck speed. I smile, happy we’re friends now. Only a month ago, I wouldn’t have believed I might enjoy her company.

But as soon as I realize it—how I like Ida, how she trusts me, sharing her most intimate pain—my smile freezes on my lips.

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