Page 127 of Devil's Doom

He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. They are calculating in a way that makes my legs weak with foreboding. The warm, affectionate lover from before the battle is gone. This Woland is a stranger, maybe even an enemy.

“Because he serves me, not Perun. His name is Igor. And as of yesterday, he is the captain. His predecessor died.”

Died.Probably killed by Woland in the battle. I huff with outrage. Igor was bad enough as the second in command, but with unchecked power over the city, he will be a nightmare. The likes of him should never rule over others.

“He’s a rapist,” I hiss. “I bet he has dozens of bastard children all over the city.”

Woland raises an eyebrow, some of his tension seeping away. He regards me with something bordering on amusement.

“Do you begrudge him?” he asks, sweeping his arm toward the table to invite me to sit. “We need to repopulate the city, you know. His efforts should be appreciated.”

I gape, not moving from my spot by the door. “What? Didn’t you hear me? He rapes women!”

Woland shrugs and turns away, walking back to his throne. A bottle of my wine sits on the table, and as he settles in, it tips to fill his goblet.

“I thought he had a preference for wilas. What exactly do you mind?”

“What do I…”

I am speechless from outrage as I follow him. When I stand by his side, Woland raises an eyebrow in mild interest, his posture relaxed. I hit the table with both fists.

“I mind him being a rapist!”

The devil has the gall to snort with amusement. “Taking a wila is not rape. That’s what they are made for, and the only reason for their existence. Now, I’d be concerned if the man had a taste for biedas. They weren’t made for fucking. But wilas? Sex is what they live for.”

I release a shocked breath, gaping with disbelief. I can’t understand what he’s saying. Rada’s face flashes in my mind’s eye, terrified as a dragon coaxed her away to rape her. She’s more than a body to fuck.

“They are sentient beings with wills of their own,” I say, my voice dropping low, shock turning into fury. “They have feelings! How can you even say that when you have wilas right here, serving your cause? Don’t you care about your people?”

Woland shrugs mildly, not in the least shamed by my words. “I don’t have many wila followers, to be fair. Their magic is weak.”

I reel away as if slapped. He watches me over the rim of his goblet, his eyes curious. I hate that I am so agitated while he’s completely calm, so I make an effort to tighten my control and sit down rigidly, placing my clasped hands on the table.

“Be that as it may, they aren’t toys made for other people’s whims,” I hiss. “They are people.”

He takes a sip of his wine and puts the goblet away, his eyes flashing with a triumphant smile.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, love,” he says, the endearment mocking. “Because I was there when Strzybog made the first wila, and that was precisely his purpose: to make a toy. He fucked her for a few days without breaks before he finally got bored, and then went off to make more wilas. That’s their only purpose: to be fucked. He even made sure they didn’t have enough magic to resist.”

For a moment, I don’t know what to say. His argument is so profoundly wrong, I don’t even understand why I should quarrel against it. A god’s whim shouldn’t decide a person’s life and purpose. Woland takes another sip and snorts, watching me struggle.

“If that helps, I told Strzybog it was a moronic idea. Creating a bies should be a thoughtful process, because, as you said, they are sentient beings. But all he cares about is satisfying his stupid whims. Did you know Strzybog created mamunas, too? He had a thing for lactating women, so he made himself a large-breasted bies that constantly makes milk. Fucking idiot.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “So that’s it? Just because… Because a god with no sense made them that way, they are all sentenced to a life of being used? How is that right? It’s not their fault!”

Woland sighs heavily, and I can tell he’s getting impatient. “But it is their fault, sweetheart. Don’t you know why people become bieses? It’s because they are to blame for something. That’s how it works.”

“But sometimes their only fault is dying gruesomely,” I hiss, frustrated. “It’s not right!”

Woland only shrugs. “Tell that to Perun. It’s his rule, after all.”

That’s as good an opening as any. I rally my self-control to contain my anger, even though I want to scream at Woland for working with a rapist dragon. He clearly doesn’t mind, for all his clever arguments.

“And what will your rules be? If you win?”

He sprawls more comfortably in his throne, watching me for a long moment before he speaks, his voice calm and careful. He’s on his guard, making me suspicious.

Here come the lies or deflection.

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