Page 56 of Devil's Doom

Lech directs me with a wave of his arm, and we walk back through the forge while he explains in a quiet murmur.

“The rebellion used to be much smaller a few centuries ago. It was before Perun got aggressive with the toll, and few people saw reasons to fight him. Wera believes the old way was better. According to her, every newcomer is a potential traitor, even though we desperately need more people. The battles we fight are much more challenging than in the past. She still thinks we’re fighting in an uprising, but the master calls it a war now, and he’s right.”

“The master,” I mutter under my breath. “The man shits and pisses just like everyone, you know.”

A ghost of Lech’s familiar smirk grazes his lips. “I’d be careful with comments like this one, darli… Jaga. If you let some of the rebels know you’re privy to the master’s bathroom habits, they will beg you to sneak out some of his waste so they can put it on their altars.”

I make a face. “You’re joking. Please, say you’re joking.”

“He’s more powerful than a lot of Perun’s gods,” Lech says, growing serious. “Even though he doesn’t call himself a god, he is worshipped here.”

I scoff, remembering very well how Woland tried to convince me of his divine nature. He might not ask his followers to call him a god, but he surely demanded it from me.

Just like he told me to call him master when I was on my knees in front of him. I wonder if it gives him a thrill every time his followers bow and address him that way. It definitely seems like he gets off on it.

“This is one of the kitchens,” Lech says, leading me into a vast space crowded with chochols and kobolds cutting vegetables and meat on large tables laden with produce. Three enormous hearths crackle with fire, big pots bubbling over the flames. The space doesn’t smell of smoke at all.

“Lech!” A tall chochol woman with a vicious-looking black beak and gray feathers on her arms comes over, giving him a keen stare with her orange eyes. “I heard some rumors that you brought your blood bag down here!”

Lech stiffens, and I shoot him a curious look.

“She’s not a blood bag,” he says with a tight smile. “Sure, it started that way. But now… I don’t know. Don’t call her that.”

“Oooh, is my testy upir boy finally in love? High time!” The chochol woman’s eyes turn to me, and she clicks her beak. “Heard you brought in a volatile witchling, too. Hello, dear. My name’s Krystyna, but everyone calls me Egg.”

“I’m Jaga. Why are you called Egg?”

The woman clicks her beak again, her voice cheerful. “Because I was one of the best con women before I decided to stop letting the big ones suck my magic. I could swap eggs with no one being the wiser, and all it took was swift fingers and some charm.”

I understand what she means. She probably swapped charged eggs for empty ones, conning people into thinking she paid them. I give her a smile, making a point to remember her face, names, and skill. This one is useful to know.

She wiggles her clawed fingers at us. “Gotta go back to work! Hope you like tonight’s dinner, Jaga!”

“Please, don’t mention this to Rada,” Lech says with a sour face as we leave. “I don’t want her to feel hurt.”

I nod slowly. “I assume a blood bag is someone you use as food and don’t care about?”

Lech nods with a heavy sigh. “She’s not that. She never really was. It’s just… The rebels are tough people who can hold a grudge. And since Rada wasn’t one of us, she was fair game to anyone who had a bone to pick with me. It’s better if you aren’t seen caring about other people too much, especially those on the outside.”

“Hm.” I look around the next place he leads me into, which is a vast, low-ceilinged dining room. Rows upon rows of tables and benches fill the space, a quarter of them occupied by upirs and a few other types of creatures. The tables are laden with pitchers and cups, no food in sight.

As Lech serves himself some blood, I think about what he said. Woland made the same argument—caring about others is a weakness.Loveis a weakness.

That’s not what worries me, though. If Lech’s fears are justified, it means he has enemies in the rebel ranks. Enemies determined enough to hurt his loved ones if they don’t belong to the movement.

I can’t imagine fighting side by side with people who wish me ill. I’d never feel safe knowing they might stab me in the back during a battle.

“But now that she’s here, Rada is safe?” I press when Lech comes back, his meal devoured within seconds.

“Yes. It’s forbidden to attack other rebels outside of training, which is why most people here hate you already. You really did a number on us, darli…Fuck.Jaga, you attacked some of the old guard, like Wera. They will never trust you, no matter what you do, and many others listen to them. But now that you’re sufficiently punished, they should leave you alone. He did you a favor.”

Lech points at my throat, and I bristle. “I should remember choking someone means doing them a favor.”

He smirks. “Sure it is. In the right context, there’s nothing better.”

I look away, feeling my cheeks burn. Lech laughs under his breath. “I knew that wasn’t a real punishment. A man who looks at a woman like that…” But he breaks off, clearing his throat.

“What?” I ask sharply. “Finish your thought.”

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