The Magic Queen (7 page)

“So then why are you so changed, love?”

Her lips thinned, and his twitched.

“I mean, Baba.”

She rolled her eyes but answered him anyway. “I’m slave to the thrice moon. The crone is merely only one of my forms.”

Surprised that she’d actually deigned to answer him, he nodded.

“I know what that is. The maiden. The mother. The crone. But I thought you had sisters.” If he wasn’t mistaken, and he never was, she seemed impressed.

But she shook her head. “The tales are greatly exaggerated. The truth is, I’m three forms in one, but I suppose it’s easier for those not in the know to assume I’m three separate people since my looks differ greatly from moon to moon.”

“Which form do you prefer most?”

Normally, he’d not care about the answer, but he found himself enjoying their little
tête-à-tête
, and truth be told, he was curious now that he’d asked it. He studied her.

“What?” she snapped when he said nothing. Her fingers flitted along the square neckline of her peasant’s gown.

The nervous gesture tugged a smile to his lips. “Will you not answer my question, love?”

Her look was droll. “Since you cannot seem to comprehend anything I say to you anyway, no, I won’t. Why don’t you tell me what you think I prefer?”

A teasing light touched her features, and he nodded. “Challenge accepted.”

Studying her intently, he pieced together what few details he could from his short time knowing her. One. She wasn’t all that vain. She had the body of a nubile goddess but hardly flaunted it. Her dress was little more than rags sewn together. Some of the fabric was even threadbare in spots. Two. She’d dug her hands into dirt and had never once complained of grime beneath her fingernails. Three. She liked to laugh, though he was sure she did not know it yet. Four. Being a crone—while one was able to get away with a multitude of sins because most people would assume any vitriol that poured from such an ancient mouth was simply the ramblings of a touched mind—was no fun. The body would ache. The joints would hurt. He knew because he too had an ancient form. Five. The maiden would often be overlooked as silly and flighty, too young to understand the truths of the world.

He smirked, and she arched a brow.

“Well?”

“The mother,” he said without missing a beat. “She is your preferred form.”

He wanted to crow with satisfaction when a look of befuddled shock flitted so quickly across her face that he knew the emotion to be truthful. She quickly schooled her features back to calm, but he’d already witnessed the betrayal of her practiced façade.

“
Hm
,” was all she said.

Puffing out his chest proudly, he quickly picked up the final few rocks to finish off the task. He dusted off his hands and waited for her thanks.

She looked at the rocks, at him, at the rocks, and then said, “I hope you don’t expect praise for that.” Without another word, she sat down cross-legged in front of the fire, rucking her skirts up around her knees, and stared directly into the flames. Two sensations filled him. One, she’d not applauded his paltry efforts. Two, she really did have nice knees.

More and more intrigued, he walked over to her, sat at a close but far enough distance so as not to get punched for his impudence, and glanced at her.

She waited at least a minute before looking over at him. “Let’s get three things straight right now, Fellatio. One. It’s never going to happen. Two. I’m not here to make friends—”

He cleared his throat, rather liking her pet name for him, but unwilling to admit it.

“Or become sex buddies. Whatever.”

He snorted.

“And three.” She inhaled deeply. “You need to move.”

Laughing, he shook his head. “I’m not here to make waves, love.”

She growled but didn’t punch him. She might not want to admit this, but she wouldn’t dare. He was more than just a god of sex. There was one small, but crucial part of his godhood she didn’t seem to understand. Perhaps it should have offended his godly hubris that she didn’t seem to know as much about him as he did about her, but the woman was entertaining as hell, and no matter how cranky he knew he should be, he simply wasn’t.

He scooted a little to the left. “Good?”

He’d basically only moved an inch. She sighed and hung her head, which caused her hair to curtain her face, and shook it. “Whatever.”

“I’m wearing you down. Admit it. You love me,” he teased.

Her green eyes reflected the amethyst of the flames as she stared back at him. “Don’t imagine that I don’t know who you are, Freyr. I make it a habit to know all there is to know about you gods.”

“Indeed? Do tell, love.” He leaned back on his hands.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she looked as though she’d rather suck on a lemon than be forced to interact with him. The woman was hard on a man’s ego.

Blowing out a raspberry, she said, “You’re the god who can be hated by none, which is why, no doubt, I cannot seem to turn you into a slug though I desperately wish to.”

He chuckled deeply. “Good to know. You may continue.”

She shook her head. “You exasperate me.”

“So I’ve heard time and again. But please, this is fun. Do proceed, love.”

“Argh!” Her hand moved so quickly he didn’t see it coming, but she did punch him. On the arm. And really, it’d been little more than a love tap. He’d become a masochist in his old age, he decided because he was having much too much fun vexing the little tigress.

Leaning into her until their shoulders brushed he whispered into her ear. “Baba Yaga, you may not know this yet, but I’m a god and powerful as you are. You could never turn me into a slug.”

She shivered when he pulled back, but the look she gave him inched hotly through his blood. “It would be to your detriment to ever underestimate me, Fellatio.”

And once more, he laughed.

He might have said more if a strange and beastly little imp hadn’t materialized before them. The creature was unsightly, deformed, long-limbed. It stood inside the fire but seemed unaffected by it even though nothing in the cosmos burned hotter than dragon fire.

“Ah, Peabrain, to what do I owe the honor?” Baba said, and for a moment, Freyr suffered a strange moment of...well, something. Some emotion made him curl his fist and bite down on his back teeth sharply because the obvious note of relief in her voice when she’d greeted the demon imp made him think that maybe she hadn’t enjoyed their banter as much as he.

Peabrain glowered angrily at her. The effect of the imp’s obvious scorn was so shocking to Freyr that he wondered if Baba was aware that there was now an enemy with them. “Hello, witch,” he spat. He turned his fiery eyes on Freyr. “And witch’s future sex toy.”

Freyr snorted. Okay, so maybe the demon wasn’t all that bad after all.

“I come with news from Calypso and Aphrodite.”

“Oh, goodie,” Baba groaned. “Can’t wait.”

Peabrain hissed like a feral cat in heat. Straightening his knobby shoulders, he looked straight ahead and intoned, “Tonight and tomorrow shall be a day of rest for all players. Take this time to not only get to know one another but to build your shelter and secure vittles.”

Baba nodded as though his words were sensible. But all Freyr could do was frown and look around. What rocks there were, were hardly big enough to build a home with. Forget a hut built of wood or moss. There wasn’t even any water around to turn the sea of dirt into mud for bricks. What exactly were they going to be building a shelter out of?

To Baba, Peabrain said, “In two days time, you’ll face your first trial against the Dark Queen.”

Baba inhaled deeply, and Freyr noted a calculating look cross her face.

“Sounds like fun.” The pretty witch curled her fingers around her pendant, and there was a definite note of bloodlust in her tone that caused Freyr’s own blood to simmer and boil.

He’d always been more of the make-love-not-war type of god, but the thought of this woman covered in crimson definitely caused his cock to twitch. He couldn’t wait to see her in action.

“You can use whatever magick you have at your disposal. Be aware she will have hers too, and she’s not without considerable talent.” The way Peabrain had said it sounded lascivious.

Freyr didn’t trust this little imp. Not a bit.

“Bah.” Baba scoffed, swatting at his words as though swatting off an offending mosquito.

Baba Yaga’s arrogance normally would have turned him off. She was no goddess, and though she was a powerful witch, he’d seen his fair share. But something about her, an indefinable quality made him believe she might just be the best there ever was or ever would be. Freyr salivated at the thought of all that power.

The demon hopped forward, holding a small copper bowl in his hand. “This is for you.”

“Ah!” She cooed, yanking the small object into her hands almost lovingly.

Completely lost, Freyr couldn’t possibly understand the significance or importance of such an object. Maybe it was for her to cook with? He was hungry, come to think of it. He rubbed his stomach, wondering what the woman would make for him. Her fingers played lovingly along the inside of the hammered metal bowl. She must really love her food.

Without even so much as a fare-thee-well, Peabrain vanished from within the flame.

Freyr turned to ask Baba what she planned to cook for him, but she brusquely waved him off. Lifting her leather thong off from around her neck, she took her pendant in hand and tipped it over. A glass vial filled her palm. There was nothing all that unique or interesting about it. A fluid rolled inside it. It was clear and didn’t at all seem magical. Water, maybe? He was thirsty. He reached out for it, but she smacked his hand hard.

“No touching.”

Looking down at his still stinging hand, he murmured. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to share, shrew?”

She snorted then slowly and very carefully unstoppered the vial. “I have no mother. And you cannot drink this, you idiot, unless you wish to drown.” Her pretty eyes sparkled with teasing laughter.

“You forget who I am, love.” No god could drown, especially not in simple water. And here he thought her smarter than that. How very disappointing.

Looking supremely confident, she said. “Oh, no, I haven’t forgotten. And I’m sure you’ll remind me every second of every day I’m stuck in this cesspit with you. But just for your information, you infuriatingly sexy imbecile—”

She thought he was sexy. He grinned.

“—this vial contains water from the
agua infinitum
tributary.”

“What the hell is that?”

Rolling her eyes, she very carefully tipped the vial over. He thought she meant to pour out the entire contents, but she only allowed one drop to fall into the bowl before quickly stoppering it. He noted the water doubling in mass and then again and again and again until she finally spoke. “
Fin
!”

It stopped once it reached the very tip of the bowl itself.

He nodded. “Point taken.”

She smirked.

“Well then, if it’s not to drink, what is it for?”

“To do magick, of course, you bloody fool.”

“Ah, witch, your endearments warm the cockles of my heart.” He grabbed at his chest, gratified to see her chuckling again.

Freyr didn’t think for a second that laughter was her natural state, which meant he was causing it because, of course, that was his charm. Being hated by none very often came in handy.

“And I never said it wasn’t for drinking,” she pressed on, “only that in its natural state, it would drown you, me, anything really.” Standing, she carefully stepped over the bowl and walked about twenty paces off to the side before once more uncorking the vial and tipping it over. And just as before, she only allowed one drop to fall. Then she raced back to him. Blood had risen high on her cheeks from the exercise. Her creamy skin practically glowed as she stared ahead. He did too, more in shock than anything because the water was triple what it’d been in the bowl and only growing longer, broader, and deeper. It cut through the earth like a hot knife through butter. Soon, it would become a raging rapid. He frowned, glancing at Baba who sat entranced beside him, watching the water grow like a mighty serpent uncoiling from deep within the earth’s bosom.

Freyr scratched the side of his jaw. She’d said that unchecked the water would go out on control. So why didn’t she stop it already? It was now reaching well past their campfire, winding a serpentine path in two directions, growing broader and broader as it went.

The waters roared and churned, capping with white foam.

“
Fin
,” he muttered beneath his breath.

She obviously heard because she cackled. “You can’t stop it. Only I can.”

“Then maybe you should consider stopping it now, love,” he said in exasperation, scooting back on his heels. The water was now mere feet away from him.

“What a baby you are.
Fin
!”

And just like that, it ceased, now nothing more than a gently gurgling brook. He lifted a brow and glanced back at her, reluctantly impressed this time.

“Where exactly did you say you found that demonic water?”

She snickered and picked up the bowl, cradling it gently between her hands.

“Many moons ago, the Goddess Calypso owed me a favor. I called it due by requesting a vial full of waters from her eternal gardens.”

A witch owed favors by the gods. Baba Yaga was definitely more than she seemed.

Looking down at the bowl, she muttered distractedly, “You can safely drink it now if you want. Go.” She shooed him off.

He scoffed at the notion that she’d dismissed him. But as she continued to scrutinize the contents of the bowl, he realized she’d done just that.

“Bloody hell.” He got up to go get a drink and not because she’d commanded him to either. He really was thirsty.

Muttering beneath his breath about sexy, no good, arrogant witches, he knelt down by the brook, marveling all over again at the power she wielded and took a sip. It was clean, fresh, and tasted wonderful, to be honest. The cool water rolled down his tongue like the sweetest of meads, slaking his thirst almost instantly.