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My hand was trembling with rage. I dropped my spoon with a clatter, and immediately lowered my head and mumbled for forgiveness.
“Yana,” Father Borodin said sharply, and she rose immediately, spine straight as a board. She poured from a steaming kettle, and brought me another tea cup.
I stared at the brackish liquid. A sliver of dried mushroom floated on top.
“Take the sacrament, Vessel.”
Beneath the veil, I cut my eyes at Father Borodin. He couldn’t see me glaring at him. He couldn’t see the hatred… but maybe he couldfeelit.
My fingertips ached. I felt hot and itchy all over.
“Take. It.”
Hand still trembling, I took the cup, burning my fingers. Instead of daintily lifting my veil, I pulled the whole thing back, exposing my face. Ionna made a disgusted, disapproving noise.
I stared at Father Borodin as I drank, but there were no smiles today at how good I had been. He stared back. His left eyelid had a tic, and his lips were downturned to carve deep lines in his face.
When I put the empty cup back on the table, my rage was already abating into numb apathy.
We ate in silence after that, and as Yana rose to clear the table, Father Borodin paused behind me.
He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “If you ever disobey me so directly again, I will have the skin stripped from your back entirely.”
I only nodded, watching the knots and grain of the table swirl like an ocean in front of me.
* * *
Everyone in Vostokwas in the church before the sun had fully risen.
On any other day, the building seemed almost too big for the village, but on the day of prayer, I felt crushed.
It was too warm, with all the bodies pressed together. Sweat dripped down my back and beaded on my temples. Every woman in here was clumped together and veiled, and small dark patches on their robes gave away their discomfort with the heat.
We stood out like flowers neatly contained in a garden bed, all in white, with blue embroidery. Several women boasted much more intricate embroidery than the others; Freya in particular. She had a knack with thread, and both her hood and cloak were covered with blue scenes of deer, foxes, and owls flying through a forest.
Father Borodin stood before us, thumbing through a jewel-encrusted Bible, but on this day there was not the usual silence he was accustomed to. Everyone whispered to each other.
The deer at the well had frightened Vostok. I had a brief snatch of memory, of someone telling me it was a price—flesh for flesh—but it fled as quickly as it came. All they knew was that the Beasts had invaded. They had crossed the sacred lines, defiling our land.
They grew louder and louder. The Father finally couldn’t ignore the mumblings any longer.
He looked up from his Bible, irritation crossing his face, and laced his fingers together on top of it. “I can see that today your concerns will not allow you to concentrate on the blessings of our Lord. So we will speak instead of the town.”
“Good! What is there to be done about this?” one of the men bellowed, and there was a small sprinkling of agreement among him. The women remained silent, invisible tension bonding us all together.
Father Borodin paused, looking over us all with the indulgence a shepherd reserves for his prized flock. “The whispers you have heard are all true. The Beasts did indeed cross the sacred boundaries.”
The entire congregation was focused on him, practically vibrating with anxiety.
“And the one question burning in all of you right now is…why?” A thin smile crossed the Father’s lips. “Why did the Beasts break our covenant? Vostok has existed for hundreds of years, and we have maintained the peace in that entire time. Why are they now choosing to defile our boundaries?”
Several grim-faced men were nodding.
“The answer is right here. Right in this room with us, as we speak. Right…there.”
Father Borodin pointed to the women’s box.
“The Beasts are mere animals. When they sense our lack of faith, they feel that they can overstep. And why has our faith wavered? Because the women of this settlement are impure. Immoral. They allow themselves to be seduced by dark thoughts.”
