Chapter 18 – OtyliaBlasphemous i***t.
MEN CHEERED as Chief Marek stood on a table in the longhouse, drunkenly dancing with a horned mask of Weles covering his face. The smell of alcohol and unbathed people filled the room while the warriors sang songs of victories long past. Ara and I huddled in the back and avoided the chaos. The vote couldn’t come soon enough.
In the opposite corner, Wacław sat alone, sipping his oskoła from a ram’s horn. Convincing Father to let me go to the clans had been easy. He’d snatched at the excuse to get rid of me for a few weeks so he could focus on his work. Jacek had been the real question, yet Wacław had succeeded. Why was that not reassuring?
“You sure nothing else happened last night?” Ara asked, grinning.
“Shut it. I told you he’s—”
“An actual demon
