"I am sorry to ask this of you, Avelya, but I must see to the Pushminskis. It is their first child, and of course the labor will be long and hard, particularly as she is such a frail little thing. The midwife has assured me there should be no problems, but they require reassurance from another source."
"Have no fears, starosta," the bass voice of Avel Petrenko rumbled through the small house, waking Varya from her sleep. It was with some confusion she fought her way through the thick cobwebs of slumber back to consciousness. Through blinking eyes, she saw that the simple curtain that separated the sleeping area from the rest of the house had been drawn. "I will watch over here as if she were my very own."
"If there were any other to ask…"
"Psh. I am not so petty as all that. I lost to a good man, and I wish I could be away from my father and our forge long enough to help look for him."
"Oh, Avelya…he may be a good man, but I do not think he was a better one. I'll not be long. She should sleep for the duration of my time away."
"Then it should all be well. Go on, tend to the nervous parents! All will be well."
"Very well," the starosta said, misgiving still in his words, but at leaving Varya at all, rather than whom he was leaving her with. "I will be as swift as I can."
"Do what you must and do not shirk."
The sound of the front door opening and closing, accompanied by a brief flash of daylight illuminating the room and a rush of cold air. What followed were mundane noises; Avel's heavy boots across the wooden floor, the clink of ceramic as he took a mug, the swish of liquid as he poured himself a cup of what she presumed was tea.
In her mind's eye she could see him clearly, his broad unbent frame tall with muscle and sinew from working the forge of his father. Thick black wavy hair held back in a leather tie and a broad, handsome face with kind, dark eyes.
He had desired her once, and despite his words she did not think the passing of a few days would quench that.
What was this? Why was she thinking of him in these terms?
But she knew. Clearly, dreadfully, she knew. Her mind shrieked at her to stop, but her body was not listening, intent on a single objective. She was now a mere observer, unable to stop what her form was about to do.
"Avel," she called out weakly.
"Var—Snegurochka, are you awake already?" he asked, pulling the curtain aside and approaching her as she lay in the bed. "Do you want anything? Tea? I believe the starosta left a weak broth for you if you are up to eating something…"
"No, I want none of those things," she said, sitting up.
"The starosta will be gone for only a few hours," he said kindly, sitting on the chair the starosta had pulled next to the bed.
"I am…so afraid, Avel."
Stop this.
Her actions were no longer under her control, and the instinct that the Elder had warned her about was not listening.
He blinked at the familiar use of his name, but leaned forward. "Do not fear. I will protect you…Varya."
She sent a weak, questing hand out from under the blankets and eagerly he grasped it in his thickly callused fingers. Using this hold, she exerted herself to sit up and he used his free arm to help her. Looking up at him, her long slender fingers tangled themselves in the front laces of the starosta's nightshirt she wore, undoing them.
"Varya, you—you are not well," he stammered, swallowing hard.
"No, I am not," she said softly. "And I will never be unless you embrace me. Only you can heal me, Avel!"
No! Stop this! Now!
"But…but the starosta, and the Popiy…"
"They don't ever have to know," she crooned softly, reaching out and lightly stroking his face. "But you will know, and I will know that it was you who came to me in my hour of need, and gave me what I so desperately needed. Can you save me, Avel?"
"No, no," he said, voice shaking as he tried to push her hands away, but she clung to him tenaciously. "This is not right. You—"
"Please, Avel, please," she begged, gripping his arm as he attempted to stand. "I need you. I have always only ever needed you. I was such a fool. Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, Varya," he said, sinking back down into the chair. "I know you were not treated the best of ways when you were growing up here, and that mistrust of us here in Rechka was difficult to overcome."
"Only you were ever so kind to me, Avel. Only you truly showed me you cared," she said to him, eyes wide and glistening in the dim light that came from the shuttered window at her bedside. It was her turn to lean forward, and her breasts pressed against his arm.
Oh, my Father, please, not this…do not let me do this…do not let me be this…
"It is because I do care," he said thickly, eyes staring at the bounty so openly displayed to him "I fell in love with you so quickly, it was as if I were seeing you for the first time."
"So much uncertainty surrounds us now, Avel, I am so afraid."
"Afraid of what?" he asked, sitting on the bed next to her. She burrowed into his arms, pulling them close around her and leaning her head on his shoulder. "There is nothing more to fear. I will protect you, always."
"I am afraid that something else will happen, and you will be taken from me as Father Gavril was. While I see now that what I felt for him was simple infatuation, it has proven to me how much I love you. I cannot lose you as I lost him!"
As Avel all but lifted her off the bed and crushed his mouth to hers, the part of Varya that was still Varya wept in impotent fury.
When Avel woke in the morning, she was gone.
~:~
Thank you for reading Absolution's Prey, Volume One of the tribulations of the cursed Varya. Volume Two is currently being worked on and the first chapter will be published in 2024. It is my sincere hope that you found this an interesting read! ~ Chranastaliana