Текст книги "Bound to the battle god"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

46

Oddly enough, I enjoy the company of the soldiers and Yulenna as we travel.

The dynamic's weird at first—no one is sure whether or not to talk around Aron or even me, and so it's awkward and quiet when we're around. I get tired of that and by the time we hit the road on the second day, I start nagging the men (and Yulenna) to tell me about where they came from, how they got to be soldiers, and anything else I can think of. When Aron doesn't smack them down for daring to talk to me, they ease up a little and soon the conversation is flowing.

For all that the men are battle-hardened and have been soldiers since about the age of sixteen, they feel so young. They laugh and make merry, playing pranks on each other as they ride their woales and teasing about wenches they left behind in other cities. Kerren—the quiet one—has a sweetheart back in his hometown, whereas Solat is the ladies' man. Yulenna even joins in the teasing, chatting with the men and laughing with them.

Me, I feel a bit like a team mom. Maybe it's because I don't know jack about this world other than what I've overheard or what Omos taught me. Maybe it's because they all look at Aron guiltily when they're a little too loud or boisterous. Aron, for his part, doesn't really take part in the conversations. He occasionally snorts with amusement at overhearing something, which tells me that he is paying attention, but he's quiet.

And he's extremely, extremely protective of me. He hovers near me and frowns if anyone moves too close. He makes sure I never lift anything heavy. He keeps a possessive hand at my waist at almost all times. He insists I get the best tent and largest portions of food first. And if one of the men laughs a little too hard at one of my jokes, Aron gives them the stink-eye.

It’s kinda cute but it also makes everyone just a little afraid of him.

He also completely, utterly ignores Yulenna.

Yulenna, for her part, has tried really, really hard to get into Aron's good graces. She tries to flatter him with conversation, makes herself available at all times, tosses her hair so much that she looks like a high-spirited horse, and constantly goes up to him, trying to figure out what he wants or needs. It's obvious that she'd feel more certain of her place if he would just fuck her, but he completely and totally ignores her.

"You're going to give Yulenna a complex," I whisper to Aron one night as we're under the blankets in my tent. "She really, really wants to please you, preferably on her knees."

He just snorts. "I have interest in her,” he lies. And then he holds me close, his hand on my waist. "Go to sleep."

Aron always sleeps in my bed. Between that and the fact that he ignores Yulenna, it's clear that they all think we're fucking. One morning I get out of the tent, my hair a tangled mess of snarls, and catch the men smirking as if sharing a secret joke. I guess it makes sense that they think we're together like that. Heck, I have days where I wonder why we're not together like that. I let them go on believing it, too, because what am I going to say? That Aron isn't interested in sex? It's clear from Yulenna's hurt confusion that he is. That he likes sex a lot.

But Aron's never put the moves on me. He's never even really come close, and other than that night at Tadekha's Citadel, you'd think we're brother and sister…which makes me feel all sour and irritated inside. I start to study Yulenna, trying to determine what she has that attracts Aron that I don't.

Not that I want to attract Aron, of course.

But if I did…

I watch as Yulenna rides next to Solat. She's laughing and giggling at his flirting, and her loose breasts sway under the thin fabric of her dress. Her hair is in a sexy, loose braid over one shoulder and she looks clean and pretty. I glance down at my own tunic. It's got a stain from breakfast on it, it's faded and old and belonged to a man. My hair's pulled into a wild topknot just because I don't have the mental fortitude to touch it while it's dirty, and my tits are tightly bound under the leather band.

I am most definitely not bringing the sexy to travel.

I wonder if that's a mistake, though. I wonder if I should be trying to seduce Aron so he'll help me get home once he gets home? I don't know what to think.

The weather stays nice for most of the next week, even if the environment continues to change. The thick, tall forests thin out and the roads get progressively rockier. It gets colder with every day that passes, as if we're climbing in altitude, and in the mornings, my breath puffs visibly in the air. I wake up with my body plastered to Aron's for warmth, but if it bothers him, he doesn't say a thing. As we ride, the flat lands turn into hills, and then the hills turn into massive, craggy mountains that loom overhead.

We're getting close to Novoro.

“You’re mine, Faith,” Aron murmurs, his breath hot against my shoulder. He peels my dress back, exposing my skin. “We’ve fought this long enough, don’t you think?”

“I’m not fighting anything,” I protest, moaning. “I’ve wanted you since day one.”

“Show me how much you want me,” he says, and he hikes my skirts up, his face disappearing between my thighs. “Let me taste it—”

“Faith.”

I jerk awake, disoriented—and a little pissed off—that I’ve been woken up from such a vivid dream. Someone just had to wake me up now? Before it got to the good part? “What?”

Aron's hard face gazes down at me. "You were talking in your sleep."

"Was I? No I wasn't." I tug the blankets higher, wishing I'd slept in more than just my breast band and leggings. I swear I can still feel his breath on my thigh. "Don't be ridiculous."

But Aron isn't paying much attention to me. He's gazing off, a thoughtful expression on his face. After a moment, he seems to remember that I'm there, and raises his chin in my direction. "Ask me a question."

"Was I really talking in my sleep?"

"Yes." He grunts. "I am not lying to you."

"Are you sure?" When he gives me an irritated look, I shrug. "Let's test it again, just to be sure, because I'm positive I wasn't talking in my sleep." Because if I was, oh god, I hope I wasn't begging him to touch me in filthy, filthy ways. "Is my hair blonde?"

"Yes."

"Are you arrogant?"

"Yes." He grins at me, all boyish pleasure. "See?"

"You're right. What changed?" I stifle a yawn.

"He no longer influences me." Aron shrugs. "I am back to just me."

I can't say I'm displeased. As I get dressed for the day’s travel, though, part of me grows uneasy. If it’s that simple to just wipe an Aron out of existence…what happens to the Aron I’m with when this is over?

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47

The first sight of Novoro takes my breath away.

First there's nothing there—just more endless mountains and craggy, snow-covered peaks. Then, we round a corner and suddenly there's a massive fortress tucked high amidst the cliffs. It blends in so well it's impossible to see from afar, and if there wasn't a well-traveled road leading up here, I'd think I was imagining things. The stone city looks as if its hewn straight from the rock itself, and it lofts high, hundreds of windows carved into the side of the mountains. The longer I look, the more windows and fortress come into view, until all I can see before us is just one big stone anthill of humans. It's fascinating to see, and I wonder how many people live here. Two thousand? Ten thousand? How deep into the mountain does this go? Two massive doors that look as if they're made of steel bar the entrance, and each one is easily three stories high and wide enough to fit two lanes of traffic.

They're also shut tight. Of course they are. Dozens of tiny plumes of smoke tell me that someone's home, though—not everything can be hidden away.

Markos sidles forward on his woale, moving to the side of the land-hippo I share with Aron. He gazes up at the massive gates that dwarf our small party. His expression is downright indignant, as if he's been insulted. "They do not welcome us, my great Lord of Storms. Shall I let them know of your presence?"

I wrinkle my nose, inwardly wincing. Do we really have to announce anything?

But this is Aron, Lord of Arrogance. I can practically feel him stiffen with indignation. "Demand that they let us in."

"At once, my lord." Markos gives a firm nod and then spurs his woale into action. The thing gives a deep belly squeal and then trundles forward, grunting, and Markos approaches the gates.

The hair prickles on the back of my neck and I'm tense as I watch him move forward. He looks impossibly tiny as he walks up to them. Woales aren't tiny creatures, and yet Markos and his mount look like toys in front of those huge gates. I hear him shout for entrance, but his voice gets lost in the cavernous canyon, as if soaked up by the rock itself.

We wait.

The gates don't open. Eventually, someone leans out a lower window and shouts something back, gesturing at us while we wait. Markos puts a hand to his mouth and calls back, and then…they sit there and bicker for what must be a good five minutes.

"Well, everyone does say Novoroans are weird," I mutter to Aron. "Novorese? Novorians? Novoroni? What do we call them?"

"We call them fools for not welcoming our lord," Solat says, his hippo restless.

I just roll my eyes. If there was a suck-up in the group, it'd be Solat.

Something moves in one of the windows, and then another. Nothing big, just a small shift of movement, but both Kerren and Vitar immediately push forward, drawing shields and blocking in front of us. The tiny movement gleams again, and then something points at Markos.

Arrows.

Oh fuck. I stare, shocked—it didn't occur to me that we'd be turned away at the gates. "Is there another way through these mountains?" I breathe, my voice low.

"Climbing," Solat says. "But woale are not sure-footed except on flat lands. We would have to lead them and travel overfoot ourselves…and it would be dangerous for us, as well."

"No. We are not doing that." Aron taps a hand on my hip. "Get down, Faith."

I automatically slide off the side of the woale, all too happy to take a leg-stretch or three. Yulenna slides off of Kerren's mount and lands beside me, rubbing her butt. "Are we turning around? What are we doing?" I ask, curious.

Aron points at Kerren. "Wait here with them. The others, come with me." And he rides forward, his woale doing that grunting little trot like Markos's mount. I didn't even know woale could move that fast. It's almost a horse-gallop, complete with fat bouncing sides and the jangle of supplies as all three men ride forward.

"What the fuck are they doing?" I hiss, shocked. I clutch at the neck of my cloak, horrified as Aron boldly takes off his cloak and casts it to the ground, revealing his dark hair and noble features. Solat and Vitar ride next to him, but they're not close enough to protect him with those shields. "He's going to get fucking killed!"

"My lady," Kerren says gently, looking at me. "He is not the target."

Oh.

Oh, right. It's me that's the target. I rub my arms, suddenly glad that he left me behind. "It's still not safe for him to ride forward like that," I tell Kerren and Yulenna. "I don't like it."

"He goes to show them that he is who he claims," Yulenna says in a reasonable voice, watching Aron ride forward. "Then they will bow to him and give him the welcome he deserves."

"Mmmhmm." They weren't with my Aron in Aventine, when someone tried to assassinate us. Or Katharn. Or at the Citadel. Or…man, we really get attacked a lot. That sucks. Maybe it's a good thing we now have bodyguards. I frown to myself at the thought and I wonder if the other Aron got constantly betrayed all the time or if we're just the lucky ones.

We watch, and I hold my breath as Aron approaches the fortress, his long hair waving like a flag. He makes a wonderful target, and I cringe inwardly when Markos and the others move to his side. I'm torn between watching Kerren for reactions and watching Aron, because I have a feeling Kerren's going to know something's wrong before I do. As I wait, I see a small door—inset in the much, much larger ones—open below and someone comes out to talk to Aron and the men. They all stand there, distant dots, and I wish I could hear their conversation.

The newcomer drops to his knees before Aron’s woale and stacks his fists over his heart. I release the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. There’s a great shout, and as I watch, the people in the windows retreat. The man gets up from his knees, and then there’s a massive groan as the gates slowly shudder open.

“Looks like we are welcomed,” Yulenna says.

Kerren glances over at her. “Give Faith your cloak and switch mounts with her.”

She nods. “At once.”

I want to protest, but I’m ashamed to say that I don’t. He’s setting up Yulenna as the target, just in case we’re going to be betrayed again. It’s smart, but I can’t help but feel guilty as Yulenna comes to my side and envelops me in her cloak, even as Kerren raises his shield and steers his woale in front of us to hide what we’re doing. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to her as she fastens it around my neck.

“Do not be. I know I am expendable.” Her smile is bittersweet. “At least this way, I can be of service.” She tugs the hood over my head and then pulls my cloak around her shoulders, pulling my hood over her long, curling hair.

“Well, I hope it’s all not necessary.”

Kerren dismounts, his armor jangling. “We all hope it is not,” he says easily, and then offers his hand to Yulenna. “Let us get my lord’s anchor mounted once more. I think you should walk, Faith, so you seem like the servant.”

“I can do that.” For once, I’m glad that Yulenna’s the one in the flowing dress and I’m the one in a stained tunic. It adds to the feeling that she’s the important one and I’m not.

Kerren grabs the reins of the woale, and Yulenna adjusts her clothes, delicately smoothing out the cloak. She holds onto the pommel, and then we move forward to greet Markos, Solat, Vitar and Aron at the gates where they wait for us.

The walk across the rocky field feels as if it takes forever, and a thousand eyes seem to be staring at us, even if the windows remain dark and empty. The gates continue to groan their way open and I watch them with fascination. I bet the Statue of Liberty could stroll through them and not have to duck her head, they’re so tall. As we move forward toward the gates, armed soldiers arrive, flanking a man in a swirling black cloak lined with white. They pause.

Then, to a one they kneel before Aron and bow their heads, waiting to be addressed.

Aron doesn’t speak to them right away, though. He watches us as we approach, his eyes narrowed. His gaze lingers on me for a moment, flicks to Yulenna, and then he turns to look at the rest of our men. No one’s saying a thing or even looking at me, which means we’re all on the same page.

“Rise,” Aron says finally.

The man in the cloak gets up, and the others flanking him follow suit. He’s a tall man with a grim face, a thick black mustache and salt and pepper gray hair. His eyes are alight with excitement, though, and he reaches out to Aron. “It is the greatest of honors for Novoro to host a holy Aspect, my Lord of Storms. You are well loved here. I am Secuban, lord of this stronghold and all that dwell within. Let us host you and your servants.”

Aron ignores the outstretched hand. “We require private quarters.”

“You shall have mine,” Lord Secuban says immediately, and doesn’t look upset that his handshake was ignored. If anything, he just looks thrilled to see Aron, and the glee on his face makes him look like a freaking fanboy. “You bless all of Novoro with your presence here. We shall celebrate the honor of your company—”

“Later.” Aron gives an impatient flick of his cloak. “I wish to go to my chambers and bathe, and my anchor will have needs as well. My soldiers and my concubine”—and this time he gestures at me—“will also need to be quartered close. Our mounts must be taken care of as well.”

“Anything,” Lord Secuban says fervently. “Anything and everything you desire will be yours.”

Aron grunts approval. “Good. Show us in, then.”

The lord of Novoro moves to Aron’s side and speaks to him in a low voice, giving him a tour as we head inside. Stable boys rush forward to take the reins of our woales, and then Yulenna slips to the ground next to me, pulling her cloak tight.

I'm fascinated by Novoro. This place, more than anything else, looks like something out of a Game of Thrones set. The entire place is one big fortress, and inside I expected to see hundreds of little houses tucked behind the walls, but it opens up into a muddy courtyard and then lifts high up into row after row of windows. Everyone lives in the castle carved right out of the rock. Everything's gray, too, and people lean from stone windows and peek out of turrets and watch us. They wear heavy fur-lined cloaks in dark colors, and soldiers are all over the place. Someone leads away our woales, and Solat follows them to get our gear. Aron is led forward by the lord of the place, who talks a mile a minute, eager to share his home and its splendors. People bow as they pass, cloaks flopping onto the wintry cobblestones, and we follow a short distance behind. There's awe and pleasure on the faces of these people—which is a relief. I don't think they'll be betraying Aron, and I start to feel a little better about things.

To my surprise, Yulenna grabs my hand and pulls me close. "Stay with me," she says tightly, and her steps grow faster, as if she wishes to somehow catch up with Aron and the Novoro lord. I speed up, too, wondering what's crawled up her butt. I glance out at the crowd…and then I see it.

They watch Aron with awe and affection all right, but the look they cast in Yulenna's direction—and mine—is a little more…creepy. I catch the eyes of someone in an ornate cloak and the look he gives me is downright lascivious. Another man licks his lips as we walk past, and it doesn't take more than a few more steps before I'm clinging to Yulenna's hand, too. Bunch of creeps. Maybe they don't get out much and so any new woman that walks in gets leered at.

"Aron will protect us," I tell Yulenna. "Don't worry about that."

"He will protect his anchor," she says tightly.

Right. Me and not her. I just squeeze her hand reassuringly, because I'm not going to let these people creep on her.

More and more people arrive, and as the crowd fills out, I'm relieved to see women and children in the crowd, too. They all gaze at us with awe, and I see more than one make Aron's gesture and bow their heads in piety. Even though Aron's a war god, he's well known enough that even the moms and grandmas are fisting his gesture.

At the far end of the courtyard is a massive set of steps flanked with torches, and the lord leads Aron in, so we follow. Once inside, I blink at the low light. The smell of torch smoke increases, and then as my eyes adjust, I can make out the hall itself. A large chair sits atop a stair-stepped dais at the far end of the room, by a massive fireplace. My skin prickles at the sight of it. Nothing good ever happens in rooms with a dais, I'm learning. They had a dais in Aventine—and tried to murder us. They had a dais in Tadekha's Citadel—and a rampaging army arrived. "Third time’s a charm," I tell myself, though my stomach gets sour when I hear the scrape of chains and two slave women peek out from behind the throne. They have cloaks to keep them warm in the drafty keep…but it looks like they're not wearing anything underneath.

Great. This place falls a few more notches in my estimation. Less and less of a fan of Novoro.

Aron gives the throne room a curt look.

"Please, my lord, sit and make yourself at home. Everything I have, I share with you." Lord Secuban's eyes gleam and his gaze flicks to Yulenna, and he licks his lips. "In Novoro, to share brings great honor."

"My mortals are tired and wish to rest," Aron says in that same imperious voice I've grown to know. "I want private quarters for myself and my anchor."

"Of course, of course." Lord Secuban looks nervous, and if he had a hat, he'd wring it like a cartoon sycophant. "Forgive me for not anticipating your needs. This is the first time Novoro has been honored by the gods. Everything you need, it shall be provided. We will give you a place to rest and time to yourself, and tonight, a great feast will be shared. We hope that you will stay for a few days and bless us."

I relax a little. Everyone just wants a blessing from the gods. I get that. Maybe this place isn't as creepy as I thought it was. They're just the Aos version of backwoods hicks. They don't get out much, they don't see new people, and they don't know how to act. I pat Yulenna's hand.

Nothing at all to worry about.

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