Текст книги "Bound to the battle god"
Автор книги: Ruby Dixon
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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 40 страниц)
50
Breathless, I do my best not to stare at him as people settle into their seats and music begins. The feast starts around us, women carrying dishes to the table and pouring wine. Someone discreetly sets a small table next to Aron’s throne and sets two cups of wine out. Minutes pass, and Aron simply watches the crowd, not saying a thing. I have no idea what’s going through the god’s head, but there’s very little going through mine. I’m too stuck on the memory of his mouth on mine, the feel of his tongue as he conquered my mouth.
The hand on my breast that still teases my nipple through my clothing, as if I’m just his plaything.
“A plate, my lord? My lady?” a girl asks, stepping forward, her eyes shining and eager to please.
My stomach growls, and I look at the feast table. It’s practically dripping with delicious things and the people here seem to have forgotten all about Aron and their leader and are settling in to feast. I’m hungry, and I nod at her.
“I should eat,” I murmur to Aron, and try to stand up.
He immediately pulls me back down into his lap, my butt pressing back against him. His hand slips into the deep vee of my dress and then he’s teasing my nipple with callused fingers against my bare skin, and I nearly orgasm. “You’re staying here,” he murmurs, and nips at my ear.
Oh fuck. I squeeze my eyes shut, wondering if it’s rude to climax in front of strangers. A chilling thought hits me, and I lean back against him, resting my head on his shoulder so I can lean in and whisper. “Aron, is there another Aspect nearby? Hedonism?”
That would explain all of this.
He gives my nipple a light, teasing pinch, and I bite back another whimper. “No,” he murmurs, low enough for just me to hear, and he says nothing more.
But he doesn’t take his hands off me either.
Oh god, I don’t know what to think. I’m practically writhing in his lap by the time the girl returns with food, so aroused I can hardly stand it. In Tadekha’s citadel, he touched me because I was affected by her nearness, and he was, too. If there’s no Hedonism Aspect nearby, what’s behind this? A sudden image of Bad Aron fucking Yulenna against the tree flashes through my mind.
Gods have needs just like anyone else. And as I shift my weight on his lap, I can feel the hard, erect length of him pressing against my backside.
He’s not immune to all of this. Not by a long shot. I want to turn around and look at him, to ask him what he’s feeling, but the music swells and then the serving girl sets a plate of food down, and my mouth floods with saliva.
I’m starving.
I reach up and touch Aron’s jaw. “I’m going to eat now,” I murmur to him. “And unless you find it sexy for me to get distracted and dribble food all over myself because you keep playing with my nipples, you’ll let go of me.”
He throws his head back and laughs, and the music players miss a note. The conversation swells after a moment, and Aron gives my breast one last proprietary squeeze before releasing it. “You stay here,” he tells me, keeping an arm locked around my waist. As if he’s just now remembering where we’re at, he glances over at Lord Secuban as I pick up my wine goblet. “How big is Novoro’s army?” he asks, tone mild.
The lord of the keep wastes no time in announcing numbers. I don’t pay any attention to what he’s saying, because it’s already clear to me that Aron has no interest in having these people be his army. He’s just toying with the guy while I’m occupied. I take a couple of bites of food…and moan. Holy fuck, these people can make some amazing dishes. Everything has a wealth of delicate spices that make even the most basic vegetables incredible. I take a bite out of everything and nibble on some buttery, fresh-baked bread. It’s all delicious, and I lick my fingers as I eat while Aron talks to Lord Secuban. Lady Gerline sits on the pillow at her husband’s feet, but she’s not eating. She looks rather defeated, her shoulders slumped. And when she looks over at me, I can see the jealousy in her eyes.
Tough titty.
I feel another possessive stab at the thought of another woman touching Aron. I don’t like the idea at all. She can sit on her pillow and pout, I decide as I eat another mouthful of bread. I watch the rest of the room as I pack away the food, ignoring the astonished looks that the serving girls give me as I clear my plate and another is put before me. They’ll figure out soon enough that my appetite isn’t human. Until then, they can just keep bringing the food. I chew on a bit of chicken—at least, it tastes like chicken—and glance down the hall. The enormous tables are full of people sitting shoulder to shoulder on the long benches, and the conversation’s turned boisterous now that Aron’s relaxed. Serving girls flit between men, all wearing the practically open dress like the one I’ve borrowed. They seem to enjoy the clothing, though. As I watch, one brunette deliberately leans over far to fill someone’s wine, and as she does, her breasts are exposed by the deep vee of the gown. One of the men reaches forward and fondles her breast as if it’s part of the meal, and I stiffen.
The girl just laughs, grabs him by his hair and gives him a fierce kiss, and then moves down the row to fill someone else’s cup.
Well, they did say these people were weird.
Music starts, and a new course of delicious things is brought out. I try a few of the sweets and then give up, holding my overflowing belly.
“Sated?” Aron asks, his arm moving around my waist and pulling me back when a servant clears my plate.
I shiver, because he didn’t ask if I was full. He asked if I was sated and that feels like it has a billion different meanings, all of them filthy. “I’m good for now.” I put my hand over his and lean back against him, relaxing and listening to the music as Lord Secuban discusses defenses of his keep and how much more defensible it is than the Citadel, which rumor has told him has fallen to Aventine’s army. I notice Aron doesn’t confirm anything, so I don’t speak up, either. Let him wonder.
Plates are cleared away and I watch the servants work. No one’s getting up from the tables, and as I scan the room, I see the men are getting handsier and handsier with the girls, tugging on their clothing as they pass by and grabbing at boobs and butts. One girl mock-spills into someone’s lap and then she’s all flustered giggles as the man buries his face in her practically exposed breasts. I’m a little scandalized when their seat neighbor joins in, kissing the girl and slipping a hand under her skirt.
It occurs to me that no one’s looking at this as unnatural. It also occurs to me that there aren’t any children at this party.
Sure enough, the man stands up, pushing the girl forward on the now-cleared table. He leans over her and starts pumping while everyone else around cheers and calls out encouragement. The girl just laughs and reaches for the man sitting across the table, as if one guy isn’t enough. I watch in horrified fascination as the man blasts into her quickly and shudders a scant minute later. His buddy taps him on the shoulder and then the guy offers her to his friend, and number two takes his turn on the girl.
I really hope that’s not rape.
I don’t think it is, though. The women spill back into the room, full of smiles and head for the men. The tables turn into a sea of arms and entwined limbs, and more than one person is piled on in each group.
“Enjoying the view?” Aron asks, stroking my side. His fingers brush against my breast and I feel that hot shudder of need rip through me.
I just shake my head. “Goddamn it, Aron, does every party have to be a fucking orgy?”
Laughter rumbles through him. “I take it mortals in your world celebrate differently?”
“Uh, yeah, we usually just like beer.” I shake my head. “This is just fucked up.”
“Why?” he asks, and tips a finger under my chin to make me meet his gaze. “They are happy. They celebrate my arrival and hope for a blessing.”
“Oh, so you’re cool with this as long as they don’t touch your toys?” I retort. “Is that how we play?”
He arches an eyebrow at me in the same annoying way I normally do to him. “If they wish to fuck Markos or Yulenna, I do not care. They can fuck all of my soldiers at once for all I care. They are just not allowed to touch you.”
And just like that, my irritation vanishes, quickly replaced by hot lust. I remember his hand on my breast from earlier, the way he held on as if I belonged to him.
As if I were his personal property.
“But you’re allowed to touch me?” I ask, my voice a mere whispered tease.
He just gives me that lazy, confident smile that tells me everything I need to know. One hand strokes over my belly, and for a moment, I don’t care that we’re in a room full of people. I want him to push his hand under the opening in my skirt and touch me until I come.
Aron doesn’t, though. He just slides his hand to my breast, holding me and branding me as his possession, and turns to Lord Secuban. “You have won my approval for now. My party will be here for a few days before moving on. I expect supplies and for my servants to be treated with the utmost respect.”
“Of course!” Lord Secuban’s practically gushing with delight.
“My men will need new armor and weapons, and my women will need clothing.”
“You shall be given everything and anything you need, my great Lord of Storms,” Secuban declares, and there’s such shining excitement on his face that I can’t hate the guy or his weird people. He snaps his fingers and one of his chained slaves—the naked ones—comes forward and he pulls her into his lap, as if he can truly party now that Aron’s pleased.
I just shake my head and drink more wine. I think if there’s another party like this one, I might pull a Yulenna and stay upstairs, too. Then I frown, remembering how they were going to give Aron some lap candy.
Nah, maybe not. I need to come down and stake my claim, much as I’m not a fan of public orgies. I glance around. Yup, they’re all still fucking. At least the women look like they’re having a great time and don’t mind being railed by several guys at once. I guess if it’s normal for you to expect that, it doesn’t seem so weird.
Still weird to me, though.
I look for Markos, Solat and Vitar—they’re at the table closest to the door, and the expression on Markos’s face looks like he’s sucking on a lemon as a female gyrates in the lap of a man nearby. Solat has a girl in his arms, his face buried in her cleavage. Guess he’s right at home. Vitar’s tossing back wine and trying not to look as uncomfortable as he clearly feels.
I wonder if this world has such a thing as hazard pay, because these guys clearly deserve it. Well, not Solat. He’s having too good a time.
But then Aron absently moves his hand over my breast in a casual caress and I’m lit up with need all over again. I squirm in his lap, the hot bar of his erection pressing against my backside. “You’re doing that on purpose,” I tell him, accusing.
I just get another lazy, heated smile, as if he loves torturing me like this.
I kind of love it, too. I know I shouldn’t, but…when in Rome and all that.
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51
By the time the party winds down, I’ve drunk several jugs of wine, probably eaten an entire cake all on my own, and I’m so aroused and horny that I can barely walk back to the quarters I’m supposed to share with Yulenna. Aron keeps an arm firmly around my shoulders as we head up the stairs, flanked by Markos and the others. Lady Gerline cast a few longing looks in Aron’s direction, but I’m pleased that he completely and utterly ignored her. As far as he’s concerned, she doesn’t exist.
We head up to Yulenna’s chamber, the one the anchor’s supposed to be sharing with Aron. There are a few guards in the hall, but Aron glares at all of them until they make a hasty exit, and then it’s only Kerren at the door.
Aron glances at the four men, his arm still locked possessively around my shoulders. “This chamber is going to be mine and Faith’s alone. No one is to enter without my express permission. You can wake us at dawn. No earlier.”
Markos’s face turns bright red again and he gives Aron a crisp salute. “Of course, my lord. No one will disturb you or your anch…ah, female.”
Solat and Vitar try to hide their grins, while Kerren manages to keep a straight face. It’s obvious what’s going through their heads, though. They saw Aron groping me all night. Now they’re all going to think we’re fucking.
Wait, are we fucking? I’m flustered at the thought, but even so, my nipples are hard and my body pulses with awareness of Aron’s big frame and the crackling energy that surges through his body to mine. His casually possessive touches all night have me totally primed and ready, and I admit that if I had panties, they would have slid off my legs hours ago, too soaked to stay on.
Aron nods at them, and then heads down the hall with me. Before we can even get to the door, Yulenna is there, covered in my cloak, her satchel in her arms. She gives us a little bow and then scurries down the hall to where Kerren and the others are waiting. She must have heard…or she guessed. Either way, some of my guilt disappears at the thought of kicking her out of her room. Clearly she’s been expecting it all along.
That means it’s just me and Aron and a great big bed.
We enter Lady Gerline’s private chambers—now our chambers for as long as we’re visiting. There’s a warm fire in the hearth, and a covered dish on a table next to a ewer of wine. I ignore all of it, though, flustered and heated with need. Is Aron going to touch me? Kiss me again? Or is he waiting for me to make the first move? I look over at him, but he heads toward the bed, undoing his sword belt and pulling off his new clothing.
I lick my dry lips, my pulse pounding. “Do you want me to get naked, too?” My voice is breathless with arousal.
“No.” The bastard gives me an inscrutable look.
That…isn’t what I expected to hear. “No?”
He shakes his head. “I will not be touching you again this night. It would be a mistake.”
I stiffen in outrage. “So what was that out there? Just a show? Was your dick hard just for show, too?”
Aron just glares at me, as if I'm bringing up stuff he'd rather not talk about right now. Well, I don't give a fuck what he wants. I'm hurt that he's all over me all night—I can still feel the heat of his hand under my dress—and then the moment the door closes, he goes cold again. For a moment, I think about all the people downstairs, still fucking and swapping partners like it's no big deal. They're having a grand time. I consider telling Aron I'm going to go down there and join them, but it's the last thing I want.
I thought before tonight that I wanted to be left alone. Now I know that's not the truth—I want Aron to touch me. I want him to give in to this crazy attraction that we've been fighting. I'm ready for it. I'm ready for more of his touch. I've wanted him for what seems like forever. I don't care that he's a god, or that he's arrogance personified. He's Aron and my traveling companion, friend, and protector. I want the guy.
Powerfully.
"Fine," I tell him when he says nothing. I move to the bed and toss aside the wide belt that cinches my dress closed. It gapes open and I undo the one small tie holding it together, and then shuck it, too. I'm completely naked in front of him, and while we've bathed in front of each other several times, it feels different tonight. Tonight, my breasts are tight with need, my nipples aching from his caresses. Tonight, my pussy's flooded with wetness, and he's going to ignore all of that.
And it's killing me.
His hard gaze sweeps over my body, and he arches an eyebrow at my nudity, as if quietly asking if this is some sort of ploy. It's not, though. It's more like a “fuck you.”
I shake my head and get into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin and turning my back to him.
"You wear no nightclothes," he points out, and the bed sinks with his weight behind me.
"Yeah, well, they didn't give me any," I tell him. "So just keep your hands to yourself while I sleep if it bugs you." Normally he puts his hands on my waist and holds me against him as I sleep, and I'm desperately hoping he'll do it anyhow. If he's so immune to everything my nudity shouldn't matter, should it?
"You're angry," he says, and I can't tell if it's a statement or a question.
I thump the pillow and stare at the wall, even though his presence is looming behind me, larger than life. There's a knot in my throat that I can't quite shake, and I swallow a few times before I give up and speak anyhow. "You didn't have to kiss me like it meant something," I whisper.
"No one said it did not mean anything."
I turn around and sit up to look at him. The blankets fall to my waist, and I'm rather viciously pleased to see that his gaze flicks to my naked breasts before going back to my face. His arms are crossed over his massive chest, and the expression on his face is hard and unyielding as ever.
But that's not the only part of him that's hard. Even through the skirted part of his tunic, his cock bulges against his clothing, making it obvious that he's affected.
Good. I want him to be affected. I want him to be as aching with need as I am.
"Faith," Aron says, and his voice is softer and gentler than I've ever heard it. "You are my anchor. I must protect you from everything if I am to ensure that we both return to our proper places. I cannot become distracted."
My nipples feel like they get even harder at his tone, and I arch my back just a little, letting him get a good look at what he's missing out on. "And you think I'm distracting?"
"A mortal liaison would be distracting."
I don't like how vague he's trying to make that. I slip a hand to my breast, thumbing my finger over my nipple and sure enough, his gaze flicks there again and his mouth tightens. "But am I distracting?"
"You always distract me, Faith." The air practically crackles around us and shivers with intensity, like it did downstairs. If anything, his gaze is more intense than ever before.
"Good," I tell him, and lie back down, tugging the covers back up. "I'm glad both of us are going to bed with blue balls."
He chuckles, and the sound is low and delicious and oh, it makes me wet all over again. "I do not know what that means, but I can guess."
"It's unfair," I tell him, and slide my hand between my thighs, a wicked idea occurring to me. "I guess I'll just touch myself to ease the problem—"
"If you do, I will tie your hands to the bedposts," he warns.
I raise my hand out from under the blanket and give him the finger, instead. "You suck."
Aron just laughs again. "Go to sleep, Faith."
Oh sure, like I'm just supposed to turn things on and off like a switch. I fight back my irritation and close my eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing heat between my thighs and the nearness of the man I want so badly. The man that won't touch me, despite the endless sexual tension building between us.
At least it explains why he had such a hard-on at Tadekha's citadel and never touched me. Mortal liaisons are distracting.
He doesn't know the half of it. If he thinks I've been distracting so far, he hasn't seen anything yet. I vow to be the most frustrating, distracting, cock-tease of a mortal that this world has ever seen. Aron has needs like any other man. I'm going to break him down, make him realize he's torturing himself over nothing.
And when he snaps, it's going to be glorious.
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52
Project Tease begins the next morning.
When I wake up, Aron is distant, already distracted with his plans for the day. He glances over me to assess my mood. "Are you angry about last night?" he asks as he dresses.
"Me? Nah." I yawn. "You're the one in charge. I'm just the lowly mortal."
That makes him pause. One eyebrow goes up. "You are the mortal, but I also know you, Faith."
I wave a hand, indicating he should leave. "We'll talk about it some other time. Go do your thing."
Aron studies me for a moment and then puts his belt on, heavily decorated with daggers and the like. "I want you and the other girl to keep up the pretense."
"Yulenna?"
He shrugs. "Whatever her name is."
All right, I shouldn't be such a gleeful bitch that he can't remember her name…but I am. "She's the anchor and I'm the concubine. Got it."
"Stay in these apartments until I return."
"Did we say ‘concubine’ or did we say ‘prisoner’?" I ask lightly.
He just gives a shake of his head. "I knew you were still angry. Faith, do not test me on this. As you saw last night, these people have very set customs. I will be extremely cross if I find you gone and in some other mortal fool's bed all because you did not listen to me."
Well, that would make me pretty cross, too. "Is he a hot fool?" I ask, though, and my toes curl when Aron looks over at me with a vicious frown. "Don't worry. I won't go anywhere. I might be pissy but I'm not an idiot. I have no desire to be shared with half the fucking city like they think I should be. Your concubine is going to take a nap." I fluff my pillow and turn away, forcing another yawn. "And tell them to send up breakfast. Lots of it."
I wait to see if he's going to say anything else, but Aron is quiet. After a long, tense moment, he leaves the room and the door shuts behind him.
I roll onto my back and glare up at the ceiling. So Aron doesn't want to play with his toys…but he doesn't want anyone else to play with them either. I'm not going to let him sit me on some shelf, though, and only acknowledge me when he needs to show off in front of others. We're a team. That won't change if we sleep together. I run a hand down my front, palming my naked breast and thinking of his hand last night. Hot shivers move through me and I remember the heat in his gaze, the way the air crackled so ferociously as if we were about to be struck by lightning where we stood.
God, that thrill of danger should not have been as sexy as it was. But it's arousing because it went with Aron's heated looks, Aron's possessive touches, Aron's big hands all over my body as he declared in front of the world that I was his. That I was his alone.
Project Tease is definitely a go, I decide.
I jump up from bed and throw on a robe that's hanging from a hook. It's of a soft weave and not all that modest, so I'm guessing Lady Gerline dresses like a castle ho on the regular. Maybe women are just showpieces to these men after all. Great. All the more reason to stay in the apartments like Aron suggested. I might be angry at him, but like I said, I'm not stupid. I know this world isn't safe like my own, and I don't know that I'd be all that safe dressed like this in my world, either.
But if I'm not leaving the apartments, anything goes.
So I wrap the robe tightly around me, hiding all my girl bits despite the wispy fabric, and move to the door. I crack it open a hair and I'm not entirely surprised to see Solat and Kerren out there. I peer out and clear my throat to get their attention.
Both turn. Kerren gives a bow but Solat only grins knowingly.
"No bowing," I whisper. "I'm the concubine, remember?"
Kerren blushes. "Of course." He straightens, looking like an overgrown schoolboy in leather armor. "What can we get for you?"
"Where's Aron?"
"Lord Secuban was waiting for him. They are touring the keep."
"Showing off," Solat adds lazily. "Probably still trying to convince Lord Aron that he should be his army."
"Ugh. Aron doesn't want an army." I don't point out that he barely wants them around. "Did he send up breakfast?"
"It will be here shortly," Kerren says, and almost bows again but stops himself. "Can we get you anything else?"
"Yulenna," I say. "And some servants that are good with hair and makeup. Aron doesn't want me going out so I'm going to have a spa day."
"A what day?"
"Never mind. Basically I'm going to do my hair and take hot baths and other girly shit. Are you guys on guard duty all day?"
"We are proud to serve," Kerren says stiffly, even as Solat stifles a yawn. They both look tired.
"Where's Markos?"
"With my Lord Aron."
"And Vitar?"
"He is guarding Yulenna's apartments—"
"Cool, let's condense things then. You guys look tired. Bring her here and you three trade off watching the door. One of you can come in and nap in between shifts. There's an extra cot in here," I tell them, pointing off to the side. I'm guessing that's for bed guests of all kinds. Yeesh, Novoro, turn it down a notch.
They hesitate, glancing at each other.
"You'll all three still be guarding, right? We'll be safer than ever if we're together. And if Aron gives you any shit, you were following my orders."
That convinces them. Kerren heads down the hall to go retrieve Vitar and Yulenna, and Solat gives me a flirty grin. "You're good to us, lady."
"Faith. And I have a soft heart, what can I say?"
"Invitingly soft," he says, his smile growing wider.
I put a hand up. "I'm going to stop you there, Solat, because we both know Aron would neuter you in a heartbeat if he heard you were flirting with me. I'm sure you want to keep your balls."
Even though it's difficult to tell in the shadowy corridor, I'm pretty sure he pales. "An excellent reminder, thank you."
I give him a little nod and smile. "Save it for Yulenna if you want to flirt with anyone." Even if I was interested, his mouth was on as many women as he could possibly manhandle last night, and that's just gross.
Plus…he's not Aron.
The lord of storms might be ruining me for all men in the future.
It's the laziest day I've spent since I arrived in this world. I don't leave the rooms, and staff bring up delicate sweet treats and fine wines for us to feast on. I eat my weight in candied fruits as servants massage my limbs and rub scented oils into my skin. My hair is washed, trimmed, braided, and perfumed. It sounds amazing, but there have been so many awful days since I arrived in this land that I can't even relax for this. I keep one eye on the door and watch every new person that comes in suspiciously. I keep a small dagger (meant to cut food) under my thigh at every moment, just in case someone decides to murder me. Yulenna relaxes and enjoys every last moment as if it's her due, though. She bosses around the servants and picks through the clothing brought for her as if she's lived this sort of life for all her years.
And she flirts. Lord, how she flirts. She flirts with Solat. She flirts with the male servants that empty out the bathwater. She flirts with anything that enters the room and has a penis. I just watch her with amusement, wondering if she's trying to secure her future or she just genuinely likes men that much. It's clear she's in her element, though.
Not me. I feel like a fish out of water as I always do, constantly out of place and not sure what to do with myself. Oddly enough, I wish Aron was here to talk to. He'd say some snippy, arrogant shit that would remind me that even when he’s a dick, he’s still kind of fun to be around. We'd share a smile over something. More than anything, he'd understand if I complained about feeling out of place.
He knows what that feels like, after all.
"Did you bring in the concubine's new dresses?" Yulenna asks in an imperious voice when the servants bring another round of food. I shove a nut-covered pastry into my mouth, licking my fingers as she turns and gives the servants an angry look. "Haven't we asked for our clothes? Repeatedly? She needs them so she can be ready to greet our lord of storms when he returns to our chambers this evening."
"I'm sorry, revered anchor," a female maidservant stammers to Yulenna. "We were told to bring the clothes, but then you asked for more food and—"
"And now the food is here, and we still need the clothes." She looks down her nose at the woman. "Go and retrieve them."
"Right away, revered anchor." The servant drops into a quick bobbing curtsy and then races out the door.
"Laying it on a little thick, aren't we?" I murmur to Yulenna, who just gives me an impish grin. "I mean, she's got a point. I did ask for more food. Whatever these little nutty things are, they're fucking amazing." They're shaped like stars and taste like heaven and I might have already eaten an entire tray. Or two.
Definitely two.
Yulenna just tosses her hair. "Oh, if we don't order them about, it messes up the pecking order. The more demanding that we are, the more it cements our power. We act like they're here to serve our every need and it reminds them who's in charge."
That's an odd way of looking at things, but it makes sense. I've been nice and polite to the soldiers, and while Markos and Kerren are kind and courteous to both me and Yulenna, Vitar smirks a lot and Solat flirts far too much for his own good. Maybe if I'd been firmer with them and established that we weren't supposed to be buddies, things would be smoother. As it is, I inwardly grimace every time Solat stares at me a little too long.
It's just a matter of time before Aron catches him and removes his head with his bare hands.
Of course, I'm a sick woman because that thought gives me a stupid little thrill that Aron would act jealous over something like that. Not that I want Solat to lose his head…but I like the thought of Aron being possessive over me.
Yulenna's smarter than she lets on, though. I eye her with new appreciation as the servants return and she gives them impatient looks and acts displeased. They all scramble to do her bidding and fill the room with their apologies, until her frown lifts and she gives them a tiny incline of her head, indicating they're back in her good graces.
She's got this shit down pat. For a moment, I feel a twinge of remorse. Would Aron do better with someone like Yulenna at his side? Someone who knows how to play the game and who knows this world and its customs? Probably.
Instead, he has me. I don't know anything, I can't fight for shit, and I'm bad at pretending that I do.
I suck as an anchor.
"There. I think these are acceptable. Try one on, Faith." She moves to the long chest of gowns and pulls the first one off of a stack.
