Текст книги "Bound to the battle god"
Автор книги: Ruby Dixon
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Текущая страница: 32 (всего у книги 40 страниц)
“Faith.” Yulenna’s soft voice makes me go quiet. Her hands tug at my dress, like a child wanting attention. “Don’t. Okay? There’s no need to be upset. I’ll do it.”
At first, I don’t understand what she means. “Do what?”
The two Spidae go completely still, and their attention focuses on Yulenna, not me. “An interesting thread,” one murmurs.
“I see it now,” says the other. “Very interesting.”
Yulenna swallows hard, then lifts her chin. Her thick hair is pulled in a thick braid, and she’s wearing a pale gown with a square fur collar that shows her cleavage and clings to her body in all the right ways. She’s gorgeous, as usual. Her eyes are wide and frightened, but she smiles at me. “I will serve the gods.”
I shake my head, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her away. “Wait, Yulenna, no. You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“You…you really want to serve them? An anchor has to go willingly.” Who would willingly tie themselves to these two? As I look back at them, a third joins, identical to his brothers, this one with eyes so black they look like coals in his pale face. Did I think one was creepy? Three is a nightmare. “You want to stay here?” I hiss at her. “Really?”
She swallows hard. “Not really. I’m kind of scared, actually.” But she gives me a brave smile. “But if you can learn a new world, so can I.”
“Yulenna, no, this is different—”
One of the Spidae glides forward and touches Yulenna’s fat black braid. He practically hovers over her, studying her with fascination. “You would serve us in all ways? The three of us?”
She nods.
“Time out,” I call out, making a T with my hands. “No. Absolutely not. Yulenna, you’re not a whore any longer, okay? You don’t have to do anything like this.”
Yulenna shakes her head, her eyes earnest even as the Spidae hovering over her toys with her braid. “I want to do this, Faith. Here, I have a purpose. I can serve the gods. Once we leave this tower, I’m just an unnecessary whore for a god who is in love with his anchor. I cannot fight in Aron’s army. How long do you think he will keep me around?”
My throat goes dry. I take her hand in mine. “You’re my friend. Aron would keep you as long as I want. You’ve been good to me, and to him.”
She squeezes my hand, and I feel like crying, because I can tell her mind is already made up. “You have been my friend, too. Thank you for making me feel like your equal in all ways.” Yulenna gives me a smile. “But now I must find my own path.”
I swallow hard.
“I can see the guilt on your face,” Yulenna teases. “Don’t. I’m choosing this, just as you choose to be with Aron.”
“If you’re sure,” I begin, but Yulenna pulls her hand from mine and turns to look at the Spidae. One extends his hand to her even as the other plays with her braid.
“I’m sure,” she says, and I hate the tremble in her voice. But she’s brave and strong as she takes the hand extended to her and walks away with the gods.
I watch her go, feeling helpless. Did I just give my friend up…?
I’m surprised when one of the Spidae – the one with blue eyes – turns back and approaches me. I back up a step as he heads in my direction, and there’s a look on his face I can’t decipher. He pauses in front of me, thinks, and then leans in.
“They won’t check your pockets, you know.”
“O-kay…thanks?” I pat my pockets, but they’re empty. And before I can ask him what the hell he’s talking about, he’s gone.
OceanofPDF.com
69
This horrible day seems to last forever. Aron is distant and vague, gazing out at nothing and speaking to no one. He answers when I ask him questions, but his answers are always along the lines of “I don’t care” or “It doesn’t matter” so I stop asking. I just have to wait this out, I tell myself a hundred times as I try to stay busy.
Yulenna is gone as if she was never with us. I go to her room and her things have been removed, and sometimes I catch a hint of her voice, but she never materializes. I suspect that the Spidae are keeping her from us so she won’t change her mind. They’re hiding their new toy.
It falls to me to talk to Markos, Kerren and Solat. I tell them about Aron’s apathy, and they listen with solemn expressions.
“So we no longer have the advantage,” Markos says. “Now, each Aspect of Aron has killed another.”
“Was that an advantage we had?” I joke lightly. “It doesn’t feel like one.”
“An advantage is an advantage.” Markos shrugs. “But when Aron is himself, we will discuss plans.”
I bite my lip and nod.
“What of Yulenna?” Solat asks. “Where has she gone this day?” He paces behind Markos and Kerren, his expression tense.
“That’s problem number two,” I say hesitantly. “She’s decided to anchor for the Spidae. They’ve taken her away.”
Solat goes pale. “She what?”
“It was her decision,” I say quickly. “She spoke with them and decided. It has to be given freely—”
Solat slams out of the room. “Yulenna!” he bellows, storming down the hall.
I wince. I knew that would go badly, especially given that they were clearly friends-with-benefits or more. “It was her choice. I have to honor it.”
Markos rubs his mouth, shocked. “This has been a day of surprises, none of them good.”
“We need time,” Kerren says, then corrects himself. “Solat will need time to understand.”
“Aron’s going to be out of it for the next few days if it’s anything like when he took on Liar Aron’s Aspect,” I say, twisting my hands in my lap. For once, I’m not hungry. I just want to close my eyes and go to sleep. Maybe Aron’s apathy is affecting me, too. “But once he’s back to himself…”
“We should leave,” Markos agrees. “To Yshrem.”
“To our destiny,” Kerren adds, and I flinch.
Funny how that word “destiny” keeps popping up and it sounds more awful every time I hear it.
It takes two full days before Aron snaps out of his “apathy.” Two days of wandering around the somehow lonelier tower, now that both Aron and Yulenna are gone. Well, the Aron I know is gone, and in his place is a stranger who stares at the walls and gives a shit about nothing.
I ignore him. I have to, or I’ll snap. I pretend like he isn’t there, and when he wanders from room to room in that listless way of his, I make sure to leave. I can’t stand to see him like this. I know it’s not him. I know it isn’t. I just…can’t have him look at me with that same bored, uncaring look that he gives the others.
It’s quiet with Yulenna gone, too. There’s no one to talk to, really. The men are busy. I see Markos packing up the men’s supplies or sparring with Solat, who’s turned into an angry, silent man and not the laughing tease he was before. I see Kerren praying over the marker for Vitar’s grave, and I’m a terrible person because all I can think is that I’m glad there was no body, since the dead aren’t staying dead right now.
I try to sew, but it’s not fun without company. I should practice my staff-work like Aron showed me, but I don’t have the heart. I can’t concentrate. As companions go, I’m pretty useless, and it fills me with panic.
I don’t have a way home. Not any longer. I’m here now, forever. It hits me by degrees. Sometimes I’ll be fine with it, and sometimes I’ll think of how distant Aron has been for the last few days and want to vomit over the choice I’ve made.
I love him. I just am utterly terrified for what the future holds, because it feels like we’re barreling toward it.
And I can’t stop thinking of the thread that the Spidae pinched off as if it were nothing. I see it every time I close my eyes. Are they going to pinch off the front of my thread like that when it’s my time? When Aron has to ascend again? Or do they pinch Aron’s thread with the same carelessness? The thought makes me sick.
I take to my bed, pulling the covers over my head and sinking into a fitful nap.
I wake up to a hot mouth on my neck, and a big body pressing mine into the mattress. Electricity—that delicious static that always builds between me and Aron—crackles in the air and I moan as he pulls my gown open, exposing my breasts.
“Faith,” Aron murmurs. “Wake up.”
I jerk awake with a gasp as I realize what’s happening. Aron looms over me, his eyes troubled, but they’re clearer than they were before. I grab his jaw and study his face, trying to see if any remnants of Apathy remain. “How are you feeling?”
“I am a god,” he says. “Why would I not be fine?”
Well, that sounds like Aron, but I’m not entirely sure. Time to test the waters a bit more. “I’ve been thinking about getting kinky in the blankets. You finally down for some butt stuff?”
“That depends.” He kisses my nipple and gives it a gentle tug with his teeth. “Are we talking your butt or mine?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not to me.” He grins wickedly.
For a moment, the breath catches in my chest. The relief I feel immediately turns to ice. What if…what if something happened to Hedonism and that’s why Aron wants to have sex? “I changed my mind,” I say quickly. “No butt stuff. No anything. Can we just talk?”
Aron tilts his head. “Talk?”
“About anything but sex,” I say desperately. “What about strategies? How are we going to get to Yshrem without an army? Is it safe? Or should we go back to Novoro?”
He snorts and reclines on the bed on his elbow, gazing down at me. “I will sooner walk all the way to Glistentide before I take an army of Novoran fops as my protectors. Do you know that their idea of a combat tourney involved capturing flags? Flags! Because they did not wish to hurt themselves.” His lip curls in disgust. “If I am to acquire an army, it has to be the best one possible. You know this, Faith.” And his hand goes possessively to my stomach. “And the best are most certainly not Novoro’s pathetic troops.”
That’s Arrogance and the god of battle, all wrapped up into a pretty bow. He’s not Hedonism. I don’t need to check the strings to know that, and I’m so relieved that I burst into tears.
“Shh,” he murmurs, and pulls me against him. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself for the last few days, have I?”
“Apathy,” I manage to choke out. “Apathy is dead.”
“I know.” He strokes my hair, letting me weep against his chest. “There is only one left, which means we cannot stay any longer. He will move to meet us, and I would rather meet him with an army on the fields of Yshrem.”
I nod, but all I can think about is my thread. How easily the Spidae plucked it from its moorings and snapped it. How it fell against the Aos world web so limply. How it’s only tied to Aron now. “And once we beat him…what happens to us?” I whisper. “What happens to me when you win?”
“If you worry that I will send you away, the answer is ‘never,’” Aron says. He holds me tighter. “You’re not leaving my side. I won’t let them part us.”
It might not be his choice. I hug him close. “Just promise me that when you absorb the last guy and then re-ascend, you’ll never forget me, all right? Even if we can’t be together, I need you to always remember me. Promise it.”
His hand clenches possessively in my hair. “You are not going anywhere, Faith. I have promised.”
“All right,” I whisper, but I’m not entirely sure I believe him.
He holds me close, but I don’t want to leave it at that. I need him as much as he needs me, I think. Maybe more. I turn toward him and kiss his cheek, kiss the scar that crosses the left side of his face. I kiss his mouth, and when he kisses me in return, I push him onto his back. I straddle him, hiking up my skirts, because in this moment, there’s nothing I want more than to feel him deep inside me. I need him to claim me and remind me why I do this. It’s not just the sex. It’s never been just the sex. It’s everything Aron is, and how much I believe in him.
How we’re good for each other in all the right ways.
Aron tilts me forward, pulling off his leggings, and then I ease down against his cock. I’m not yet wet enough to take him, so he snags a hand behind my neck and pulls me down for a harder kiss, his mouth fiercely claiming mine even as one hand grasps my breast and teases the nipple. He works it to a hard point with his thumb, rubbing back and forth as I rock against his cock. I want to take him deep, need the connection between us, and when he gives a little push, I sit back, letting gravity do what my body won’t.
That’s not enough for Aron, though. He growls my name, a single syllable of need. “Faith.” One hand clamps on my hip and the other goes to my clit, and he rubs his thumb against it as I rock over him. Oh, fuck. That does it. I close my eyes, losing myself to pleasure as he rubs my clit and slowly I sink onto the hard, thick length of him.
I ride him, my hips working as I move over him. I need this. Need him. I’ve missed him, even though it’s only been a few days since he was lost to me. It made me realize just how much I’ve come to crave him. Not just my body, but my heart.
Maybe even my soul.
“I love you,” I tell him as our bodies work together, faster and harder. “Love you, Aron.”
He doesn’t say it back. I didn’t think he would. But when I climax and collapse atop him and he flips me onto my back and uses me for his pleasure, he growls out something that sounds like “mine.”
It’s enough for now.
I’m not sad to leave the Tower of the Spidae.
Well, I am in a sense. I want to stay at Aron’s side and do nothing but simply exist. I want to have those lazy, blissful days forever…but I know that won’t happen. That’s not in the cards for us. Aron has to defeat his other Aspect and I’ll end up…who knows where. I’m not dwelling on semantics yet. But staying at the tower? That’s a no-go. The feel of the place has changed since Aron had his apathy spell. Maybe it’s the memory of the Spidae snapping my string right before my eyes. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the Spidae telling us in a subtle way to leave now that they have Yulenna all to themselves. It feels a bit like we’ve fed her to the wolves, but when we pack our final supplies to leave, she’s there to send us off with a smile and a wave.
And she looks…happy. Renewed. Like she has a purpose, even if it’s just to be the servant of a trio of creepy spider gods. So, good for her, I guess. I certainly can’t judge.
Kerren loads our supplies onto the cobweb raft (I recognize the material now after being surrounded by it for weeks) and poles across while the woales wade on through, gliding through the water with light bounces as their feet land and hit the shallow bottom. The lake is wide, but it’s not deep in the slightest, and if I thought it was dead before, it’s a tomb now.
I worry a little, though, thinking of Vitar. “It’s safe,” Markos reassures me from the woale ahead of mine, his grip on the harness as we swim-bounce-plow through the water. “Lord Aron killed everything in a single breath when we arrived and it’s been safe to cross ever since.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.” I clutch at my woale’s harness as it dips lower in the water, surging forward after it pushes off the bottom. It even swims like a damn hippo. I’m a little nervous to be riding by myself, but with five woales and five riders, it doesn’t make sense to double up. I miss being able to hold onto Aron, though. He’s decided it’s safest if I ride in the middle, so he pulls up the rear while Markos and Kerren ride ahead.
Once we cross the lake, we change out of our wet, cold clothing, and remount again. I wrap my cloak tightly around my body and give the tower one last, final look before it disappears as we head into the mountains.
We’re heading to Yshrem. To our destiny.
I’ve never been so damn scared in my life.
OceanofPDF.com
70
ONE MONTH LATER
I wasn’t expecting that the war would beat us to Yshrem.
We sit atop our mounts on the edge of a cliff and stare down at the plain below us. It stretches out for miles, and I almost expect to see more of the tiny villages along the roads that we’ve seen up until now. Instead, there’s a massive, white stone keep with a huge crenellated retaining wall. It butts up against a wide river, and on the other side of the river is an army.
In between them is a war zone.
Trenches are dug all along the river’s edge. A bridge that looks as if it used to cross to the other side is demolished in the middle. Spikes have been pushed into the ground to act as barriers and all over I see churned earth, scorched piles of ash that still smoke in the late morning sunlight, and in the distance, a field full of tents. Men crawl behind the barricades on the other side of the river, and even from here, I can see armor and spears. Flags flutter in the breeze, and as I watch, yet another rises behind a spiky barricade as if to taunt the cool-looking keep on the other side.
“What is this?” I ask, a little shocked. Part of me thought we’d show up to Yshrem—the capital city of the kingdom Yshrem which bears the same name—and maybe regroup a little before building an army. Clearly we’ve been beaten to the punch.
“It’s a siege,” Aron says, his gaze on the tableau below, eyes darting as he takes in the sight.
“But who’s sieging Yshrem? They’re the castle, right?” I raise my hand to my eyes, shielding the sunlight as I gaze at the massive fortress. On the far side of the wall, roads and fields lie spread and ordered in neat rows…but they’re empty and I don’t see crops growing. The last village we passed was completely empty and we didn’t know why.
Now I guess we know—they’ve all hidden inside the keep.
“Adassia,” Markos says, and Aron nods.
Over the last month, I’ve been given a crash course on Yshrem and Adassia history. They’re neighboring kingdoms, both conquered by the Cyclopae—who are barbarian warriors—about twenty years ago. Yshrem is fully under Cyclopae control, as their queen married the cyclops king, but it seems Adassia is not as big a fan. They’ve rioted in the past and fought against cyclops control before.
“Right. I guess that makes sense that they wouldn’t be happy.” I scan the army, at the bright red banners that fly over every tent and rise over multiple parts of the scarred up battlefield. My heart stutters when I see a familiar axe symbol. “Aron, they’re carrying your mark.”
“I see that.” His voice is flat. “That explains much.”
“What does it explain? Spell it out for us slow people.” Were they waiting for him? Did they know he was coming?
Have the Spidae betrayed us already? Is this all one big game?
“My last Aspect will be there, with Adassia.” He gestures at the sea of tents. “Why else would they war against a much stronger kingdom? They must have something—or someone—on their side to tip the scales in their favor.”
Hedonism Aron is there? I look at the sea of tents for signs that it’s him, but all I see is Aron’s symbol on flags, Aron’s symbol painted onto hammered breastplates. He can’t be wrong, though. The air feels charged, the troops a little too happy as they laugh behind their barricades. They’re laying siege to a hella big castle, but they act like they’re going to win. Even from here, I can tell there’s no tension in them. It’s like they’ve got this in the bag.
They would think that if they have the god of battle on their side.
You will meet your destiny in Yshrem.
Well fuck. They weren’t exactly wrong about that. Our “destiny” has already amassed an army when my Aron refused one. I bite back my sigh. Sometimes I wish Aron was a leeeetle less Aspect of Arrogance and more the Aspect of Common Sense, but I guess that wouldn’t make him who he is. Even so, staring down at the massive Adassian army that Hedonism Aron has manifested makes me think I’d feel better if we went back and got the Novoran army my Aron had been promised. “What do we do?” I ask, looking over at Aron as he gazes down the cliffs at the mess below. “What’s our new plan?”
Kerren, Markos and Solat are silent. I know we’re all waiting for Aron to decide. We can’t take on an army on our own. There’s no freaking way, and Hedonism Aron isn’t going to shove his anchor out in front of us so we can take potshots at it just for funsies.
My skin prickles, and I feel more vulnerable now than ever. I hitch my hood a little higher over my head, as if that will somehow hide me from my inevitable fate.
“We go to Yshrem as planned,” Aron says, nodding at the forbidding keep. “The Spidae will not steer us wrong.”
I’m not so sure about that. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re all being manipulated.
Even so, I’ll follow Aron’s lead.
He dismounts from his woale, casting one last glance over the armies below before turning his attention to me. He comes to my side, offering his hand, and I take it and slide down off my mount, only to be pulled into his arms. Aron cups my face and pulls me to him in a fierce kiss, and I can practically feel the anticipation rolling off of him in waves.
He’s excited that we’re here. He’s excited there’s a war.
Of course he is. He’s the god of battle. I have to keep reminding myself of that. This is his bread and butter. This is what he loves. I’d probably feel the same about a new Twilight book or an entire box of Cadbury Creme Eggs magically showing up. But it scares me.
That army down there means we’re nearing the end.
After a month of crossing the mountains and then the endless forest to get to Yshrem, you’d think I’d be prepared for this. I’m not, though. While I don’t miss the cold of the mountains or trying to lead my woale through the forest for hours on end, I still enjoyed every day I spent with Aron and the others. It was “our” time, strangely enough. Sure, the travel was no fun, but the company was great. And every night, I got to curl up in Aron’s arms and make love to him. Sometimes it would be slow and sweet lovemaking, and sometimes it would be rough and exciting, but it was always good. Between rounds of sex, we’d talk about everything and nothing. I’ve told him all about my life before—how I was just one of dozens of cubes in an insurance company call center. How I was a no one. He doesn’t believe it, and I find that achingly sweet. In his eyes, I’m so important that he can’t imagine anyone overlooking me.
Aron tells me all about his stories, too. About how once upon a time, in the dawn of Aos’s civilizations, Aron was a mortal. A butcher, of all things. He tells me of how his village was invaded by a neighboring war-tribe when many of the men were conscripted into serving their king, and so the village was left undefended save for Aron, who had been recovering from a broken hand and was left behind. He told me how he defended the village from soldier after soldier, slaughtering them with his butcher’s cleaver and held off the enemy one handed long enough for the women and children in the village to flee to the hills.
He died in the fight, but the High Father was so taken with him that he raised him to the Aether and made him the god of battle. And storms, which are battles in the Aether. Every day, I learn more about Aron, and it makes me sad that this man who has come so far is being punished by the High Father like this. There has to be a better way to set the gods back on the right path than this, though what it is, I don’t know.
Not that I’m ungrateful. I’m just happy to be with Aron, to wake up in his arms and feel a little bit of contentment, however fleeting.
I feel all of that slipping away as Aron gazes back down at the field of battle below.
Aron wants to be down there. I can tell. He’s recharged in a way I’ve never seen before at the sight of the battle preparing to happen below. It’s early, but I can see troops gathering on the walls of the Yshrem keep and the Adassian soldiers are organizing, getting ready to move. It’s sure to be a bloodbath, given that they’ll be running up against stone walls protected by a river, but it also looks like no one cares.
For a moment, I want to take Aron by the hand and lead him away from this, from all of this. There’s no time limit on how long it takes for Aron to kill his other Aspect. We can find a little cabin somewhere, hide out from the world, and just live together, taking each day as it comes. Hell, we can wait for old age to decide things. Maybe Hedonism Aron’s anchor will go first—a likely scenario since he—or she—has got to be affected by his master’s pleasure-loving slant. Maybe we just let fate sort things out.
But…that’s not who my Aron is. He can’t sit by and wait for life to happen. He has to make things happen. He has to go to battle because it’s part of who he is. He’s war. It’s not just about winning and controlling which Aspect re-ascends to the Aether.
It’s about Aron being a war god. I have to accept it, because I have to accept Aron as he is or not at all.
I understand it, even if it fills me with terror.
So I take Aron’s hand and link his fingers in mine, and gaze out at the battlefields below. “He’ll be hiding his anchor,” I guess. “He’s going to want him close enough that he can keep an eye on him, but far enough from battle that he won’t get hurt. That means he’s probably somewhere in one of those tents.” I gesture at the sea of them in the distance.
“Or he’s put him in armor and is hiding him in plain sight. It might be worthwhile to see if any of the soldiers remains behind when the others surge ahead.” Markos moves to the other side of Aron, gazing down at the field.
I look over at my Aron. “What would you do?”
“I’m Arrogance,” he answers simply. “I won’t think the same as he does. Did he pick his anchor because it was a soldier that volunteered? Is it a wench he wanted to bed? Or did he simply have no other options like I did?”
“Oooh, burn on me,” I tease. “Just call me Last Resort Faith.”
Aron flashes a playful smile in my direction. “I’ve come around to liking how things turned out, though it probably would have been wiser to pick someone who knew how to carry a sword.”
And who he didn’t want to stick his dick into constantly. I mean, I get it. For a god of battle, a wimpy girl like me is a bad call. I have no muscle strength, I can barely sit on a woale for a few hours without bitching about it, and I’ve never used a bladed weapon. I’m a poor choice. A sitting duck.
No one will ever care for Aron as much as me, though. No one. I’m the best woman for the job.
A horn sounds from down below, and the men line up. We watch atop the distant cliff as the men bellow out a cry, a narrow bridge is dropped over the river, and then they surge forward to attack the keep. Ladders are produced and just as quickly destroyed by the men crowding the ramparts. Trash—and hot oil—are thrown down on the enemy men, and on and on it goes. They’re not getting a toehold in the slightest. It seems senseless to me.
Then, off to the side, a massive keep gate opens on the far end of the river. Men ride out on horses—the first horses I’ve seen since I arrived here—and carry spears. They’re deeply tanned, with long, flowing hair, and scream war cries as they raise their spears into the air.
“The Cyclopae,” Aron murmurs.
As I watch, a group of Adassian warriors split off and approach the Cyclopae riders, who surge across the water farther down the river and then regroup on the far side. One of the Adassians steps forward, flinging his cloak off and then brandishing an axe with a flourish. He stands on the ground before the others, and they surge around him, like waters parting. Avoiding him.
That’d be Hedonism Aron.
A brave man approaches, his horse circling, and then he zooms in for the attack. He’s quickly cut down, and then newcomers approach. I swallow hard. He can’t be killed. This isn’t even fair to watch. I turn away, because I don’t want to see more men fling themselves at certain death. “How do we get down to the keep?” I ask, trying to focus. “How do we get inside it?”
“There’s no getting around that army,” Kerren says. “We’d be giving ourselves a swift death if we approach.”
“The cover of night will hide us if we want to get closer,” Solat adds, his voice flat. “But the question is, if we get close, what do we do then?”
“I know the keep,” Aron says. “The Cyclopae are dedicated to me. I have seen glimpses of this keep many, many times.” He turns to me, a hint of a smile on his face. “And I know its secrets.”
“You do?”
He nods. “I know that King Mathior had a secret passage built from his wife’s private chambers leading down to the crypts so she can escape if things get too dangerous.” He rubs his chin. “Mathior is one of my favorites. Very devoted. Amazing in battle.”
I stare at my lover like he’s grown two heads. “Crypts? Hell to the no.”
“There is a passage hidden there,” Aron says. “It’s our best way to get you safely inside. I remember that they installed a passage behind a statue dedicated to me.” He frowns. “Damned ugly statue, too.”
“Hey, remember what happened the last time we hung around with a bunch of dead guys?” I say desperately. I hate this idea already. “The cemetery back in Katharn? Where everyone tried to come up and say hello?” I gesture at the smoking piles below. “Why do you think they’re fucking burning their dead, Aron? Come on.”
“It’s the best way,” he says stubbornly. “You can’t stay out here in the open. I don’t care if I have three loyal men or three thousand, you wouldn’t be safe from my other Aspect.”
“Where is the crypt, my lord?” Markos asks.
Aron points, past the river, where the trees cluster at the edge of the horizon. “That way. They trail under the earth near the castle.”
I put my hands on my hips, because I hate this idea. “If you know about this crypt because the king is so super loyal, then your other Aspect knows about it, too.”
Aron nods. “Truth. It’s still the best idea.” He arches one of those arrogant brows at me. “Unless you’d prefer to go through the front gate?”
I throw a hand up, gesturing at him. “You can. You’re fucking invulnerable.”
Aron blinks at me, and then a smile curves his mouth. “You’re right.” He moves toward me, puts his hands on my shoulders, and kisses me hard. “Clever, and right.”
Dazed, I stare up at him. “W-what did I say?”
“When it grows dark, Markos and the others will take you to the crypts. They’re sure to be guarded, but with a diversion, we can hopefully distract anyone there long enough for you to get in.”
“Distraction?” I echo.
He grins at me, and I can practically see the battle-lust in his eyes. “I’m going to go through the gate, just as you say.”
