by Ruby Dixon
"What?" she asks, and when she approaches with a comb, I see that her dress is the same as mine. She's just so pale everywhere that I never noticed until now.
Well, damn it. I'm not leaving the room wearing this. I already feel weird enough after that bath. I look around the pale white chamber only to see that my stolen soldier's uniform has disappeared. "Can I have my clothes back? I think I'd be more comfortable in them."
"Oh no, it wouldn't be appropriate for you to have an audience with the goddess in such wear." First looks offended at the thought. "My lady loves beauty in all things, and you must be garbed in accordance to your status."
"Ah," I say, as if I understand. I don't, though. "What exactly is my status?"
"You are an anchor to a god. You serve him before all others." She sniffs haughtily. "And he would not want you looking like an underfed waif."
I don't know if she's right or not, but sometimes it's easier not to argue. What do these people have against a nice sweater and jeans? It's like covering up boobs is grossly offensive to them.
Weirdos.
Since I’ve lost the battle in regard to my clothing, I let First fix my hair. She plaits it into an intricate, five-stranded braid that coils around the top of my head like a crown, and then gently fixes a few sparkling flowers into the plait. She rubs a sweet-smelling gloss onto my lips and my cheeks and then gives me a kiss right on the lips. "You look worthy of the greatest of gods’ attentions."
That was…weird. "Too bad for me that all I got stuck with is Aron, eh?"
First gives me an unhappy look. "You shouldn't say such things. They are gods."
I probably shouldn't, but it's clear First gets along a lot better with her goddess than I do with Aron. "I know. I just run my mouth. Aron can be…frustrating."
"He is a god," she murmurs with a small shake of her head. "He deserves our patience and understanding."
Yep, she has definitely not met the man. "You're right of course," I manage to puke out, and even put a smile on my face.
"Come. My lady will be waiting," First says, and with a flutter of her wings and a wave of her hand, she sweeps out of the room. I'm supposed to follow her, obviously. Except…no one gave me any shoes and I still feel naked in this dress.
I adjust the gauzy layers of my dress, patting them over my boobs and thighs. Here goes nothing. With a deep sigh, I follow her out of the room.
First walks ahead of me, her steps brisk despite her flowing gown, and I trot behind her, doing my best to keep up. It's difficult, because all I want to do is stop and stare. This place is amazing. I gape as we walk through crystalline hall after crystalline hall. It's like a fairy-tale palace made entirely of shining quartz. The floor is patterned crystal and shines like a diamond, but it's smooth and cool under my feet. We walk down one hall and I see a massive, icicle-like staircase that curves and descends into the depths of the Citadel. I peer over the railing and it looks like there are layers and layers to the citadel itself, all made of the same sparkling materials. It's fascinating and the place practically hums with an internal vibe that makes my hair prickle. It feels almost electric, but I doubt anything here actually runs off of power, so it must be magic. We pass by a large window and below, I can see the Dirtlands with white roads snaking through them. We're extremely high up, and when I comment on that to First, all I get is a haughty sniff in return, as if that should be obvious.
I try to remember everything Aron said to me about this place, but all I remember is magic. Magic magic magic, and that it pulls all of the life out of the surrounding lands. I wonder how First feels about that, but I bet she doesn't care. As long as it's what her goddess wants, she's cool with it. Seems kind of fucked up to me, though, if they’re killing Aventine and the surrounding area just so they can have a floating place to live.
The Citadel itself is a paradise, though. Other women pass by us, speaking in low voices, hands clasped in their wispy robes. They all have the pale, metallic hair, milky skin, and glittering wings that First does. Someone's singing off in the distance, and this entire place feels like a cross between a dorm and a church. Which is a weird intersection, but no one asked me, I suppose.
We descend the icicle-dripping staircase, and I'm glad I'm barefoot, because the steps themselves are rather slippery with the crystal surfaces. First walks down, wings bobbing, but others fly past us, and it makes me wonder why there's a staircase if everyone has wings. Finally, we get to the bottom and First takes me down another hallway. Then she pauses in front of double doors and turns to me.
"Do we need to wait to enter?" I whisper, because this place feels like somewhere you would whisper.
The look she gives me is patient, and she licks her finger and smooths a stray hair back from my brow, then takes the gathers of my dress and adjusts them out with a few tugs. So much for hiding the nips. When she's satisfied with my appearance, she turns and opens the double doors, then sweeps inside. "Follow me. My lady is waiting."
I follow. What else can I do?
The room itself is arching and vaulted, and it reminds me of a massive gazebo. Thin, fluting crystalline columns support the arching, glittering ceiling and the floor itself is a dull, polished patterned quartz that doesn't reflect the light. There are people gathered along the edges of the room, like an audience before a performer, and I notice idly that they seem to be both the crystal angels of the Citadel and normal people. First pushes through the crowd, sweeping past them as if she's got someplace important to be, and I trot after her as she heads to the front of the room.
There, on a dais, sits a lovely woman. It must be the goddess. The first thing I notice is that she's tiny. The throne itself is another crystal monstrosity with a fan of spikes arching along the back, but she seems dwarfed by it, her bare feet resting on a crystal step as if she won't quite reach the floor otherwise. She's not a child, though. Far from it. The goddess herself is dressed in a barely-there string of sparkling beads that seem to emphasize her bare breasts instead of hiding them. She wears another strand of beads around her waist and wispy, gauzy skirts that flow around her calves like a rippling waterfall. Her skin is a lovely copper, her eyes a piercing pale gray, and her hair is bound up in a sweep of pearls and knotted high atop her head, then cascades over her shoulder in a jet-black waterfall.
She's easily the most beautiful and most intimidating thing I've ever seen.
First's demeanor changes the moment we're in front of the goddess. Her steps grow more rushed, and then she sinks to her knees at the bottom of the dais, prostrating herself in front of the goddess. "My lady," she says, and it practically sounds like a moan of pleasure.
I'm not sure how to respond. Do I do the same? After a moment's hesitation, I get down on my knees and lean forward, putting my head to the cool floor.
"Arise," the goddess calls out. "I would see you for myself."
I don't know if I'm supposed to call out a greeting or if that'd be too familiar, so I stand there like a lump and let her look at me. Her gaze flicks over my face and hair, down my breasts—which are outlined in the gown—and farther down my figure. I feel oddly flushed at her scrutiny. It's strange, because she's remote and just a little bit terrifying, so I'm not entirely sure why I'm blushing.
"Not much better cleaned up," the goddess says, studying me. "What is your name, mortal?"
"Faith."
Her brows draw together. "Is that a joke? Do you mock me?"
Why does everyone have a problem with my name? "It's common where I'm from. Faith Hill, Faith Evans, uh, Faith No More…" And now I'm officially out of famous Faiths. Not that she's going to know who any of those people are.
"Mmm." The frown goes away but she continues to study me, and I feel a bit like a bug trapped under a glass. I do my best not to squirm when she indicates I should turn. I don't know why her opinion matters, but I feel like I want her to be pleased with how I look. I do a circle and then wait before her once more. Is she…going to dismiss me? The thought is disappoi
nting. I have so many questions. After a long moment, Tadekha speaks. "Are you in pain?"
"Me? No. Should I be?"
She gestures with one elegant hand, and the movement is oddly hypnotic. "You tell me."
I force myself to quit staring at that hand and meet her gaze. "Whatever migraine hit me, it's gone now. Maybe it's because of the um, Citadel." I don't have an answer, but that seems as good a guess as any. All I know is that the debilitating, terrible waves of pain have vanished as quickly as they arrived and I'm so damn relieved.
She laughs, the sound utterly musical and enchanting. "I'm trying to decide if this is a game with you or if you are truly this ignorant."
The goddess is so beautiful that it's hard to be offended despite her words. "Unfortunately, I'm going to have to put money on 'ignorant.' I'm not exactly from around here." I'm puzzled by her amusement. "Care to explain?"
Her eyes flare at my question, but she crosses her legs—slowly and sensually—and then leans in. "You are an anchor, are you not?"
"That's what I volunteered for, yeah."
"Do you know what that entails? It is clear you do not." She laughs again. "Oh, this is delightful. I suspect poor Aron is as ignorant as you are. An anchor is supposed to guide their Aspect through the Anticipation, and Aron has you? He might has well have no one. How very delicious."
I frown at her tone, because I don't like the way she's talking about Aron, oddly enough. Sure, he's a jackass, but he's not exactly here to defend himself. "Aron's a…good guy." I kind of choke on the words, and she only laughs harder, the sound tinkling off the crystalline walls. "Not the most patient of men and a little bloodthirsty, but I think he has a good heart. Somewhere."
Tadekha purses her pink lips and another laugh shakes her shoulders. "Such praise."
"He's nice," I say, and it feels like a lie but I say it anyhow. "You should meet him. I'm sure you'd get along great."
Her eyes widen and the delighted smile curves even wider. "Oh, my sweet child. This is too much. You have no idea, do you?"
No idea about what? I don't ask it out loud, because I'm getting the distinct feeling that the goddess is making fun of me, and it hurts my feelings. Which is stupid, because I shouldn't be surprised that she's kind of a jerk, but for some reason, she's so appealing that I want to like her.
Tadekha flicks a hand in the air, indicating to someone nearby. I see a flash of rings and hear the tinkle of bracelets as she moves. Off to one side, one of the angels rushes forward with a tray full of fruits and sweets, and a diamond-looking decanter.
Just glancing at it makes me hungry. And thirsty. I'm always hungry and thirsty lately it seems.
The angel kneels at the goddess's side instead of setting down the tray and holds it aloft, as if her only job in life is to be a table for this woman. As I stand in front, waiting, Tadekha reaches over and plucks something that looks like a chocolate bonbon out of the bowl and my mouth fills with saliva. God, that looks so good. I watch as she takes the world's tiniest bite and licks her lips. "Shall I share a few secrets with you, Faithful?"
"Faith. And yes, please." I'm trying not to stare at the food. Or her lips. She really is perfect looking. It's amazing.
"There are things you should know about being an anchor. First and foremost…" She licks her lips and both myself and the angel stare at her adoringly. "When you are separated from the god you are anchored to, it is very, very painful. You see, you are his anchor here in the mortal world and should remain at his side at all times. That is how the bond is designed. He cares for you, and you anchor him. If you do separate, you are punished." Tadekha bites her lip and gives me a winning smile, spreading her hands. "What do you think of that?"
I think it sounds like bullshit, but I can't quite be angry. Not when she's smiling at me like that. "But I'm not hurting anymore."
"Precisely." Her smile widens. "That means your Aron has arrived and is here."
Son of a bitch, First was right.
16
At Tadekha’s words, a large man comes out of the audience surrounding the goddess. Dark, long hair. Pale face. Bright red scar down one eye. Mismatched eyes. Forbidding scowl on his handsome features. He’s still dressed in the uniform of the Aventinian soldiers, the red and gray kilted tunic and gladiator sandals. His cloak is dusty and his hair slightly disheveled, but other than that, he looks just as I left him.
Well hell. Aron is here. When First was talking, I thought she was just making conversation.
I get to my feet as he strides to my side. "Aron! What—" My words cut off as he shoves me behind him and steps forward, blocking me from the goddess's sights.
"Tadekha," he says in a flat voice.
"I was wondering when you'd introduce yourself," she purrs. "Hello, dear friend."
"We are not friends," Aron says tightly.
Well it's nice to see that some things haven't changed. Aron's the same guy he ever was. I touch his arm to get his attention, and that little spark ripples through me. "How did you know where to find me?" He turns and glares at me so fiercely that I take a step back. "Sorry I asked."
"Do not move from where you are," he commands me, pointing at the floor. Like I'm a bad dog or something.
Before I can smart off about that, Tadekha chuckles and the warm, lovely sound rolls through the room. "Come, come Aron. Do not be so upset. I mean no harm to you or your anchor. In fact, I have one of my own." She reaches out to stroke a hand over the hair of the girl holding the tray and a blissful look crosses the angel's face. Tadekha smiles absently at her, chucks her under the chin, and then returns to petting her head. "I think it's marvelous that we get to spend time together. After all, we are both exiled, are we not? Perhaps we can pool our resources. Work together."
"Us?” He laughs as if the idea is insulting. “You know that is a bad idea.”
The goddess waves a hand absently. "If I was not a fan of bad ideas, I would not be here."
Aron grunts as if this makes sense to him.
She wags a finger at a few of the angels fluttering on the sidelines, and then three of them rush forward, a gilded chair in their hands. They float up to the dais with their tinkling windchime wings and place the seat near Tadekha's throne, arranging it just so before bowing to the goddess and floating back to rejoin the crowd.
Tadekha gestures at the empty seat, indicating that Aron should join her. "At least enjoy my hospitality since you are already here." When he remains perfectly still, she picks up another bonbon and nibbles on it, raising an eyebrow.
My stomach growls.
Aron sighs heavily as if this all bugs the crap out of him. He turns to me and flicks his gaze over my gown, eyes resting on my nearly naked breasts for a long moment. "Come."
And he heads for the throne designated for him.
I scurry after him, gathering my skirts as I walk. There's no seat for me, not that I expected one. I glance over at Tadekha's chair and she's seated regally upon her throne, caressing the cheek of the girl kneeling at her feet and clutching the tray as if it's an honor to serve the goddess. Heck, for her, maybe it is.
Then again, she wasn't stuck with Aron.
Then again, maybe Aron expects me to be all kissy-kissy to him and is pouting that I'm not. Of course, even as the idea crosses my mind, I dismiss it. Aron's a lot of things, but he's not a crybaby. And really, he's handsome. If he hit on me, I…
My mouth goes dry as I think about Aron. Kissing Aron. Touching Aron. Aron’s big body thrusting into me as I rake my nails down his back…
I'm shocked at my thoughts.
Of course, the moment I do, I can feel myself blushing. I wait for Aron to sit in his throne, and he immediately gestures that I should sit next to him, but on the floor. Yeah, I expected that. The chair he's sitting in isn't much in the way of legs, though, and there's no place for me to rest my back or get comfortable. After a few moments of shifting in my skirts, I tentatively lean against his leg. That pleasant little electric ripple moves throug
h me again.
"Lovely. Shall we eat and drink, then?" Tadekha seems pleased.
“I do not need to eat.”
“Ah, but it’s such fun. You should try it. I've no doubt your anchor is famished. Is that not right, little Faithful?"
I open my mouth to speak.
"Do not address her," Aron growls, and I can see his hand clench on one arm of the throne. "She is mine."
Jeez. So possessive. I should be irritated, but instead, a warm flush rushes through my body. I nudge his leg with my shoulder, but I'm kinda pleased. You'd think the guy hadn't abandoned me on the road with the way he's acting. Maybe it's my endorphins rushing back after days of being tortured with pain, but I'm feeling pretty good right now. I'm happy Aron's here, because he's familiar. He's my rock in all this madness, oddly enough. And in his weird way, he's acting like he's happy to see me, too.
Tadekha gestures, and a winged servant arrives with a small tray of food and a cup for me. I'm starving and thirsty, but I hesitate. Maybe Aron wants me to hold off for some reason I can't imagine. I glance up at him and he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, indicating I can have it if I want it.
I want it. I'm starving. I take the tray from the angel and balance it on my knees, then plow into the food. God, it's so good. Every bite is like heaven.
Dancers come out onto the floor and musicians move forward with their instruments. They set up and begin to play. The dancers leap about in their skimpy outfits and tinkling, delicate music fills the room.
Okay, this is nice. Food, music, entertainment. Tadekha knows how to live. Aron could take some notes from her.
I keep eating. Even if I wanted to stop, I'm not sure I could. I don't know what any of this stuff is, but it's all shaped into intricate designs and tastes amazing. I do my best not to stuff my face like a wild woman, but I eat and drink without stopping, licking my fingers when all of the delicious treats are gone. Someone moves forward and takes my tray, then offers me a napkin. As I wipe my fingers with the floaty, see-through napkin given to me by one of the angels, I notice that neither Aron nor Tadekha are talking to each other. The room is very quiet, and it's like they're waiting for something…or testing each other out. It's odd but Aron’s also made it very clear he’s not friends with Tadekha.
