by Ruby Dixon
Aron just arches an eyebrow at me, clearly disagreeing.
Sheesh. I reach out to swat at him. "Be nice. I didn't want to be a slave handed off to men. Why would I wish that on someone else?" Even if she thinks she should be servicing Aron right about now?
"And the soldiers? Any plans for them?" Aron murmurs, his voice taking on a more intimate tone. "Assuming they will not prove themselves, that is."
Ugh. I'm not sure I like the idea of riding around with a posse. It's very different from how Aron and I have been traveling so far, and it feels very…conspicuous. It might be safer, but I just don't know. I feel like everything's going to change. Then again, everything already has. Aron can't speak without spouting lies, and when I close my eyes, I can't stop seeing Bad Aron bent over Yulenna. Bad Aron grabbing Yulenna’s hips. Yulenna squealing as he drives into her. "We'll see," I tell him. "We're stuck with them for now, I guess. If we can't get along, we can always dump them at the closest city if they slow us down."
"Novoro," he agrees, and then reaches down to pull the blankets up to my chin again. "You must not sleep, Faith. I won't watch over you."
I smile up at him. "You won't, huh?" I tease, unable to resist, and my heart flutters just a little when his mouth curves in a hint of a smile. If nothing else, I like that I can make him smile. Lord knows we have little enough to smile about lately, what with being hunted down and chased out of every place we stop. Maybe we're safer with a posse after all…provided they don't betray us.
The thought makes my soul ache. Is there no one Aron can trust to not screw him over but me? Poor Aron. How are the gods supposed to learn anything on this little test the High Father sent them on? They're too busy being attacked by the power hungry.
Unless the only thing they're supposed to learn is humility. Then, I'd say this is working fantastic.
But it makes me worry for Aron all the more. I lie back down and turn on my side, but when I close my eyes, this time, I don't see Aron and Yulenna humping. I see the other Aron, his hand on my throat, close enough to kiss…and just fading away into nothing.
There's a one in four chance—now one in three—that my Aron's going to have the same fate. The thought makes me sick. I reach over and grab Aron's hand, pulling him forward. "Lie down in bed with me," I tell him. "I know you won't sleep, but I'll feel safer with you close."
For a moment, I expect biting sarcasm or even a flurry of lies. Instead, Aron just lies down next to me, sliding under the blankets. I don't mind that he's got his boots on or that he's fully dressed, because he puts his arm around my waist and tucks me close against him, and that familiar electric shock jolts through me and then settles away. I breathe in his scent and feel his warmth, and some of the worry relaxes.
But only some. I put my hand over his at my waist, holding him closer. "Promise me everything will be all right," I whisper. "That we've got this handled."
"I promise," Aron murmurs.
Yeah, that was kind of what I figured.
The next morning, there’s a thick, honey-laced porridge simmering over the fire, and I watch the others eat, stomach rumbling, until I’m sure that it’s not poisoned and this isn’t a trap. Then, I help myself to a bowl. And then another. And a third, because their supplies are far better than the ones we have.
The soldiers watch me scarf down the food quietly, and when I make myself a fourth bowl, the one called Markos has a look of disbelief on his face. “You can eat all that?” He glances at Aron, unsure, but when he’s not struck by lightning for talking to me, he turns back to me again. “Where does it go?”
I decide I like Markos. I shake my spoon at him. “You sweet talker, you. And dude, I’m an anchor. We’re eating for two.” With my spoon, I wave it at Aron, who stands nearby, watching us eat with a hint of impatience. “I have to fuel up.”
“You eat more than any soldier I have ever seen,” Vitar whispers into his bowl as he eats. “We will not have enough supplies if this keeps up.”
I just keep eating. “Oh please,” I say between bites. “You act like this is shocking. Didn’t the wizard eat a lot?”
“Yes, but he was a wizard.”
“Well, I’m a girl. I’m allowed to eat.” And I take another heaping mouthful just to prove that I can.
Vitar looks uneasy, but Markos grins and takes a bite almost as big as mine, as if to prove that he can. Big goof. We eat in companionable silence, and a few moments later Yulenna comes out of her tent, wearing leggings and boots for a day of travel. Her hair is pulled back into a fashionable knot and she looks less like a slave and more like a fine lady about to go on a journey. I glance down at my belted tunic—one of Omos’s old ones—and remember that I didn’t brush my hair this morning after I rolled out of bed.
Markos prepares a bowl of porridge for Yulenna and offers her a spoon, and she smiles sweetly at him and sits down next to me. “So much food,” she murmurs, and then takes a dainty bite.
I make a face into my bowl, and I can hear Vitar muffle a laugh.
Breakfast is eventually over, though, and the tents are packed up, the woales loaded with gear we’ve opted to take. There’s a small mountain of it left in the bushes, and I look mournfully at the bedding I slept in last night. Goodbye, mattress. Goodbye, pillows. Goodbye, delicious night’s sleep. Even though I understand it—we need speed if we want to stay ahead of anyone else that might be following us—I’m still a little bummed at the thought of sleeping on woale-back again.
I’m never going to complain about taking the bus again when I get home, I decide. Never, ever again. Woale-back is ten times worse and twenty times slower.
When the camp is nothing but a firepit, Kerren kicks dirt over it until it, too, is no more. Then, one by one, the men drop to their knees and put their fists over their hearts in Aron’s symbol.
“We are ready to serve, my lord,” Markos declares. “Tell us what you desire.”
"Faith and I are not going to Novoro," Aron says in that imperious voice of his. "That is our next stop."
I watch the others closely, because the moment he mentions Novoro, one shifts, and the other grimaces. Another just stares at the ground.
"Novoro?" Markos asks hesitantly. "I…you truly wish to go there, my Lord of Storms?" He swallows hard and ducks his head. "Not that I question your ways—"
"Novoro," Aron repeats in a firm voice.
"Where were you guys planning on heading with the old Aron?" I ask, curious. "Isn't Novoro the only place up in the mountain pass?"
One nods. "My lord Aron told us he wished to go into the mountains and establish a hideout so he could have defensive ground."
I glance over at my Aron. He just shakes his head, and I speak up again. "I think he lied to you guys. We're going to Novoro, and I bet he was, too."
"But why Novoro?" Vitar blurts, looking confused. "They do not open the gates of their fortress to anyone."
"They will not open for me," Aron declares.
He's right. They'll probably welcome him with open arms…even if it's only to betray him later. But hey, one problem at a time. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure getting in won't be our problem. Novoro's the destination."
"It is the end of the world." Markos's expression is solemn.
"Not quite the end," I add in. "We're going somewhere after that."
“There’s nothing past it,” Vitar says, curious.
"I require your services." Aron speaks again, his tone grave. He doesn’t clarify where we’re going, just that we’re going. "If you choose not to follow, I will be angry."
Markos clenches his hands over his chest, the expression on his face full of intensity. "We are here to serve you in this life and the next, my Lord of Storms. There is no greater honor. Forgive us for questioning you."
Aron grunts, but it's not a mean grunt, just an acknowledgement.
"We're the ones that are new here," I tell them. "If you have questions, ask them. I don't think we can ever have too much information. Aron wants to hear your feedb
ack. Isn't that right, Aron?"
"No," says Aron. "Faith is wrong."
I beam at him, and I'm glad to see the men visibly relax. Communication's important, especially if these guys know something we don't.
"After we go to these places," Solat asks, sitting back on his heels. "Will you remain at the Tower? Do you have the same plan? To create a stronghold and defend yourself?"
All of the men watch Aron closely. I notice Yulenna is silent, her expression one of worry. I can't blame her. We're going to the edges of the world apparently, to extremely dangerous places and she's a bed slave who isn't wanted by her owner. She's probably wondering what her place is in all this and what will happen to her. I make a mental note to befriend her and reassure her that she's safe…and if she doesn't want to stay, I want her to feel comfortable with leaving.
Aron shakes his head. "Waiting like that is waiting for death, is it not?"
It's the right thing to say. The men's eyes light up with enthusiasm. "Shall we hunt them down, my lord? Raise an army in your name?" Solat asks.
"Perhaps not." Aron rubs his chin thoughtfully, and he seems to like the idea. "Perhaps on to Yshrem?"
Yulenna makes a face.
"What?" I ask, narrowing in on that. "What's bad about Yshrem?" Jesus, do these people hate everywhere? No one wants to go to Novoro, or Yshrem, and Katharn and Aventine were crap. Where is it that's safe and relaxing to go to?
She flinches, pulling her cloak close about her shoulders when everyone stares at her. "It is just…" She wrinkles her nose. "A kingdom of scholars and wizards. Adassia is much nicer."
"Adassia is conquered by the Cyclopae," Markos corrects. "As is Yshrem. And the Cyclopae are devotees of my lord Aron."
Cyclops? Freaking cyclops? I've heard everything now…but I'm not surprised. I mean, if there are zombies and angels and gods walking the earth, why wouldn't there be cyclops?
"My lord Aron, may I ask what is in Novoro and beyond that you seek?" Kerren—the quiet one amongst the soldiers—speaks up and asks.
"Yes, you may ask," he says, and turns his back to them. Aron stalks toward me and then puts his hand on my chin. "Say everything to them," he murmurs. "We keep no secrets."
Right. As in, shut your mouth, Faith. "Will do, big guy."
He studies my face thoughtfully, and his thumb moves against my skin, just inches from my lips. Before I can wonder if he's going to touch me more, or kiss me, he releases me and turns away, his cloak swirling. "Let us not be on our way."
The men scramble to their feet, full of enthusiasm. All of them except Kerren, of course, whose face is flushed with embarrassment at being ignored. The others clap him on the back as if to sympathize, but then everyone is mounting up on the woales and Aron looks impatient at me, waiting for me to join him on our land-hippo.
"I'm coming," I mutter, my butt already hurting at the thought of another day (or a week) in the damn saddle.
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?
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.
