and glares imperiously at the two terrified farmers who still stand in place. "Well? Will you be able to help us? Or do you work against me?"
"Never, Lord of Storms." The man drops to his knees and presses his forehead to the floor. "Please. We will give you whatever you need. Just…we ask for a blessing."
That's not the first time they've asked for a blessing, and I wonder what they're talking about. Aron ignores them, looking satisfied, and relaxes in the chair. "Get my consort her bath."
The woman jiggles her baby, casting me a worried look. "Of course. My soaps are poor," she begins.
"Hey, if you have soap, you're a step ahead of me." I try to seem as friendly as possible to make up for Aron. "And we totally appreciate it, even if it doesn't seem like it."
The man nods, racing outside and back into the rain. A moment later, he appears with a tub, and drops it in front of the fire.
Oh shit, am I supposed to bathe in front of everyone? I cast a worried look at Aron, but he's got his dagger out and is sharpening it by the fire. I'm not sure if that's him “relaxing” or if it's a subtle threat, but it's obvious he sees nothing wrong with this scenario. "I hate to be a pain, but can I bathe somewhere private?"
"My husband will not look upon your beauty," the woman says shyly, then tugs the cauldron off the fire with surprising strength and puts an empty pot on the hook.
Aron snorts, not looking up from his daggers.
I move to Aron's side and put my hand over his face, covering his mouth. "I'm a shy, delicate flower," I tell her with a wink. "And I'd rather some privacy if it's all the same to you. Ignore this man."
She gives us a startled look but nods.
Aron just calmly removes my hand from his mouth, as if women manhandle him every day, and then goes back to his dagger. "Do you have a sharpening stone I can use?"
"Of course," the man says, then hesitates. "Should I get water first or the stone?"
"I can get the water," I offer, "If you show me where it is." Heck, this poor woman's got a baby to juggle and her husband looks ready to fall over with exhaustion.
They give me horrified looks, as if the thought of me tending to myself is abhorrent. Aron just rolls his eyes.
"We will tend to you," the woman says. "Please, take your rest."
I feel guilty about that, given that she's very heavily pregnant and they're both underfed. But they look terrified at the thought of displeasing Aron, and he's clearly not going to make any effort, so I look around for a seat. There's a stool, but I want to leave that for her, so I move to Aron's side and plop in his lap. "Hope you don't mind if your smelly consort takes a load off, then."
His hands go to my waist and he leans in to murmur to me, "As long as I do not breathe deep, I am fine."
"Prince Charming," I tell him. "You're going to make me swoon with your flowery words."
Aron just chuckles low, pats my hip, and then we watch as the poor farm couple scurries to make Aron welcome.
36
It should feel good to have someone waiting on us after days and days of being run out of every place we go to by a frightened mob of god-killers, but I can't relax. I just feel sorry for these two, because it's clear that they're very poor and very tired. They're also very worried, if the looks the wife casts in our direction are any indication. I don't blame them for being worried. They don't look like they have much, and Aron wants to take what they do have to make our journey easier, and somehow that feels wrong to me. We'd totally screw them if we took their food and their one horse. Well, land-hippo. They do have a donkey, though, and I picture Aron on a donkey and immediately get the giggles.
"Your bath is ready, my lady," the woman eventually says and sinks to her knees, averting her gaze. She gestures at the baby's small room, hidden by a thin burlap drape. "Shall I attend to you?"
I'm about to say that it won't be necessary, but Aron pinches my hip and I guess I'm getting attended. Yay. Maybe I'm supposed to butter them up and