now? I could have asked him to stop a million times and I didn’t, because I was too focused on how awkward I’ve felt around him. “I’ll make sure he stops it right now.”
I get to my feet, because her weeping is making me really uncomfortable and I want to escape. It would be so much easier if she was greedy and just wanted a handful of coins. Her sorrow tells me just how deep her struggle is and how worried she is. I look at the baby in her arms and imagine how stressful it must be for her to think about food and if they have enough to feed themselves.
“I do not wish to be a bother,” she begins.
I wave her off. “I’ll be the bother.” I go to the door and sure enough, it’s still raining. Fat drops splash from the roof like a waterfall. This needs to stop now. I see my cloak hanging from a peg next to the door and pull it on over my clothes, then storm out into the mud. Aron is by the stables, an annoyed, impatient look on his face as Vian’s husband saddles his woale—the land-hippo creature—and babbles prayers. I’d laugh at how annoyed Aron looks at any other time, but right now I just feel guilt. I can only imagine how frightened and worried Cathis is, hoping to please Aron (who, let’s face it, will never be pleased with him).
“Hey, Aron,” I call out, my boots squelching in the mud. “Can we talk for a few?”
He flicks a hand at me, indicating I should go to him.
“Privately?” I call out, stopping in the middle of the soaking field as Cathis looks up, his face white and pinched.
Aron turns his irritated gaze to me, but I smile brightly because I know it’s all hot air as far as I’m concerned. “You are standing in the rain.”
“No shit. Now come stand with me.” I cross my arms, tightening my cloak around my body, and wait.
The god points at Cathis. “Finish saddling my beast. My consort and I are leaving soon.” He moves to my side and blasts me with a scowl. “What do you need, Faith? I’m trying to prepare us for the road.”
“So, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” I point out as he moves to my side. “But it’s wet.”
“This is why you wished to talk?” Aron puts his hands on his hips. “Truly?”
“I’m also standing calf-deep in mud that should be a field. A farmer kind of needs his fields, you know? To grow crops?” When he crosses his arms and waits, I continue. “All right, I’m clearly going to have to connect the dots for you. These people that are so nicely helping us out? They’re starving because their fields are one big sludgy mud puddle. And I’m traveling with the god of rain. You put two and two together.”
“Lord of Storms,” he corrects me.
“Rain, storms, whatever—“
“Not whatever. Storms are battles in the Aether. He taps his chest. “That is why they are my domain.”
“Where I come from, they’re clouds of condensation that eventually make water, but I don’t want to argue. Aron, if you can do something about this, please. Just dry up the storms over their farmland so they won’t lose their entire crop. It’s the right thing to do.” I give him a pleading look.
He shrugs. “Very well, if it will get you to cease this begging.”
“It totally will.”
Aron grunts, and an expression of concentration crosses his face. He frowns in my direction. “I forgot how difficult it is to do anything on the mortal plane.”
“Try harder,” I encourage. “I can feel the change in the air.” It’s making my head hurt, so I know it’s working.
He nods and extends his hands, as if that will help him focus. His fingers curl as if he’s gripping the air between them, and pain spikes behind my brows. Aron’s face grows flushed with concentration and his body tenses. My head throbs and the thick feeling in the air clears.
The rain spattering on my cloak slows, and then stops. I pull my hood back, squinting up at the gray skies. “Holy shit. You did it.”
“I am a god, you know.” He gives the skies a pleased look.
“Yeah, you never let me forget that part.” I reach out and touch his arm, giving him a squeeze and enjoying the little spark that flies between us at the contact. “But thank you.”