against him, clearly not happy with the pause. The wizard cringes back from Aron's look, retreating a step.
"Of course you can go next," Bad Aron says, and his voice is so familiar that it sends shivers down my spine. "I love the taste of your cum on her lips."
The concubine giggles.
The wizard flushes, his mouth thinning into an angry line, and stalks back to the camp. Aron watches him go, then grunts, and turns back to the concubine. He puts his hand on her shoulder once more, and then grinds into her.
"Oooh," she moans.
"Louder," he snaps, and she goes quiet again as he starts to fuck her once more.
I'm a little confused. Everything they do is in direct contradiction to what he says. I watch him continue to drive into her against the tree, and her cries are muffled against her arm. It takes a moment, but then it dawns on me.
He's the Aron of Lies.
Mine is Arrogance, so everything he does and everything he says comes from a place of arrogance. This one clearly can't tell the truth, and so everyone's interpreting what he tells them. Oh. Suddenly it makes sense.
With a grunt, Bad Aron stiffens, and I watch, almost hoping I could see his O-face. I guess it's good that I can't. It still feels surreal to think of Aron screwing another woman…and doing an amazing job of it. I’m still feeling that weird surge of jealousy, and I hate that. The god pats the woman's flank as he pulls away and she straightens, lowering her skirt. "Let the wizard touch you next," he tells her. "I'm done with you for tonight. You know how fond I am of sharing.”
Her face is flushed and she gives a little wobbly curtsy, panting. "I won't let anyone touch me but you, my lord of storms."
He grunts, pleased, and then adjusts his clothes and heads back to the encampment. A moment later, she follows, straightening her gorgeous hair. I watch them go, shell-shocked, and then remember the rock in my hand. Right. My Aron's going to think I've fallen asleep.
Or maybe he was watching that, too. I wonder for a moment if he found her pretty. Of course he would. It's still Aron, right? So he would have the same taste in women. I hate that.
With vicious force, I fling a rock into the bushes and imagine nailing Aron's head with it.
42
The underbrush crunches, the leaves shaking, and one of the guards pauses, flask almost to his lips, and glances into the woods. He turns back to the camp, counts heads, and then says something low that I can't quite make out. After he puts his flask away, he pulls out his sword and heads into the brush, disappearing.
Nothing happens.
I watch, waiting, and all is quiet. The guard doesn't emerge, no one goes to check on him, and there's no signal from Aron that he's taken care of the problem, either. I have to wait and hope that things went according to plan. I give it a few moments, and then I chuck another rock in the same direction.
This time, his buddy is the one that pauses. "Gracel?" He takes a few steps into the woods. "Anything?"
When there's no answer, he pulls out his sword, too, and then disappears into the shadows. Two of the other guards are paying attention now, frowns on their faces, and I wonder how many are going to fall for this before Aron's plan goes awry.
Apparently the answer is two. I throw a third rock after enough time has hopefully passed, and the Bad Aron by the fire begins to look wary. He frowns deeply and I hear thunder rumbling overhead. He points at three of the guards, and they nod and head into the woods while three more pull their swords and gather close to Aron.
The wizard sidles closer to Bad Aron, his face pinched with an expression like irritation. “What is it, my Lord of Storms?”
“It is not one of my Aspects, I think. I cannot feel it in the air.” The god crosses his arms and looks so much like my Aron that my heart stutters. His gaze swings through the trees, and for a brief moment, I think he sees me. But then he keeps scanning, and I breathe again. “Look for his anchor,” Bad Aron demands. “I do not sense him near. There is not power close by.”