pleased that he's speaking so highly of me to them. It's kinda sexy. Heck, it’s more than kinda sexy. I’m totally aroused at the authority in his voice and how sternly he’s glaring at all of them. Never has a bitch-out session been so damn hot…and it’s coming from Aron.
Has any man ever elevated me so highly? Hell, I've been called Tart more often than I've been called my name in this world. I know this is a big deal and I’m appreciative of it. I touch Aron’s arm. "Thank you."
He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I like that more than all the hugs in the world. We're united, together.
44
The men all swear fealty to Aron, and one by one, we learn a little about them. There's Markos from Aventine, who comes from a sailing family. Solat, who hails from Katharn and has the most beautiful, fine black curls. Kerren, who has darker skin and comes from Mephis, and Vitar, who is a farmer's son and also comes from Katharn. They've been with the Aron of Lies for about two weeks now, and served him faithfully. They have three woale with them and took turns walking as Aron rode with the concubine and the wizard. The men ask to have an evening to bury their fallen dead, and while Aron doesn't look as if he wants to do so, he turns to me and I nod. I want an evening off, too.
So I sit by the fire and clean my face and arms of mud while the men dig in the forest and Aron hovers, watching them. The concubine sits with me, and I learn her name, too—Yulenna. When I ask where she's from, she just smiles and shrugs. "My last master was in Rastana. A slave claims no home."
"You don't have to be a slave any longer," I tell her. I was a slave and I hated it. "I'm sure Aron will free you. Heck, you're free now."
She frowns, as if this makes her unhappy. "It is a great honor to serve one of the Aspects. Being his slave will be one of my life's true joys."
"Aron doesn't need slaves."
"You see to his pleasure, then?"
Well this conversation just escalated to eleven. "That's a bit personal and I don't have to tell you."
Yulenna just smiles sweetly and plays with her long black hair. "I can help with that if you're tired of servicing him. I'm good in bed and I know what Aron likes."
"You mean you knew what the Aron of Lies liked. This is a different Aron."
"They are all Aspects of the same god," Yulenna points out, and for a shining moment, I want to punch her in her pretty mouth, even though I know she's right.
"It's not the same, and you won't touch him unless he asks for it. No volunteering, either."
"But, my lady, I just want to please him." She clasps her hands in front of her chest, eyes beseeching. "I'm a bed slave. How do I earn my keep if I don't please him?"
"You could try cooking?" I gesture at the camp fire. "Or like I said, we could set you free. We can give you money and you can go to the nearest town and start over."
Her eyes fill with tears. "If I go to Katharn with no papers and no male guardian, I will be captured by the first slaver who sees me and sold on the cheap. Please, do not do this. I have served my Lord of Storms faithfully." She drops to her knees and prostrates herself, weeping.
Well, shit. "Yulenna, get up. Please." I hate that her words make sense. I hate that when she sits up, she still looks beautiful and perfect, her eyes shining with big tears that just make her prettier. I know that she's not wrong—she would be enslaved again. That's what happened to me back in Aventine. I can't condemn her to a crappy fate just because I'm feeling jealous and territorial. "I'll ask Aron if he wants a bed slave."
The words stick in my throat.
She beams at me, her face full of relief. “I can service both of you if needed. Just tell me what is required and I’ll do it.”
“Er, no, I’m good, thanks.” I hastily move away from her before she can start offering to demonstrate. I’ve gone from hating Yulenna to feeling sorry for her in a matter of moments. I remember how terrifying it was to be enslaved, how objectified