my Aron and impulsively, I move forward and give him a hug, pressing my cheek to his leather-armor-covered chest.
He strokes my hair, and for a change, Aron is quiet. There are no lies coming from his mouth, no arrogant bullshit. He just smooths my hair and holds me close, and I tremble against him, full of worry.
“You think I would let anything happen to you, my Faith?” he murmurs again, and I feel warm and relaxed at those words.
“I just worry I won’t be enough to help you,” I whisper.
“You aren’t.” And he strokes my hair again.
45
We camp in Liar Aron’s camp that night, since it’s already set up and the hour’s late. The woales are tethered to a nearby tree and fed, and Yulenna chit-chats non-stop by the fire, as if determined to talk out her distress over the changing situation. I let her talk, murmuring agreements when she needs a response, but mostly I’m not listening. I’m tired and distracted.
This could have ended badly. I could have died. I can still feel Bad Aron’s hand on my neck as he gazed down at me. I nearly fucked it up for both of us, and I can’t stop thinking about how Bad Aron just…faded away.
And now my Aron is both of them.
I don’t know what to make of that. I know that he’s supposed to be here in the mortal realm to purge all the bad stuff from his system, so why is he now unable to speak the truth? What happens to him once all four are put back together like the fantasy version of Voltron? Does my Aron disappear forever, lost inside the god himself? That makes me sad.
Another thought occurs to me—what happens when we find the Hedonism Aron? I eye Yulenna as she warms her hands by the fire. I hate that my thoughts went there. I hate that I keep seeing Aron flipping her skirt up and the noises she made as he pounded into her. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t my Aron, because it’s my Aron now, and I might murder him in his sleep if he touches her.
Or…just cry a lot. One or the other.
Eventually, the soldiers come back from burying their comrades, their expressions sober. They keep their distance from me, silent as they wash up and head to their tents to sleep. Aron points me to the big tent, where old Aron slept, and I can’t fight my yawns back any longer. I head inside, and I feel a stab of relief when Aron follows me in. He’s still going to sleep with me.
Yulenna follows us, too. Her expression is timid when she sees my surprise. “I slept at my Lord of Storms’s feet while he relaxed, in case he should need me through the long night. Should I not?”
I look at Aron.
“This is not Faith’s tent now,” he declares. “She does not make the rules here.” And he puts a big hand on my shoulder.
I bite my lip, wondering how much to push, and then decide that fuck it, I’m pushing. “Aron won’t need your services anymore. You can sleep in the wizard’s tent.”
With an uncertain look, Yulenna nods and sees herself out.
The tent's definitely better living than Aron and I have experienced so far…well, except for maybe Tadekha's Citadel. Lush tapestries hang on the walls, and thick blankets are tossed atop a plush pad of a mattress. There's a freaking mattress out here in the woods, and I practically squeal at the sight of it. It's atop a woven reed mat to keep the dirt off it, but there's no mistaking the thickness of it, and I kneel beside it to touch, just because I'm so shocked. A real mattress. With pillows, even. They're pretty, decorative pillows for the most part, but still pillows. Nearby, coals rest in a hammered brazier in the center of the room and there's a scent like incense. Off to one side is a flat-topped trunk with a cushioned seat for a lid. "Holy crap, he's living in style in here," I breathe, scarcely able to believe it. I pick up one pillow and am surprised to feel that the embroidered unicorns on the front are as soft as velvet.
Aron just grunts, and he sounds irritated. "All of this is necessary for travel."
"I don't care if it's necessary or not, it's awesome." I run a hand over my face and arms, feeling for any last flakes of mud, and then touch the