with every stroke and reminding me that I love the hell out of this big, arrogant bastard. I cling to the front of his tunic, our mouths molding, and when he finally breaks the kiss, I give him a dazed look.
“Remember that you belong to me,” he says in a low voice. “And I do not give you permission to die.”
It’s the right thing to say. I laugh, because it’s the most absurdly arrogant thing I’ve ever heard. “I love you,” I whisper, and then move away before I fling myself at his feet, bawling like a baby. “Be safe.”
“I will.”
Arrogant right down to the end—no, right down to his pores, I amend.
This is not the fucking end.
We’re a lot farther away from the crypts than I anticipated. Aron told the others what to look for and the direction to head, and we hike silently down the cliffs and across hills, then cross the warm, gentle river far upstream. The light from a jillion fires is just barely in the distance, and if I squint hard, I can make out the castle’s walls ahead. We’re at least a football stadium away, maybe two. It seems like an impossible distance to cover.
Because there are enemy soldiers even here. They’re freaking everywhere. We barely manage to duck behind some bushes as a few men on horses patrol past, and armor clanks somewhere in the distance. We squat behind the greenery, and Solat points up ahead. “That looks like a cemetery.”
“It’s the place Lord Aron said it would be.” Markos nods. He turns to look at us. “Kerren and I will scout and try to clear the way. You stay here hidden. If we’re not back by the time Aron begins his diversion, go on without us.”
I bite my lip, nodding, and Solat fingers his sword. I watch as Markos heads in one direction and Kerren in the other, dark figures that stick to the shadows. Within the space of a breath, they disappear into the night, and I desperately hope they know what they’re doing.
Minutes pass. I turn to look over at Solat. “This is some shit, huh?”
His eyes narrow at me. “We will keep you safe, Faith. Aron demands it.”
There’s a bitter note in his voice. It’s been there ever since we left the tower, and I know it’s because he’s still carrying a torch for Yulenna. I don’t blame him. She was sweet, friendly, and apparently liked to fuck. Of course he’s half in love with her. But he needs to focus. I know he can’t be happy that Yulenna paired off with a god (or three) and he’s stuck here protecting me, the anchor of another god.
“Do we need to talk?” I ask. “Because you’ve been kind of pissypants since Yulenna left.”
Solat glares at me in the darkness. “Does it matter?”
“I like to think it does.” I clutch my staff across my legs, careful not to hit him with it. “Thing is, I’m not thrilled about her staying with them either, but she chose to do that. If she’s not happy there, well, those are the guys that can fix it. They can pull her thread free and release her if she changes her mind. Those are about the only people in this world that can make that sort of change.”
“She won’t change her mind. She’s happy there,” he says, bitterness in his voice. “She is no longer a slave. Now she’s important. It’s all she ever wanted.” His jaw clenches and he stares out into the night.
I pat his shoulder. “Then be happy for her and get the fuck over it, okay?”
He looks startled at my words. He nods, and then gets to his feet as Markos returns. Markos is sweating, his dark hair plastered to his skull. “Six men,” he says in a low voice. “All armed.”
“Even out here?” Solat makes a sound of frustration. “We are practically sitting in the fields and he still sends troops out?”
Markos shrugs as Kerren heads in our direction, another figure cloaked in darkness. “I counted them twice to be certain. The Adassian Aron knows about this. He is covering the area just in case.”
Kerren nods as he approaches. “Six, but if we do not move soon, I worry there will be more. I overheard them speaking and one mentioned he would be returning to camp soon. If they are switching shifts, we don’t know how many we could be facing.”
I clutch my staff, terrified as I stand up. “But we