I lift my head and look up at him, and he’s smiling.
Men.
“So you’re excited about war?”
He grins. “Of course.”
I am decidedly less thrilled, but I console myself with the fact that he can’t get hurt. I stroke a hand down his chest. “What’s the goal?”
“What do you mean? The goal is to win.”
“He can’t die, though. And you can’t die. So are you charging through to look for his anchor? Or what?”
“Mmm…eventually. I need to figure out his strategy first.”
I suspect his strategy will be ‘take out Aron’s anchor,’ since that’s our strategy. “I’m afraid. What if he sends assassins?”
Aron hugs me closer. “You will be guarded at all times. Your food will be tasted, your wine, too. No one will get close enough.”
I really, really hope that’s not arrogance talking.
75
The next morning, I wake up to the jingling sound of Aron putting on his belt. He’s nearly completely dressed, his tunic a blazing white with a scarlet axe emblazoned on each shoulder. He’s got a long, fur cape of pure white, and it contrasts with his long, dark hair and tanned skin.
I sit up in bed, watching as he dresses. “Should I wish you luck?”
“I need no luck,” he says, and looks like an eager schoolboy for a moment. He’s ready to get out there and kick some ass. “You’ll stay here? Safe at the queen’s side?”
“Yup. You won’t do anything crazy like get yourself captured?”
He grins. “Never.”
I hug my knees to my chest as he props a booted foot up on the side of the bed and adjusts it. “I just don’t understand the point of battling the other guy, Aron. Help me understand. He’s not going to let his anchor near the front lines, just like you’re hiding me. He can’t die. You can’t die. What’s the point?’
“If I overtake his encampment and break his army, I can search for his anchor. He cannot fight an entire army.”
Can’t he? I mean, I’m guessing that will be Hedonism Aron’s strategy as well as ours. He’s going to keep flinging men at the keep to try to break in. “You’re sure this isn’t just fighting because you like fighting?”
He moves to my side in the bed and cups my face. “I am a god of battle, Faith. This is part of who I am.”
“You’re also a god of storms, but no one’s suggesting you do that,” I mutter.
Aron laughs again and then leans down, kissing me fiercely. “Stay by the queen. I will return this evening, after I have broken his army.”
I nod but say nothing else. This is war, and that’s who he is.
I watch him go, and then my stomach growls, so I get out of bed and dress. There’s a plate of food waiting for me, but I don’t want to stay cooped up in my rooms. There’s a big window in here, but all it is is a view to the wrong side of the city. From my bedroom, all I can see are the houses and streets that squeeze together, making up the cramped-looking medieval city of Yshrem. So I grab a handful of cheese and shove a roll into my mouth, and head out of my room.
Markos is there, waiting for me. He nods and falls into step behind me as I gnaw on my bread. “You guys treated ok?” I ask him.
“Like kings,” he says with a wry twist of his mouth. “We will not be allowed to join the battle. Our task is to stay at your side.”
“Aron told me I have to stay with the queen.”
He gestures down the hall. “I have instructions to take you there, or for you to stay in your rooms. Aron doesn’t want you wandering.”
My mouth twists a little. I get it. I understand that safety is in having controlled spaces with limited access, but I don’t like the thought of sitting on a silk cushion while he goes to war outside. I itch to do something. Anything. But what? I’m the one that’s the target. “Let’s go say hi to Her Majesty, then.”
Markos leads me forward, his hand lightly at my arm, and I can’t help but notice he’s fully armored and brimming with weapons. So much for the keep being completely “safe.” There are two armed men standing outside the queen’s chambers and even more down the hall. Markos nods at all of them and as we approach, they open the doors and let us in to the