be a cleaver bride, but I opted to be his anchor instead.”
“Cleaver brides,” she murmurs. “A barbaric practice. The Cyclopae prefer for their warriors to give of themselves, not slaves.” She shakes her head. “Aventine is very far. Did you sail, then?”
“No. It was a lot of riding. A lot. We ran into one of Aron’s other Aspects outside of Katharn, and I think Apathy died a month or so ago. It’s only these two left.” I gaze out the window at the clash of men, the swords and armor gleaming in the early morning sunlight. Aron’s somewhere down there, eating this shit up.
“Then this is over soon,” the queen says, and there’s obvious relief in her voice.
I say nothing. Part of me wants it over soon, sure. Part of me is terrified at what happens “after.” I can’t stop thinking about what the Spidae said. I watch the field, but from here, I can only see movement, not individuals. “I don’t suppose you have a telescope, do you?”
“A what?”
“Er, a spyglass?” I gesture at my eye. “With a long tube and a piece of glass at the end that enables you to see farther?”
Her brows furrow. “I can ask if the court wizards have such a device.”
“It’s okay.” I shrug. “I just wanted to see what was going on down at the field.”
She shudders. “I can’t watch it. My husband is eager to be at Aron’s side but…”
But Aron is immortal and her husband isn’t. I get it. “So…Adassia had a god show up, huh? Did you hear of any other places that might have had one? Everyone’s supposed to be down here for the Anticipation but we’ve only run into a few, and they weren’t my favorites.”
“All of the major city-states have been graced with a god,” she admits, her expression carefully blank. “Or so the rumors go.”
“Except you guys…until now?”
“No,” the queen says after a moment. “We have a goddess here. Magra, Lady of Plenty, is here.”
I gasp. “Really?” I’m shocked. I guess I thought I would “know” somehow if another god was lurking nearby. No one’s said anything at all. Even now, Halla’s expression is even, but I get the idea that she’s a little uncomfortable. “I have a friend that was a priest of hers. He sent a scroll with me in case I met her. Can I…can I see her?”
Queen Halla’s expression is the definition of neutral. “Are you sure you truly wish to? She is…not as Aron is. Her presence here is both blessing and burden.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come. I will show you.” She nods to her ladies. “Watch over Alistair for me, will you? We will return shortly.”
Markos pushes away from the wall in a clank of armor, straightening. “My orders are to follow you at all times, my lady Faith.”
Lady Faith? I want to correct him—or laugh—but I get that he’s trying to be polite. To give me the reverence I’m due as Aron’s anchor. Feels weird, though. “Come on, then.”
We stop by my rooms to get the scroll from my bags, and then I clutch it tight to my chest as Queen Halla leads me—and Markos, and about six additional guards—through the keep. My hands are sweaty as I hold it, because I think of Omos and how kind he was. He was the first polite person I met in this world. I want this to go well for him. I want her to look at the scroll and smile happily that such a devoted man is thinking of her. Just once, I want to have something go right. To bring good into this strange new world.
I’m surprised when we ascend one of the many towers in Castle Yshrem. The stairs seem to climb endlessly, and I wonder at a goddess that wants to hide away from everyone like this. She’s a goddess of plenty, so that means feasts and food and things like that. Crops, harvests, good times. Pleasant things. “So far away from everyone?” I ask as we continue up another set of stairs.
Halla gives me a searching look. “Lady Magra has requested rooms here because of the noise in the lower chambers. She prefers to be left alone.”
Oh. I think for a moment. She could be one of four Aspects—I don’t think it’s Hedonism. But anyone else could fit with a little bit of fudging. We arrive at a plain wooden door, and Queen Halla knocks, then enters, casting another glance in my direction.