a war one.
Their intense conversation continues, and they keep looking over at Aron. I know no one’s a huge fan of the guy right now, but the way they’re talking makes my skin prickle. I think we need to break that up, just in case. I glance up at Aron on his throne and notice that his eyes are a little glassy, his lids heavy. He looks tired.
Does he not know he doesn’t have to stay in his throne all night?
Hesitantly, I touch his leg again. This time, I’m prepared for the shock that ripples down my hand as I graze his skin. “Should I ask the prelate to prepare a chamber for you?”
The god’s gaze flicks down to me. “Why?”
“So you can sleep? Rest? Relax?
“Sleep,” he repeats, and I don’t know if he’s considering the suggestion or trying to figure out what it means. “Very well. Go and retrieve the prelate and tell him I wish for a chamber.”
I get to my feet and dust off the bottom of my too-short minidress-slash-skirt. I have to admit I want to hear what they’re saying. I cross the room and take my way winding through the crowd that remains.
I sidle up to the two men engaged in furious conversation in the corner of the room. They haven’t noticed I’m approaching, and so I move ever so silently closer, trying to stealth in on their chat.
“It should be obvious which one he is,” the prelate is murmuring. “The question is, what do we do about it?”
“What we have to,” the soldier—my old owner—says. “If she can’t be controlled, and he can’t be swayed, Aventine might be better off…”
I accidentally kick a half-eaten piece of fruit that squelches against my foot as I move forward, and both men look over at me. Shit. I smile brightly, putting on my most vapid expression so they won’t see the fear pounding in my heart. I don’t understand most of their conversation, but I’m pretty sure it’s not good news. “Hi. The god is ready to go to sleep for the night. Is there a room prepared for him?” And just because I can’t help but be a little catty toward these two jerks, I add, “Something appropriate for his amazing godhood, of course.”
Both men exchange a look. Neither one moves from their shadowy corner. “My rooms are the finest in this temple,” the prelate says after a moment. “I can have them readied for him. And you? What do you require?”
They stare at me so hard that I feel like I’m on the spot. I get the sense that this question is loaded. “Like…sleep-wise? I’m pretty sure he wants me to sleep with him. In his room,” I add because that might sound a little slutty. Truth be told, I thought I’d be getting into this gig and doing that sort of thing to save my hide, but so far Aron of the Cleaver has shown zero interest in my person. It’s kind of a relief…if only he wasn’t so insulting about it.
“Sleep-wise or anything else,” the prelate says. “Do you require money? Wealth? Jewelry? Do you like pretty things?” He smiles creepily.
At first, I’m insulted. Is he asking if I like shiny objects because I’m a fucking girl? Then I realize there’s a far more sinister aspect to this. I’m being bribed. At some point, because I’m now attached to that sparking, pale asshole of a god, I’ve become important. I can switch allegiances and go with these guys and whatever nefarious shit they have planned. I can help them take out Aron—because I have no doubt in my mind that this is the ultimate plan to take back control—and ask whatever I want in money or prizes. I can ask for all the slaves in the city to be freed. I can ask for anything and everything.
All I have to do is work with these two.
I consider it for a brief, shining moment. Aron hasn’t won any love from me. Guy’s an enormous dick and loves to make me feel small on a regular basis, and I’ve only known him for a few hours. I don’t have anything in this world and these two are offering me safety and security…sort of.
But then I think of how Aron saved the lives of all the blonde slaves. Maybe there’s something under that asshole exterior after all. I’ve been brought here for a reason, and Aron’s that reason—I think. I can’t betray him. Not when he