tomorrow night, maybe we leave this place for somewhere more god-friendly. I’m not sure where that would be, but I bet we can ask around—”
“Silence, human.” Aron’s voice is almost as angry as his expression. The torches in the room flicker as if a gust of wind just shot through, even though the chamber’s sealed. My skin prickles with a hint of alarm.
I’m silent. I might be mouthy, but I’m not stupid.
“We stay here. This is my temple. They would not think to do anything I do not tell them to,” Aron tells me arrogantly. “I am a god. I am their god. Do you understand?”
I don’t know whether to be irritated, frustrated, or full of pity for the guy. I can’t shake the bad feeling I’ve got in my gut, and I keep thinking of the sneaky, evil looks that the prelate and my old owner were sharing. Those were not trustworthy men. But I’m helpless to make Aron listen to me. I’m a stranger here, and I’ve got nothing to my name except a skirt.
I shrug and lie back down on the blankets. “Can we at least get clothes in the morning?”
“We shall see.” He’s back to being completely imperious and irritating.
I bite back my groan of irritation and lie down again, punching my pillow and wishing it was Aron’s handsome smug face. Arrogant prick.
I really hope for both our sakes that I’m wrong.
10
I sleep so deeply that when I hear the banging, at first I think it’s in my dreams. That the annoying, incessant drumming has invaded my sleep. But then thunder rumbles overhead so loudly that I feel the floor under me shake with the vibration, and I jerk awake, blinking my eyes.
Something pounds at the walls again, and the torches are flickering and sputtering on their last legs, the room dim. I look around and Aron is out of his bed, hands on his hips and staring at the statue and chest I put in front of one portion of the wall. As I watch, it shakes.
I gasp, jumping to my feet. That’s the secret door. “Someone’s trying to come in.”
Aron gestures at the door, annoyed. “Then let them in.”
“No,” I breathe, rushing to his side. God, the man is still naked. What the hell is wrong with him? “Are you high? Think—why are they trying to beat the door down in the middle of the night? A secret door?”
He frowns, his perfect features creasing. It’s clear he has no answer.
“Aron, this isn’t good. Please, we need to reinforce the door. Better yet, we need to get out of here.” I tug on his arm, ignoring the shock that jolts through me at the touch and hoping that my frightened expression tells him how serious this is. My heart’s hammering with fear and I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared—not even when I landed in this strange place.
The doors shake again, and it sounds like they’ve got a battering ram of some kind. I suck in a breath and look to Aron. “What do we do?”
The god looks around the room and then his gaze lands on the gigantic, ornamental axe on the wall over the bed. It’s mounted to a wood plaque that’s just as fussy and ornamental as the axe itself, but that doesn’t stop Aron. He climbs the bed with quick, agile grace and pulls the axe from the wall—kind of. More like he pulls the entire thing, plaque and all, down. He frowns as he holds the axe by the handle and shakes it, as if he can dislodge the wood from the axehead, and upon closer inspection, the entire thing seems fake. I don’t even think the blades are sharp. When the secret door splinters, though, he just hefts the entire thing to his shoulder and goes to stand in the center of the room.
I wring my hands. “What should I do?”
He points to the far wall. “Stay out of my way.”
“Right. I can do that.” I race over to the far side of the room, dumping the uneaten food on the floor and clutching the tray to my chest as a shield. I hate that there’s nothing useful weapon-wise in this room, but maybe that’s deliberate. It’s also a big stinking hint that the prelate’s up to no good.
The door falls apart and two of the armored soldiers step in, swords in hand. Behind them are four more, and then a familiar face—the pear-shaped meathead of my old