I press a trembling hand to my forehead and find it wet with blood. God. I just want to cry. Cry and then race to the nearest clinic where they can stitch me up and give me something to calm my nerves before I have a nervous breakdown. Someone sent a murder squad for me. Not the god I’m serving.
Me.
And he’s no help in the slightest because he doesn’t know anything. I can’t blame him for that, but at the same time, I feel helpless in the face of everything that’s happening. “Do you believe me when I say we can’t stay here?” I ask him again. “Because someone’s going to come looking for these men. And while you’re a badass with that axe, if they send twice as many after us next time, you might not be able to stop them before they kill me.”
I wait for him to say something shitty about how it doesn’t matter if I die because he’s the important one, but he only gazes at me thoughtfully and then nods. “Where should we go?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this place. I told you, I’m not from here.”
“Then let us go to your land.”
“I wish we could, believe me.” I rub my bare arms, covered in goosebumps. “As for where we should go, we’ll figure it out on the road. Maybe other temples aren’t full of assholes. Maybe we can find a nice innkeeper or someone that has answers. I don’t know. All I do know is that staying here is basically asking to be murdered in our sleep.”
“I didn’t sleep,” Aron says absently. “I still couldn’t.”
“We’ll add that to our growing list of problems,” I tell him, trying to keep the crankiness out of my voice. I’m scared, tired, and hurting. Of course, that’s been the norm ever since I arrived here, so it shouldn’t freak me out as bad as it has. But someone just tried to murder me tonight. Me, not the god who showed up uninvited.
There’s something about this whole “anchor” thing that no one’s telling me, I suspect, and I don’t trust the prelate or anyone else in this stupid temple to give us the right answers. For now, we have to leave and go somewhere where they might help us, and it’s not here.
“Grab some shoes and some clothes, Aron,” I tell the god as I kneel beside my old owner and begin to search his pockets. I find a pouch with a few coins in it attached to his belt and a holstered dagger, and grab them both. Then, I decide to take his belt because his seems way handier than mine. Actually, they all have better clothes than I do. I glance around at the dead bodies. It’s awful to think of stripping the dead, but me in slave gear is going to draw attention to us, and it’s freaking cold and has no pockets. I check the next body, but his tunic is covered in gore. There has to be one that isn’t completely gross.
“What are you doing?” Aron asks, his tone imperious once more. “Robbing the dead?”
“No, I’m robbing the assholes that tried to murder us.” I glance up at him even as I slide a few more coins into my pouch. “Or how far do you think we’re going to get without money in this city? In any city?”
He frowns at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am a god. I have no need of coin.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong on both counts,” I tell him, and move to the next body. Success. This guy’s neck looks like it was broken instead of blood everywhere. Yay. I grab one arm and then try to push him onto his stomach. “Help me with this.”
Aron reaches over and helps me turn the guy. A moment later, I’ve got his long, red cloak freed and I’m working on dragging his tunic over his limp body.
“What do you mean, I am wrong?” Aron asks. “That I am not a god?”
“You know you are. I know you are. But to be honest, it’s better for everyone if no one else thinks you are. I mean, what if these people have been ‘Anticipating’ your return so they can murder you and take your place? How do we know that’s not the trick?”
He’s silent.
I look up at him and there’s a faint frown on Aron’s face. I kind of