focus our lives in prayer. Our needs are supplemented by caravans of tithes from Aventine."
Didn’t Aron say that Aventine was getting ready to go to war with the Citadel? Maybe I misheard.
Overall, being one of Tadekha’s servants sounds way better than being Aron’s anchor. You get angel wings, beautiful gowns, perfumed baths, and get to live here. Meanwhile, I'd been dragged through the gutters of Aventine, almost beheaded and nearly had to whore myself. I have to wonder though…have others been pulled into this world like I have? Or am I the only one out of place?
I decide not to ask. I suspect it’s information I need to keep to myself.
She dips the cloth in the scented water again and then begins to wash my breasts in teasing, delicate strokes. I gasp, shocked at the intrusive touch—and how my body responds to it. I should not be turned on. I barely even like this woman. I snatch the cloth from her hands. “I got it, thanks.”
First gives me a questioning look, then sits back on her knees and watches me bathe.
I scrub my skin, hard. Time to get this bath over with quickly. "So…do you know Aron?"
"I have only been privileged to meet my Lady."
I snort. "Oh, meeting Aron isn't a privilege. It's more like a test of your patience."
First gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.
Ah, crap. I've offended her again. I just shake my head and continue scrubbing. I'm giving up on being polite and unobtrusive. "Trust me, when you meet him, you'll see exactly what I mean."
15
I finish my bath with awkward bits of conversation with First, but it's clear she doesn't know what to make of me. That's fine, since I'm not entirely sure what to make of her. She brings me a dress made of a white gauzy material that looks innocent and virginal when First pulls it out, but when I put it on you can see every body part through the fabric.
Every. Body. Part. Nips, snatch, you name it, everyone can see it. I glance over at First, plucking at the material to pull it away from my private parts. "Bra? Panties?"
"What?" she asks, and when she approaches with a comb, I see that her dress is the same as mine. She's just so pale everywhere that I never noticed until now.
Well, damn it. I'm not leaving the room wearing this. I already feel weird enough after that bath. I look around the pale white chamber only to see that my stolen soldier's uniform has disappeared. "Can I have my clothes back? I think I'd be more comfortable in them."
"Oh no, it wouldn't be appropriate for you to have an audience with the goddess in such wear." First looks offended at the thought. "My lady loves beauty in all things, and you must be garbed in accordance to your status."
"Ah," I say, as if I understand. I don't, though. "What exactly is my status?"
"You are an anchor to a god. You serve him before all others." She sniffs haughtily. "And he would not want you looking like an underfed waif."
I don't know if she's right or not, but sometimes it's easier not to argue. What do these people have against a nice sweater and jeans? It's like covering up boobs is grossly offensive to them.
Weirdos.
Since I’ve lost the battle in regard to my clothing, I let First fix my hair. She plaits it into an intricate, five-stranded braid that coils around the top of my head like a crown, and then gently fixes a few sparkling flowers into the plait. She rubs a sweet-smelling gloss onto my lips and my cheeks and then gives me a kiss right on the lips. "You look worthy of the greatest of gods’ attentions."
That was…weird. "Too bad for me that all I got stuck with is Aron, eh?"
First gives me an unhappy look. "You shouldn't say such things. They are gods."
I probably shouldn't, but it's clear First gets along a lot better with her goddess than I do with Aron. "I know. I just run my mouth. Aron can be…frustrating."
"He is a god," she murmurs with a small shake of her head. "He deserves our patience and understanding."
Yep, she has definitely not met the man. "You're right of course," I manage to puke out, and even put a smile on my face.
"Come. My lady will be waiting," First says, and with a flutter of her wings and a wave of her hand, she sweeps out of the