shoulders spread wide, thick with muscle, and I think he's more than twice the size of me. I'm not exactly dainty, either. I'm a nice, solid, average girl, but Aron's sheer size makes me seem like a delicate Disney princess to his Conan the Barbarian. Of course, he is a god of battle. I don't expect him to be built like a scholar, but it's still good to know this guy's on my side.
Concentrate, dummy, I tell myself as he shifts, his shoulders bunching. I'm doing a crappy job of helping him by just staring at his back (no matter how appealing a wide set of shoulders is, they're still attached to him). I reach out and pluck the largest chunk of crystal shard from his back and set it down carefully on one of the cobblestones. It's the size of a needle and I feel terrible that I didn't notice it before. In my defense, though, he's run me to the point of exhaustion.
That's about the only defense I have, because now that I'm looking, he's got dozens of these terrible things pinning his tunic to his skin. As I stare, a spot of blood blooms where I've pulled the first shard. Great.
He remains silent as I get to work, plucking shards and unpinning fabric bit by excruciating bit. If it hurts, he doesn't indicate it. In fact, he barely moves. Me, I'm wincing with every tug, imagining just how painful it must be and how much he's hurt all day and I didn't pay attention. The blood dotting the back of his tunic isn't helping me feel better, either. As I pull out one particularly big chunk, I set it on top of the pile and decide to say something. "Aron?"
"Mm?"
"Thank you for saving me back there. I'm pretty sure I would have died if I'd landed flat on the ground."
"You would have," he agrees.
I frown absently at his back as I tug another piece out. My fingertips are bleeding and raw, because this crystal makes no friends, but that doesn't matter. "I'm grateful."
"You should be."
I bite back my irritation. This is just Aron. This is who he is. A big, arrogant douche. "Anyhow, thank you for saving my life."
He is silent for a long moment. Then he glances over his shoulder back at me. "Do not imagine yourself important. I need you. I save you because I am saving myself."
Dick. "Gee, thanks."
"Would you rather I coddle you with lies?"
"I would rather you be nice about it. I'm thanking you and you're kind of being an ass about it."
He merely snorts. "If I was being an ass, I would demand you show me your gratitude on your knees, as Tadekha would demand of her anchor. Instead, I am letting you rest and tend to me." He spreads his arms. "Am I not the most benevolent of gods?"
"No, you most definitely are not," I mutter under my breath as I pluck another crystal.
21
The next day, I'm so hungry and thirsty I'm delirious. It takes everything I have to move one foot in front of the other, and even that I'm doing badly. Aron has to haul me along by one arm, dragging me beside him all morning. The sun gets high in the sky and then it's too much to do even that. I'm panting and not sweating despite the heat, which I know is a bad thing. I need water and shade and rest…and there just isn't any.
Eventually, Aron realizes that I'm not being lazy as much as being “collapse” and hauls me into his arms. He carries me as he walks down the road. "You are not allowed to die, Faith," he tells me sternly.
I give him a weak thumbs up. "I'll keep that in mind."
He frowns down at me. "Put your arms around my neck. You are sliding out of my grip."
"I really don't want to," I begin, but he gives me a hard jiggle and I have no choice but to do so. I'm burning up and touching him just makes everything hotter and more miserable. Sunstroke, I bet. There's no shade and I'd give anything for a drink. "You might have to get yourself a new anchor," I tell him woozily, the world tilting. I'm so tired.
"I will not." He gives me another hard jostle. "Wake up."
"Asshole. Let me sleep through this misery." He shakes me again, until my teeth are clenched with frustration and I have to knot my fingers against his collar