and took out a large chunk of fabric, then knotted the sides so they fit tighter. I tore off the hem of the robe and made myself a long wrap-around skirt that's easier to walk in. The remnants of my filmy dress from the Citadel have been scrapped and torn to pieces and now serve as a belt and scarf to keep the worst of the sand and dirt out of my hair.
I made a bra band out of it, too, because everyone seems to think a girl should jiggle but me. Screw that. They might not believe in bras in this world, but I can stage a one-woman revolution if it means I can run unhindered. I work on shoes, too. Omos gave me a pair of sandals that were far too big for my feet and seem to be nothing but straps attached to a wedge of thick hide. I do my best to work those down and resize them, too, because I suspect I'm going to be doing a lot of walking in the near future.
I'm still mad at Aron, of course. I carry that irritation with me throughout the day, though it fades as Omos makes a warm vegetable stew for dinner and adds fresh-baked bread. Aron's just being his usual dick self. He is the way he is because the High Father is working on purging the dickishness out of him. It could have been worse, I suppose.
I could have ended up with the lust Aspect of his personality.
I ignore the way certain parts of me tingle at that thought. I also ignore the fact that my mind goes back to the log he was packing under his kilt and the way I rubbed up against him and how good he felt.
Ignore, ignore, ignore.
25
As I eat my third bowl of dinner, Omos fusses over both myself and Aron, who is poring over maps as if they'll give him answers. I still have a million questions that need answering, but Omos carefully steers the conversation to neutral territory. I suspect he doesn't want to piss off a god…or he and Aron had a conversation this afternoon about keeping things from me. Either way, it doesn't take long to realize I'm not going to get what I need tonight.
I crawl into bed and pull the covers over me, achy and tired. I still hurt from our last journey and the thought of starting another in the morning makes me want to despair, but I like breathing. If we stay in one place too long, someone's going to come after us with murder on his mind. There's no choice but to leave.
I'm just about to drift off to sleep when the narrow cot shakes and an enormous body thumps down next to me, pushing me over to the side. What the fuck? I look over, yanking my blankets back as I realize it's Aron, coming to lie down next to me. "What the hell are you doing?" I hiss at him, trying to keep my voice down.
"Getting into bed with you."
"I realize that! Why? You don't freaking sleep, remember?"
"I didn't say I was going to sleep," he tells me, cranky. "But you need to sleep, and this way I can keep an eye on you."
Aron ignores the outraged noises I make and gets under the blankets with me. After a moment, he steals one of the pillows and shifts his big body, trying to get comfortable. I grit my teeth, enduring his constant bouncing of the bed.
"Hm," he says after a moment.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "What?"
"This is rather comfortable. I see now why mortals are so lazy."
Boy, he really is something else. He puts his hands behind his head and I shove back at the elbow jabbing me in the back of the neck. "One of us has to sleep, you know."
"So sleep."
"You could get on the floor."
He snorts. "I am a god. I do not sleep on floors."
"Fine. Then I will." I grab the blankets and start to get up, only to be dragged back down into the bed by Aron. I make an outraged sound as I fall backward, flailing into the cot.
"You will stay right here," he says again. "If someone comes to assassinate me in the night, I can at least cover your body with mine and shield it."
I don't know if I'm touched or alarmed.
I lie stiffly in bed, wondering if this is some sort of colossal joke. "You