Bound to the Battle God - Ruby Dixon Page 0,83

trail toward a distant walled city. Katharn, which we've been heading steadily toward for a week. The scenery has changed slightly from the Dirtlands in that there are trees and fields and pasture animals. We've passed a few outlying farms here and there, but this entire area is pretty quiet and settled…and poor. The few people we've seen working in fields as we walked looked tired and worn and hungry, shoulders hunched from long hours of labor. They stared at Aron, his strong, proud body, and then at me, and I felt acutely vulnerable.

No one tried anything, of course, but they were farmers. Now, we're approaching the city and I'm trying to imagine all the horrible things that might be waiting for us. Thieves and cutthroats for sure. Worse, if there's another god Aspect nearby. I work on fastening my boots, which are too tight and uncomfortable compared to the sandals, but seem smarter if we're heading into the city itself. "Do you know much about this place?" I ask, trying to think of the best way to phrase what I want to say next.

"Katharn?" Aron grunts. "Only that it exists. It is claimed by no god as a stronghold."

"No? How come?" I wiggle my feet in the boots, trying to stretch the leather.

"Look around you. Do you think the sight of this would make anyone proud?" He sweeps an arm through the air at the distant buildings. "This is a poor place. A place for pickpockets and mercenaries. There are no grand temples or manicured gardens, no noble houses or anything of the like. It is the armpit of the mid-lands, necessary but foul."

I stand again and tuck my sandals into my bag. "Thought you didn't know much about this place."

"Do not try my patience, mortal."

I just roll my eyes at him. "Oh, I'm not just trying. I'm succeeding."

He makes an irritated sound that I ignore. We're fond of pricking at each other, he and I. Or at least, I'm fond of pricking at him, since I'm stuck at his side and he can't do anything about it. In a way, it's the most fun I've had all week, knowing I'm driving him crazy. I sling my pack back over my shoulder and move closer to him. "So what's the plan?"

Aron narrows his eyes at me. "I thought we had discussed this already. We enter the city, get supplies and weapons, and listen for news of other god Aspects. Katharn is the hub of the mid-lands and we can find our way to other countries if we must. Adassia is to the east, Yshrem to the north-east, and—"

I raise a hand before he lists off the litany of small countries once more. He's told me this a bunch of times this week already. Off to one side, I notice a distant man in a field that's staring at us—probably because we've been paused on the side of the road for too long. I grab Aron's arm and move him under the nearest tree so we can have a little privacy. "I know that part of the plan. That wasn't what I meant, big guy. I'm talking what is the plan for this?" And I gesture at him, drawing a little circle in the air and indicating his proud, handsome face. "You don't exactly look like one of the locals."

He crosses his arms over his chest again, bracers practically bristling with weaponry. "Why should I?"

"Let's talk about low profiles and what a good idea it is to not be noticed," I tell him brightly. "In fact, let's think about this. Let's say you've heard that the gods are walking the mortal plane again. Let's say one of the gods put a bounty on the head of a rival, because why not?" When Aron frowns, I continue. "And then let's say you and I saunter in. I might look like another dirty woman fresh off the road but you, my friend…you do not blend. From your eyes to the scar to the way you hold yourself, you're not exactly a low-key individual."

Aron scowls down at me. "You do not look like a camp follower."

Is that a compliment? "Why, thank you, Aron. I think."

He grunts. "You merely sell yourself short. For a mortal, you are passably attractive."

"You are positively killing me with flattery here." I can't help but smile, though. Lately I've started trying to determine how Aron's words would sound if he wasn't “poisoned” with arrogance, and I bet that would

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