Bound to the Battle God - Ruby Dixon Page 0,97

I can’t help but wonder. “It’s odd that no one’s checking out this part of town. They were all over the place every other street we turned down.”

He grunts. “We might have lost them.”

“But there are guards at the gate and they’re not even bothering to look for us,” I point out. There’s something about this I find creepy and wrong. Either we lost them, or people are deliberately avoiding this area.

I wait for Aron to make another shitty comment, but he’s only thoughtful. He gives me the grunt that tells me he’s considering what I said, but doesn’t stop moving. He tugs me forward and I wince at the fact that we’re walking over people’s graves. Other than staying in the gutter, there’s just not many other places to walk. “Where are we going?”

“Away from the city.” He points at the far side of the graveyard. Past a few more decorative trees and the endless lines of tombstones, I can see a break up ahead that looks a bit like a road in the moonlight. “That leads out. We’ll follow it for a bit and regroup.”

“All right.”

We move silently through the graveyard, the only sound the cold, wet slap of clothing against our bodies. The farther we get from the fountain and the center of the graveyard itself, the more…run down things look. The graves go from stone to wood, and they look even tighter together than before, which I didn’t think was possible. Even here, the poor get screwed. I bite back my whimpers when we cross over fresh dirt, because I know it’s just superstition, but it creeps me out.

Of course, then we come to the mass grave, and then I’m really freaked out. How is this okay with anyone? I stare in horror at the cloth-wrapped bodies carelessly tossed atop one another, as if they’re discarded dolls instead of people. “What is this, Aron?” I grab his arm and make him stop. “I don’t understand.”

He gazes out at the enormous pile of dead in the trench, and the curt comment I keep waiting for doesn’t come. “There must be plague.”

“Plague?” I have to bite back the shriek rising in my throat.

“Either that or the poor have no money to bury themselves and so this happens.” Aron gestures at the pit of corpses. “I think I prefer the thought of plague.”

“Well, I don’t,” I hiss back at him, trotting at his side when he starts to walk away. “Aron, what do we do if there’s plague? Like…black plague? From rats? Are there more plagues than that one?”

“I would not know. I am not the god of plagues.”

Right. Health and sickness is someone else’s forte. “So is this happening because that particular god is nearby? His Aspect?”

He pauses and gives me a hard look. “You keep asking these things as if I have the answers.”

“That’s because I’m scared.”

Aron turns toward me and to my surprise, he tucks my hand into his, giving it a comforting squeeze and slowing his steps so I can walk at his side. “Do not fear. I am with you. I will keep you safe.”

I study his face and some of my panic subsides. If I’m safe with anyone in this crazy world, I guess it’s with him.

Well…unless one of his Aspects shows up and tries to murder me. But overall, it’s nice to hear him be understanding and not a dick. “Thanks, Aron. You’re all right sometimes.” Before he can say something douchey, I add, “But only sometimes. Don’t let it go to your head.”

He snorts. “Are you going to chatter all night or can we leave this place?”

“I would very, very much like to leave,” I tell him, and I can’t hide my eagerness. “I’m not a fan of Katharn, or its crazy-sized sewers or its bloodthirsty mobs. I would rather be anywhere but here, in fact.”

“You and I both.” He thinks for a moment as we walk. “Well, almost anywhere.”

“What’s worse than here?” I can’t get past the fact that my cloak is covered in filth and slapping against my legs, or that if I breathe deep enough, I can probably smell the dead piled up nearby.

“Tadekha’s Citadel.”

I’m silent at that. Tadekha was very strange, true. She fed me and clothed me—and okay, made me sex crazed—but I’m surprised to hear him say that. I don’t know what to think. Was me touching him (and him touching me) so awful that he prefers this? Why are my feelings hurt at the

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