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A horn sounds from down below, and the men line up. We watch atop the distant cliff as the men bellow out a cry, a narrow bridge is dropped over the river, and then they surge forward to attack the keep. Ladders are produced and just as quickly destroyed by the men crowding the ramparts. Trash—and hot oil—are thrown down on the enemy men, and on and on it goes. They’re not getting a toehold in the slightest. It seems senseless to me.
Then, off to the side, a massive keep gate opens on the far end of the river. Men ride out on horses—the first horses I’ve seen since I arrived here—and carry spears. They’re deeply ta
“The Cyclopae,” Aron murmurs.
As I watch, a group of Adassian warriors split off and approach the Cyclopae riders, who surge across the water farther down the river and then regroup on the far side. One of the Adassians steps forward, flinging his cloak off and then brandishing an axe with a flourish. He stands on the ground before the others, and they surge around him, like waters parting. Avoiding him.
That’d be Hedonism Aron.
A brave man approaches, his horse circling, and then he zooms in for the attack. He’s quickly cut down, and then newcomers approach. I swallow hard. He can’t be killed. This isn’t even fair to watch. I turn away, because I don’t want to see more men fling themselves at certain death. “How do we get down to the keep?” I ask, trying to focus. “How do we get inside it?”
“There’s no getting around that army,” Kerren says. “We’d be giving ourselves a swift death if we approach.”
“The cover of night will hide us if we want to get closer,” Solat adds, his voice flat. “But the question is, if we get close, what do we do then?”
“I know the keep,” Aron says. “The Cyclopae are dedicated to me. I have seen glimpses of this keep many, many times.” He turns to me, a hint of a smile on his face. “And I know its secrets.”
“You do?”
He nods. “I know that King Mathior had a secret passage built from his wife’s private chambers leading down to the crypts so she can escape if things get too dangerous.” He rubs his chin. “Mathior is one of my favorites. Very devoted. Amazing in battle.”
I stare at my lover like he’s grown two heads. “Crypts? Hell to the no.”
“There is a passage hidden there,” Aron says. “It’s our best way to get you safely inside. I remember that they installed a passage behind a statue dedicated to me.” He frowns. “Damned ugly statue, too.”
“Hey, remember what happened the last time we hung around with a bunch of dead guys?” I say desperately. I hate this idea already. “The cemetery back in Katharn? Where everyone tried to come up and say hello?” I gesture at the smoking piles below. “Why do you think they’re fucking burning their dead, Aron? Come on.”
“It’s the best way,” he says stubbornly. “You can’t stay out here in the open. I don’t care if I have three loyal men or three thousand, you wouldn’t be safe from my other Aspect.”
“Where is the crypt, my lord?” Markos asks.
Aron points, past the river, where the trees cluster at the edge of the horizon. “That way. They trail under the earth near the castle.”
I put my hands on my hips, because I hate this idea. “If you know about this crypt because the king is so super loyal, then your other Aspect knows about it, too.”
Aron nods. “Truth. It’s still the best idea.” He arches one of those arrogant brows at me. “Unless you’d prefer to go through the front gate?”
I throw a hand up, gesturing at him. “You can. You’re fucking invulnerable.”
Aron blinks at me, and then a smile curves his mouth. “You’re right.” He moves toward me, puts his hands on my shoulders, and kisses me hard. “Clever, and right.”
Dazed, I stare up at him. “W-what did I say?”
“When it grows dark, Markos and the others will take you to the crypts. They’re sure to be guarded, but with a diversion, we can hopefully distract anyone there long enough for you to get in.”
“Distraction?” I echo.
He grins at me, and I can practically see the battle-lust in his eyes. “I’m going to go through the gate, just as you say.”
I look down at the clusterfuck below, then back at my Aron. My everything. “Aron, no. This is a really, really bad idea.”
“It is the best idea,” he says fiercely. “Do you not trust me?”
“Oh, I trust you. I just can’t forget about that ‘arrogance’ thing.”
Somewhere to the side, Solat stifles a snort of amusement.
Aron just grins at me. “I know. This is why I have you at my side. You see things differently than I do. And this is an excellent idea. I ca
I fight back a sigh. “Fine. I don’t have to like this, but fine.” Realistically, I know he can’t get hurt. I know that. I do. I’m still utterly terrified though. If they see him, they’ll know he has an anchor somewhere and they’ll come after me.
What other choice do we have? I look down at the torn up battlefield, at the men that fling themselves at the stone walls even as others get mowed down by Hedonism Aron, and feel a hint of despair.
I don’t see how we’re going to get close enough.