Bound to the battle god

75

The next morning, I wake up to the jingling sound of Aron putting on his belt. He’s nearly completely dressed, his tunic a blazing white with a scarlet axe emblazoned on each shoulder. He’s got a long, fur cape of pure white, and it contrasts with his long, dark hair and ta

I sit up in bed, watching as he dresses. “Should I wish you luck?”

“I need no luck,” he says, and looks like an eager schoolboy for a moment. He’s ready to get out there and kick some ass. “You’ll stay here? Safe at the queen’s side?”

“Yup. You won’t do anything crazy like get yourself captured?”

He grins. “Never.”

I hug my knees to my chest as he props a booted foot up on the side of the bed and adjusts it. “I just don’t understand the point of battling the other guy, Aron. Help me understand. He’s not going to let his anchor near the front lines, just like you’re hiding me. He can’t die. You can’t die. What’s the point?’

“If I overtake his encampment and break his army, I can search for his anchor. He ca

Can’t he? I mean, I’m guessing that will be Hedonism Aron’s strategy as well as ours. He’s going to keep flinging men at the keep to try to break in. “You’re sure this isn’t just fighting because you like fighting?”

He moves to my side in the bed and cups my face. “I am a god of battle, Faith. This is part of who I am.”

“You’re also a god of storms, but no one’s suggesting you do that,” I mutter.

Aron laughs again and then leans down, kissing me fiercely. “Stay by the queen. I will return this evening, after I have broken his army.”

I nod but say nothing else. This is war, and that’s who he is.

I watch him go, and then my stomach growls, so I get out of bed and dress. There’s a plate of food waiting for me, but I don’t want to stay cooped up in my rooms. There’s a big window in here, but all it is is a view to the wrong side of the city. From my bedroom, all I can see are the houses and streets that squeeze together, making up the cramped-looking medieval city of Yshrem. So I grab a handful of cheese and shove a roll into my mouth, and head out of my room.

Markos is there, waiting for me. He nods and falls into step behind me as I gnaw on my bread. “You guys treated ok?” I ask him.

“Like kings,” he says with a wry twist of his mouth. “We will not be allowed to join the battle. Our task is to stay at your side.”

“Aron told me I have to stay with the queen.”

He gestures down the hall. “I have instructions to take you there, or for you to stay in your rooms. Aron doesn’t want you wandering.”

My mouth twists a little. I get it. I understand that safety is in having controlled spaces with limited access, but I don’t like the thought of sitting on a silk cushion while he goes to war outside. I itch to do something. Anything. But what? I’m the one that’s the target. “Let’s go say hi to Her Majesty, then.”

Markos leads me forward, his hand lightly at my arm, and I can’t help but notice he’s fully armored and brimming with weapons. So much for the keep being completely “safe.” There are two armed men standing outside the queen’s chambers and even more down the hall. Markos nods at all of them and as we approach, they open the doors and let us in to the queen’s i

It’s the same library-study we busted into before. Like yesterday, there are chairs by the fireplace, and the queen sits in one while two ladies sit nearby, sewing. Like yesterday, she wears another lavender dress, but this one is practically crusted with embroidery, the sleeves long and dangling. She has her infant son in her lap, playing with him, and looks over at us when we enter.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” I say with an awkward smile, and look for somewhere to sit.

“You are an honored guest,” Queen Halla says, getting to her feet heavily. One of the ladies gets to her feet and reaches for the child, but Halla shakes her head. She holds her baby close as she approaches me. “Did you sleep comfortably?”

I flush, because I’m pretty sure Aron and I were loud last night. Did they hear that? “It was great, thank you.”

She turns to one of the maids. “Caitria, tell the kitchens we need a very large tray of food and more wine. Lord Aron’s anchor will be hungry.”

The girl curtsies, her head bowed, and then leaves the room, hands clasped.

“Please,” the queen says, gesturing at her quarters. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I smile at her and her baby. The little one has darker skin than Halla does, and his hair is jet black and shaved on one side of his head in the cyclops tradition. He sucks his thumb as he looks over at me, and for a moment, his expression is purely that of his father. “Cute kid.”

Her eyes flash with pleasure as she gazes at her son. “His name is Alistair, after my husband’s father. If our second child is another boy, we will name him after my father.” There’s a look of pride on her face, and it’s clear she loves her family. She looks over at me. “And you? We are of an age. Do you have children?”

“Me? Oh, god, no. I can barely muster the energy to run around after Aron.” Her eyes widen in surprise at my words, and I hesitate. “Did Aron tell you that I’m not…local?”

“I knew from your accent,” she admits. “You are from across the seas?”

“A bit farther out than that.” I wince. How do I explain that I’m from Earth without weirding her out? “Like, way, way out.”

Halla inclines her head. “Wherever you are from, I’m thankful that you and Aron came here. My home is your home.”

I look around the room as a maid opens the door—and she’s accompanied by Markos as she enters. As I watch, the girl sets the tray down and then takes a bite out of each of the foods. I’m startled, but I realize she’s tasting everything. There are two jugs of wine, and she pours herself a cup from each, tastes them, curtsies and leaves.

The baby gets fussy, so the queen moves back to her chair and hands him a ball, murmuring at him as her ladies smile and try not to look too closely at me. I guess I don’t match what they think Aron’s companion should be. Their hair is worn in intricate, looping braids that crisscross over their heads and are decorated with bits of jewelry. Mine’s loose and finger-combed. Their dresses are corseted and it looks like they’re wearing a dress over another dress. I glance down and realize that the dark red dress I put on today that belts loosely at the waist is just the under-dress. I didn’t realize it was a two piece. Whoops. At least I remembered shoes.

There’s a large window in the room, and I gravitate toward it. From here, I can see the battlefield in the distance, the clash of men, and the sea of ba

“Ever since the Anticipation,” she admits, settling her son on a thick rug at one of the women’s feet and then moving to my side. “We think Lord Aron arrived from the Aether into Adassia directly, and that is why he chose them. For a time, my husband was quite upset. He and his people are very devoted to the Lord of Storms.” She studies me. “Where are the two of you from?”

“He showed up in Aventine,” I tell her. “I was a slave there. Someone caught me wandering where I shouldn’t and decided I should be property. Then, I was taken to Aron’s temple to be a cleaver bride, but I opted to be his anchor instead.”

“Cleaver brides,” she murmurs. “A barbaric practice. The Cyclopae prefer for their warriors to give of themselves, not slaves.” She shakes her head. “Aventine is very far. Did you sail, then?”

“No. It was a lot of riding. A lot. We ran into one of Aron’s other Aspects outside of Katharn, and I think Apathy died a month or so ago. It’s only these two left.” I gaze out the window at the clash of men, the swords and armor gleaming in the early morning sunlight. Aron’s somewhere down there, eating this shit up.

“Then this is over soon,” the queen says, and there’s obvious relief in her voice.

I say nothing. Part of me wants it over soon, sure. Part of me is terrified at what happens “after.” I can’t stop thinking about what the Spidae said. I watch the field, but from here, I can only see movement, not individuals. “I don’t suppose you have a telescope, do you?”

“A what?”

“Er, a spyglass?” I gesture at my eye. “With a long tube and a piece of glass at the end that enables you to see farther?”

Her brows furrow. “I can ask if the court wizards have such a device.”

“It’s okay.” I shrug. “I just wanted to see what was going on down at the field.”

She shudders. “I can’t watch it. My husband is eager to be at Aron’s side but…”

But Aron is immortal and her husband isn’t. I get it. “So…Adassia had a god show up, huh? Did you hear of any other places that might have had one? Everyone’s supposed to be down here for the Anticipation but we’ve only run into a few, and they weren’t my favorites.”

“All of the major city-states have been graced with a god,” she admits, her expression carefully blank. “Or so the rumors go.”

“Except you guys…until now?”

“No,” the queen says after a moment. “We have a goddess here. Magra, Lady of Plenty, is here.”

I gasp. “Really?” I’m shocked. I guess I thought I would “know” somehow if another god was lurking nearby. No one’s said anything at all. Even now, Halla’s expression is even, but I get the idea that she’s a little uncomfortable. “I have a friend that was a priest of hers. He sent a scroll with me in case I met her. Can I…can I see her?”

Queen Halla’s expression is the definition of neutral. “Are you sure you truly wish to? She is…not as Aron is. Her presence here is both blessing and burden.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come. I will show you.” She nods to her ladies. “Watch over Alistair for me, will you? We will return shortly.”

Markos pushes away from the wall in a clank of armor, straightening. “My orders are to follow you at all times, my lady Faith.”

Lady Faith? I want to correct him—or laugh—but I get that he’s trying to be polite. To give me the reverence I’m due as Aron’s anchor. Feels weird, though. “Come on, then.”

We stop by my rooms to get the scroll from my bags, and then I clutch it tight to my chest as Queen Halla leads me—and Markos, and about six additional guards—through the keep. My hands are sweaty as I hold it, because I think of Omos and how kind he was. He was the first polite person I met in this world. I want this to go well for him. I want her to look at the scroll and smile happily that such a devoted man is thinking of her. Just once, I want to have something go right. To bring good into this strange new world.