Chapter 41
Chapter
Forty-One
The morning takes an eternity to arrive.
By the time it does, I’m in so much endless throbbing agony that if someone accused me of being a witch, I’d race into the nearest bonfire just to get this over with.
I’m curled up on the bed in a fetal position, sweaty and shivering.
This was the worst idea we’ve ever had, and we’ve had some stinkers.
Everything just hurts so badly. Even my molars are throbbing with pain, as if my entire body has turned against me.
It takes all my energy to sit upright and put my Belara veil back over my head, along with the plain copper circlet that nestles atop my head to hold it in place.
My clothes are damp with sweat, and my teeth won’t stop chattering.
Give you a fever to distract your body from the pain, he said. Maybe it won’t be as bad, he said.
A bird chirps, warbling a morning song, and I climb out of bed and stagger toward the door.
I went to sleep last night with my shoes on because I didn’t think I’d have the strength to put them back on in the morning, and I see now that was a correct guess.
Thank goodness for that. I trudge out into the hall and down the stairs, and the inn’s main room is full of people, buzzing with excitement.
The innkeeper’s wife confronts me as I descend the last step, her eyes wide. “Oh, priestess, you look dreadful. Are you all right?”
I manage a fake smile. “Better than yesterday. Thank you for asking. What’s with all the excitement?”
Her expression lights up. “The rumors were true! A god-Aspect has arrived. It’s…” Her voice drops to a hush. “Lord Kalos.”
My heart flips with joy. He’s here, just as we’d planned. I scramble for an appropriate response, one that a Belaran priestess would say to hearing that. “Oh dear. Not Belara, then?”
“Afraid not. We’re all very disappointed, but the fact that a god-Aspect is here at all is thrilling.” She leans forward. “And he came alone. I thought they were supposed to have human slaves with them.”
Slaves?! That’s rude. But I feign surprise all over again. “Is he truly alone? Is that safe?”
She shrugs. “Who can say? Everyone’s taking their food out the door and heading to the plaza to get a good look at him. I heard he’s terrifying to behold, pale as a ghost.”
He’s not terrifying. He’s beautiful and elegant, but I’m too tired to argue even if I wanted to. “I think I’ll go see for myself. The plaza, did you say?”
She nods, wrapping a warm hand-pie in cheesecloth and handing it to me. “Just follow the crowds. You won’t be able to miss him.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you need your room again tonight, Priestess?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to reply no, but I worry that might seem suspicious. “Yes, I will. I’ll bring more coin this afternoon, I promise. If you can’t hold the room until then, I’ll figure something out.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Feel better, priestess.” She reaches out to touch my shoulder, then withdraws quickly as if she’s thought better of it.
“Will do. Thank you for the food.” I take a small bite of the pie, because I’m normally starving when I wake up. I must be really sick with this fever, because I don’t want to eat at all. I force myself to choke it down as I step out of the inn and into the street.
Narshire is going crazy. The streets are thronged with people, many holding up colorful banners.
Kalos’s symbol—the stylized vulture—is painted onto flags and hoisted aloft.
The celebration reminds me a bit of the party in the streets when Gental arrived, but the vibe is different.
It doesn’t feel like a celebration as much as a gladiatorial arena.
People are talking and whispering amongst themselves as they head through the streets, but some of them are wearing worried looks, and more than one has a necklace of herbs around their necks.
I recognize sage and angelica from my book and from talking with Omos, common herbal medicines thought to ward off evil.
A young girl hands me a sage bundle, and I take it gratefully, following along with the surging crowd.
As I move through the city following the crowd, the pain that throbs in my bones, in my toes, in my teeth, in my spleen, lessens. My steps feel lighter. My lungs feel less constricted. I’m still feverish and run-down, but it no longer hurts just to exist.
That’s how I know I’m approaching where Kalos is. I follow the pain.
When I finally catch sight of him, I whimper.
It’s not because of my pain. Just one look at his haggard face and I can tell this has been as difficult and as painful for him as it has for me.
His eyes are bruised hollows, and it looks as if he’s dropped ten pounds overnight.
He’s almost fragile, as if trying to push our bond has stretched him as thin as I feel.
I hate this. I hate seeing him like this.
Why is it so much easier to deal with my own pain than his?
I slip through the crowd, making sure to stay behind other bystanders and never push to the front.
There’s a large wooden chair with a high back perched atop some hay bales covered with fabric—a makeshift dais—and he slouches atop the chair, looking as bored as ever.
His eyes scan the crowd, though, and I can see the moment his gaze lands on me.
Our eyes meet and his gaze moves onward, only to swoop back to me.
Kalos devours me with his eyes for a hot moment and turns away.
I know it’s for my own safety but ugh, I wish he didn’t have to ignore me.
Sneezing into my sleeve, I straighten and wipe my sweaty face. Some of the fog from my fever is fading, and I’m so relieved. Kalos must have lifted it. Thank god. A woman standing near me frowns, taking a step back. “I’m not contagious,” I reassure her. “You’re fine.”
“Contagious?”
“Never mind.” I smile brightly and indicate at Kalos with my chin. “Is that the god?”
She scoots a little closer to me, ready to gossip. “Aye. Terrifying, isn’t he?”
Is he? I think he’s beautiful, but of course I’m biased.
I know him well. I know that when his mouth flattens like it is right now, he’s struggling to stay focused because of his apathy.
I know that his sleepy-seeming eyes hide a quick mind and he’s watching the entire area, trying to assess threats to us.
His nonchalance isn’t an act, but he can be kind…
if pushed. Mostly, I just know him well enough to love him despite all his flaws.
“He’s different than I expected,” I lie.
That feels like a safe thing to say aloud. “Prettier.”
The woman huffs. “All the gods are beautiful, I imagine. That’s what makes them so terrifying. That they can be things of such perfection and yet so cruel and unfeeling to us mortals.”
Point taken. I polish off my breakfast as I devour Kalos with my gaze from afar.
The woman continues to offer tidbits of gossip to me as we wait, finding a supposed priestess of Belara the perfect captive audience.
I watch Kalos as the crowd grows and grows, until hundreds are gathered in the square.
The sight of all the people flocking here fills me with relief, because it’s far easier to hide amongst a thousand faces than it is among ten.
As the crowd grows, more priests arrive.
They wear different colored robes, but all of them bring offerings to Kalos and set them at his feet.
There are gifts of cheeses, flowers, trays of food, jewels, and a farmer brings up a small goat.
Only the goat gets Kalos’s attention. He sits up at the sight of it and gestures that the man should approach. “Bring it to me.”
The baffled man does, and Kalos enfolds the goat in his arms, scratching the chin as if it’s totally normal for a god to cradle a goat in his lap.
Food vendors walk through the crowd, a man with bread loaves spiked on a pole calls out to people to sell his wares.
The smell of cooked sausage fills the air, and my stomach grumbles a protest. Now that I’m feeling a little better due to my proximity to Kalos, my hunger is returning.
I try to ignore it, but my mouth waters every time someone strolls past with a snack in hand.
The woman at my side crosses her arms and eyes Kalos, who hasn’t moved from his makeshift throne. “I’ve got laundry back home. I should be going if he’s just going to sit there all day. You think he’s waiting for something?”
I shrug and pretend not to know. “Who can know what the gods have planned?”
“Spoken like a true priestess.” She gives me a rueful smile.
The man in front of us turns around, obviously listening in on our conversation. “Maybe he’s waiting for the others.”
“Others?” I ask politely.
He nods. “Heard that other Aspects are coming to Narshire too. They’re all gonna meet up and have an orgy.” The farmer grins, showing a gap between his front teeth. “Happened in Aventine, I heard.”
I wrinkle my nose with disapproval. The rumors are more than slightly ridiculous.
An orgy? Really? This isn’t the most insane rumor I’ve heard, but it also makes me worry that maybe everything we’ve been hearing is nothing more than wild gossip.
Maybe the other Kalos isn’t coming after all.
Maybe it’s all lies and nonsense and we’re out here for nothing.
I can’t feel the nearness of the other Aspect like Kalos can. I’m in the dark.
I make small talk with the others standing around, and one generous soul buys sausages for our entire group.
I could kiss him for that, and I devour mine and lick grease off my fingers.
Kalos remains on his throne, his eyes heavily lidded as if he’s about to doze off, but he continues to pet the now-sleeping goat in his lap.
He hasn’t looked in my direction again, but I know he knows I’m still here.
“Make way,” a man bellows from a distance. A bell rings. I can’t see him, but I can hear him call out. “Make way for the gods!”