Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Guilt overwhelms me. I want that afterlife, too, but that’s not going to happen. My tongue feels glued to the roof of my mouth, and I want to explain myself, but I can’t. I pet the front of his wrinkled shirt, knowing that he hates how disheveled he must look. He does enjoy nice clothes. “I’m not ready to die, Kalos.”
“Then a lifetime together,” he says easily. “We’ll take it as the days come. I’m not letting you go anywhere. I promise you.”
I ache and ache, because how do I tell him that I elected to go home before I ever met him? Now’s not the time. There’s never been a good time but now is not it. I need him focused on our upcoming battle, not wounded and angry because he’s not going to get to “keep” me. “I’m scared.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Elsie. I’ll protect you. I swear. You’re mine.” His eyes blaze with fierce determination.
It’s hard to think about dying when the man you love holds you close. When he nuzzles your ear and speaks sweet nothings. No matter how much I would love for us to be a happy couple traipsing around the countryside with a goat, I must remember why I was brought here.
It was to keep this Aspect of Kalos safe. To be his companion through everything, until he no longer needs me. Being safe was never on the menu.
“Kiss me,” I tell him, and pull him close. My mouth is on his, our lips meshing, and I want nothing more than to kiss away the reality of our situation for the next while. In this moment, Kalos is mine.
I just need this moment to last forever.
“I hate this,” I mutter to myself as I adjust the fluttering red veil over my hair like a scarlet bride. “I hate this. I hate this.”
I continue to chant to the sunset how much I hate it even as I approach the city gates of a town called Narshire. The last few days have been an absolute clusterfuck of activity. We paid a farmer (by curing his cattle of worms and giving me a raging migraine in the process) on the outskirts of Eagleton to carry a note to the priestesses of Belara. The note informed them that we’d meet Kalos the Liar in Narshire in three days. This particular city is bigger than Eagleton and farther away, so the moment the note was off, we marched cross-country to our destination. It took a full day of travel to get there, and we hid out and planned for most of another. Now it’s late in the day and Kalos and I separated a short time ago.
I might have cried a little.
I also kissed the hell out of him and demanded that we have sex in the bushes. That I needed to wear him all over me while we were separated. I’ve been picking leaves out of my hair for hours, and the insides of my thighs are wet with his cum.
No regrets.
Kalos remains in the scrubby woods near the banks of the river. “Only for you would I hide in the bushes like a thief, Elsie.”
“This is your plan,” I’d reminded him. We’d kissed again, and I’d sneezed right in his face.
That was at least a half hour ago. I’m pretty sure I’m running a fever at this point. He’s infected me, just as he said he would. I didn’t ask with what, but to say I feel like shit is a hefty understatement. I’m sweating despite it being cloudy, my nose is congested, and my head is splitting. To make matters worse, with every step I take, the ache of being separated from Kalos increases.
I know that our tether is designed to force us to stay together, to work together, so he can use my mortal “energy” to sustain him here. Separating from him is supposed to feel wrong. We’ve tested it a few times in the past and it was highly unpleasant.
Separating voluntarily feels like deciding to pull your own tooth with pliers.
Every muscle in my body aches, and as I walk, it’s like slogging through mud. My feet are heavy, my energy low. The invisible string that binds us feels as if it’s stretching taut as I approach the city and trying to pull my skin off as I go.
But I bear it because I must. Because losing after coming this far isn’t an option, and we don’t have any other plans. I won’t involve Metta or Omos or any other innocents because I know I won’t get out alive; I refuse to take others down with me.
Being a martyr is what I do best, after all.
I drag myself toward the gates of Narshire. I’ve followed the long, cobbled road that winds between the towns here, and Narshire seems charming enough. The gates are decorated with pennants in bright colors, the low wall surrounding the town is covered in green ivy, and a sheepherder guides his flock in on the horizon. It’s all very pastoral. There is one guard at the gate, an older man with a magnificent silver moustache and a rounded belly. He wears a leather hat with a jaunty feather in it, a colorful blue cape, and his shoes have curled tips. My guess is that he’s there to be a greeter more than to keep out bad guys.