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)
His lip curls. “Why?”
“Because we need a cover story and we don’t want people noticing us.” I hold Dingle’s lead out to him since I figure he’d probably rather do that. For some reason, he really likes the goat.
Kalos continues to give me that lemon-sour look. “I don’t care if anyone notices us. They’re just peasants.”
“A lot of peasants,” I agree, shaking the lead at him. “And some of the worst things in history happened due to normal people panicking. Just take the goat, all right?”
He rolls his eyes and acts put upon, but he eventually takes the lead from me and lets Dingle tug him forward, lurching. The goat heads for anything and everything that looks interesting (or edible), and Kalos shoots me another withering look as I have to jog in my battered sandals to keep up with him. The straps on them are breaking and stretched out, but it beats being barefoot. The travelers around us have worn boots that look to be leather, and their clothing has several more layers than ours, most notably a dull, utilitarian-looking cloak. I mentally take notes of things we need to get in town.
Food. Drink. Weapons. Cloaks. Better shoes.
The bridge creaks as we move over it, and ahead, I see a few carts of merchants selling wares and a booth with goods spread out on the ground. The sellers eye the people walking through town avidly, looking for someone to push their wares on.
“If anyone asks, we’re a married couple on a pilgrimage,” I add, moving over to his side and touching his arm. It can’t hurt to flesh out our story. “We want to see a god and left our coastal village because we heard it was the Anticipation.”
He pauses and looks down at my hand on his sleeve.
“Shit. Sorry.”
“You touch me a great deal,” he comments, his tone mild. “I am not averse to it, but I do wonder at the meaning behind it. Why?”
Why do I keep touching him? “I guess it’s habit. Back home I lived with my brother, so to get his attention, I might touch his arm. Or if we’re in a busy place, you might not hear a person call your name, so you touch their arm. I keep forgetting that you’re Lord Infection, though. I won’t do it again.”
He huffs. “Lord Infection, indeed. And… I didn’t say I minded it. I was just confused, that’s all. Do as you please.”
“I don’t want you to give me the plague—”
Kalos shoots me a dirty look. “If I give you the plague, it’s intentional.”
My brows shoot up. “You said you weren’t supposed to use your powers.”
“Rules can be bent a little.” He shrugs. “I won’t do it again if you don’t irritate me.”
For some reason, that makes me laugh. “Everything irritates you.”
I could swear a hint of a smile touches his mouth for the first time. “As I’ve said before,” he says after a long moment, “I like the goat.”
Leaning in close to him, I tease, “I’ll be sure that’s added into your prayers when you return to the heavens.”
A laugh barks out of him, the sound harsh and rusty. I’m startled at the sound but also pleased. Is this the first time I’ve seen Kalos…happy? It makes me want to do more. Maybe that’s why I was brought here—because anyone else would have left him alone in that room to get covered in more cobwebs, and I made him wade through an entire swamp with a goat.
“Married couple,” I tell him again in a low voice, and touch his arm once more. “Remember.”
“I’ll remember. Which one?”
“Which one what?”
“Which god are we seeking out?”
Oh. I’m momentarily flummoxed. It’s not something I’d thought about. Would it be too on the nose to say Kalos? I guess a lot of people wouldn’t pilgrimage to see him. That might make us seem like even bigger weirdos. “Which god is safe to pick?”
He snorts. “None of them. That’s why we’re here in the mortal realm.”
Hmm. Good point. “Well, I don’t think we can pick you. How about your brother?”
Kalos shakes his head. “No one wants Rhagos’s attention any more than they want mine. He is Death, remember?”
And from what I can tell, there’s not a lot of warm fuzzies for a death god. I get it. “Okay, how about the goddess of beauty? What’s her name again?”
“Not her,” he says, tone suddenly sharp.
“Why not her?”
“Belara holds grudges.”
He’s mentioned that before. “And she has something against you?”
“She does. We were lovers in a former time. It ended badly, and she is now my sworn enemy.”
For a man who had his memory wiped, he sure does remember a lot of details. A goddess for a lover, now estranged. Fucking perfect. I hope she doesn’t come after him, too. My happy mood sours and I suddenly want to kick him. “Any other bombshells you want to let me in on?”