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)
Oh. Strangely enough, I do. I wonder if it’ll match the swamp temple or if it’s different in every city. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to find out. It also wouldn’t be a bad idea to see if all his statues have his face on them or not. If they do, we need a plan…and a face scarf. And maybe an eyepatch. “Let’s go look at your temple, yes. Then I guess we can find an inn.”
“And bathe,” he agrees, sounding almost cheerful.
I don’t trust it.
I gesture at our surroundings. “You want to point out which temple is yours, then?”
“Oh, it’ll be the smallest one, for certain.” He flashes a hint of a grin that steals my breath. “No one likes to pray to me. They only include me out of fear that I’ll retaliate if they don’t.”
“And would you?”
He shrugs. “If I felt like it.”
Good lord. “You’re something else.”
“If you know you won’t like the answer, don’t ask the question.”
“Fair enough. Lead on.”
We walk through the temple district, and as we do, Kalos points out each one to me under his breath. A large open-air temple with tended garlands and fruit trees is for Magra, goddess of plenty. An ornate building with mirrors and silks surrounding the door is for Belara, Lady of Beauty. There’s an austere temple with a lit brazier at the front that’s for his brother, Rhagos, Lord of the Dead. And there’s an inviting-looking temple with pillows upon the stairs and a kindly-looking statue of Gental. I imagine that his stairs are supposed to be full of people just hanging out in the area, but it’s deserted right now.
Sure enough, at the far end of the temple district, there’s a narrow building with dark walls and an open archway that leads inside. We step in, and the braziers here are lit and flickering, but the salt bowl near the door (I assume so people can toss a handful over their shoulder to ward off evil) is near empty. There are no statues of Kalos. There’s a painting on the ceiling of a vulture with its wings spread, as if looming over us. The walls themselves are decorated with bones. Lots and lots of bones. The pillars framing the room look as if they’re made entirely of bone, and a mural on the back wall is made of skulls and vertebrae.
It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen, but it’s pretty damn ugly. I lean over towards Kalos. “What’s with the bone decor? You’re the god of disease.”
“I’m sorry. Would you have preferred a pillar of scabs? Bowls of vomit?”
“Ew.” Despite myself, I chuckle. “That’s disgusting.”
“That’s the nature of disease, aye.”
Pillar of scabs, indeed. I smile to myself and catch him smiling back. There’s a floppy lock of hair over his brow that’s tempting my fingers to touch it, but I don’t dare. Not unless he gives me some sort of sign that he’s interested.
But Kalos turns away, and I’m crushed yet again. Ugh. Why do I set myself up for this? He’s a god and I’m an idiot human who keeps hoping for crumbs of affection.
I’d be better off hoping for the pillar of scabs. It’s probably more likely.
Chapter
Nineteen
After checking out the temple district, we wander the city a bit longer and then head to an inn we spotted earlier in our explorations. I’m in a strangely good mood, and I’m not entirely sure why. Balsingra isn’t the haven I’d built it up to be, and there are still problems to solve. I have no idea where we’re heading next, or even how we’ll pay for things once our coin bag is completely empty. It’s already feeling rather light.
But Dingle trots and prances happily on the cobblestones, bleating, and his antics make Kalos smile and me laugh. Our manner together is easy, and we toss jokes back and forth as we head back to the inn.
“You think we can find a decorator here that deals in bones and scabs?” I joke as we pass by a small shop laden with rolled-up rugs.
“Scabs, no. Vultures, yes.”
“Is the whole vulture thing because you love birds? You’re a big bird man?”
He shoots me a dark look, and when I lift a hand to smother my laughter, his expression breaks and we’re both laughing. “You should know I’m more of an appreciator of goats.”
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry that I’m your Anchor and Dingle isn’t,” I tease.
Kalos pauses thoughtfully. “I’m not sorry.”
My cheeks heat with a blush, and I think about how I kissed him back at Gental’s celebration. Oh lord. The last thing I need to do is start developing feelings for the God of Disease, who’s currently riddled with Apathy. This job isn’t supposed to be about getting a crush, but I’m finding it increasingly difficult to not obsess over his reluctant smiles or his even rarer laughter.