Aidon offers him the sweetest of smiles.
I whine mentally. What the fuck is happening here?
Now it’s too late to avoid confrontation, months of hard work be damned. Is the God of Chaos playing with my destiny today?
Jestin is the definition of a good male, wrapped in a delicious package of lean muscle and a coat of authority. I have committed unforgivable sins against him and his family. And after what happened, he still stood with me.
At least he used to.
“Let’s move, we have plenty to discuss,” Jestin adjusts his cufflinks, then dips his chin at me.
I know I have no choice. I do everything I can to avoid his gaze without appearing weak, yet I still feel the weight of his meticulous scrutiny. I want to shrink, but I force my posture to remain regal, letting the judgment slide over me.
The last two years were good practice.
I let him inspect me, consciously aware that I look like shit. My long, indigo locks are messy and gross. Good thing I have a refreshment potion in my satchel.
Thankfully, after a few heartbeats without a word from me, he nods and gestures towards sand rides. Teleporters are rare, and the magically powered inventions are among the most convenient means of travel in Rhodria. Unfortunately, they require two things: sand magicians and sand beneath them, making them exclusive to Jestin’s lands.
“I bet we do,” I murmur begrudgingly, then the familiar guilt resurfaces.
I try to stand, but the sand shifts under my feet, adding yet another thing to my long list of embarrassments.
Aidon reaches to grab me, but Jestin waves his hand and the sand rushes, coating my legs, stabilising me. It lingers a little longer before caressing my bare skin and dissolving into the ground.
Don’t read too much into it, you stupid cow.
“Show off,” Aidon murmurs glaring at Jestin, whose expression is as sombre as the Simon’s.
What’s with the tension? Is it a case of natural enemies?
I bend to lift my satchel, letting my eyes linger on Aidon. He’s rescued it from the Arametis vines—mental thanks awarded, though he doesn’t look like he cares.
“What the fuck is that?” Jestin barks, and I whip my head in his direction.
His glare is fixed on my left hand.
I can literally feel the blood draining from my face.
“That, dear lord, is a bargain mark,” Aidon smirks like he’s proud of himself.
“Have you fucking tricked her?” He barks, the only evidence of Jestin’s growing rage in his stormy eyes.
“I—Take him!” He orders. Without hesitation, the Hermitage Warriors advance on the Simon.
Aidon keeps smirking, as if antagonising the sand wielder was a good idea.
“You don’t want to do that unless you want me to tell our darling what she isn’t aware of... Yet.” He turns to me. “Would you like to be let in on some secrets?”
Jestin shakes his head, dropping the topic. “Let’s fucking go.” Whatever he’s hiding must be ugly if he lets the Simon get away with it so easily.
Fucking hell.
“Why should I go with you?” I tilt my chin in defiance, just to spite him. I know I’m going. What else am I supposed to do?
Jestin narrows his eyes at me. “What? Do you prefer to stay here without provisions? Knowing how your portals work? Be my fucking guest.” He signals his hands in the direction of travel. “Or let me escort you to the palace.” His face twists into pure hatred as his gaze flicks to the Simon. “You and your bond-master.”
I puff out a breath and head in that direction.
