And I am not a fool, so I’m taking him up on it.
I pry the book out of her grip and close it with as haughty an expression as I can manage. “First of all, I don’t appreciate that insinuation. Second of all, I didn’t get him to do anything.This was my idea. He’s just accompanying me because we can’t be separated.”
Metta scoffs. “I have eyes. I know what I see.”
That makes me pause. I’m dying of curiosity, but I also don’t want to encourage her. I put on my best neutral expression. “And what is it you think you see?”
“You’re his sweet little maiden. It’s obvious he’ll do whatever you like just so he’ll get you in his bed.” She plucks the book from my hands and opens it again. “Least you’re getting something out of it.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I mean, I am getting a lot of something, but it isn’t book learning. My face is hot as blazes. “Do you want to help me with this or not?”
“I’ll help, I’ll help,” she says. “Show me more of your pictures.”
Chapter
Thirty-Four
After a long and frustrating conversation with Metta, I’m armed with ideas for how to improve my book. Her ideas for what she wants to symbolize ailments are completely foreign to mine, but we were able to agree on a lot of other things. She seemed impressed with the idea of the book and wanted to go rush out and find some of the plants I’d painstakingly drawn out in the first few pages. It made me encouraged despite things, and I left her cottage with the book under my arm and a head full of ideas.
I don’t go more than two steps before I see Kalos sprawled nearby. He’s on his side in her small garden, letting Dingle eat the woman’s carefully planted turnips. He gives me a lazy smile, his gaze heated. “Free already?”
“More or less.” I clutch the book to my chest, ignoring his come-hither gaze. “She has ideas for improvement that I need to implement.”
“Figures.” He yawns and flicks a bit of greenery off his sleeve. “More work for you and less playtime.”
You’re his sweet little maiden. Metta’s words ring in my ears,and my face feels like it’s scorching and sunburned, even though it’s a cloudy day. “Will you come on already? You’re letting Dingle eat all her vegetables and she needs them.”
He gives another gusty sigh and gets to his feet, brushing dirt off his clothing. His moods have been tricky ever since Hedonism took over. When he’s not dragging me onto furniture or between bookshelves, he’s been more apathetic than ever. His mood swings greatly between the two and it makes it difficult to deal with him when I either want to kiss him or shake him. “Let’s go, friend,” he tells Dingle. “We’re not wanted here.”
“Not in someone else’s garden that they worked for weeks on,” I agree, refusing to rise to the bait. “What if she starves in the winter because you let Dingle eat her supplies?”
The god gives me a sulky look. “We can bring her foodstuffs from the monk to make amends.” He gestures at the book. “And you’re giving her knowledge, anyhow. Isn’t that priceless?”
“Not when your bowl is empty in February,” I grumble.
“What’s a February?”
“Never mind. Let’s just go.”
“You’re so grumpy, my sweet. You know what you need?”
I shoot him a glare. “Don’t say it.”
“You need to put your knees against my ears and let me lick you into a better mood.” The tip of his tongue touches his upper lip, as if he’s recalling the taste of me on his mouth. “I hate to see you upset, especially after all the hard work you do.”
“Your tongue can’t fix everything, okay?” Even as I say the words I’m laughing, because he’s just the most ridiculous. “And I’m not grumpy. I just don’t think oral sex is the appropriate answer to every situation.”
“It’s not?” He sounds aghast.
It makes me laugh even harder. “Can you please focus? I’m excited about the prospect of what we’re doing here.”
“See, that’s the thing. I’m not entirely sure what we’re doing here.”
“We’re giving them knowledge,” I say firmly as we head down the road and out of the village.
“Yes, but why? They’re perfectly happy living in ignorance and tying chickens to open wounds.” He shrugs, watching Dingle as the goat trots merrily ahead of us like a well-trained poodle. “Let them be.”
“It’s important,” I say stubbornly.
