“It’s important toyou, Elsie.” Kalos glances over at me, his green eyes full of questions. “I’m just constantly trying to understand why. You’ve been working on this book night and day, and now that some village woman has decided that she doesn’t like what you’ve done, you want to redo all of it. Why work so hard for ungrateful people?”
“They’re not ungrateful. We were just brainstorming ideas.”
“You’re more devoted to this project than to me.”
And there we go. Is this the real reason Kalos is in a sulky mood at the moment? He’s jealous of the time I’m spending working on the book? Every moment I’m not focused on this project, we’re kissing, or his head is between my thighs, so I’m not sure why he feels neglected. “It’s an important project,” I say. “And one that helps you in the long run, too. You’re the god of disease but you’re also the god of medicine, right?”
He shrugs, clearly bored by this aspect of his, uh, Aspect.
“I’m giving them control over their lives, Kalos. You saw what they were doing to that chicken because someone had a bug bite. Can you imagine how terrifying a stomach-ache must be? Or an infection?”
He arches a brow at me. “Yes, I can. Remember what I am.”
Right, because he’s the god of disease. Duh. “Sorry. I’m not trying to get preachy. It’s just…I want to give them a bit more control. To handle their own destiny when someone breaks a finger or a baby gets a fever. I don’t want them to panic and feel lost and alone. Getting sick or injured shouldn’t be some scary, faceless demon. I want them to be able to feel like they have answers. Real answers. Not just burning sage and hoping that some god is listening to their prayers. No offense.”
He listens to my impassioned words but doesn’t respond. I feel silly to get so heated over freaking headache cures written down in a book, and stare ahead, hugging the book to my chest as we walk. The day is a lovely one, the breeze toying with my hair and making it a tangled mess. When I look over, I see that gentle breeze is also making Kalos’s silvery locks ruffle over his brow in that perfect way that’s so darn unfair. Figures.
Kalos finally gives me a faint smile. “It all goes back to your brother, doesn’t it? Must be a nightmare for you to be stuck with me. Not only am I the most apathetic creature in all the land, but I’m also the terrible bastion of disease, the lord of scabs, the divine fever-bringer.”
“Don’t talk about yourself that way. You’re a good person stuck with a terrible job. Anyone would get frustrated. You’re allowed.”
Kalos rolls his eyes and reaches down to pick up a stick, tossing it into the rutted, muddy road ahead of us. Dingle bleats happily and races after it, little hooves scampering. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re too nice, Elsie?”
Instead of retrieving the stick, Dingle crunches down on it and dances away with it in his mouth when Kalos reaches for it.
“You. Repeatedly.” But I smile as I point this out.
“Yes, well, the reality is that you can’t save everyone.”
I huff at that. “I’ve never said I want to save everyone. I want them to be able to savethemselves.”
“In the end, we can’t save anyone.”
His tone is so morose and bleak that it stops me in my tracks. I stare at his back, and it takes Kalos a moment to realize I’m no longer walking at his side. He turns in the road, clothes ruffling in the wind, and his eyes look so damntired.
“That’s Apathy talking,” I tell him.
A sad smile curves his mouth. “Is it? Or is it just the truth learned after millennia of experience? You think I’ve never tried to save anyone in the past? I do what I can, but it’s never enough. It wears you down.”
It’s definitely Apathy talking, but as I study his sad face, I also realize something. He doesn’t enjoy what he does. It must be hard to be the god of disease. It hardens your heart right away or it’ll crush you. Kalos isn’t inherently a bad person, I’m realizing once again. He’s just been beat down by the weight of his role. It’s made him selfish and insular, but can I really blame him? Even the other gods don’t want anything to do with him. What a miserable, lonely existence.
I hurt so much for him. No one’s ever tried to even understand them, have they?
I march up to his side, and before he can turn and start walking again, I grab his hand and stop him. I close the distance between us and kiss him, pressing my mouth to his as if a temporary, sweet distraction like a kiss can make up for eons of misery.
He cups my face, dropping Dingle’s lead, and melds his lips to mine. It’s a kiss full of yearning and sweetness, and he smells like fresh air and a bit like goat, but I don’t mind it. It just reminds me of how much he adores the animals, and howkind and affectionate he is to them. He’s a man of many facets, and I’m finding myself in love with all of them.
“My sweet Elsie,” he whispers against my mouth, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. “I don’t care if you save everyone. It’s who you are. But I wish you could save me.”
A pang of guilt hits me. I wish I could be everything he needs. Not because I can fix him, but because I want to stay at his side and keep him company when he’s feeling low, just to remind him that he’s not alone. But…I’m a temporary solution. “I’m here right now,” I tell him. “And I want to touch you.”
A little chuckle escapes him. “Right here in the road?”
I laugh at that. “No, not righthere. But back at the monastery. The moment we get a moment alone.”
He grins at me, and his beautiful green eyes are sparkling with amusement. I take his hand, and we walk a little faster down the road. And then a little bit faster. And then we’re jogging and laughing, and Dingle thinks it’s all a fun game as we sprint down the muddy, well-traveled road back toward the distant monastery, laughing and carefree, a goat at our heels.
This might be the best day I’ve had in a long, long time. I feel so lucky. So happy. So full of joy. I’m overflowing with it.
