It was to keep this Aspect of Kalos safe. To be his companion through everything, until he no longer needs me. Being safe was never on the menu.
“Kiss me,” I tell him, and pull him close. My mouth is on his, our lips meshing, and I want nothing more than to kiss away the reality of our situation for the next while. In this moment, Kalos is mine.
I just need this moment to last forever.
“I hate this,”I mutter to myself as I adjust the fluttering red veil over my hair like a scarlet bride. “I hate this. I hate this.”
I continue to chant to the sunset how much I hate it even as I approach the city gates of a town called Narshire. The last few days have been an absolute clusterfuck of activity. We paid a farmer (by curing his cattle of worms and giving me a raging migraine in the process) on the outskirts of Eagleton to carry a note to the priestesses of Belara. The note informed them that we’d meet Kalos the Liar in Narshire in three days. This particular city is bigger than Eagleton and farther away, so the moment the note was off, we marched cross-country to our destination. It took a full day of travel to get there, and we hid out and planned for most of another. Now it’s late in the day and Kalos and I separated a short time ago.
I might have cried a little.
I also kissed the hell out of him and demanded that we have sex in the bushes. That I needed to wear him all over mewhile we were separated. I’ve been picking leaves out of my hair for hours, and the insides of my thighs are wet with his cum.
No regrets.
Kalos remains in the scrubby woods near the banks of the river. “Only for you would I hide in the bushes like a thief, Elsie.”
“This is your plan,” I’d reminded him. We’d kissed again, and I’d sneezed right in his face.
That was at least a half hour ago. I’m pretty sure I’m running a fever at this point. He’s infected me, just as he said he would. I didn’t ask with what, but to say I feel like shit is a hefty understatement. I’m sweating despite it being cloudy, my nose is congested, and my head is splitting. To make matters worse, with every step I take, the ache of being separated from Kalos increases.
I know that our tether is designed to force us to stay together, to work together, so he can use my mortal “energy” to sustain him here. Separating from him issupposedto feel wrong. We’ve tested it a few times in the past and it was highly unpleasant.
Separating voluntarily feels like deciding to pull your own tooth with pliers.
Every muscle in my body aches, and as I walk, it’s like slogging through mud. My feet are heavy, my energy low. The invisible string that binds us feels as if it’s stretching taut as I approach the city and trying to pull my skin off as I go.
But I bear it because I must. Because losing after coming this far isn’t an option, and we don’t have any other plans. I won’t involve Metta or Omos or any other innocents because I know I won’t get out alive; I refuse to take others down with me.
Being a martyr is what I do best, after all.
I drag myself toward the gates of Narshire. I’ve followed the long, cobbled road that winds between the towns here, and Narshire seems charming enough. The gates are decorated with pennants in bright colors, the low wall surrounding the town is covered in green ivy, and a sheepherder guides his flock in on the horizon. It’s all very pastoral. There is one guard at the gate, an older man with a magnificent silver moustache and a rounded belly. He wears a leather hat with a jaunty feather in it, a colorful blue cape, and his shoes have curled tips. My guess is that he’s there to be a greeter more than to keep out bad guys.
I put on my best I’m-With-Belara smile and approach him. “Good afternoon to you, sir. Can you lead me to the nearest inn?”
I’ve practiced the words in my head a jillion times with every step, because I need to sound like I’m a casual traveler and not, say, a dog walker from Chicago. But Kalos’s fever is getting to me, and it comes out utterly congested and pitiful. “Goob abernoon, sir. Cab ewe eed me to da nearbest inn?”
He flinches, his return smile of greeting fading a little. “My friend, you don’t sound well. Is it…contagious?”
“Hay,” I say, hoping that hay-fever is a thing here, too. I should have asked for a cover story. Shit. Three violent sneezes follow my answer.
The guard moves further away, out of the splash zone. “A rotten thing for travelers, indeed. Are you one of Belara’s chosen?”
I try to wear a pious look on my face and smooth my annoying red veil. “Indeed I am.”
“Then you are in luck!” He leans in, eager to share gossip. “Rumor from out of Eagleton is that her Aspect is heading this way.”
I gasp and clutch at imaginary pearls, wondering if I’m selling it too hard. “No!”
“Yes!” He beams at me. “I can’t speak to the truth of it, but a great many have flooded in through these gates today, hoping to get a look at the Lady of Beauty.”
“I am so blessed,” I say, and sneeze again. Sweat drips down my face, making the veil cling to my skin. “Sorry. I’m just exhausted. Where did you say the inn was?”
He points inside the city. “Follow the wall along the right. Look for the sign of the drunken pig.”
“Perfect. I hope we shall both look upon Belara tomorrow.”
“Gods willing!” He chirps.
