I shift to the left and the pain pulses through me, making me gasp for air. Quickly, I step to the right again and it subsides a bit.
Just a bit. Still feels like I’m being shredded internally. Everything about all of this is wrong. If the window was any larger, I’d be tempted to dramatically throw myself out of it, just to crawl a few steps closer to Kalos and relief from this endless pain.
Dawn, I remind myself. You only have to make it ’til dawn.
Chapter
Forty-One
The morning takes an eternity to arrive. By the time it does, I’m in so much endless throbbing agony that if someone accused me of being a witch, I’d race into the nearest bonfire just to get this over with. I’m curled up on the bed in a fetal position, sweaty and shivering. This was the worst idea we’ve ever had, and we’ve had some stinkers.
Everything just hurts sobadly. Even my molars are throbbing with pain, as if my entire body has turned against me. It takes all my energy to sit upright and put my Belara veil back over my head, along with the plain copper circlet that nestles atop my head to hold it in place. My clothes are damp with sweat, and my teeth won’t stop chattering.
Give you a fever to distract your body from the pain, he said. Maybe it won’t be as bad, he said.
A bird chirps, warbling a morning song, and I climb out of bed and stagger toward the door. I went to sleep last night with my shoes on because I didn’t think I’d have the strength to put them back on in the morning, and I see now that was a correct guess. Thank goodness for that. I trudge out into thehall and down the stairs, and the inn’s main room is full of people, buzzing with excitement.
The innkeeper’s wife confronts me as I descend the last step, her eyes wide. “Oh, priestess, you look dreadful. Are you all right?”
I manage a fake smile. “Better than yesterday. Thank you for asking. What’s with all the excitement?”
Her expression lights up. “The rumors were true! A god-Aspect has arrived. It’s…” Her voice drops to a hush. “Lord Kalos.”
My heart flips with joy. He’s here, just as we’d planned. I scramble for an appropriate response, one that a Belaran priestess would say to hearing that. “Oh dear. Not Belara, then?”
“Afraid not. We’re all very disappointed, but the fact that a god-Aspect is here at all is thrilling.” She leans forward. “And he camealone. I thought they were supposed to have human slaves with them.”
Slaves?! That’s rude. But I feign surprise all over again. “Is he truly alone? Is that safe?”
She shrugs. “Who can say? Everyone’s taking their food out the door and heading to the plaza to get a good look at him. I heard he’s terrifying to behold, pale as a ghost.”
He’s not terrifying. He’s beautiful and elegant, but I’m too tired to argue even if I wanted to. “I think I’ll go see for myself. The plaza, did you say?”
She nods, wrapping a warm hand-pie in cheesecloth and handing it to me. “Just follow the crowds. You won’t be able to miss him.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you need your room again tonight, Priestess?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to reply no, but I worry that might seem suspicious. “Yes, I will. I’ll bring more coin thisafternoon, I promise. If you can’t hold the room until then, I’ll figure something out.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Feel better, priestess.” She reaches out to touch my shoulder, then withdraws quickly as if she’s thought better of it.
“Will do. Thank you for the food.” I take a small bite of the pie, because I’m normally starving when I wake up. I must be really sick with this fever, because I don’t want to eat at all. I force myself to choke it down as I step out of the inn and into the street.
Narshire is going crazy. The streets are thronged with people, many holding up colorful banners. Kalos’s symbol—the stylized vulture—is painted onto flags and hoisted aloft. The celebration reminds me a bit of the party in the streets when Gental arrived, but the vibe is different. It doesn’t feel like a celebration as much as a gladiatorial arena. People are talking and whispering amongst themselves as they head through the streets, but some of them are wearing worried looks, and more than one has a necklace of herbs around their necks. I recognize sage and angelica from my book and from talking with Omos, common herbal medicines thought to ward off evil. A young girl hands me a sage bundle, and I take it gratefully, following along with the surging crowd.
As I move through the city following the crowd, the pain that throbs in my bones, in my toes, in my teeth, in my spleen, lessens. My steps feel lighter. My lungs feel less constricted. I’m still feverish and run-down, but it no longer hurts just toexist.
That’s how I know I’m approaching where Kalos is. I follow the pain.
When I finally catch sight of him, I whimper. It’s not because of my pain. Just one look at his haggard face and I can tell this has been as difficult and as painfulfor him as it has for me. His eyes are bruised hollows, and it looks as if he’s dropped ten pounds overnight. He’s almost fragile, as if trying to push our bond has stretched him as thin as I feel. I hate this. I hate seeing him like this.
Why is it so much easier to deal with my own pain than his?
I slip through the crowd, making sure to stay behind other bystanders and never push to the front. There’s a large wooden chair with a high back perched atop some hay bales covered with fabric—a makeshift dais—and he slouches atop the chair, looking as bored as ever. His eyes scan the crowd, though, and I can see the moment his gaze lands on me. Our eyes meet and his gaze moves onward, only to swoop back to me.
Kalos devours me with his eyes for a hot moment and turns away.
