I reluctantly drag my gaze away from the very wrong-feeling Kalos and focus on the woman at his side. It has to be Belara. Belara the Betrayer, Kalos called her once. She’s so beautiful it makes my stomach hurt to look at her. She’s…perfect. Her long-lashed eyes are a gorgeous shade of amber, her skin a sun-kissed gold. Her hair is long and red and loose, sweeping down her back and flowing across her mount’s backside. Her face is heart-shaped with a full, red mouth and a sweet expression. The dress she wears is simple and filmy, her nipples evident through the sheer fabric, and she’s all thick curves and plump thighs and heavy breasts.
I don’t know if I hate her or I want tobeher.
“There’s your lady,” the woman at my side whispers. “She’s magnificent.”
Liar-Kalos looks over at Belara and shoots her a covetous look. It makes me want to cry, and I fight back the knot in my throat. Damn. How am I supposed to compete with a goddess? Especially one that looks like that?
The people in front of us sink down, bowing. Someone hits the back of my leg. I go down, too. I kneel next to the others, watching as the two gods lumber past our spot on their mounts. They aren’t looking at the crowds, I can’t help but notice. They’re ignoring us as if we don’t exist. Belara wears a serene (but vague) expression on her beautiful face.
Liar-Kalos looks like he’s sucking lemons. Like we’re a swarm of gnats he’d love nothing more than to shoo away.
I watch them as they move past, the procession stately as it winds through the crowded plaza. There are more people behind them, wearing tabards of the gods’ colors—some in Belara’s red, and some in Kalos’s dark gray. At first, I think they’re worshippers or musicians of some sort,but as they pass by and no one is carrying anything, my stomach sinks as I realize just who and what they are.
It’s an entourage.
No one is walking next to the mount of each god. No one guards them. And the cluster of people behind them are dressed exactly the same. One of them is the Anchor, I realize.
They’re hiding their Anchors in plain sight.
Oh fuck, what am I supposed to do with that? I had a hard enough time with the idea of killing one person to save myself. Now I have to hope I’m killing the right person? I have to pick one out of twenty…or just kill all twenty?
My breath rasps quickly in my lungs, and I can’t get enough air. I might be hyperventilating. I just…I don’t know what to do. I need to talk to Kalos, but I can’t. If they know who I am, they’ll kill me.
I whimper, feeling lost and alone and very, very frightened.
At my side, the woman reaches out and grabs my hand, reassuring me. “It’ll be all right, love,” she whispers. “They’re not here for us.”
She’s wrong. They’re very much here for me, but her tone is reassuring and her kindness in comforting me makes me feel marginally better. I clutch her tight, my thoughts racing. Okay. Okay. I can do this. I shouldn’t be surprised. The pair of gods are deceit incarnate, so of course they’re going to try and hide their Anchors. Hell, they might be hiding them from each other as well as from my Kalos.
For now, all I can do is observe and hope that I can determine which one is which. We’ve got plenty of time.
I hope.
Belara and Liar-Kalos are helped off their mounts, and they both approach my Kalos. Liar-Kalos sneers at the makeshift throne, but my Kalos doesn’t move or even sit up straight. He remains sprawled, legs out, as if he’s half-asleep.
They stare at each other, and the entire plaza is silent. It’s as if no one wants to be the first one to speak.
My Kalos turns his sleepy-eyed gaze on his twin. “You were supposed to come alone.”
Liar-Kalos gives him a toothy grin. “But I didn’t?”
“You lied.”
“What can I say.” He spreads his hands, his expression unrepentant. “You should have expected it?”
My Kalos gives a slow, ugly smile. “Oh, I did.”
“Is that why your Anchor isn’t next to you, but in hiding?”
“You’re not hiding yours?” My Kalos arches a brow.
Liar-Kalos straightens, his cloak swirling as he stalks forward a step. “It’s called an entourage. You expect me to scavenge in the gutters every day like some sort of mortal?” He looks my Kalos up and down, his expression one of pure disdain as he takes in his wrinkled clothing. “Like you’ve been doing?”
Belara steps forward, putting a hand on Liar-Kalos’s chest as if to hold him back from lunging to the throne. “Let us not fight, my darlings. We’re here for a reason, aren’t we? Shouldn’t we spend this time discussing strategy?”
“Strategy?” My Kalos sits up in his wooden throne a little. “What strategy can there be in teaming up with someone who has betrayed me—betrayedus,”—he gestures at Liar-Kalos—“time and time again? What possible advantage is there to be gained?”
The goddess laughs, the sound like the tinkling of chimes.
