“Babe?” he echoes, baffled.
“Just ignore that part. I’m feeling happy, and when I’m happy, my tongue gets loose.” I pat the front of his tunic. “Now, do you want to have fun with me or not?”
He eyes me. “If you insist on being out here, then I suppose I must join you. But I’m not going to enjoy it.”
I giggle, because it sounds like I’ve already won this battle. “Perfect. Now is there any way to get that sunbeam off your head?”
“Sunbeam?”
I nod, brushing a stray lock of silver hair off his brow. He’s so pretty, but that hair of his doesn’t want to stay in place. “You’ve got a halo of light around your head. I noticed it when you were in the crowd.”
His gaze flicks to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “I wasn’t aware, and I don’t much care.”
He can’t make it stop, then. Oh well. No sense in worrying about it. I shrug. “I’m guessing no one else has noticed it, then.”
“Just you.”
“Just me,” I agree. He looks so uneasy that it’s adorable. For a moment, I’m struck with the urge to kiss him. I lean in close, toying with the idea. His skin is close enough to touch, and it looks soft and inviting, and I’m entranced with the idea of caressing him. “You think Gental is around?”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Kalos doesn’t push me away, no matter how close I creep. “Have you spent all of our coin on food and drink?”
I laugh. “No. Of course not. But since I’m the one that must eat and drink, does it really matter if I did? I’m only punishing myself if we go broke.”
“I don’t like the thought of you suffering.”
“You don’t like anything.”
“No, I don’t.” His gaze flicks to my mouth again, and I wonder if he’s going to kissme.
I wait.
But he doesn’t.
“Pfft,” I say, pushing away from him. “God of Apathy? More like god of crankiness.”
He follows me, holding Dingle’s lead as the goat trots at his side. “You know I’m not actually the god of Apathy, yes?”
A fresh round of music starts, and a man walks past withwhat looks like a maypole, fluttering with ribbons of pale yellow and white. Those must be Gental’s colors. I take one as it flutters past and dance along behind the pole-wielder, just because it looks like fun. I’m all about enjoying myself today. I should be thinking about food supplies and weapons, but I find all I can really focus on is the music, and the next delicious bite of food, and the soft bow of Kalos’s mouth as he leaned close.
I twirl with the end of my ribbon, my wrinkled skirt flaring, and as I turn, I see Kalos following behind the group of people I’ve joined. He snags a bouquet of flowers from someone as he walks past and offers it to the goat at his side. Our eyes lock and he lifts his chin, as if saying that I can continue to dance and party. He’ll follow me.
He’ll followmylead.
I love that. I twirl my ribbon and dance next to the other women in the street, and somewhere in the distance, Kalos follows behind, because I don’t feel that terrible pulling sensation at any point. I dance and I flirt and I laugh, having the best time as more women join, taking up the ribbons next to me. We crowd the streets, more than a dance troupe but less than an army, and the music plays and the sun shines down and it’s just the most glorious, wonderfully fun day I’ve had in such a long time.
Our group moves through the streets, and it seems like we dance for so long that I’m surprised when the maypole is shoved into the ground in the center of a plaza, and the women all around me drop to their knees like puppets with their strings cut. I blink in dizzy surprise as the music stops, and all the swirling ribbons and music end and I’m just standing alone in a plaza as a man moves through the group.
A man with a sunbeam that haloes his head like one of the saints of old.
This must be Gental. I realize this even as the god-Aspect glides through the plaza, larger than life, and stops before each woman. He caresses her chin, tilting her face up and studying it for a moment before nodding. The delighted woman looks ecstatic, even more so when she is one of the lucky few given a ribbon garland by the man walking a few steps behind Gental. His Anchor, I suspect. He’s an elderly man, his face round and pleasant and sweet. He carries a goblet of wine in one hand and an armful of ribbon garlands in the other as he trails behind Gental, looking as if he’d like nothing more than to follow the god all his life.
And who can blame him? Gental notices me standing and turns the full force of his gaze upon me. I’m used to gods, used to feeling that strange vibe that tells me that they’re something unique, because I feel that unusual vibe on Kalos at all times.
But Gental is… different.
Just looking at him makes me… tingly.
He’s beautiful, reminding me of the old renaissance paintings of the gods. Apollo, I decide, because he’s got thick blond curls and a strong nose and a pouty, sinful mouth. He moves towards me, the pale-yellow robe rippling like silk around his legs, and he extends his hands toward me in a welcome. His eyes are bright blue and warm, surrounded by thick lashes. Now I see why all the women in the city are throwing themselves at him. I step forward, fascinated?—
