Kalos gives me a narrow-eyed look. “Absolutely not.”
Chuckling, I toss the blankets back and get to my feet. I slept in my ruined dress because I had nothing else to wear, but my other outfit is clean now—and wrinkled, can’t forget that—and I change into it behind one of the heavy bookshelves. I emerge to put on my boots.
“You smell like goats,” Kalos comments, watching me lace my boots.
“That’s because there are goats all over the place here,” I say, laughing. “And you love goats, so you should enjoy my smell.”
When I look up, there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Perhaps I do.” He follows me as I move to the door. “The monk is outside. Something about putting straw down in the goat pen because of the mud.”
“He could probably use some help, then.” Not that I love farm work, but I don’t want to be sitting inside while the old man is working away in the goat pen. It feels all kinds of wrong. “Maybe you could take them out to the pasture so we can work faster? You’ll like spending time in the sunshine with Dingle. I bet he misses you.”
“Are you trying to push me around?” Kalos asks, even as he follows me out the door.
“I would never.”
He snorts. But as we part, he reaches out and caresses my braid. His hand slides along my arm, as if he’s reluctant to let go of me.
And I feel a little thrum of happiness in my belly.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
The day is a lovely one. The sun is shining high in the sky, the occasional fluffy cloud drifting past. Kalos takes the goats out into the nearby pasture as requested, and he sits in the grasses, watching them as they play and climb atop a few old barrels. Omos and I have the dirty work, but I don’t mind. It seems a small price to pay for how kind he’s been to us. We pull hay from the old barn, and it’s stacked in tight, heavy blocks. I use the pitchfork to separate the hay and pitch it into a wheelbarrow while Omos spreads the loose hay in the pen to dry the churned mud.
It’s hard, itchy work, and by the time we’re done, I’m sweaty and covered in hay, and desperately wanting a real bath. I wipe at my brow and take the dipper of water that Omos holds out to me.
“Do you need to attend to your lord?” Omos asks, watching me closely.
“Hm? Oh, no. He’s fine.” I wave a hand at his question. “He’s out playing with the goats. I think he likes them better than people.”
“But he’s better this morning?” the monk prompts.
I nod. “The fugue state hits him out of the blue and he’s not himself for a day or two, but then he’s back to normal. It’s just part of his curse, I suppose.”
As I finish drinking, Omos returns the dipper to the water bucket and hesitates. “You know…I have not had the opportunity to meet with an Aspect of Apathy until now. Most remain in one place or quickly depart this realm.”
I flinch at his words, but they’re not meant to be unkind. He’s just speaking truth. “I think if it was up to Kalos, we’d have probably stayed back where I’d found him. I insisted we leave, though. I imagine it’s hard for him—or any of them—to motivate when they’re cursed like they are.” Staying and dying probably seems the quickest way “out” of their predicament, but I’m not about to lie down and let someone else steamroll us.
Omos feigns a lot of interest in the ladle. “I truly hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but my lord Kalos is unlike any of the other Apathy aspects I’ve read about. He’s far more alert than he should be.”
I’m surprised. That’s the second person that’s commented that Kalos isn’t like most Apathy aspects. It’s not that I had expectations of what “Apathy” would look like, other than depression. But to hear that Kalos is more cognizant than most throws me for a loop. What are the others like if not like him? I can’t imagine. “I guess that’s good, right?”
“Aye, it’s good. Perhaps you’ve given him something to be interested in.”
My face heats in a fiery blush and I hope Kalos isn’t listening in. “We’re just good friends. Road buddies. Trauma bonding.”
He’s a god and I’m just…a nobody.
“If you say so,” Omos replies.
He offers me the ladle again, but I’m no longer thirsty. My mind is spinning. I don’t know what to think. If Kalos isn’t like the other Apathy aspects, why not? “How is he different?” I ask. I feel like I’m pumping the monk for information but…how can I not? “In what way? What do I need to know?”
His eyes widen and he sets the bucket down. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. Just that, well, you’ll forgive an old man if he speculates.”
“Speculate away. I’m going into all this blind, and Kalos isn’t much of a help. I don’t think he paid much attention to mortals.”
“Even if he did, their memories are fractured when they arrive in the mortal realm. It’s something about living here. It doesn’t sit right with them. That’s one reason why the High Father ties them to a mortal Anchor. I met the god of battle, his arrogance Aspect, and there are certain things about Kalos that remind me of him. When one Aspect is destroyed, a small portion of him is reabsorbed by the others. If I am allowed to speculate, I would suggest that arrogance has already been quietly removed. Do you know anything about the other aspects?”
