“Are you saying I’m a dirty god?”
“I am not saying anything of the sort. Quit trying to make everything sound filthy.”
“I’m nottrying.” He grins. “It just naturally sounds filthy. Have you decided if you’re going to make love to me yet?”
I’m tempted to stay by the washbasin and keep the distance between us, because it’s easiest. It’s safest. But I find myself crossing the room toward him, where he’s lounging in bed—my bed. I sit down on the stool again, and at some point, he’s moved it closer to the bed. Instead of being a safe distance away, my knees brush the edge of the mattress. Kalos reaches over and takes my hand in his. At the touch of his skin—feverishly hot—my mind goes blank.
He plays with my fingers, tracing my fingernails and running a finger along the center of my palm. “You’re avoiding me, Elsie.”
“I’ve been thinking. That’s all.”
“And did you decide anything?” He looks up at me from under the fringe of his lashes, and my pulse skips a beat. His forefinger traces a circle on the heel of my palm.
I consider my words carefully. “I know you said we can just have casual sex. That it doesn’t have to mean anything. The problem for me is that you might not have feelings…but I do.”
“Of course you do,” he soothes. “I’m a god, and I’m quite handsome. It’s a natural scenario.”
Yup. Arrogance is definitely still kicking around. “Okay, well, falling in love with a god is not a natural scenario for me. I don’t want to get more attached to you than I already am.”
That makes him pause. “Why not?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean just that. Why not?” He traces one of the bluish veins on the inside of my wrist, as if my skin fascinates him. “We are already bound together for the rest of your life. Why not get attached to me?”
Because I’m going to die? There’s no greater separation than death.
Remembering that all of this is going to culminate in my death makes me pause. I keep forgetting that there’s no “after” Kalos. Someone’s going to come after me and try to kill me, and if they succeed, well, that’s it. If they fail, this Kalos—Apathy Kalos—will be the only Aspect left. Does that mean the gods here will let me keep on with my life even after we’re down to one Kalos? Retire me to a little cottage somewhere to live out the rest of my days?
Something inside me says no.
At my silence, Kalos studies my face. His gaze drifts over to my ear and he reaches for the small purple flower, twirling it between his fingers. “Bergamot. Good for inflammation.”
I eye him with a bit of surprise. “You know a lot about plants?”
“Of course. Who do you think gives them their medicinal properties?” His mouth curves with amusement. “Anali prides herself on being the goddess of good health, but do you think she lifts a finger to help them towards such a goal? Of course not. You only get her blessings when you don’t need them. She’s useless. At least I provide them with herbs and medicine.”
“That’s rather thoughtful of you.”
He leans in. “I get a kick out of watching the mortals chew on plants to see what they do.”
I should have guessed that. “You could be using that ability to help people.”
“I could. I just don’t care to.” He shrugs and hands the flower back.
And there lies the problem. He’s got the power to do something, but he won’t. I can’t even be upset over it, because I know how much his Apathy affects him. If I want to make changes, I’m the one that must do it. I take the flower back, studying the delicate petals. If the people in town had a visual aid of some kind…pressed flowers, maybe? But no, a dried-up plant looks a lot like any other dried-up weed. I’d have to have amazing skill at preserving the flowers between the pages, and I suspect it’s harder than it looks. Plus, flowers can slide out of books, and the people still can’t read.
But what if they didn’t have to read? I eye the tiny flower. With a little concentration, I could probably draw it. I can see what paints that Omos’s illustrator friend left behind and color it. How to get them to realize what it’s good for, though? I think about the warning signs back home posted in cafeterias, or even on bathroom walls. They use stylized figures. Wavy lines can indicate things. Arrows. Angry lines coming out of someone’s head could indicate a headache, and I could show pictures of how to prepare the flower, or a tea…
It’s not perfect, but it could work.
I tuck the flower behind Kalos’s ear and notice that his eyes glaze over with pleasure when my fingers skate along his skin. “I have a favor to ask.”
He closes his eyes, leaning into my caress. “Keep touching me and the answer is yes.”
“I want to stay here for a while and assist the village. Teach them how to heal themselves. Make a book to educate them on what they can use for medicine.” I run my finger along the curve of his ear. “What do you think?”
“What’s in it forme?”
