“He cannot ‘take a break’ from who he is. You must accept all of him or none.”

Is that a warning? Angry, bitter words threaten to spill forth but I bite them back. There’s a sympathetic note in his voice that makes me pause. I don’t know if he’s trying to be nice or to mess with me. I never know. I clutch my robe tighter to my front. “Is it so wrong to be unhappy at the sight of him sparring? I don’t want to lose him. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“You will lose him no matter what you do,” he intones. “The question is, what are you willing to risk for him?”

Is this an offering? A way out? “Everything,” I breathe, taking a step forward despite Yulenna’s frightened grip. “I’ll do anything—give everything—if you can save Aron.”

He merely smiles and turns away.

Shocked, I watch him leave. So that wasn’t him offering to help me? That was just more fortune cookie bullshit. I clench my teeth, utterly annoyed.

“Who was that?” Yulenna asks, awed. “Was that one of the spider gods?”

“The Spidae. And yes. I don’t know which one, but I think they’re all the same. They’re assholes and manipulators, and completely, batshit crazy.” I turn back to the narrow strip of beach, where the men are sparring again. “Let’s just forget we saw them, okay? I don’t want to ruin this day.”

Funny thing, though, the day already feels like it’s ruined.

It feels a bit like I’m pouting. I know Yulenna thinks I am, but I really don’t begrudge Aron his time with the others. If they were fishing or wrestling, I don’t think I’d care. It’s the sword in his hand, the battle strategies that he teaches them with every breath he takes…those are what scare me.

You can take the boy out of the battle, but you can’t take the battle out of the boy. Aron is and will always be a soldier, a warrior, a warlord. He’s going to want to leave this place behind soon enough to go and meet his destiny in Yshrem, a place I’ve never heard of but already hate.

I feel like I’m losing him. That’s why I hate Aron’s sparring practice. That’s why I hate the swordplay.

It’s too soon. I don’t want to lose him just yet. Or ever.

But definitely not this soon.

The men pause for a while to take a break. Kerren groans loudly, and the others flop down on the pale shoreline and I know the reality of it—they’re exhausted. No one can keep up with Aron. He’s immortal and has had millennia to hone his battle tactics. They’ve tried every way they can to slow him down, from tying him to Kerren’s back while blindfolded to binding his fingers together, and he still won. Each and every time, he wins. He smiles that arrogant, heartbreakingly gorgeous smile of his, and then glances up to see if I’m watching him.

But when they take a break? He comes to see me.

Aron arrives, sweaty and covered in sand, and pulls me into his arms. “My body craves another kind of battle right now,” he murmurs, sliding a hand under my dress. “Luckily I have the fairest anchor in six kingdoms to please me…” His words trail off and he frowns. “What’s wrong?”

I feign ignorance. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”

“You look upset.”

“I’m totally not upset,” I lie. I don’t want to explain to him why I really am upset. That I’m terrified of losing him. That not only will I lose the man I love, but I’ll lose my life and whatever afterlife I had planned.

His eyebrows furrow and he puts a finger under my chin, tipping my face up so he can study it. “We were simply sparring—you know I would not get hurt. I cannot get hurt.”

“I know.”

Aron frowns at me for a moment longer, and then realization flickers over his face. “Ahhh. You are jealous of the time I’ve spent with the men. That’s it, isn’t it?”

It’s the most absurd and arrogant thing and a laugh bubbles up inside me, because it’s so typically Aron to say that. “No!”

“Yes,” he agrees, grinning. “Do not worry, my lovely Faith. You have my undivided attention, I promise you. Shall I spend all night in your bed so you can have your way with me?” He leans in and nips at my mouth.

I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. “Have my way with you, you say?”

His eyes gleam. “You can tie me down and we can pretend I’m your anchor and you’re the fierce goddess who must lick my cock for endless hours to sate herself.”

I snort. “This sounds suspiciously like a male fantasy.”

“Of course it is. But you’d still enjoy it.” His hands fasten on my ass and he holds me close, twirling me slightly on the balcony and grinning. I can’t help but smile back at him, and my heart is aching.

I want this moment—this silly, ridiculous moment—to last forever.

But I have a terrible feeling it’s all about to come to an end.

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68

Nothing comes to an end for weeks, though. We pass another two glorious, lazy weeks in the Spidae’s keep, and the men spar on the beach every day while Yulenna and I chitchat about nothing in particular. Aron is true to his word, though—when he’s not sparring and speaking of moves and discussing battle plans for troops he doesn’t have—Aron’s with me. He’s as thoughtful and kind a lover as he is brutal and magnificent.

I’m head over heels in love with the big guy. I’ve never been so happy. Those two weeks pass in an instant.

One morning I wake up, though, and I immediately know something’s wrong. Aron’s not in bed with me, and at first I think he’s out sparring with the men. It’s awfully quiet, though, so they must be talking strategy or discussing plans. I get dressed, slip on a pair of shoes, and head to the balcony so I can watch.

But Aron’s on the balcony, much to my surprise.

“Oh, hey, you’re up here? No practice today?” I move forward and slide my hand into the crook of his arm, pressing a kiss to his bicep.

“Not today.”

There’s something in his tone that seems…off. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t give me one of those heart-melting smiles, doesn’t even act like his normal arrogant self. He just puts his hands on the balcony ramparts and stares out at the wide, gray lake.

“Aron?” I ask again, starting to get worried. For the first time, I notice that his long hair is slightly disheveled, as if he hasn’t brushed it or run his fingers through it after getting out of bed. His clothing looks like what he wore yesterday, wrinkled and the laces undone. I notice he’s got no shoes on his feet.

This isn’t like him at all.

“I’m fine, Faith. Go back to bed.”

I playfully run my fingers up his arm. “Only if you come back to bed with me.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not in the mood.”

Not in the mood? Not in the fucking mood? I’m hurt, but it quickly passes. This isn’t Aron. Something’s wrong. Something’s different about him and it’s worrying me. Aron has been in the mood ever since we first made love. Sometimes I wake up to him pushing between my thighs because he doesn’t want to wait until morning for me to wake up—and I love that. I wake up to him kissing me or going down on me because he loves my taste. The man loves sex.

How can he not be in the mood? He’s always in the mood.

I study him for a moment longer, then suggest something I think will break him out of his funk. “So when we get to Yshrem, what’s the plan?” Talking war strategy with the men always makes him light up. If nothing else, it makes him talk, sometimes endlessly. Right now I’d be happy to let him fill my ears about troops and battle plans if it means he’ll just talk to me. “Carry on as we have been? Or amass an army to take out your opponents? Do you think we’ll need to fight our way there?”