The woman holds her baby closer to her chest and takes a step back as guards flood into the room. “If you mean Aron of the Cleaver sent you, then you must be working for the Adassians.” She holds her baby’s head protectively and steps behind one of the guards. “Take them to the dungeons. My husband will want to know how they managed to sneak in.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” one man says, moving forward.

Markos raises his sword and I put my hand on his arm. We’re not attacking anyone. “So this is awkward. I think you’re talking about Aron of the Cleaver—Hedonism Aron, who’s shacked up with the Adassians and is attacking you guys, right? That’s not who I’m with. My Aron is the Aron of Arrogance. He’s just outside, creating a diversion so we could get away. He’s come here to join the Yshremi army.”

The woman—the queen—pauses. “Your Aron?” She arches an eyebrow.

Aw shit. I might have just given myself away as his anchor. I ignore the flutter of panic in my chest. “I’m a devotee,” I lie. “But I’m telling the truth—there’s a second Aspect of Aron here, and he’s fighting his way toward your gates even now. If you don’t believe me, look outside.”

The queen gives us a tight look. She hands her child to another one of her women, who scuttles out of the room with the baby, accompanied by a few guards. More file in to take their place, and the room feels stifling.

“Give us your weapons,” she says in an imperious voice. “You’re surrounded and there’s no hope for your plot to work.”

I gesture at Kerren and the others to do so. “There’s no damn plot. We’re here because my Aron wants to fight the other Aron and he said the Yshremi are faithful to him. I promise, just go look outside.”

The queen exchanges a look with one of her guards. She leans in close to him, whispering as others take our weapons away. I give up my quarterstaff and grimace as I pull the shield out of the front of my dress. Damn thing must have cut into my sides somewhat awful, because my skin hurts. I hear the word “husband” mentioned, and “front lines” and the queen’s expression grows even more pinched. She seems to age in a matter of seconds. But she straightens, looks at me, and then flicks a hand, indicating she wishes to be followed. “Take the woman. We will see if this is truth or not.”

“No,” Kerren says, trying to push in front of me. “She stays with us—”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, putting up my hand before he can get himself killed. Or me killed. “We have nothing to hide. It’s fine. I promise.”

“If Aron finds out,” Markos begins, warning in his voice.

“Then we tell him it was necessary.” I step forward, and I don’t panic when two guards immediately grab my arms. “It’s fine. This is all fine.”

It’s really not fine. I’m kind of freaking out, but if the queen can wear a serene expression, I can, too. I smile as if this is all totally going as planned and let the queen’s guards drag me along as she sweeps out of the room.

“Faith!” I can hear Markos yelling as I’m taken into the keep itself. We move quickly, following behind the queen, and there are so many guards around me that I can’t really see much about this particular castle, other than it’s got a high stone ceiling in the rooms we cut through and banners cover each wall, most of them emblazoned with a red hand over an eye or a scroll.

We march up stairs, and my bruised front and sides ache with every step. That shield must have been a bad idea. I can just imagine the mark it left—then again, it saved my life…and Aron’s. I’ll take a few bruises.

The queen doesn’t speak as we go up twisting stairs after twisting stairs. I’m panting by the time we get to the top, and then our small group steps outside into the night. The queen moves to the edge, her hands on the crenellated wall as she stares down at the gates just in front of the broken bridge.

I jerk against the arms holding me, and the guard glares at me. “I want to see, okay? I just want to see.”

The queen glances over at me, then points. “Something’s happening down there. Let her look her fill.”

I practically run to the wall the moment their hands loosen on me and peer over the side, down at the scene below. The tower we’re in is at the edge of one side of the city, and there’s a cluster of close-packed houses below us that seem to go on for forever, right up until they butt against the wall. We’re high enough that I can see beyond the wall, and it looks like a swarm of ants on the far side of the river, surrounded by torches. The rickety temporary bridge is down, but no one’s crossing it, and I fidget anxiously, looking for signs of my Aron.

Surely he didn’t just hang out in the enemy camp just because?

Then, the crowd just in front of the bridge—the swarm of ants—erupts, and I can hear a man bellow. Lightning crashes and thunder booms overhead. It sounds angry, and I immediately brace myself for a surge of pain if Aron reaches for his powers. My head’s fine, though…which means Aron’s not angry.

He’s having fun.

“That fucker,” I breathe, unable to tear my gaze away. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

The anthill spills, and then they give space to a single man in the center, a man riddled with arrows, his clothing torn and bloody. He brandishes an axe—not sure where he got one—and then lets out another battle cry.

Men charge at him, and they lose. Every single time. Within moments, there’s a pile of bodies in front of him, and he whirls the axe again.

The queen shoots me a look. “He’s attacking the Adassian troops.”

I nod. “He’s creating a diversion so we could get here safely.”

“Why does he want to come here?”

“Your army,” I admit. “He was offered one in Novoro but he wasn’t a fan. He said the Yshrem and the Cyclopae kick everyone’s ass and so if he was going to have an army, he wanted the best army in the world. We didn’t know the other Aron was here until today.”

She stalks toward me, her eyes wide, and grabs my sleeve. The queen leans in, studying me. “You keep saying ‘we.’ Are you…his anchor?” Her voice lowers in a hush.

I swallow. If I say so, am I condemning myself?

Before I can answer, a look something like relief crosses her face. “You are. He sent you here for safety…because he’s coming to our side?” Her hand clutches my arm tightly. “To join forces with our side? You’re certain?”

“Well, he’s sure not joining the other guys.”

For a moment, the queen stares at me. Her shoulders sag, ever so slightly, and I catch a flash of relief in her eyes. “Thank the gods. We have a chance.”

OceanofPDF.com

73

We watch as the one-sided battle plays out for a while. Eventually, the men stop attacking Aron, and he spreads his arms wide, a taunt for them to continue. To take a chance. No one takes him up on it, though, and he throws the axe to the ground and then crosses the bridge into Castle Yshrem.

“They’re opening the gates,” the queen murmurs. “Come. My husband will be with them.”

We head back into the keep and down the stairs, the queen utterly silent and the only sound the jingle of armor of the men who accompany us. When we arrive into a large hall, a cheer goes up, and for a moment, I think they’re cheering the queen. But it’s clear when we get inside that no one even knows she’s there. The place is absolutely packed with men, some dressed in leather and fur, some dressed in armor of varying types. All of them are filthy and cheering.

They also completely block the doorway, so the queen can’t enter.

She turns and looks at one of her men in frustration.

“Make way,” he bellows, storming forward, only to have his words drowned out by another cheer. The man shoves his way through the crowd, clearing a path for the queen, and once people realize she’s approaching, they part for her.