“Fuckin’ Hedonism,” the other mutters as we walk past. “Can’t nobody keep it in their damned pants.”

And just like that, we walk past them and toward the distant river. I let out a breath slowly, and eventually Markos takes his hand off my ass.

“Sorry, Faith,” he murmurs.

“No, it’s cool. Good thinking.” Heck, he was quicker on his feet than I was. Of course Hedonism is affecting all of the camp. I remember how Tadekha’s citadel affected me, how I practically humped Aron every chance I got.

Man, good times.

Even so, we can use this. Maybe it won’t be as hard to get into the Adassian camp as I thought.

We wade across and skirt wide around the battlefield. Even now, I can hear the distant clash of weapons, of men screaming, of people dying. As it fades away, we approach the camp itself, the cluster of hundreds of tents, and it’s like walking into another world.

From afar, I didn’t notice the empty wine casks everywhere. Or that men are sleeping wherever they fell, nursing hangovers in the middle of the day even as others die out on the battlefield. As we approach, I can hear a woman crying out in what is clearly sex, and there’s a tent with tits drawn on it which must be a brothel of some kind. Even though there’s a battle going on, there’s still tons of soldiers, and as we move between the cluster of tents, people start to watch us. My skin prickles uncomfortably.

“Do you know where you’re going, Faith?” Kerren asks, voice low. His expression is calm but his gaze is darting everywhere.

“I do.” I’m nervous as shit, but I remember the tent. Two flags. Weapon rack.

“Be ready to run there if we get caught,” he says. “Don’t stop for anything. Just run.”

I nod.

“You should—”

“What’s this?” a man says as he approaches us. He scowls in our direction. “What regiment are you in?”

Markos gestures at me. “Brought a tart for Lord Aron to enjoy.”

The man’s eyes narrow as he looks at me, and I stick my boobs out and do my best to look enticing. He studies Markos and Kerren, and then frowns. “Who’s your commander?”

Kerren and Markos immediately close ranks, standing so close that the man can’t see me. “It’s Lord Aron, of course. Who else would we be commanded by?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. Have you partaken of nose spices?” When the men pause, he continues. “Are you drunk? Wounded? Because you do not look like any of the above to me, and while Lord Aron expects his soldiers to enjoy serving him, he also expects healthy men to be on the field at dawn. The whores are for nighttime.”

“Apologies, sir.” Kerren shifts his weight and gives me a shove.

Fuck. Now?

I glance around and duck my head, scooting away even as I hear the man continue to upbraid Kerren and Markos.

“For the last time, who is your commander?”

I wince, hating that I’m running away when they’re getting in trouble. I feel like I’m abandoning them, but I have to do this. I have to. I move quickly between tents, keeping my head down. I’m fifty feet away—maybe more—when I hear a man shout and a scuffle breaks out.

Please don’t die, Markos. Please don’t die, Kerren, I silently chant. I won’t be able to stand it if everyone dies because of me. I’m so close. I’m approaching the center of the camp, and as men rouse themselves to move toward the fight, I discreetly head in the opposite direction.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice calls. “Hey, you. Tart. Stop.”

I pause, looking around. I think I see the tent in the distanc—

A man with a thick beard and bushy gray hair grabs my arm. He eyeballs me. “Who are you, sweet?”

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Ugh. Trapped.

I play with a lock of my hair and try to look as vapid as possible. “Hey, sugar. I’m looking for the whore tent but all these tents look the same.” I manage to choke out a high pitched giggle. “You know where it is?”

He squints at me. “You new?”

I nod eagerly. “I’m to serve Lord Aron tonight.”

“Sure you are.” He reaches forward and puts his hands on me. Stunned, I wait in silence…and realize he’s patting me down, looking for weapons. “Not just any tart can show up here, you know. You have to be invited.”

“Oh, I was invited,” I reassure him, doing my best not to kick him in the balls when he feels my ass and then moves down my thighs. “I don’t have any blades.”

Just the vial of Godsfire in my pocket, that’s all.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He turns me around roughly and then continues to pat me down, and I try to act like it’s normal. Like it’s what I expected to happen and I’m not out of my mind with terror right now.

I squeak in surprise when he grabs my tits, and shove them off. “Unless you’re Lord Aron, that’ll cost you some coin.”

He barks a laugh and then slaps me on the ass. “Maybe I’ll see you later then, tart. Whore tent’s that way.” He gives me a little shove in that direction and then leaves.

Oh thank fuck. I fight back the dizzying relief that threatens to choke me, blinking hard, and then continue on toward an entirely different tent.

The one with the spider.

I’m shocked I’m able to get there without being stopped again, but I make it. There are men in the front, so I carefully circle around the back. Here, it’s sludgy and muddy, but one end of the tent is loose, the stake losing purchase in the muck. I glance around, then get down on hands and knees, crawling underneath the side on my belly. I’m covered in mud from chin to toe, but I didn’t come this far just to get stopped now.

I have the Godsfire and I have my purpose. It’s now or never.

When I come in on the other side, I’m hidden behind a bunch of trunks. I get to my feet as quietly as I can and peer out from behind them. The inside of the tent is pretty nice. There’s a bunch of trunks, but there’s also a large assortment of food on a table, a mirror, and a loom for weaving. A woman sits on the edge of a cot, a book in her hands. She’s rather average looking, with brown hair and a young face. I kind of thought Hedonism Aron would pick someone more like Yulenna, but this is just a girl. Just an ordinary woman a few years younger than me, who can apparently read.

As I watch, she gets to her feet and moves to a trunk across the room, setting her book down and rummaging through the trunk. She pulls out a pouch and leans over it, and then I hear her snort deep.

Nose spices. She’s getting high. That works for me, though. Now’s my chance. I can’t wait any longer.

I close my eyes, think of my beloved Aron’s face. I think of the arrogant jerk and when he first held his hand out to me. Tadekha’s Citadel. Picking glass out of his back. Curling in bed with him. Touching him. Loving him. How he smiled down at me this morning as I lay in bed and I felt so protected and loved and…happy.

I’m doing this because I want that Aron to live on forever.

I open my eyes, ready to move out, when the tent opens. The flap rustles and a big man walks in, scanning the room. Outside, I hear the distant crackle of thunder. “Where are you, Naeri?”

The girl rubs her nose, sniffing again. “Here.”

The man steps forward, and as he moves out of the sunlight and into the interior of the tent, I bite down on my lip to keep from shouting in surprise. It’s Aron.

Sort of.

If I didn’t see the mismatched eyes, I wouldn’t have recognized him. This Aron is covered in glittering armor that’s been encrusted with gems. A long cloak sweeps over his shoulder, and it’s encrusted with embroidery and trimmed with thick fur. Everything about him is gaudy, from the jeweled beads braided into his hair to the pierced ring in his nose and the trio of gold chains that stretches over his cheek. He doesn’t wear simple clothing like my Aron.