“Do you think he will?”

“Positive,” I tell her firmly. “If he can do anything about it, I know he will. He’s kind of a dick but at heart, he’s a good guy. Once we tell him how it’s wrecking your fields, he’ll take care of it…and we’ll still pay you, because it’s the right thing to do.”

Vian bursts into tears.

That makes me feel even worse. “Please don’t cry.”

“It’s just…” She swipes at her face, her nose running. “The farm is everything and if we don’t have enough to sell, we all starve. I will give him my woale if he asks for it. I will give him my body if he asks for it. By all the gods, I will give my firstborn child if he promises to feed it, because very soon I will not be able to.” Her eyes are blazing with frustration.

“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” I stammer, shocked at her words. “He’s the god of storms, right? It thunders every time he gets in a bad mood, so I’m sure it’s easy for him to stop the rain. We can just ask him.” How many times have I paid zero attention to the weather around Aron just because I’m used to the rain and mud now? I could have asked him to stop a million times and I didn’t, because I was too focused on how awkward I’ve felt around him. “I’ll make sure he stops it right now.”

I get to my feet, because her weeping is making me really uncomfortable and I want to escape. It would be so much easier if she was greedy and just wanted a handful of coins. Her sorrow tells me just how deep her struggle is and how worried she is. I look at the baby in her arms and imagine how stressful it must be for her to think about food and if they have enough to feed themselves.

“I do not wish to be a bother,” she begins.

I wave her off. “I’ll be the bother.” I go to the door and sure enough, it’s still raining. Fat drops splash from the roof like a waterfall. This needs to stop now. I see my cloak hanging from a peg next to the door and pull it on over my clothes, then storm out into the mud. Aron is by the stables, an annoyed, impatient look on his face as Vian’s husband saddles his woale—the land-hippo creature—and babbles prayers. I’d laugh at how annoyed Aron looks at any other time, but right now I just feel guilt. I can only imagine how frightened and worried Cathis is, hoping to please Aron (who, let’s face it, will never be pleased with him).

“Hey, Aron,” I call out, my boots squelching in the mud. “Can we talk for a few?”

He flicks a hand at me, indicating I should go to him.

“Privately?” I call out, stopping in the middle of the soaking field as Cathis looks up, his face white and pinched.

Aron turns his irritated gaze to me, but I smile brightly because I know it’s all hot air as far as I’m concerned. “You are standing in the rain.”

“No shit. Now come stand with me.” I cross my arms, tightening my cloak around my body, and wait.

The god points at Cathis. “Finish saddling my beast. My consort and I are leaving soon.” He moves to my side and blasts me with a scowl. “What do you need, Faith? I’m trying to prepare us for the road.”

“So, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” I point out as he moves to my side. “But it’s wet.”

“This is why you wished to talk?” Aron puts his hands on his hips. “Truly?”

“I’m also standing calf-deep in mud that should be a field. A farmer kind of needs his fields, you know? To grow crops?” When he crosses his arms and waits, I continue. “All right, I’m clearly going to have to connect the dots for you. These people that are so nicely helping us out? They’re starving because their fields are one big sludgy mud puddle. And I’m traveling with the god of rain. You put two and two together.”

“Lord of Storms,” he corrects me.

“Rain, storms, whatever—“

“Not whatever. Storms are battles in the Aether. He taps his chest. “That is why they are my domain.”

“Where I come from, they’re clouds of condensation that eventually make water, but I don’t want to argue. Aron, if you can do something about this, please. Just dry up the storms over their farmland so they won’t lose their entire crop. It’s the right thing to do.” I give him a pleading look.

He shrugs. “Very well, if it will get you to cease this begging.”

“It totally will.”

Aron grunts, and an expression of concentration crosses his face. He frowns in my direction. “I forgot how difficult it is to do anything on the mortal plane.”

“Try harder,” I encourage. “I can feel the change in the air.” It’s making my head hurt, so I know it’s working.

He nods and extends his hands, as if that will help him focus. His fingers curl as if he’s gripping the air between them, and pain spikes behind my brows. Aron’s face grows flushed with concentration and his body tenses. My head throbs and the thick feeling in the air clears.

The rain spattering on my cloak slows, and then stops. I pull my hood back, squinting up at the gray skies. “Holy shit. You did it.”

“I am a god, you know.” He gives the skies a pleased look.

“Yeah, you never let me forget that part.” I reach out and touch his arm, giving him a squeeze and enjoying the little spark that flies between us at the contact. “But thank you.”

Aron glances down at my hand where it rests on his forearm.

“Sorry.” I pull back.

He gives me a speculative look. “I did not say I disliked it.”

That response gives me all kinds of confusing feels. “Oh.”

Aron frowns and then moves forward, brushing his fingers over my upper lip. “Your nose is bleeding.”

“It is?” I touch my face and sure enough, the wetness there isn’t just rain, it’s blood. “It must have been the change in the weather.” I put my sleeve to my nose to try and blot the bleeding. “I’m going to go tell Vian the good news. How long do you think you can get it to stop raining?”

Aron watches me closely, eyes narrowed, as if he’s not thinking about rain at all. After a long, tense moment, he says, “Perhaps a week. After that I would need to return to this area. I do not have the control I do in the heavens.”

“A week’s a good start. I appreciate it. It’s the right thing to do.”

“You make it sound as if I’m doing it for you,” Aron says, amused. He studies my face for a moment longer and then releases me.

“Well, aren’t you?” I retort back. “Doing this for me? Unless you were planning on doing it before I said anything out of the goodness of your own heart?”

“No,” he admits with a chuckle. “It did not occur to me.”

“That’s why I’m here,” I tell him sassily, turning back toward the cottage.

“So you can be my heart?” he asks as I start to walk away.

My own heart skips a beat. I smile as I hold my sleeve to my nose and head for the cottage. Even before I make it to the door, the heavy, oppressive moisture in the air feels as if it’s drying and in the distance, sunlight pours onto the trees as if the clouds are breaking up overhead.

Vian meets me at the door, her eyes wide with surprise. “He did it? Truly?”

I nod. “He says it will last about a week, after that he’d need to come back. I hope that’s all right.”

She sags against the doorframe. “I can’t believe it. You must have a great influence on him.”

“Me? Nah. I mean, he’s a good guy, but he needs a bit of steering now and then. I don’t think it occurs to him to think like a mortal.” I put an arm around her waist to support her. “Why don’t you come sit down inside?”

“I can’t believe he did it,” she whispers, stunned. Vian lets me lead her to the table and sits down, her expression blank. Eventually she looks over at me, her expression wary. “It’s not a trick?”

I like Vian, but her reaction is making me feel defensive for Aron. “He really isn’t that bad—”

She grabs my hand. “Swear to me he’s not lying. Swear to me that he’s made it stop. That we haven’t offended him and this is but a trick—”

“Why would he lie?” I pull my hand from hers. “Aron can be a dick at times, but he’s never downright cruel. I’ve never known him to go back on his word and we’ve been around each other pretty much twenty-four-seven since the Anticipation. When he says he’ll do something, he’ll do it. Changing the weather was easy for him.”