Time passes.

The forest grows dark. Insects chirp, the woale craps on the road, and birds rustle the leaves. There’s nothing out of the ordinary in this night so far, and my frayed nerves ease a bit. My entire body flares with pain for a brief moment, signaling just how far Aron’s gone, but it fades almost as quickly as it arrives, and that tells me he’s coming back.

I hear his footsteps before I see him, which tells me that he wants to let me know he’s arriving. Aron’s too careful to clomp through the forest. I get to my feet just as his dark hair catches a beam of moonlight and gleams. He looks strong and resolute, his mouth in a thin line of displeasure, his mismatched eyes intense.

I don’t need to be a psychic to understand that expression. “It’s them, isn’t it?”

He moves to my side and gives me a quick nod. “They’re camping a short distance away. I counted twelve heads, including the concubine and wizard. There are four tents, one for me, and one for the rest of them. I wasn’t able to tell if the wizard was a true one or not, but they do have several mercenaries that are heavily armed. We’ll have to be careful.”

“What do we do?” I ask him, worried. “Can we avoid them? Hide? Wait for them to keep going north and follow farther behind? What?”

“We’re going to confront them,” he tells me.

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Faith.” Aron’s voice is calm as he puts a hand on my shoulder. The woale grunts and poops again, ruining an otherwise grim moment, but Aron’s focus is entirely on me. “This would have to happen at some point. I cannot avoid a confrontation forever. I must find him and defeat him.”

I know. I know he’s got to do this, but I’m not ready. But I grit my teeth and force myself to nod, because at least right now, they don’t know where we are. We’ve got the upper hand and we need to use it. “I’m just nervous. All right, then. What’s the plan?”

He turns and gestures at the forest. “I circled their camp to see the best defensive spot, but there’s nothing we can use to our advantage but the trees themselves. So, you’re going to climb one of them close to camp, and throw rocks into the bushes. His mercenaries will come looking to see what’s causing the noise, and when they do, I’ll take them out one by one until they’re a more manageable group.”

I gape at him. “That’s your plan? Throw rocks while sitting in a tree?”

“Did you have a better one?”

“No,” I sputter. “But—”

“But nothing. A simple plan is sometimes the most effective. If you are in the trees, you will be safer than on the ground. I did not see any bows and arrows, just swords. If they are climbing a tree, they will not be able to use their swords.”

“I thought you said you could handle mercenaries,” I remind him faintly. “You said they weren’t a problem, remember?”

“And they are not a problem,” Aron says calmly. “But I also do not want to risk you. As you have pointed out many times, you are not a fighter. I do not want you anywhere near battle where you might be taken unawares.”

I sigh. “All right. Tree. Rocks. It’s a good thing I played softball as a teenager.”

“Soft…ball?”

“A game with clubs and tossing balls. Forget it.” I wave a hand in the air. “I’ll manage. Let’s get some rocks.”

“And mud,” he agrees.

“Why mud?”

He touches my cheek, sending a shiver (and a spark) through my body. “This pale skin and hair of yours will stand out, even in the dark, if someone is looking for you. The mud will provide more camouflage.”

“This is sounding better by the minute,” I mutter, but I move to the woale, empty one of the satchels, and start looking for rocks. Even as I do, I keep thinking about that touch, how he caressed my cheek.

It was almost like he wanted to touch me.

OceanofPDF.com

41

A short time later, our woale is tied to a tree a fair distance from the road, grazing. My bag is filled with small rocks and hangs heavily over my shoulder, and clacks so loudly that I have to press it against my chest to keep the stones from banging against one another.

I’m also covered in mud from head to toe, and because it’s chilly, I’m wearing the darkest cloak I own. I look like a mess, but I do blend in the shadows at least.

We head carefully through the woods, moving slowly, Aron lifting me carefully over craggy spots of terrain where the uneven ground falls away in a rocky crevice or two. It seems to take forever, but then I can smell the campfire on the breeze and hear the low murmur of voices.

We’ve arrived.

“This tree is good,” Aron murmurs, pointing at a tall, leafy bastard nearby. I see the branches don’t start until about five feet up, maybe more, which means I’m going to need a boost.

I suck in a breath and then nod. I want to complain and whine, but that won’t do any good. I’m just scared, but Aron promises he’ll make sure I’m safe, and I have to believe that he’s right and it’s not just arrogance talking. I pull the heavy bag of stones off my shoulder and then set it carefully on the ground. “You’ll have to pass that up to me.”

He nods, and then cups my filthy cheeks as I look up at him. “Stay safe, Faith. I need you.”

I gaze up at him, at his beautiful, godlike face and stern features. Coming from any other man, I would think that’s practically a declaration of love, but Aron’s impossible to read. I just nod and move toward the tree.

Aron grabs me by my waist and lifts me overhead as if I weigh nothing, and I manage to flail enough to grab the limb with my feet and heave myself up. Once I’m settled, he hands me the bag carefully, and I loop it over my shoulder, then begin to climb. I move higher and higher, trying not to look down because I’m too high up to fall safely. I mean, sure, I fell from a large height when we were escaping Tadekha’s floating city, but I also landed on Aron. If I crunch to the ground here and break something, the wizard—and Liar Aron—is just going to put me down like a crippled racehorse.

I shake that image out of my head, then climb a bit higher. Once I’m safely hidden amongst the leaves, I peer down and look for Aron. He nods up at me and then gestures off into the distance, indicating where he’ll be hiding.

I give him a thumbs up and then pull out my first rock, studying the small camp. It’s visible given how high up I am, and I can see everyone.

Aron’s right, the fire is small. Beyond the cluster of tents, I see men in armor with sword belts, standing around and talking. There’s one guy in robes and a short, black beard who looks like every cliché of a wizard ever.

I peer into the shadows, pulling a rock into my hand even as I do. I have to admit, I'm less interested in the soldiers and more interested in seeing the other version of Aron. Is he going to look the same? Will I automatically know it's the wrong one? I scan the soldiers' faces and as one laughs and takes a pull from a small metal flask, I realize they are completely relaxed and have no idea we're here. Good. Silently, I encourage the one to keep drinking. A drunk guard will be easier for us to take down. I rub my fingers on the edge of the rock in my hand, trying to decide the best moment to throw.

Something rustles in the bushes below my tree. I freeze, my free hand clutching my bag of stones against my belly so they don't clack against one another. A guard? Have I been discovered?

To my surprise, a woman emerges. She's got long, curling ropes of dark hair that swing to the middle of her back, and even though it's night and slightly chilly, she's wearing a filmy dress that clings to her curves as she walks and sets off her dusky skin. And Jesus, she's got some serious curves. Her tits are enormous, each one pendulous and sways with her steps, and her waist is tiny, corseted by a girdle that seems little more than a belt. Her hips are rounded and I'm acutely envious of her figure. This must be the concubine. Damn. This group doesn't play around, because she is utterly gorgeous.