"Do you want them to live or die?"

I stare at Aron in horror. "You're making me pick?"

"No. If it were me, I would let them go, but I'm asking you since you have a hard heart." His tone is curiously playful despite his words, and he crosses his arms over his chest, watching me and waiting.

I swallow hard, deciphering that. Fuck. He is making me pick. He wouldn't let them go, but he thinks I'm soft. Okay. I gaze down at the men (and woman) bowing before Aron. "Um. I'm not used to having people's lives in my hands."

Aron just shrugs and gestures at them again.

I study the mercenaries. They wear piecemeal armor, which makes it impossible to tell how young or old they are, but they remain with their faces down in the dirt, waiting. The woman next to them trembles, her arms outstretched, and I feel a surge of pity. I know I need to be ruthless. I know these people would have killed us without a second thought, but I'm not from this world. I'm not like that.

I look down at the dead wizard under Aron's boot and shudder.

Aron grunts. "I suspect I do not know your answer."

"I suspect you do," I say, feeling faint.

"Do not sit up, all of you," Aron says, voice blunt. "I would not like to see your faces."

They all immediately sit up, and I blanch to see that all four of the men are young. Two of them have beards, but all of them could be college kids if they were in my world. There's fear on their faces, but they're resolute, as well.

Aron thinks for a moment, and then flicks a hand at me, suggesting I go to his side. I immediately jump to my feet and race over, feeling their eyes on me. Aron leans in, his breath tickling the dried mud on my ear. "I can say this properly. Tell them that I will be lenient if they betray me."

I mull that, then nod. He's giving me a lot of power, letting me speak on his behalf, and I suspect that's as deliberate as anything else Aron does. I clear my throat and take a step forward, deliberately kicking the wizard. Just because. "All right, listen up, people. This is a new Aron, and we do things differently." I clasp my hands together, pitying the flickers of hope I see in their eyes. "If you can't follow him a hundred percent, we're going to leave your ass behind at the first city we come to. Aron's in charge, and I'm Aron's anchor. That means you listen to me as much as you listen to him, and if I say jump, you say how high. Understand?" I point at each one of them, feeling a bit like a schoolteacher speaking to naughty children.

One man clears his throat and puts his hands to his chest, holding an imaginary weapon in Aron's gesture. "We followed the Lord of Storms because we are believers, lady. That has not changed. We still follow the Lord of Storms.”

To a one, the men put their hands on their chests, bow their heads, and echo his gestures.

I'm a little surprised—and pleased. "You're not mercenaries?"

"No. We chose to serve our Lord of Storms," the first one says. He's beardless and can't be more than twenty. "There is no greater honor than serving at my god's side." The others nod.

"Oh. Okay. We'd better be able to trust you, then." I turn to the woman. "What about you?"

Her smile is sweet and guileless. "My lord Aron bought me to serve him and his wizard. I am a bed slave from the esteemed houses of Rastana. I serve my master in all ways he requires." And then she licks her lips and lowers her eyes. I could swear I see her arch her back slightly, thrusting her tits out further.

I fight back the stab of irritation I feel at her presence. There's no need for me to be bitchy. I know in my heart she's just trying to ensure her survival. I think briefly of Avalla, back in Aventine, and how she couldn't think any further than serving the most powerful master she could find. It's not her fault this is what she's used to. "Okay, cool. Since you're not a mercenary, if you touch a weapon, we're leaving your ass behind, too." I point at all of them again. "Serve Aron well and you can live. If you try to betray him, he'll gut you so fast you won't see it coming."

I turn to look at Aron, to see if I covered everything.

"Faith speaks lies," is all Aron says.

"That means truth," I interrupt.

"We know, my lady," the first soldier says. He ducks his head. "We have learned to interpret my lord's words."

"Then interpret this," Aron continues. He crosses his arms over his chest and kicks the wizard's fallen body. "Faith is not my anchor. You will get near her. You will speak to her. If you touch one hair on her head or so much as breathe incorrectly in her direction, I will be lenient. I am not a god." His expression is dark and baleful, and as I watch, lightning crackles in his gaze, and I shiver. "If you harm her or betray me, I will not torture you in this world and the next. A god's vengeance is not eternal. Understand?"

They all go pale. The woman drops her forehead to the ground again, shivering.

"I think they get it," I whisper to Aron. A threat shouldn't sound so very flattering, but I can't help but be pleased that he's speaking so highly of me to them. It's kinda sexy. Heck, it’s more than kinda sexy. I’m totally aroused at the authority in his voice and how sternly he’s glaring at all of them. Never has a bitch-out session been so damn hot…and it’s coming from Aron.

Has any man ever elevated me so highly? Hell, I've been called Tart more often than I've been called my name in this world. I know this is a big deal and I’m appreciative of it. I touch Aron’s arm. "Thank you."

He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I like that more than all the hugs in the world. We're united, together.

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44

The men all swear fealty to Aron, and one by one, we learn a little about them. There's Markos from Aventine, who comes from a sailing family. Solat, who hails from Katharn and has the most beautiful, fine black curls. Kerren, who has darker skin and comes from Mephis, and Vitar, who is a farmer's son and also comes from Katharn. They've been with the Aron of Lies for about two weeks now, and served him faithfully. They have three woale with them and took turns walking as Aron rode with the concubine and the wizard. The men ask to have an evening to bury their fallen dead, and while Aron doesn't look as if he wants to do so, he turns to me and I nod. I want an evening off, too.

So I sit by the fire and clean my face and arms of mud while the men dig in the forest and Aron hovers, watching them. The concubine sits with me, and I learn her name, too—Yulenna. When I ask where she's from, she just smiles and shrugs. "My last master was in Rastana. A slave claims no home."

"You don't have to be a slave any longer," I tell her. I was a slave and I hated it. "I'm sure Aron will free you. Heck, you're free now."

She frowns, as if this makes her unhappy. "It is a great honor to serve one of the Aspects. Being his slave will be one of my life's true joys."

"Aron doesn't need slaves."

"You see to his pleasure, then?"

Well this conversation just escalated to eleven. "That's a bit personal and I don't have to tell you."

Yulenna just smiles sweetly and plays with her long black hair. "I can help with that if you're tired of servicing him. I'm good in bed and I know what Aron likes."