“Children’s stories,” Markos protests.

Vitar tilts his head. “You mean like the Anticipation?”

No one answers him.

Vitar turns to Aron. “Is it true, my lord? You would have the answers.”

“To which question?” Aron’s hand smooths up and down my back under my cloak, and I’m two seconds away from purring with pleasure. It should not be this delicious to be cradled in a man’s lap, damn it.

“Is it the edge of the world, truly?” Kerren asks, his eyes wide. “Will we fall off the edge?”

“No edge,” Aron says, his focus on my face and not theirs. “But the Spidae do exist. That’s where we are headed even now.”

“I knew it,” Vitar crows, launching to his feet. He stabs a finger at Markos. “I knew they weren’t just tales!”

“You’re pleased that we’re to meet spider gods?” Markos gives him an incredulous look, batting away Vitar’s finger.

“They really are spider gods?” I ask Aron, surprised. I remember Omos’s scrolls, but only vaguely, and I remember something about a triad of fates, but not that they rode spiders. I’m pretty sure I would have remembered something as creepy as that.

“They are not spiders. Just like I am not made of lightning and thunder is not my displeasure.” His mouth curls with derision.

I say nothing to that. Does Aron not realize it thunders every time he gets pissy? It’s the easiest way for me to tell his mood. He’s so oblivious sometimes. Still, I’m glad they’re not spider gods, because I’m really not a fan of insects. “So we’re visiting them. Are they expecting us?”

“Does it matter? They will know where my other Aspects are. I intend to find out what they know. Gain the advantage over my foes.” His fingers slide lower, stroking over my backside, even as the fingers on my thigh move slightly, grazing my skin in the most ticklish way. “We will find where my other Aspects hide and take our fight to them.”

“Without an army,” I point out.

“How quietly do you think we can move with an army?” Aron asks, amused. “And as the god of battle, I know which warriors I want to go into battle with, and it is not the Novorans.”

That elicits a chuckle from the other men. Okay, maybe Novoro isn’t known for its soldiers. He’s got a point. Still, a shit army beats zero army, doesn’t it?

“The Cyclopae,” Markos says. “They would make a worthy army.”

Aron nods. “That they would.”

“And already dedicated to you,” Vitar adds. “I’ve heard they remove one eye in your name when they reach adulthood.”

“More tales,” Kerren begins.

“It’s true,” Solat interrupts, speaking for the first time. “I rode with a Cyclopae barbarian for a time. They remove their left eye to honor Aron’s fight with the great dragon One-Tooth, and to prove that they only need one eye to best any man.”

“Well, that’s fucked up,” I announce.

Aron arches an eyebrow at me, the scarred one. “You do not approve?”

I lean in. “Can I just point something out to you, almighty lord of storms? Because I’m seeing two eyeballs in that face of yours. Your Cyclopae are gonna be mighty disappointed to realize they plucked out their eyes on your behalf and you didn’t do the same.”

He throws back his head and laughs, utterly pleased at my retort. His hand slides higher on my thigh, and he’s smiling as he looks over at the men. “One of you tell her.”

Kerren clears his throat. “Faith, have you not heard the story?”

“She has never asked,” Aron says, utterly amused.

Oh. He’s right, and I feel silly. Maybe I should have asked. All of his statues and his worshipers talk of a one-eyed Aron, but the man I’m with has two eyes. Aron’s smirking with pleasure like I’ve missed something obvious all along. “Am I going to hate this story?”

“Bah. It is a glorious story,” Aron says. “You will love it.”

“Thanks, Arrogance,” I tease, but I like his hand on my thigh. I want to shift my weight so that hand can slide a bit higher up. It’s so hard to try and stay still. “Okay, let’s hear it, then.”

Kerren pauses, then begins. “It happened many, many years ago, back when Old Suuol ruled the mid-lands.” When Aron nods, he continues, gaining confidence. “The great Lord of Storms was at war with Kalos, god of darkness, who had claimed the kingdom of Sollist for himself and enslaved their people. Old Suuol fought a glorious war against Sollist and the armies of darkness, but they were no match for Kalos and his ghouls. Aron led battle after battle, but the people of Suuol begged him to end the war. He went to the god Kalos and demanded that he free Sollist, but the dark god said he would end the war if given an ancient magical sword called Brightblade, which was once carried by the finest of heroes in the land.

“It seemed simple enough, but what Aron did not know was that the sword was hidden deep in the mountains, in the lair of Old One-Tooth, the most ancient of dragons.”

“Oops,” I say, and take Aron’s hand in mine. “And the dragon…temporarily blinded him? What?”

“No, I defeated him,” Aron says proudly, taking over the story. “Slew him with a single blow of my mighty axe. But then Rhagos interfered.”

“Rhagos?” I echo, then mentally go through the list of gods in my head. “God of…the Dead?”

“And Kalos’s brother,” Kerren adds. “He brought the dragon back to life and it attacked Aron once more.”

“Damned hard to kill something that won’t stay dead,” Aron says, all grumpiness. “That was when I lost my eye.”

I stare at his handsome mien, at the scars that crisscross the left side of his face, over the bright green eye. “How…”

“It is a lesser known legend, because Rhagos does not like for it to be told.” Aron grins fiercely. “After I delivered the sword to Kalos, I went to the underworld and took one of Rhagos’s eyes in repayment for the one I lost.”

I stare at Aron in horror. Is this why he’s got two different colored eyes?

“You did not know this?” He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand.

Wordlessly, I shake my head. For some reason, I don’t find the story funny or clever. It makes me ache for him. How hard it’s been for him. No wonder he doesn’t trust the other gods. Not after the loss of an eye…and stealing someone else’s. Yikes. “If other gods have treated you like this, how can you expect the Spidae to help you, Aron?”

He holds my thigh tightly, as if to reassure me. “Not all of the gods are enemies. Many would not dare to cross me.”

I think of Tadekha, and how she coyly suggested an alliance with Aron and he shot her down. He didn’t trust her in the slightest. “But you trust these gods? The Spidae?”

“They do not take sides.” He shrugs. “They will give me the answers I seek.”

“And that’s great, but what if your other Aspects have the same idea?”

Aron’s mouth forms a hard, hard smile. “Then we are all in the same place at one time.”

I push his hand off my thigh, because I’m suddenly no longer feeling very cuddly. “I really hope that’s just the arrogance talking, because I really, really don’t want to die, Aron.”

To my surprise, his eyes practically blaze with emotion. He hauls me against him, tighter than before, and the look on his face is fervent. “No one will touch you, Faith. I will never let you come to harm.”

I gaze up at him. “You can’t promise that. You have two other Aspects out to take you down. You can’t promise I’ll be safe, Aron. Not if I’m the target.”

His jaw clenches. I think for a moment that he’s going to argue with me, but instead, he jerks to his feet. Before I can protest, he’s carrying me away from the others and into our tent. Inside, it’s just as frosty, but a bed has been made for me on a linen tarp to protect from the mud, and it’s here that Aron sets me down gently. Aron kneels so we’re both on the ground, and then he cups my face, forcing me to look up at him.

“Faith,” he murmurs. “I know you’re worried. I know you feel isolated and alone. But I will never, ever let anything happen to you.”