Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
One of the guards disappears, heading out a different door than I came in.
Silence echoes in the room and we all stare at each other. Margo whispers something but Seth ignores it, and she makes a face at his back.
The guard returns a moment later, a worried look on his face. He drops to one knee in front of Seth. “He will not answer the door, my lord. I can hear his goat, but the god will not respond to my knocking.”
It’s probably one of his bad days. My heart aches for Kalos, but I try not to let my expression reveal anything.
“Then don’t knock,” Seth bites out. “Open the door and tell him the god Seth demands to speak with him. Now.”
The soldier hesitates again, face pale, but he nods and jumps to his feet again, heading back out. I pick at my fingernails, anxious. The doors open, and the soldier returns, two steps ahead of Kalos.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him since we’ve been apart, and I’m struck by his presence. Seth has a dark sort of miasma to his presence, as if you feel slightly dirty breathing in the air around him. I don’t feel like that with Kalos. When I look at him, I see power and strength, but I don’t find it unpleasant.
It just convinces me even more that he’s not a bad guy. Not like Seth.
He’s not in chains. In fact, he looks rather nice. He’s had a bath since I last saw him, and his clothes are fresh and clean. He’s wearing dark gray pants and a billowy tunic with long, cuffed sleeves that flow as he strides forward, and a high collar that caresses his throat. There’s no sign of Dingle anywhere.
His gaze flicks over me, oh-so-briefly, and lands on Seth and Margo.
I’m disappointed that this is the only acknowledgment I get. Did he not miss me? Worry about me? Or am I just another Dingle to him, a mortal creature prancing around and annoying him for the occasional head-scratch? The thought hurts.
Why do I even bother?
I should know my place. He’s a god and I’m the hired help that took the job because no one else would. I need to lower my expectations. I need to forget about his rare smiles and that kiss we shared. I’m not here to get romantic.
Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin. I want to say something, so badly, but I remember Seth’s warning. I’m to sit and listen only, and so that’s what I’m going to do.
Seth gestures at the empty chair near the fire and Kalos takes it, arranging his clothing about him as he seats himself. He looks good in rich, sumptuous clothing, and I’m reminded that he’s vain. That he likes to be pretty because it throws people off when they’re expecting him to look, well, like disease. He looks more elegant and put together than both Seth and Margo, though of course I’m biased. Seth is all smiles as Kalos seats himself. “Glad you could join us, Lord Kalos.”
Kalos folds his hands and gives him a bored look. He stretches his legs out in front of him like a petulant teenager. “Are you?”
For some reason, everyone looks over at me. The knife pressed against my spine reminds me that I can’t say a thing, so I simply smile tightly. Notice me, I silently plead with Kalos. Ask about me. Say something.
Seth looks back at Kalos and puts on his winning smile again. “You don’t strike me as the sort that appreciates meaningless flattery, so I’ll cut right to the point. I’m looking for like-minded allies, and I think you and I would work well together.”
Kalos looks away from me and focuses on Seth again. His expression remains inscrutable. “Possibly.”
I want to laugh at how little he’s giving them to work with. After being at his side for weeks on end, I know how obtuse Kalos can be when he wants to be. Good, I think. Give them nothing. Make them pry every drop of information out of you. Make them work for it.
Seth shifts in his chair. I suspect he’s not used to having to negotiate, because his expression becomes a little less patient, a little less welcoming. “You know I want a foothold here in your world. Rather than raise an army and carve my way in, I’m looking for allies.”
“But you have an army,” Kalos points out. “And you’ve stolen my Anchor. If you want an ally, this is a strange way to go about it.”
It takes everything I have to keep the smirk off my face.
“Your Anchor will be released unharmed when you agree to work with me. I want—no, need—you to work with me. Together, we can drive our mutual interests.”
Kalos adjusts the cuff of one of his pillowy sleeves. “Interests? You’ve got the wrong god. I’m not interested in anything.”