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)
He adds a dipperful of water, swirls it in the cup, and holds it out to the woman. “Drink this.”
She takes it from his hand and gulps it down greedily, her eyes never leaving Kalos.
“The worms will start leaving you tonight,” he says. “Within a month, you will be back to your old self. As for your husband, tell him to avoid the dockside ladies.”
Tears flood the older woman’s eyes, and she clutches the now-empty cup to her chest. “How can I thank you, my lord?”
He nods at me. “Thank her. She insists I be kind and benevolent to all, even when it’s a bother.”
She moves to me and drops to her knees, fawning over my skirts. “Mistress, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
“Okay, no need for all that,” I say cheerfully, helping her back to her feet. I’m surprised at Kalos including me, but I’m not interested in being thanked and worshiped. The woman’s fear and groveling gratitude are as unnerving as Kalos’s cruel description of her earlier worm-filled fate. “Like I said before, we just want some bread and we’ll be on our way.”
A short time later, we’re leaving the village behind. My belly is stuffed full of fresh fruit and nut-studded bread. Dingle chews on the crusts as he trots a few feet ahead of us. Kalos has a pouch of coin at his waist, courtesy of the grateful baker, and he wears a smug look on his face that doesn’t ease even as we leave town.
I say nothing until we’re well down the road, because I don’t want anyone to see us arguing. I’m still stewing over what just happened. That was Kalos’s version of being benevolent? Scaring a woman to death and more or less blackmailing her into giving us coin and food?
We are so, so very far away from being the good guys.
“You are quiet, Elsie,” Kalos finally says. “Are you not impressed?”
“Oh, I’m definitely not impressed.” I glance behind us to make sure we’re not being followed, and when I’m satisfied it’s fine to speak freely, I scowl in his direction. “What the fuck was all that?”
His brows go up, and he seems genuinely surprised at my anger. “What do you mean?”
“I mean all that shit about worms and busting out of her corpse. Were you making that up? Were you telling the truth?”
If anything, his smile grows broader, the self-satisfied look on his face intensifying. “Oh, it was the truth. She was absolutely full of parasites. I could feel them inside her before we even stepped into the bakery.”
My stomach, full of her bread, churns. “You could?”
“I can see what’s inside her, just like I can see what’s inside of every person. I made up the bit about her husband, but I thought it came across as believable.”
Sometimes I forget that he’s a god and the rules for him are different than the rules for common people. Is it horrifying, seeing all the things wrong with people when you meet them? Or does it feel more like a half-completed puzzle missing a few pieces to make whole? Knowing Kalos and what he just did, I suspect it feels more like weapons to be used against them. “What was in her drink?”
“No idea. Whatever was on the counter.” He waves a hand, dismissing it. “I killed the worms inside her the moment I touched her head. I thought it was a nice bit of theater, though.”
Theater. Because that’s all it was to him. Just a bit of bluffing and playacting to get what he wants. We’re still not real to him. We’re not more than interesting bits of flesh moving around in the world. I don’t know how to make him change, and I’m growing increasingly worried I won’t be able to. That I’m bad at this job. That I’m not the right person to help him.
Maybe that’s why I was brought here—because I’m supposed to fail and bring him down with me? The thought’s a depressing one.
“You’re quiet,” Kalos points out. “Let me guess. You’re not pleased with my actions.”
“How can I be? You threatened a woman just because she wouldn’t help us.”
“Yes, but I ended up helping her. I gave her her life back, and I think that’s worth far more than a bit of bread and a few paltry coins.”
Dingle returns to my side, nosing my hand and looking for more scraps. I was saving the end of the loaf of bread for an afternoon snack, but all this talk about worms inside the baker has really killed my appetite. I pluck it out of the wax paper I’ve been holding and hand it over to the goat. “But you would have killed her just because she was cranky.”
“So?”
I’m suddenly so very tired. “So until you realize that’s wrong, I’m not going to be happy with you.”