Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I wash up and dress, and since my chambers are doorless, I’m forced to sit and wait for someone to come and retrieve me so I can eat something. Normally one of them checks in on me quickly, but today they must be ignoring me. I make a mental note to stash some food inside my rooms in the future just in case this happens again, and pick up my sewing.
I’ve just finished tacking on a ruffled sleeve when Zaroun enters my chambers, looking anywhere except at me. “You did not visit like you promised.” His voice is low and vaguely sad. “Have I offended you?”
I set my sewing down and get to my feet. “Of course not. My room has no door and no window. I am kept here, caged, until one of you frees me, and cannot return until one of you brings me back. Have you forgotten?”
He gazes vaguely around him. “There should be a door here.”
“You’re a god. Make me a door, then,” I tease, only half-serious.
“Yes, I can.” He blinks, dark eyes unfocused, and then surges toward the wall. The stone ripples away from him, as if pushed away by an unseen force. I’ve never seen stone flow like water and my mouth drops open in shock.
It’s a sobering reminder that I am a mere mortal serving gods, and that I should give them what they want.
“Come with me,” Zaroun says, still not looking in my direction. He turns and leaves, heading deeper into the tower.
I put aside my sewing and follow after him. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. Now that I have a door, I can feed myself at any time. Tending to one of the gods comes first. The reminder of the door sends a little shiver of fear through me, because they’re powerful and I’m not. I’ve been getting too comfortable. I need to treat them with respect and give them everything and anything they ask for.
We head to Zaroun’s chamber, the same one we were in yesterday. The blankets and pillows are still there and he immediately sinks down into them, his eyes closed. “Blindfold me this time? I want to be comfortable with you.”
My heart squeezes painfully at the intense need on his face. For all that he’s a god, Zaroun is so very lonely. How do the other aspects, the other fates, not see this? Or is this something that he only allows me to see? I think back to Aron and when I served him. Both his Liar Aspect and the Arrogance Aspect were very closed off to me. He only truly opened up to Faith.
But Faith was different. The way she talked, the way she considered things…all very different. I’m not like her.
“You are quiet,” Zaroun says, eyes still patiently closed as he turns towards me. “Do you wish to be elsewhere?”
Oh. “I’m here,” I tell him, and reach out to caress his cheek. His skin is cool against my touch, but when I caress him, a look of pure ecstasy crosses his face. The pure joy my touch gives him makes me ache, and I need to focus on the here and now. Zaroun wants my attention. “My apologies. I was just lost in thought.”
“I know what it is like to be lost inside your own mind.” Is that a tease in his voice?
I pull off the sash at my waist to use as a blindfold.. “Lean in,” I tell him. “And then we can enjoy ourselves without fear.”
Zaroun and I spend hours on the blankets together. My stomach eventually stops growling and I make a mental note to raid the kitchen later. For now, spending time with the Aspect is my priority. Today, he doesn’t want to be serviced, though. He’s content for me to stroke his hair as he lays his head in my lap, and I tell him about nothing at all. He likes the sound of my voice, and the feel of my hands, and so I share stories about the low, flat buildings in Rastana that are made of fired brick, and how they’re carefully stacked atop one another like layer cakes. I tell him about how bright the sun is there, and how blue the waters of the sea. I talk of the bright fabrics from home, and how one of my masters was a silk-seller who had the most gorgeous bolts of fabric in jewel tones of every color, and how I’d loved to see them and touch them.
And all the while, I stroke his hair and touch his face, careful to avoid the blindfold.
It’s nice. I’m not used to talking so much about myself, but I’m discovering that I don’t mind it. Zaroun is a good listener, and he’s content to hear me talk about anything and everything. There’s no expectations, and it’s just a lazy, sweet day.