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Not the same because I had to be told? I wrench out of his grip, annoyed at his attitude. He’s always been a bit difficult, but today it’s really bothering me. I’m starting to feel more comfortable here in the tower, and maybe that’s why I glare back up at him. “I know it’s not the same. But you’re not acting the same as he did, and so you get a different response.”
That catches his attention. He circles around me as I get to my feet, and his gaze is intense as he watches me, so intense it feels like it’s burning a hole into my clothing. “Yes. That’s what I’m trying to say. Why is it that you are different with him than with me? Explain this to me so I might understand it.”
Some of my anger fades at that. Of course he’s confused. Hasn’t he said that they need an anchor so they can learn how to be in touch with their humanity? He doesn’t grasp the difference between my responses to him and to Zaroun. “It is different,” I say as patiently as I can, “because I wanted to touch Zaroun. With mortals, there is a difference between submission and willing submission. I will give myself to you as many times a day as you ask, as often as you ask, but what you want cannot be forced. I touched Zaroun and gave him pleasure because he was sad, and because he was kind to me. I wanted to make him feel better, and when he had joy at my touch, I wanted to do more for him. You and your brother use me like you would a chamber pot, or a towel.” I spread my hands. “I am not a person to you. I am an object, and so you can have me…” I gesture at the whole of my body. “But you cannot haveme.”
And I gesture at my heart.
He stares at me for so long that I worry I’ve offended him. I swallow hard and remain where I am, doing my best not to glare up at him. He’s been arrogant and uncaring and I’m just now realizing how much I resented that. Aron—the old Aron, the Liar Aspect of Aron—treated me like I was nothing but a sleeve for his cock, a convenient cunt to plow and forget about. It wasn’t until I saw him with Faith that I realized gods had feelings just like people, and they could care, just like people.
And now that I know that, I’m not going to settle for just being a cock-sleeve for the rest of my days.
“You would not touch me unless I demand it?” the Spidae asks, his voice silky-soft. “What if I demanded that you touch me of your own volition? Like you did to my brother?”
I shake my head. “You’re still demanding it. The result is the same.”
“How do I change the result?” He seems genuinely confused and as if he wishes to learn.
For a moment, I almost feel sorry for him. The god sounds depressed, as if he’s realizing what his brother has is out of his reach. “There has to be emotion there. I have to want to touch you.”
“So give me emotion. Make yourself want to touch me. Make yourself smile…” He pauses as he says the words. “It is not the same, because it is forced again.” With a growl, he stalks away from me, heading down the ramp. “I hate this!”
He might hate it, but he doesn’t ask for me to service him, either. Perhaps I’ve given him something to think about after all.
Seven
I don’t getmuch sleep that night. Even though my quarters are empty of all but me, I can feel the Spidae’s presence lurking just outside my room. He’s there all night, and I can practically hear him thinking. He never comes in, and never says a word. Just lurks…and thinks.
And I know without asking which Spidae it is, too. It is the gray-eyed one, the one I’ve taken to calling “Neska” in my head. Zaroun is “dusk” in my homeland’s language, because he sees all as it ends. I call the blue-eyed aspect Ossev, which is “dawn,” or beginnings. But Neska?
Neska is what we call a troublemaker. Someone that is far too clever for their own good. It fits him and the way he studies me, like he’s trying to figure out a particularly complex puzzle.
When morning comes, though, Neska’s ominous presence is gone from outside my rooms. I suppose that’s a blessing, but I’m not entirely sure what to think of it. Perhaps he’s decided that pleasing me isn’t worth the effort, and he can just go back to utilizing my body like he would any other pot or pan. Then again, I doubt he’s ever used one of those, either.
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?”
