Wed to the Wild God (Aspect and Anchor)

"Seth is the new asshole," Kassam corrects me with a wry smile. "Riekki is the one we know. If we must decide upon a known betrayer or a new power, we will choose the new power in the hopes that things will become better."

I digest this. "What happens to her anchor?"

"He—or she—will be kept alive until they are no longer needed."

"And then…because Riekki is not going to be a goddess any longer, the bond will be broken?" I ask hopefully. "And that person can go on their way?"

He's silent. I know what that answer means. "So they're condemned to death," I say, swiping at his dirty chest. "They're fucked, just like me."

"Her anchor chose to serve," Kassam says gently.

"You mean like I chose?" I raise an eyebrow at him. When he's silent again, I shake my head and dip my shirt into the stream once more, wetting it. "It's an unfair system, don't you think? Even if her anchor chose to serve, they probably think they're serving some goddess of sunshine and roses, right? She's knowledge, so she's in charge of her own spin. She's not going to let all of humanity know that she's a huge dick. They're going to think she's a sweetheart, and then whoever serves her is fucked over." I grit my teeth and lean in, wiping away rivulets of ashy water that trail down his chest. I can't even appreciate his washboard abs tonight. I'm too tired, too sick of all the machinations. "Is this what I have to look forward to?"

Kassam grabs my hand, his expression intense. "You and I are different."

"How? How are we different?"

"You are my wife," he growls. "No one will dare take you from me."

I stare at him, not entirely believing this. It was just a quickie ceremony performed by my mother. A handfasting to force a stronger bond between us. Will that matter to anyone other than us? Is it truly as binding as Kassam—and my mother—think it is? "Kassam…what if it doesn't matter that I’m your wife? What if I have to be killed off anyhow?"

"It will matter," he says firmly. "I am the last of my Aspects. In order for me to ascend back to my realm, you must die. But because you cannot die, and because I do not want you to die, we will take my griffins and we will go to the Spidae."

"The Fates," I echo, remembering his plan. "And they'll help us?"

"I will demand their help," he says, expression stubborn.

I fight back a wince. Kassam thinks that because he's important, it somehow makes me important. I know I'm not, though. People die every day. People that have families, people that are wives or husbands. People that are loved just as fiercely as Kassam claims to love me. There's nothing that makes me special enough to thwart death other than Lachesis had a bone to pick with Seth. It's enough to keep me alive for now, but something tells me it's not going to be enough. That my fate-strand is too frayed, like Death said, and then I'll never see Kassam or my mother again. The knot rises in my throat and I press my lips to his palm, feeling the desperate need to touch him. To reassure him.

"Carly," he says in that firm, authoritative voice, as if it's all already been decided. "I will not let you leave me." He nudges the affectionate deer away from him and pulls me forward, until I settle in his lap.

I wrap my arms around him, breathing in his scent. Sure, he smells like smoke and blood and sweat, but he's Kassam underneath, and after the day we've had, I'm grateful that I get to smell him at all. What if something had happened and Riekki had set a trap? What if he hadn't been able to walk away? What if she'd trapped him? I hug him tighter, worried. For a moment, I want to go back to that awful burning city and make sure that Riekki is in chains. That she can't hurt Kassam again. "Promise me you're safe, Kassam?"

"We are both safe." He presses a kiss atop my head. "You worry too much."

"And you don't worry enough!"

"Of course I don't. I am Hedonism. It is in my nature to just enjoy." He kisses my forehead again and then nips at my ear. "And you smell delightful, little light."

I clench my teeth at that nickname, the reminder that I'm a lesser being. That my “light” is smaller than a god's. "I smell like a griffin."

"As if I care? Shall I lick you clean?" When I rear back, squealing, he chuckles and rolls onto his back, dragging me down with him into the grass. "You are so fussy, my Carly. It is just a body. Just dirt. I—"