Page 61 of Flamesworn

Ares, who had no concept of personal space, just climbed right in with her.

“Oh,” they said, staring up at the water as it steamed lightly when it touched them–which, Kataida realized, was a benefit of bathing with a god who gave off so muchheat. The water wasn’t cold by any means, but it wasn’t high summer, so it was closerto lukewarm, a slightly metallic scent from being in the cistern so long. The steam helped more than she’d thought, and she watched Ares’ simple delight with a smile as she soaped herself up.

“Gods don’t bathe, I suppose,” she said, as Ares turned their attention from the slats and the water above them to her and her naked, soapy body.

“We don’t need to, no, but I’ve enjoyed watching you.” Ares took the soap she handed them and reverently began washing her, their hands going immediately to her breasts, which made her laugh and shake her head. Ares went still, though, when the water sluiced the soap from her and they saw the tattoo that had appeared above her heart. “Kataida.”

“Our bond gave me that,” she said, touching it. “I like it.”

“It’s beautiful,” they whispered, fingers leaving a trail of steam as they traced over the design, “just like you.”

“And you,” she said, reaching out to tug at their long, wet hair. “You must have been told that before.”

Ares shrugged, like they didn’t much care one way or another. “That’s not the word people use for me, no. My brother Azaiah, yes. He’s very beautiful.”

She thought of the serene, kind-hearted god of death with his deep voice and gentle nature. “He’s lovely, yes,” she said, and she batted her lashes at them, playful in a way that had seemed impossible an hour or so ago. “Nyx is more my type.”

Ares narrowed their eyes at her. “No, he’s not. He’sveryserious and a little dull, like a sword that needs a good turn over the wheel. You don’t want someone like that.”

She slipped her arms around their neck and kissed them, pleased as always that her immortal lover’s height wasn’t that much taller than hers. “I want you and you know it. I’m only teasing. They always made me nervous, your brother and his companion. I thought it was because Azaiah is a god.”

“So am I,” Ares said, sulkily enough that she smiled again, “in case you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, bright eyes,” she laughed, and kissed them–then pulled their hair, smacking them hard enough that Ares moaned, “but get on your knees and remind me.”

The water was a trickle by the time she pushed them away, gasping, her legs shaking from coming on Ares’ mouth over and over, so many times she’d lost count. It was the sort of pleasure that whited out your thoughts and left your mind delightfully empty, which she desperately needed.

She fell into an exhausted heap the second they went to bed, tangled up in Ares, who was wrapped around her like a promise made of barbed wire, staring at her in the dark as if they wanted nothing more than to watch her sleep.

But she didn’t sleep. Shortly after falling into dreams, she was back in the crypt, only this time it was her father in chains, and Damian was laughing as he beheaded Evander and Menelaus forced her to watch it. Then it was her brother, Elena,Aleks, and finally, her little brother Malik screamed in terror in the chains while Damian systematically ripped the head from a stuffed dragon, while from somewhere in the distance someone said her name over and over–

Just as Damian was about to cleave a sobbing, terrified Malik’s head from his body with a cruel smile and eyes dead in a monstrous face, the scene vanished. Kataida was instead at the oasis outside Axon on the way to the Needle, and it was a beautiful spring day with fluffy clouds and water so green that it gleamed like an emerald under the sunlight.

She wasn’t alone. There was a man there, with long, silky, dark hair and sleek black horns curling into points on his head. He wore a cloak of stars, and his eyes were dark as the night sky, pinpricks of light shimmering in their depths.

She knew who he was, of course—Astra, the god of dreams, and Ares’ brother. She’d met him before with a dance troupe, in what felt like another lifetime entirely.

“Hi,” Astra said, smiling at her. “I didn’t mean to show up unannounced, but that didn’t seem like a very nice dream.”

“It wasn’t,” she agreed. “This is much better. Thank you, Dream Lord.”

“It’s Astra. We’re basically related now,” he said, beaming at her, “since you made the bond with my sibling. Let me be the first–thefirst,and don’t you forget it–to congratulate you. Welcome to the family.”

She laughed, though in the way of dreams, there was no discernible sound, just the impression of her own amusement. “Thank you.”

Astra clapped his hands together, and a shower of colorful sparks burst forth from his hands. “Thankyou. We worried about them, you know, Ares. I wasn’t sure they’d ever wake up again.”

There was a softpoppingsound and then Ares was there, wearing a uniform she didn’t recognize, leathers with fur at the collar, boots with gold laces. Their skin was the soft, red glass that it was in their winged form. “Astra, what are you doing with Kataida?”

“Saying hi, obviously,” Astra said, going to Ares and embracing them. “Congratulations, and never forget I’m the first one who said so. You look different. Is that from your bond?”

“I suppose so,” Ares said, studying their own arms. “I have wings now.”

“Cool,” Astra said. “I’ll, uh, say goodbye, I guess.” He was grinning, watching the way Ares was staring reverently at Kataida. Astra laughed, the sound bright and happy. “I know how it goes. Hey, bring her to our house and we’ll have a party for you two. But here’s a little gift–you’ll wake up feelinglike you’ve slept for a week, and I personally will ensure no nightmares touch your dreams, sister.”

Warmed by Astra’s kindness, Kataida smiled at him. “Thank you…brother.” It felt strange to say, but not as strange as it would if she weren’t in Astra’s realm.

Astra grinned again and clapped his hands, and a shower of confetti spilled forth again, fluttering around her until it turned into a wave of butterflies, which enveloped her with soft, fluttering wings until she felt herself slowly waking. She had no idea how much time had passed since she’d fallen asleep, but it was still dark beyond the windows. “That was Astra,” Ares said, next to her, propped up on one elbow. Their red glass skin was gone, and they were naked, hair loose around their face. “When I slept in Atreus’ tomb, he would visit me and give me kind dreams.”

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