Asshole. "I'm not a lamb or a goddess or ugly or anything else you call me," I said. "What is the penalty for disobedience?"
"Death."
"If you go with me, you're in trouble."
"Only until the Khan's closest advisors are made aware my uncle is dishonoring the Eternal Blue Sky."
I watched him. He gathered up his weapons and rolled them into linen before strapping them to his back. What possessions he chose to take were few: a box the size of my palm, bandages, water bladders, three tiny pouches and a few other items that all went into his pockets.
He was serious. He was going to leave his uncle, under penalty of death, to help me escape alive. Why did it bother me? Why did I not want the massacring Mongol to die on my behalf?
"Batu," I said and took his arm. Turning him to face me, I frowned at him. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to risk your life. I'm homeless and lost, but you don't have to be."
Rather than appear grateful or understanding like I expected, he gave me an odd look, as if I'd told him my favorite food was elves.
"Do you not have duty and honor where you come from?" he asked.
"Don't overcomplicate this! It's far easier just to set me free."
"How will you survive a world that is foreign to you, goddess?"
"I can manage."
"How will you hunt? Or find water?"
I sighed.
"Which direction will you go?" he persisted.
"Batuuuu!" I whined. "Why can't you -"
"And bandits? How will you defeat them? What if your horse runs free of you? Do you know how to catch it?"
I groaned. I felt like I was in grade school again being lectured for texting during class.
"How will -"
"Stop!" I said and gripped my head. "I don't know those things! But my point is that you shouldn't be forced into a position where you can get hurt or killed because of some lost goddess."
"You have no point, ugly one."
I met his gaze again, ready to set him straight when I saw the twinkle in his eyes and registered the nickname he used when teasing me.
He was teasing me. Did he take nothing serious, not even his life?
"Your concern is misplaced," he added.
"Can you just say thank you? Thank you, Moonbeam, for being concerned for my life?" The moment the words left my mouth, I realized they were wrong. So wrong. I wanted no connections or personal attachments, and I'd admitted to being worried about him. Granted, he was risking everything for me, a complete stranger, out of some zealous devotion to duty. It didn't make me any less responsible for what happened if he left with me. It did mean I was failing miserably to keep my distance.