East

"How many wives will you have?" I asked.

"I do not intend to live that long."

"Why?"

He eyed me. "I have known you two days, goddess, and been in two battles."

"You will need several guardians," Khulutei said with a trace of a smile.

I really didn't like this joke. I wasn't worth killing for and definitely not dying for.

"Are you hungry, goddess?" one of Khulutei's wives asked.

"Yes."

"Milk?"

"Do you have real food?"

"The Goddess of the White Path consumes more than milk?" Khulutei asked.

"Um, yes. I eat what you do."

He exchanged a look with the wife who asked me. She rose and went to a low table with jugs of water and wrapped food, returning with dried cheese that crumbled like feta and a small chunk of cooked red meat.

I ate both happily. Batu's broken forearm was set and bandaged with long pieces of timber inside the linens to keep it straight. They dressed the wounds on his face, hands and wrapped one ankle as well.

He was quiet throughout it all, allowing the women to work their trade. I found myself puzzling over him, unable to understand how he could beat anyone to death. I couldn't fathom doing such a thing to a mortal enemy who murdered my family. The violence gene passed me by.

He met my gaze. He was relaxed, his powerful body giving him the appearance of someone always ready to spring into action. There was nothing in his face or eyes I was able to read; he seemed content to study me.

My thoughts were not so simple. I was struggling with the emotions from my first adventure back in time. I had hoped they'd leave me alone or I could lose them in the whirlwind activity of this new place and time. If anything, they were stirring stronger and stronger. The more I interacted with someone like Batu, the more I felt Taylor's loss and the trauma of living through the deaths of so many people I had cared about, despite learning who they really were.

I didn't know the real Batu and was still concerned for him. He didn't know me and was laying down his life at my feet. There was so much wrong with these scenarios without taking into account the brutal world I had been thrust into.

We need to have a real talk. I decided. I needed him to know I wasn't magical or divine or worth his life. I didn't necessarily want to know more about him, though, even if I needed to know if he'd turn out to be like the traitorous Nell, who I trusted with everything, or John, the man who murdered his own daughter yet pretended I was her.