She glanced over at him. ‘You are so unsuited to be a god, Cotillion, did you know that?’
‘Thank you for the vote of confidence.’
She reached up with one hand and brushed the line of his jaw, the gesture close to a caress. She caught the sudden intake of his breath, the slight widening of his eyes, but he would not look at her. Apsalar lowered her hand. ‘I’m sorry. Another mistake. It’s all I seem to make these days.’
‘It’s all right,’ he replied. ‘I understand.’
‘You do? Oh, of course you do.’
‘Complete your mission, and all that is asked of you will end. You will face no more demands from me. Or Shadowthrone.’
There was something in his tone that gave her a slight shiver. Something like … remorse. ‘I see. That is good. I’m tired. Of who I am, Cotillion.’
‘I was thinking of a detour. Before my next task.’
‘The coastal road, east. Just a few days by Shadow.’
He looked across at her, and she saw his faint smile and was unaccountably pleased by it. ‘Ah, Apsalar … that should be fun. Send him my greetings.’
‘Absolutely. He needs a little shaking up.’ He straightened. ‘I must leave. It’s almost dawn. Be careful, and do not trust those ghosts.’
‘They are bad liars.’
‘Well, I know a High Priest who employs a similar tactic to confound others.’Iskaral Pust. Now it was Apsalar who smiled, but she said nothing, for Cotillion was gone.
The east horizon was in flames with the rising of the sun.
-The Bonehunters | Steven Erikson —