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There was little honor among thieves, but there was a great deal of practicality.
Now there is a prayer that I can get behind, thought Stephen, as he walked away. Oh gods, if any of you are listening, please grant that we don’t make things worse.
Terrible idea. Yes. Quite terrible. He examined the idea carefully from all angles, to make sure that he was aware just how terrible it was. His body had definite opinions about the quality of this idea. Stephen had to adjust the blankets.
“Honest, trustworthy, and unimaginative,” said Beartongue. “That last is a compliment, by the way, in this business. There’s enough jumping at shadows that someone who just sees what’s in front of them is a treasure.”
Some people just want the apocalypse in their lifetime.”
A thought struck Stephen. “Have you seen any of the severed heads that have turned up around the city?” “Oh, from the Weaver’s Nest Headsman or whatever they’re calling him? Saw one.” “And?” “I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure the cause of death was decapitation.”
Granted, she hadn’t known Stephen that long, but if you couldn’t bond over multiple corpses, what could you bond over?
The heat between them didn’t feel like pity. It felt big and dangerous and important. It felt like it mattered, and that was terrifying, but not nearly so terrifying as the possibility of stopping.
Stephen tilted his head so that it was very clear he was looking down at the man in golden livery. “I am also very skilled at reaching things on high shelves.”
“I can fetch a chair,” said DuValier hastily. “I can carry you,” said Stephen.
*swoon*
And relief feels like happiness, if you don’t know the difference.
“I kissed her.” “Still not a sin, unless you think she didn’t want to be kissed.” “No.” Stephen had to admit that Grace had seemed quite pleased to be kissed, at least at first. “No, that part went well.” “Then not a sin.” “Then we had an argument.” “Still not a sin.” “I said some very stupid things.” “Unsurprising, but not a sin.” “Then she stepped on a severed head.” “Wait, what?”
Istvhan shrugged. “Lots of people get broken in life, Stephen. We’re not special.”
If we limited loving to just the sane, undamaged people, the next generation would have about three people in it and presumably humanity would die out shortly afterward.”
How dare he kiss her? How dare he sit in her workshop and knit? How dare he be comfortable to be around?
“He’s a paladin,” said Marguerite. “They only have a couple of emotions and the primary one is guilt. You’ll see.”
They stood for a long time. Stephen did not dare kiss her. It was too soon and too much. But their lungs found a rhythm together and his heartbeat slowed and he found himself stroking her back, fingers moving over each vertebrae as if counting rosary beads.
He was so strong and she was so tired and it would be so easy simply to give over to that strength and let him rescue her one more time.
He had been fighting against it for three years now. With occasional slips, he had held up well. But in the end, he always knew he’d fall from grace at last.
He smiled, although it did not quite reach his eyes. “What two people do when they have been running for their lives may be quite different than what they’d choose to do otherwise. If you’d prefer that I go…”
Everything Stephen had was hers for the taking, and for once he did not ask himself if it was enough.
“I am so much less than I was,” Stephen said, sitting up. “The man I was before…he would have deserved you. Now…” He lifted his hands helplessly. “I never met that other man,” said Grace. “You’re the one I want.” She scowled up at him. “And anyway, I’m not exactly a prize myself.” “You are a prize beyond price.”
“Also, while you needed no help in dealing with Phillip, if he’d been a problem, I’m afraid I could have, at best, fallen heavily on him.”
but there will definitely be love and romance and possibly upsetting magic.
