“Will, what are you doing with him?” She spoke in a low voice, glancing back at James sprawled out by the fire. “He can help us,” said Will. “He has helped us. He opened that gate.” “I know why he’s here. I meant why are you fluffing his pillow?” “I’m,” said Will, “not fluffing his—” “He’s the Betrayer. You don’t need to give him a hot drink and a blanket.” It was Will’s turn to flush. James lay like a sleeping Ganymede, his enervated beauty belying the cruelty and destruction he had rained down on the Stewards. Will hadn’t fluffed James’s pillow, but he had brought him a drink and a blanket.
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