Paladin's Hope (The Saint of Steel, #3)

by T. Kingfisher

They’d gotten the man’s genitals as well. Lovely. Just the thing you want to look at with a hangover. He wasn’t squeamish, of course, but there were proper frames of mind for everything.

“You think he believed us?” “What, that we’re screwing like crazed weasels?”

“The gods take care of you, son.” The corner of Piper’s lip twisted up. “I hope so,” he said, “but until then, we’ve got to take care of each other.”

They caught a lucky break with the fourth house. The caretaker was garrulous and extremely bored.

the door was sealed as tight as the doors of heaven. Tighter, probably.

You could never tell with soldier types. Either they wouldn’t complain even if their leg was falling off, or they’d whine over every hangnail.

“The human neck makes a poor handle,” said Piper, “as my anatomy instructor used to say.

He knew that he should still be wallowing in shame, and he absolutely was, but there was a tiny part of him that was feeling ungodly smug that his kiss had gotten that kind of reaction. Yup. Still got it.

“The trick is not to try and rush through it,” Galen murmured in his ear. “Slow and careful. Rushing only gets you in trouble.” Does he mean for that to sound that suggestive?

He could feel Galen’s breath against his ear when the man spoke again. “Forward now. Come on. Just a little farther in and then we’ll stop again.” He has got to be doing that deliberately. And it was working, too.

“Keep your eyes closed,” murmured Galen. “There you go. You’re doing good. I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me too.” He is absolutely doing that deliberately. Also, take me now.

You do like to know you’re having an effect.

“It will be fine,” he said. “And if it isn’t fine, at least it will be quick.”

Sleep had dulled his misery but consciousness seemed to be sharpening it to a point.

You’ll feel safe again. It just takes a little doing.

“How many times a day do you think about Piper?” Galen swallowed. Just once, but it lasts the whole day.

Eventually, he went to prayer and the bottle, the two great comforters of humanity since the discovery of gods and yeasts.

His thoughts were so jumbled that he hardly knew what to pray for, so he settled on a general, Do you see this whole mess, gods? Please just fix it! I’m begging You!

“We lich-doctors do see everyone…eventually. Good day, Commander.”

Would you like me to die for you? That might be easier than living with me, honestly.”