“Aye.”
“So did I do anything wrong?”
Andros shrugged. “Wrong? I don’t know. It’s not about being right or wrong, I don’t think. It’s just . . . things got muddled. What you did was fine if you’re the enemy, but him hating you is fine if you’re the enemy, too. So neither one of you did anythingwrong. Of course, if you’renotthe enemy, when did that happen? Did you both know it was happening? Did it happen for both of you at the same time?” He shook his head, then grinned. “I’m glad those are questions for you and not for me, because my brain would hurt if I tried to answer them.” With a slap on Finnvid’s shoulder he added, “You look tired. I think the Elkati are sleeping at the far end of the mounds, the last two in the line, so you can either crawl all the way through the tunnels or you can walk through the snow. But you should go and get some sleep, I’d say.”
“What if I didn’t sleep with them?” Finnvid hadn’t known he was going to ask the question. He saw Andros’s expression, and tried, “I could sleep here, couldn’t I? Or with—you know—if he wasn’t still angry . . .”
Andros raised an eyebrow. “And how would your men feel about that? Who would they tell when you get home? What would happen if people at home knew?”
Finnvid felt his gut clench and churn, his body freeze at that inconceivable outcome. People at home couldn’t know. Not ever. “Of course,” he whispered. “I was being stupid.”
“You were dreaming,” Andros said. “It’s not the same as being stupid, as long as you remember not to act on it.”
Finnvid nodded slowly, then crammed his gear into his pack and crouched to crawl through the tunnel to the Elkati snow mounds.
When Andros spoke, it was so quiet that Finnvid had to strain to hear. “I do love him. Not just as a brother, but the way you mean.” Andros sounded . . . not sad, but resigned. “But it’d be impossible. He’s too . . . too much. Too intense about everything. I love Xeno just as well, and we make a lot more sense together.”
Finnvid wasn’t sure what to say.
Andros shrugged and busied himself with emptying the buckets. “Just thought you might like to know. You’re not the only one.” He looked speculatively out in the general direction of the campfire, and his usual grin returned. “And we’re probably not the only two.”
“Maybe not,” Finnvid replied, and then started crawling again. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Andros’s confession. Yes, it was nice to know he wasn’t alone, but at the same time he liked to think he and Theos had something . . . well, something unique, if not special. Maybe that was completely one-sided. The very first night Finnvid had been with the Torians, Andros had given Theos the same relief Finnvid had just given, and that had seemed to be . . . not nothing, yet close to it.
The next snow mound was empty, and Finnvid didn’t bother standing up; he just kept crawling, dragging his pack behind him, suddenly realizing just how exhausted he was. The snow mound after that housed two Torians, both naked, both engaged in something much more interesting than a crawling Elkati, and Finnvid kept his gaze on the snow and continued. The next snow mound had more fat lanterns, clearly there for light as much as for heat, because there were quite a few men scattered around, stripped down to their underclothes, playing a Torian dice game; Torians and Elkati together, Finnvid noticed, and hoped that the gambling led to comradeship rather than hostility. At least there was no alcohol to fan the flames of any rivalries. He wondered if he should stay in case mediation was necessary, but he was too tired, so he crawled on.
Theos was in the next mound. He was alone, still wearing his old clothes, although he’d taken off his outer jacket and was sitting on one of the snow benches with the jacket between him and the snow wall. Theos was just . . . sitting there. Waiting? For Finnvid?
Too damn bad. Finnvid kept crawling.
“You didn’t get any venison,” Theos said quietly.
Finnvid didn’t respond. He was all the way across the floor of the mound, ready to enter the next tunnel, when Theos said, “Stop.”
And Finnvid did, damn it.
But he didn’t back out, keeping his head inside the tunnel so Theos couldn’t see his face. Then he realized the position he was in and dropped his ass as low as it would go, trying not to look like he was issuing any sort of invitation. He heard Theos huff out a breath, maybe in amusement.
Then a strong hand landed on Finnvid’s ankle, and tugged. Not hard enough to force him out, not dragging him. But still somehow irresistible.
So Finnvid shuffled backward, slowly, and Theos kept his hand where it was, with a looser grip. When Finnvid was free of the tunnel, he jerked his ankle loose and spun around to stare at Theos, both of them on their knees so their faces were at the same level.
“What?” he spat.
Theos was examining his face as if trying to read a book written in a language he’d never learned.
“You’re angry,” Theos finally said. He paused and stared a little more. “Really angry, or just acting like it?”
“Why would Iactangry if I wasn’t?”
“Why do you do any of the things you do?”
Finnvid snorted in disgust and turned, heading for the tunnel. Theos’s hand caught him on the shoulder. Again, there was no real force, yet Finnvid was unable to make himself pull away.
But this time at least he didn’t look at Theos. “What do youwant?” he demanded, staring into the cool darkness of the tunnel.
“What doyouwant?” The question was soft but intense.
There were too many words inside him, and Finnvid didn’t trust any of them. So he kept them to himself. “I want sleep,” he said firmly, even though he no longer felt all that tired.
