“Malin.” I jerk my head toward Grey. “This time the king needs a good story.”
Malin lets out a breath, then shoots me a rueful glance. “Ah . . . ?give me a second to think of one that won’t get my rank stripped.”
Grey’s eyebrows have gone up a little, and he pulls some meat off the bone. “I rather think I’d like to hear one of those.”
Malin looks a little strangled, and it makes me smile. “Grey is never privy to soldier pranks and mischief, either,” I say.
“Not as the king,” Grey says. “As a guardsman, I was privy toplenty.”
Now my eyebrows go up. “Maybe you should tell a story, then.”
His eyes light with memories, but just for a second—and then, somehow his sorrow returns, storm clouds rolling over his expression. He glances south, then tosses an empty bone into the fire. “It was a different life, Tycho. I was a different man.”
My mouth forms a line, and I stare into the fire.
“Wow.” Malin gives an aggrieved sigh, then runs a hand back through his hair. “All right. I have one.When I was a recruit, we had one captain who was a real prick. Nothing was ever done right, could never be satisfied. That kind of officer. He’d order you to stand out in the rain for hours on end, just because he could.” He hesitates, glancing at the king, and I can tell he’s already worried he said too much.
“What did you do?” says Grey.
Malin lets a breath out through his teeth and glances back at me.
“You go, I go,” I say. “Finish this story, and I’ll tell him how drunk we got that night he confined us to the palace.”
Grey snorts. “As if I don’t know.”
Malin mutters, “Silver hell.” But he must decide the risk isn’t too great, because he continues, “One of my friends suggested that we should swap the captain’s boots when he was sleeping. So we did. Everynight. Sometimes they were a little too small, sometimes a little too big. Forweeks.” He pauses, and a grin escapes as he’s caught by his own story. “Once they were so big that he tripped over his own feet when we were running drills. He went face-first into the mud. Another time they were too tight, and we heard him complaining to one of the other captains that he needed to go to the infirmary because his feet kept swelling.”
“He didn’t figure it out?” I say.
Malin shakes his head and bites a piece of meat from a bone. “Never.”
“Who’s your friend?” says the king.
Malin looks strangled again. “Ah . . . ?I don’t remember.”
That makes Grey smile. “You’re loyal, Lieutenant. I like that.”
Malin seems struck by that.
“I guess you don’t need to rip that stripe off your sleeve just yet,” I say, teasing.
“Indeed,” says Grey. “Maybe you need another one.”
At that, Malin goes still. Completely frozen, as if he’s not sure if he heard that correctly.
So I clap him on the shoulder and grin. “See? Aren’t you glad you didn’t tell the king to suck on a piece of horseshit?”
Malin chokes on his food. “Damn. Where’smyloyal friend?”
Grey smiles. “I sense there’s another story there.” But then he looks at me, and his expression sobers. “Tychoisa loyal friend.” He pauses to throw another bone in the fire. “Better than I deserve.”
Now it’s my turn to be struck. I don’t know what to say to that.
“That’s not true,” I finally say, but my voice is a bit rough.
“It is.” He’s quiet for a long moment. “When Rhen and I were trapped by the curse,” he says slowly, “it was eternal. All of my friends were killed, my family,hisfamily . . .” His voice trails off bitterly. “The curse took everything, and I couldn’t stop it. But then I watched as he failed to break it. Again. And again. And again.” He pauses. “At some point, I began tolose faith that hecould. But still, I was loyal, despite all his failures. I was probably loyal far longer than he deserved. Right up until the moment he chained us on that wall.”
Malin’s gaze flicks between us, but he’s silent.
