“What’re you doing?” she asked, sitting up. She was pleased to see that her hip joints worked again, although not without complaint.
“I’m sleeping in here.”
“What?”
“The other room’s the same size as this one. We couldn’t fit two people on the floor unless we stacked them. The stables are full, Brenner’s threatening to put a dagger in the eye of anyone who tries to get him off the bed—and I believe him—and Learned Edmund is apparently afraid that if he sleeps on your floor, your feminine exhalations will cause his genitals to wither and his bowels to turn to water. That’s a direct quote, by the way.”
Slate discovered that she was giggling helplessly into her hands and stopped immediately. It had to be the poppy milk.
“That leaves me. If you need to get up in the middle of the night, try not to step on my head.”
“I suppose we could flip a coin for the bed,” she said, trying to be fair.
He gave her a withering look. “I realize, madam, that you do not think much of my knighthood, but chivalry is notthatdead.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, annoyed.
Back to “madam” again. Swear to god, the man’s pricklier than a cactus with a rash.
In the time it took him to strip off his armor, she managed to get a boot off.Oneboot. The act of bending knee and hip joints to get her foot within range was torture, even with the poppy standing between her and the pain. She pulled the boot off, panted, and dropped it on the floor.
Her other foot was impossibly far away. Possibly this was a task better carried out by homing pigeons.
Caliban dumped his armor in the corner. He reached out, grabbed her foot and yanked.
Hard.
The other boot came off. She yelped.
“Ahhhbugger!”
“I’d like to get to bed sometime tonight,” he said testily. Her toes felt skinned.
“I thought you said temple paladins weren’t total bastards.”
“I said most of us weren’t.”
“Isee.”
Slate shrugged out of her coat, decided to leave the rest of herclothes on—hell if he was getting any thrills if he was going to be like that—and got under the covers. He dropped out of sight below the foot of the bed. A minute later, the candle went out.
“You better not snore,” she grumbled into the dark.
“I don’t snore.”
“Good.”
“I gibber in demonic tongues.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“Shit.”
About an hour later, some night-blooming weed opened up and she woke herself up sneezing.
She checked her pockets under the blankets. She knew for a fact that Caliban had handed her a handkerchief earlier. She couldn’t find it. Maybe it was in her coat, which was…somewhere in a pile of armor and saddlebags.Bugger.
