Griff was relieved they could still see her. It seemed like someone ought to be keeping an eye on her in her current state.
Staring out into the dark, raising her blade hand slightly, she called to the shadows, “Come on, Mister No-Face. Mister Pretender. Do you want this treasure we’re after so badly that you’re trying to kill us for it? Want to tell me why you have all my papa’s things? Well, here I am. Quit hiding and let’s have a look at you. Unless you’re a coward!”
The whiskey sloshed in the bottle as she spread her arms wide.
Closing his eyes and raising his voice, concern and frustration evident there, Mal called, “Alys, the last thing any of us needs right now is to interrogate any ghosts—least of all you, when you’re the only one in fighting shape.”
Alys half turned to face them, taking a long drink from the whiskey bottle and wiping the back of her mouth with her sword hand before saying innocently, “If it’s not really Papa, I’m going to get rid of the shadow for us, just like Wynnie would, so no one else gets hurt. The night belongs to us, just like it always has, not to ghosts or shadows or any queen but me.”
“Come on, let me have the watch,” Mal pressed. Near his book lay his sword, along with the broken one he had been studying again before Griff woke earlier. “Get some sleep—you’re not yourself right now.”
“Alys,” Griff tried. “I know you feel terrible about what happened with the mule, but nobody’s mad at you. And—Mal and I are here, if you’re tired of looking at the dark alone. If you want to remember the real Rhun together. I’ve found sometimes that helps.”
But Alys turned to face the shadows again without another word.
Mal nearly raised his flask, but Griff’s gentle, pleading touch on his arm stilled the motion. This, at least, was a place where Mal was willing to bend, even if he wouldn’t consider putting a foot on the path toward home while there was still gold at stake. Like that still mattered more than this new thing between them.
“Right, then, now that we’ve talked curses …” Mal said a little gruffly, trying to keep his frustration at Alys from his voice. “What did you want to tell me earlier?”
Griff did his best to push his concern for Alys aside for now too. He knew firsthand that sometimes people didn’t want to be helped.
There were several points over the last few days when he hadn’t been sure he would survive the attack, and now here he was, sitting up and talking and sharing another night with Mal. No matter what else was wrong in the world, he still wanted to make the most of their time together, knowing too well that it could all be over at any moment.
“Just that I regret all the time I didn’t get to spend with you over the years, because you enchant me far more than you exasperate me. You inspire me. Excite me. Challenge me. You even saved me. I love all of you, darling.” He turned his head slightly to start kissing along Mal’s jaw, moving up toward the curve of his ear, where he added in a whisper, “The good parts, and the hard parts …andthe hard parts.”
“You have a good memory for a man who nearly had the audacity to bleed out in front of someone who loves him—speaking of exasperating …” Mal murmured as Griff reached the end of his list, curling his fingers one by one into the other man’s as he basked in the pretty words from the silver bard’s tongue.
Griff trailed more kisses across his jaw, determined to melt away Mal’s frustration, offering distractions from problems of curses and shadows and treasure still out of reach for now as he brushed his lips over Mal’s ear next.
“There are plenty of hard parts …” Mal confessed on a quiet breath, a subtle twitch in his leg that Griff couldn’t help but notice as the other man pressed himself closer. “So you’re not allowed to die on me. Especially not while chasing the ghost of a man we already lost a long time ago, or anything pretending to be him.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Griff promised into the hot skin of Mal’s neck. His next kiss there was hungrier, with a graze of teeth, as he slid his free hand down to Mal’s thigh and began a confident exploration that wasted no time on teasing and got right down to the hard parts. “We’ve got years to make up for and so many fun things we haven’t tried yet,” he whispered against Mal’s neck. “I still have to show you all the stars.”
“You really fucking do. Turns out I’ve been looking in all the wrong places,” Mal reflected on a heavy breath, sliding a hand into Griff’s hair.
“If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll draw you a map,” he panted, raising his head so he could press his lips to Mal’s in a return of the gentle kiss he’d received while hovering on the brink of consciousness some days ago. “And while we’re telling each other things,” he said through another brush of lips, “I should remind you that although my shoulder is completely fucked beyond hope of repair, the parts of me that know how to please you are still in working order …”
Searching those silver eyes that had become both familiar and uncharted territory all at once, Griff flicked his tongue across Mal’s lower lip and added, “And I’ll consider this night a terrible waste of not dying if you don’t end up in my arms.”
Mal’s brows rose slightly at the softness and intention behind those kisses. He leaned his forehead against Griff’s, answering quietly, “You nearly lost enough blood to make your own black pudding just days ago.” The fresh reminder of it seemed to cool his own blood a little, even with Griff’s hand still trying to stoke the flames between them. “You need rest, healer’s orders.” It was true, and Griff knew it—even if he wouldn’t admit it—yet Mal hooked his fingers into Griff’s belt loops and tugged all the same, evidently unable to leave the warmth and welcome of the green eyes gazing into his. “AndI’mthe healer right now, remember?”
Undaunted, with Mal’s eyes still on him and the heat of their breath rising, Griff growled softly, “Well then, as my caretaker, you’ll want to know that my many wounds are agony and I could really use a good distraction about now …”
With that, he pulled Mal into the depths of another kiss, and Mal drew himself into Griff’s lap by the belt he clung to. Checking to make sure Alys was off in her own world on the other side of the camp, Mal started making quick work of the buckle and buttons beneath as his tongue made a couple of boasts to Griff of what was to come, no words needed as the metal of his belt clinked softly in the dimness.
“As your caretaker, I’ve decided that as long as you let me do the work, this still counts as rest,” Mal declared, pressing a blazing kiss to the side of Griff’s neck.
Then Alys screamed, effectively dousing their fire.
Chapter Twenty-ThreeMister No-Face
Mal scrambled to his feet even as he encouraged Griff to stay there against the tree, a hand clamped firmly on the foreman’s good shoulder. He fumbled to grab his sword with his better hand as he narrowed his eyes across the screen of smoke from their fire and tried to make sense of what he was seeing outside the warm glow.
Alys, swept off her feet, hovering several inches above the ground.
Alys, gasping for breath.
Alys reaching desperately for her sword that had somehow fallen from her grasp, next to the whiskey bottle that had tipped over at the base of the tree.
