And then, as though it was second nature, he reached easily over and closed his hand around Ger’s wrist. His skin seemed to be permanently chilled now, and Jack’s palm was warm, the soft scratch of callouses rousing an entire crop of goosebumps that made Ger’s arm jolt, the spoon jerking from his grasp and sinking into the stew with a heavyplop.
Shit.
They both stared into the pot and the slow, thick bubbles that had swallowed his spoon.
Ger chanced a look and found Jack’s face doing that spreading thing again, sweet and warm as a cinnamon bun iced fresh from the oven. It roused an odd flutter in his belly, and he rushed to get a word in before that smile did too much damage; “You surprised me. Warm hands.”
The smile slipped, but the knowing edge to it remained. He wasn’t sure if that felt better or worse, but Jack turned away and picked a clean spoon out of a nearby pot, then set about fishing the drowned one out of the stew.
“Fair enough,” he said. “Gets pretty cold up there, doesn’t it?”
The flutter in Ger’s belly became an iron grasp.
“Yes,” he said.
His own voice was thin and unfamiliar, but Jack just nodded, lip jutting thoughtfully. He reached up to grab a teatowel from the handle of the nearest cupboard and used it to envelop the gloopy spoon he’d fished from the pot. Ger watched, the thought of lending a hand barely crossing his mind. It was nice, watching Jack work. Soothing. He had his sleeves rolled up again, and his forearms were surprisingly toned despite his slight frame. The base of his thumb jutted out above his narrow wrist, angular and strangely eye-catching.
“I don’t know how you stomach it.”
Ger blinked when that same hand suddenly turned to him in offering, the clean wooden spoon laid across its palm. He took it and turned quickly back to the stew.
“Stomach what?”
“All of it. Up there in the palace. The cold, and … well, you know.”
Ger gave the stew a vigorous stir. He did know. And he didn’t stomach it really, did he? Whatever the opposite ofstomaching itwas, that was what Ger did. More than once, he’d returned to his new quarters, tucked in a lower wing with the other Queen’s Gard, and spent the night dry heaving over the privy. And maybe the memory of those nights had twisted his face, because when Jack spoke, it was a little more quietly, uncertain.
“You’ve more courage than me, is all I’m saying.”
At that, Ger nearly dropped the fucking spoon again. The laugh that barked out of him this time was just as short and not nearly as pleasant.Courage.There was a joke if he’d ever bloody heard one. Oh, Ger wasbrimmingwith courage. So courageous, how he stood and watched as Silas was frozen alive, Edward crushed into snowdust, and Mareda tortured over a fucking dress. Countless people threatened, killed, or otherwise tormented, and he’d had thecourageto watch it all happen.
“I haven’t a lick of courage,” said Ger.
His ugly laughter still rode every word, but Jack only eyed him, assessingly.
“I don’t think that’s true,” he said finally. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
Ger just turned his head and stared.
Yes, he was here. Here because this is where Adeline had left him, and where he feared she’d return. Here, because he knew Avette enjoyed his presence, and that was as much of a shield as he could hope for. Here, because where the fuck else was he going to go?
As if to prove that last point, a blast of bitter cold billowed into the room, seizing his spine and guttering the stove’s flame. His eye went immediately to the outer door and found it closed. These days it was nearly as cold within the palace as without—so when he heard that greasy laugh behind him, and turned to find Benan in the doorway, he was not surprised. The big oaf had stuffed himself into the frame, one armoured wrist braced on the jamb as he leaned halfway into the room. His eyes darted around, looking for Marie, no doubt, before he delivered whatever witty remark had his beady little eyes lighting up like that.
“You a baker now, Leman?” He flashed a cracked and broken smile. “Where’s your pretty little apron?”
Ger fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“I’ll be with you in a few,” he said, much more evenly than he felt. He could sense Jack still standing behind him, and it knitted tension up his spine for some reason, made it hard to stand still. “Just need to grab a bite first.”
“Nah, we’re wanted,” Benan said, sounding bored. He leaned farther past the doorway, peering this way and that. “Find your armour and let’s go.”
Jack scoffed. “As though I didn’t watch you inhale four bowls of stew earlier? You can give him five minutes to eat.”
Ger’s eyelids slid shut of their own accord, heart sinking. When he blinked them open, Benan’s horrible face was split wide, eyes sliding over Jack with unnerving interest.
“Ohho,” he said, with a grimy chuckle. “Found yourself a new sweetheart, did’ya, Pup?”
Ger ignored him, turning his head to mutter a quickIt’s fineover his shoulder. But Benan wasn’t done.
