Page 18 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

He grimaces. “It’s only a little cold.” But when I drag him into the tent after Stavros and Alek get it set up, he sinks onto his sleeping bag as if it was taking all his energy just to stay standing. His breath rasps out of him as it slows with sleep.

Cuddled up next to him, I only manage to drift off when I’m sure he’s completely out. My heart keeps aching until slumber rolls over my mind.

I wake up to the warble of the night breeze passing over the fabric of the tent and a twinge in my bladder.

Casimir is still deep asleep beside me, the hoarseness of his breath smoothed out enough that no fresh worries grip me. Alek has tucked himself close at my other side, our shared body heat stopping us from freezing during the chilly autumn night. I can’t really complain about having only one tent.

The scholar’s cool citrusy scent has mingled with the courtesan’s honeyed sandalwood into a complex perfume. I wish I could wrap it around me always.

I close my eyes, but my bladder protests more emphatically. Julita lets out a soft chuckle. One of the few things I don’t miss about having a body.

Scowling, I ease myself up between the two men. I need to be able to get back to sleep if I’m going to be rested enough to ward off whatever illness Casimir has caught.

Moving slowly and carefully, I manage not to rouse either of my lovers or the daimon-man who’s sprawled back-to-back with Alek. I slip out from under the two wool blankets we layered across our sleeping bags and step through the tent’s flaps.

Stavros glances up from the log where he’s been keeping watch. He’ll have traded off with Alek a little while ago, and he’s meant to switch with me in another hour or two. I don’t think he trusts Rheave to take on guard duty alone at this point.

Like the rest of us, the former general has traded his stolen soldier uniform for the more discreet tunic, jacket, and trousers Garom supplied us with as well. The rain washed the black from his hair like it’s mostly rinsed the temporary dye from mine, though the dark red strands still look almost the same shade in the faint moonlight that penetrates our campsite.

He arches his eyebrows at me in question, but his expression tenses with concern at the same time.

I wave toward the trees, pitching my voice low to avoid waking the others. “I just need to relieve myself.”

Stavros’s stance relaxes in a way I don’t totally understand until he says, in a matching low tone, “No nightmares?”

I choke up for a second at the history implied in those two words. Stavros knows as well as I do that he was the starring figure in most of my recent nightmares, wrenching a noose around my neck as he once thought he might need to do in reality. He even instructed one of his students to partly strangle me with a rope to test my control over my magic.

But we’ve come a long way from there—both of us.

I walk over to the log. “No bad dreams at all.”

Drawn to the mix of affection and anguish in his eyes by the same emotions coiled inside me, I bend down to kiss him.

Stavros meets the press of my lips with an encouraging hum and teases his fingers into my hair. When I pull back a few inches, he gazes up at me with a hint of his old cocky grin. “Trying to distract me from my duties?”

I snort softly. “Trying to show you how much I appreciate you watching over me.”

“Hmm. I think I’d better appreciate you a little more, then.”

He tugs me back down and claims my mouth with enough passion to leave my head spinning.

We both know this isn’t the time or place for a lengthier interlude. I squeeze his shoulder before weaving off between the trees for a little privacy.

As I squat behind a bush several paces away, Julita speaks up with no apparent concern about what I’m up to. Really, privacy isn’t a concept that can exist when you’ve got another person’s soul residing in your head.

Where do you think we go from here?

I gather the skirts of the plain woolen dress I changed into and take a few steps from my makeshift latrine. The rustling and buzz of the forest life around me stir up memories of my ventures into the campus woods to join in the scourge sorcerers’ rituals and spy on them.

We rode another few hours from the spot where we stopped to eat yesterday evening, to an isolated stretch of land Stavros says is along the border between two provinces. With no towns or roads nearby, it’s unlikely anyone will stumble on us.

But clearly we can’t simply camp out in the woods for the rest of our lives.

“I don’t know,” I murmur. “I guess we’ll come up with some kind of plan in the morning after we’re properly rested.”

What a plan it’ll need to be. She huffs. We were supposed to be done with those fiends. I can’t believe they’ve managed to spread their toxic magic across the whole country.

Horror colors the noblewoman’s tone. She’s more familiar with the brutal side of scourge sorcery than the rest of us, having been subjected to blood-letting experiments by her brother and his best friend as a child in their fumbling attempts to enhance their magical talents.

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