Page 56 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

“Oh.”

Now he sounds outright despondent.

I grit my teeth at the twinge of sympathy that runs through my chest. Who’s ever going to want to kiss a man who’s not really a man?

At least, enough to allow themselves to go through with it. We won’t talk about the feelings I’m reining in as much as I have my magic.

Well, maybe we can compromise.

I turn my head away from him. “On the mouth, anyway. People who are just friendly could kiss each other on the cheek. That wouldn’t be so strange. It’s not quite the same, but you could try that.”

My earlier rejection seems to have shaken Rheave’s confidence. “Are you sure? I don’t want to do anything that would upset you.”

The twinge rises through my chest to solidify into a lump in my throat. I don’t like hearing his eager brightness give way to hesitance. “It won’t. Go ahead.”

He leans in, soft hair against my temple, hot breath drifting over my jaw. His lips graze my cheek and then press the skin a little more firmly.

Heat flushes my body from head to toe. I can’t blame it completely on the wash of his breath.

I’m not sure I ever noticed the daimon-man’s personal scent before. There’s a fresh, woodsy scent to him that makes me think of leaves dappled in dew under the morning sun.

He draws his head back, but then he wraps his whole arm around my waist, pulling me right up against him again. “Now I’ll keep you warm. You should sleep.”

It is warm in his embrace. I rest the side of my face against my arm and close my eyes, dismissing the emotions that have jumbled inside me.

It’s the middle of the night. He almost froze to death. Of course I’m out of sorts.

It’s not as if it means anything—or as if it even could.

The next time I wake up, sunlight is beaming through the walls of the tent and Rheave is stepping over me to push outside. As I rub my bleary eyes, Casimir takes the opportunity to scoot closer to me.

“Did you have a nice snuggle with your new friend?” he asks in a teasing voice.

I elbow him lightly. “Oh, hush. He’s still figuring out what’s normal.”

The courtesan guides my mouth to his to claim the sort of kiss Rheave attempted to last night. Then he nips the crook of my jaw. “You were very sweet with him. He deserves the patience. I think he adds a little something to our group that we all benefit from.”

Before I can decide whether to debate the issue, Stavros’s voice carries from outside. “Rise and shine! Let’s not waste the daylight.”

We scramble out and gulp down the hasty breakfast that the former general passes around. Alek grabs the canteens to refill them at the stream we stopped near, as has become his self-appointed duty, and Casimir and I pack up the tent and blankets. After several days of trekking, we fulfill our roles with brisk efficiency.

When I go to saddle Toast, he snorts as if he’s personally offended by the wintry weather.

“Just be glad it isn’t snowing yet,” I tell my cantankerous steed.

Apparently I spoke too soon, because a few fat flakes drift down as we set off. Stavros grimaces at them and leads us even deeper into the woods.

We’ve stayed off the roads for the past couple of days now that we’re close to Eppun. We wouldn’t want to run into the Order of the Wild’s forces or the king’s marching to confront them.

We set a swift pace through the trees, marking time by the ringing of distant town bells. We’ve heard two when the forest thins up ahead.

Stavros motions for us to dismount. We slink the rest of the way through the woods to a small rise that blocks all view of what’s ahead.

At the former general’s direction, we crouch low to creep up the slope and peer over the top.

On the far side of the hill and perhaps a mile to our right, a road cuts through the fields of browned grass. A wooden post juts from the earth along its course, and a couple of men stand on either side of it.

At the sight of them, Rheave goes utterly still.

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