Staying in Killian’s good graces was easier said than done.

Man was pissed with a capital P.

Gray could see it underneath the clipped and controlled tone he used with the group gathered around the table, as he ordered them to take a ten-minute break. It was underlying the movements he used to change the dressing on Gray’s arm, as he helped Gray into a fresh ankle brace, and as he opened a jar of bruise salve.

His jaw bunched as he fastidiously dabbed the salve into Gray’s face.

The salve was cool and stinging against Gray’s skin.

Gray kept his gaze down, uncomfortable with Killian in his space. This close, now Gray knew it was there, Killian’s anger was palpable.

What happened?

But, Gray didn’t dare ask him.

The one time Gray darted a curious glance at Sorena’s sleeping form on the bed, Killian grabbed Gray’s jaw, directing his gaze onto Killian’s scarred and guarded face.

‘Uh uh,’ Killian said firmly, ‘none of your business.’

So, when Killian briskly tied a shiny, brand-new, charm around Gray’s ankle, and held a finger up to his lips, in a silent gesture to keep it secret, Gray gave a reluctant but obedient nod.

But, Gray could feel the charm.

The charm was something. Something sticky, something that whispered in trails through the air.

Involuntarily, Gray glanced around.

There. In the bin by the door.

There was a brown paper bag there with a skeletal horse logo. He recognised it, from his walk down Gallow’s Alley.

Any kind of charm purchased from Gallow’s Alley couldn’t be good.

He stiffly met Killian’s dark gaze.

Killian raised his eyebrows the tiniest fraction.

Gray desperately wanted to take the charm off. He wanted to ask Killian what in the gods the charm did.

Killian's dark gaze held his. ‘What are you going to do about it, kid?’

Gray controlled himself. Stay in his good graces. It’s just words. Just say it. ‘Whatever you want me to,’ said Gray.

‘We’ll make a good little sorcerer of you yet, hm?’ said Killian. He tapped Gray under the chin, the way that Gray hated.

He tugged the knot on the thick twine tying the charm to Gray’s ankle.

‘Undo it,’ said Killian.

‘Pardon?’

‘Quickly, kid, untie it. I need you to take it off. I made a mistake.’

Gray fumbled with the knot. ‘What?’ The knot was so tight. It was impossible. Gray was making it worse. ‘What mistake?’

Killian watched him, his dark hair hanging in his eyes.

‘I can’t untie it,’ said Gray, desperately.

Killian knocked Gray's hands away from the knot. ‘Good.’

Realisation hit Gray, and he withheld a wince.

Asshole.

More than that, Gray was a damn idiot.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He thought of Alistair’s words you need to be tougher, you need to be smarter.

Killian roughly pulled on Gray’s sock to cover up the charm and made to pull his boot on for him.

‘I’ll do it,’ said Gray, taking the boot.

But, Killian took over anyway, briskly tying up the laces.

‘I can tie my own laces,’ said Gray, trying to sound non-confrontational.

‘Oh, how advanced,’ snapped Killian, and for the first time that morning, Gray got a glimpse of true, wild fury in Killian’s gaze.

Gray was fighting down the urge to either kick Killian in the face or pull his foot away when the door creaked open. The female soldier with the stars on her lapel slipped back inside.

Unlike the others of the group that had been in the room when Gray woke, the female soldier looked flawlessly prepared. Her gaze was steely. Her black hair was slicked back into a perfect bun, her uniform had not a single wrinkle or button unpolished.

She had the standard issue narrow sword at her hip, and two broad blades sheathed into a harness on her back.

‘It’s been ten minutes already?’ said Killian, shooting her a glance.

‘Why,’ she said, coming up behind Killian, the stars on her lapel glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and her stance wide, ‘do you have a prisoner out of his cell?’

‘I don’t need you questioning me, Jessica,’ said Killian quietly.

‘Who is that?’ she said.

Killian deliberated. ‘A prisoner.’

Jessica folded her arms. ‘Why is a prisoner in your room?’

‘Why?’ said Killian. ‘Are you jealous?’

‘We both know what your type is,’ said Jessica. The crow's feet around her eyes deepened, and she jerked her chin at Gray. ‘That ain’t it.’

Killian wore a strange expression.

Was he shy?

Every southerner that had come through the tavern had been anything but shy. They were undiscerning with partners, gender, and barely monogamous. They’d pleasure each other right in the booths like it was nothing. The Kyrdon guards had jailed a bunch for doing this.

Gray desperately tried to blend into the background, wishing he could disappear.

‘I won’t,’ said Jessica, choosing her words deliberately, ‘have someone dangerous housed in the same room as Sorena while she sleeps.’

‘I wouldn’t class him as dangerous,’ said Killian. ‘I’m pretty sure Sorena could take him.’

‘I won’t have a prisoner kept in the same room as her,’ said Jessica, her voice rising.

‘You need to trust me,’ said Killian.

‘You’re playing very fast and loose with the rule book-’

‘Don’t bring my tactics into this,’ interrupted Killian. ‘You’re angry because your mages deserted, and Baldwin’s going to nail you for it. I’m trying to help you fix your problem. You don’t need to take your anger out on me.’

Her mages deserted?

Was that why she was here?

Killian had mentioned mages hiding outside the town, playing cat and mouse.

Gray had never heard of this happening before. He couldn’t think why -

‘Get off your high horse,’ Jessica said, colour rising in her cheeks, ‘you’re just as bad-’

Over on the bed, Sorena snorted.

Killian and Jessica rushed over.

Jessica examined Sorena, pulling her eyes open and taking her pulse.

But, whatever she was looking for, she didn’t seem to find it. She backed away, her gaze fixed on the girl.

Sorena’s breathing returned to slow and rhythmic, and other than her chest rising, she was utterly still.

‘She’ll wake soon,’ said Jessica.

‘You need to attend to her,’ said Killian. ‘If Baldwin arrives and sees his daughter in such a state - forget losing our positions, we’ll lose our heads.’

‘You attend her,’ said Jessica, ‘I’ll attend your prisoner.’

She stepped towards Gray.

Killian blocked her. ‘You will not.’

‘Stand aside, Killian,’ she said.

Killian hesitated. Then, he shouted towards the door, ‘Pickering!’

Jessica shoved Killian aside, and Gray was surprised to see he didn’t fight back or retaliate - he just let Jessica shove him hard enough he staggered to keep his footing - frustration etched into every line and scar on his face.

In the time it took for Jessica to stand over Gray with her arms folded, Pickering burst through the door, panting.

‘Stand up,’ Jessica barked to Gray.

‘The kid’s leaving. Jessica, relax.’ Killian turned to Pickering. ‘Get him out of here. The prison, as discussed.’

‘The prison?’ said Gray. He thought of the dank, airless space. Of his half-formed plan. ‘I’m not going back there, am I?’

He glanced desperately at Killian. Killian’s dark gaze was a wall of ice.

Pickering advanced.

‘Killian,’ said Gray, ‘I’ll do whatever you ask.’

‘You’re not going to talk your way out of this one, kid,’ said Killian.

Jessica stopped Pickering with a single raised hand.

Stalling, Pickering bit his lip. He turned his watchful blue gaze onto Killian.

‘Jessica?’ said Killian. ‘You wanted the kid gone, he’s gone. Let’s focus on the problem at hand, shall we?’

‘You’ll address me as ma’am,’ she barked.

Silence fell over the room.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Killian, his lips tight.

‘Stand up,’ said Jessica to Gray. ‘Don’t look at Major Slate, boy. Stand up.’