‘No,’ said Gray.

Killian gestured to the room - a tiny, controlled movement, a single finger swirling. ‘Who cleaned here?’

Gray stalled.

‘You all did?’ said Killian.

Gray dropped his gaze. He kept his mouth shut because there was a warning edge to Killian’s words - one sharp enough that alarm bells were ringing inside Gray’s head - and he didn’t know if the truth would get Pickering and Russet in strife.

‘You like Pickering? Rookie?’ said Killian.

Uncertainty coiled inside Gray. ‘I,’ said Gray. This was absolutely some kind of trap. ‘They’re good soldiers,’ said Gray carefully.

Killian let out a disbelieving breath and darted a dark glance at Gray.

‘You will not work with them in any way, unless I expressly say so. Got it?’

Gray hesitated. ‘I don’t think I-’

‘Got it?’

‘Yes.’

‘The fastidiousness of this room has you written all over it, kid,’ said Killian. ‘Except for there, where the books haven’t been stacked according to subject - Pickering did those? And there, where the tassels are knotted on the curtains - clearly Russet. Maybe Pickering, too - but if Pickering was righting this place with you, so was Russet.’

Gray thought it was a bit rich for a man as detail-oriented as Killian to describe him as fastidious. This was beyond stupid - so damn stupid to be mad about a cleaned room - but Killian was in a very dangerous mood, and Gray didn’t fancy pointing this out to him.

‘You like being neat, hm?’ said Killian.

Gray stared at him. Killian was trying to pick a fight, trying to goad Gray, but Gray wasn’t sure why and he had no damn clue what was the best course of action.

‘You’re not supposed to do anything unless I tell you,’ said Killian. ‘Did I say you could use the basin again? Fix your clothes?’

‘I figured,’ said Gray, desperately trying to claw Killian back to some kind of sense, ‘the smell would bother you-’

‘Kid, you smell like anxiety and magic and unwashed boy. It bothers me. But not nearly as much as the stink of the grown northerners here. And not as nearly as much as it bothers you.’

Gray leaned back, controlling his reaction.

‘It bothers you a lot,’ said Killian, ‘doesn’t it?’

Gray stared out the window.

‘You can feel it,’ said Killian, ‘can’t you? Every speck of grime. Every smear of sweat. It itches you, doesn’t it? You can’t stand it.’

Gray kept his temper.

‘If you really want to be clean,’ said Killian, ‘you know what you could do?’

Gray dug his toes into the carpet, steeling his face. His heart beat hard.

‘You could talk to Longwark for me,’ said Killian. ‘With the eavesdropper charm.’

Gray’s lips parted.

‘And actually talk to him, this time,’ said Killian. ‘I need answers. I need to know where the jar is, what’s in the tombs, and I need to know why the hell the mages are hiding out in the forest.’

‘I don’t think he’ll talk to me,’ said Gray slowly.

‘Make him talk.’

‘Longwark,’ said Gray. ‘He’ll see through me in a second.’

‘You don’t want to do it?’ said Killian. ‘You’re trying to protect him?’

‘No,’ said Gray, trying to stay calm. ‘Longwark - he’s …’

‘He’s what?’

Gray drew in a sharp breath.

Killian stared at him.

‘He’s huge,’ said Gray, ‘and he flies off the handle over nothing. You - you don’t know …’ Gray broke off, staring at the table. ‘I’m not going into a confined space and prodding at him, over sensitive topics - he’ll know what I’m doing. He’ll get angry, and I won’t stand a chance.’

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Killian was immobile.

‘Have you seen him fight?’ said Gray. When Killian remained icily silent, Gray continued, ‘He’s been trained. Probably by someone like you. He’s strong.’

Gray locked his gaze to the view out the window, his heart hammering.

‘You - you want to collect your prize money?’ said Gray. ‘Don’t - put me in his cell again.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that.’ Killian’s hand was tight on the handle of his sword. ‘He won’t hurt you.’

He will. ‘He …’

Killian tilted his head. ‘He was fighting Branbright to have you as his little protege. He won’t hurt you.’

Longwark had let Codder drag Gray out of the cell. Longwark hadn’t batted an eye. He didn’t give a hoot about Gray.

‘He - wasn’t,’ said Gray. ‘You don’t understand.’

‘You could poke him in the eye,’ said Killian, ‘and ask him why the sky’s blue, and he won’t hurt you.’

This was so blatantly wrong that Gray leant back in the chair, shocked. Anger was burning at his edges, it was smouldering, and carefully, he pushed it down.

‘He came out of hiding for you,’ said Killian.

‘Are you sure about that?’ said Gray.

‘If I walked into his prison cell with you, and acted like I wanted to train you, have you on my team, he would get very possessive. And very dangerous towards me. I’d be willing to bet my life on that.’

‘If that’s true,’ said Gray, ‘then sorcerer mentorships are toxic as shit.’

Killian folded his arms. ‘Yes.’

’He hates me.’

‘He’s a sorcerer,’ murmured Killian. ‘He hates everyone.’

‘Well,’ said Gray, ‘yeah.’

‘Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you.’ Killian paused. ‘He won’t harm one hair on your head, kid.’

Gray wasn’t explaining this very well. Sure, Longwark was as far from a people person as you could get, but there were some people in town that Longwark seemed to absolutely loathe. Barin, Alistair, and Gray were on the list.

‘I didn’t realise you were a coward,’ said Killian.

Gray fisted his hands, his temper slipping free before he could catch it. ’That crap’s not going to work on me.’

‘Excuse me?’

Shut up, just shut up. But anger was too near the surface, and his control was disintegrating with each moment he spent with Killian. He was desperate to put his plan into motion, to draw the soldiers away from Krydon, but he was damn stuck, he couldn’t even get his hands on something as simple as apple seeds.

’That crap you do with Codder,’ said Gray. ‘With me. Everyone.’

Killian paused for one dangerous beat. Gray braced to be hit, but he didn’t care, he didn’t damn care -

‘What did you say to me?’

‘I didn’t lose Frostvine,’ said Gray. Because that was what the problem was, that was why Killian was in a towering black mood, why he was throwing out words like barbs. And Gray wasn’t going to do some kind of verbal dance with this asshole, he was going to lay it all out-

Killian’s eyebrows were high on his forehead. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

‘You sure as hell didn’t find her, either,’ said Killian.

The words neither did you were on the tip of Gray’s tongue, and he only held them back by the skin of his teeth. ‘She doesn’t want to be found,’ said Gray.

Killian held himself rigidly still. He drew in a long breath. Very slowly, he let it out.

‘So,’ said Killian. He smiled, with the same apparent effort as a man pushing a boulder up a mountain. Gray could’ve counted his teeth. ‘If you don’t want to question Longwark, then you don’t want a bath.’

Gray fisted his filthy hands. He could barely stand to be in his own dirty skin.

‘Hm?’ said Killian.

‘A bath?’

‘A long, hot bath.’ Killian was speaking with the same strain his smile was under. This man was a breath from losing it. ‘Filled with as much soap as you want. Then a shower afterwards. That’s how the mages at the guild do it.’

Gray stared at the table, swallowing hard.

‘I’ll buy you a special kit,’ said Killian. ‘With all the specific brushes and scrapers and scrubs that the mages like. You can clean those nails and hands real good, hm?’

’Stop,’ said Gray.

‘I’ll even buy you fresh clothes to change into. Nice clothes. Presentation’s important, isn’t it?’

'Stop,’ said Gray.

‘Brand new. I’ll even order them in from the finest Foixan clothes makers. You ever had brand new Foixan clothes before? Their cotton feels like heaven.’

Gray levelled Killian with a steady stare. ‘It’s not going to work.’

‘You don’t want these things?’ said Killian, with that damn strained smile on his face.

Gray clenched his jaw before locking his gaze away.

‘Hm?’

Gray pushed down the urge to tell him to take a long walk off a short pier. If it came down to the choice between being a conniving, weak bastard who got to have a bath (though one who stayed on Killian’s good side), and maintaining the smallest speck of self respect, Gray knew what he was going to choose.

Not right now, not with his anger so close to the surface.

'No bath?’ said Killian.

Gray wrenched his jaw open. ‘I’m not spying on Longwark for a bath. He. Will. Kill. Me.’

‘Are you listening to me?’ said Killian. ‘He won’t. You think I’d risk one million ardents on a whim?’

‘I think your grasp of the situation is all wrong,’ said Gray recklessly. 'You're not from here. You don't know Longwark.'

'That gives you an advantage, then,' said Killian. 'Use it to get him to talk.'

Gray maintained a brutal silence.

‘Look, kid, you can do this voluntarily, or I can make you.’

Gray narrowed his eyes, fury building inside him, because, really, damn staying calm, damn Killian, damn the plan to stay on Killian’s good side - the bastard didn’t even have a good side - and leant forward into Killian’s space. ‘Make me.’