Killian waited, still as a statue.

‘Wong’s Encyclopedia of the Others,’ mumbled Gray, ‘and A Short History of Folk Songs and Lullabies by Grimm and Grimm, and The Complete Guide to Dark Creatures of the North by Hubert Huntsman.’

Silence settled around them like a too-thick blanket.

‘Those sound expensive,’ said Killian.

‘I’ll work for it,’ said Gray. ‘It won’t be charity.’

‘You’ll,’ said Killian, ‘work for it?’

‘I - yes.’

‘I feel like I'm losing brain cells, trying to follow you.’ Killian gestured to the tossed-out parchment. ‘This wasn’t working for it?’

Gray felt himself turn red, and he didn’t damn well know why, and then he was embarrassed to be flushing, making everything worse.

But, getting those books and figuring out what had killed Alistair was more important than Gray turning red.

‘Kid?’

‘I didn’t get you what you wanted,’ said Gray. ‘I know I didn’t. I’ll do something else for you. So I don't owe you anything.’

‘Like track Frostvine?’ said Killian dryly.

Gray’s lips parted.

‘You bargain like a fey,’ said Killian. ‘You have nothing to trade but tricks.’

‘That’s not -’

‘Your only use to me,’ said Killian, ‘is as an ornament. In how I can dangle you to draw out others who have magic. And one million ardents in my pocket.’ Killian settled his shoulders against the wall, examining him. ‘If you could do magic for me, then things might be different.’

Gray swallowed down an unpleasant sensation rising within him.

‘What are you going to do for me, Gray?’ said Killian. ‘Can you fight? In comparison to my men and your warrior northerners?’

Haltingly, ‘No.’

‘Can you hunt, compared to my trained soldiers?’

‘No.’

‘I think we’ve established you can’t get a damn thing out of Longwark. What are you going to do for me, Gray?’ Killian tilted his head, his gaze dark.

Humiliation burned through Gray.

‘I …’

Killian considered him slowly, his face pensive, and his fingers steepled. ‘Yeah, you’re not getting those books.’

Gray hesitated.

‘Every time I start thinking you might be more mage than sorcerer,’ said Killian, ‘you pull some shit like this, and it just reaffirms I’m right.’

’Shit?’ said Gray, numbly.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

‘The books, kid.’

‘They’re just books,’ said Gray, the pit of his stomach hollowing.

‘They sound like some dark, messed-up shit,’ said Killian. ‘Over my dead body are you getting those books.’

‘It’s not for me to do anything,’ said Gray. ‘It’s - it’s for research. Alistair. He-‘

‘Is your brain on a coffee break?’ said Killian softly. ‘Alistair was murdered by Branbright or Longwark.’

‘No,’ said Gray, ‘He - he - there was … there were rats. There’s this lullaby about Gallow’s Alley …’

Words were piling up inside Gray, getting jammed. He couldn’t articulate this properly. Killian was staring at him with an odd expression on his face, and Gray was freezing up.

‘Listen to me,’ said Killian. ‘I’ve been doing this for a long time. Alistair was murdered by Branbright or Longwark. They - were - fighting - over - you. They were trying to get you to go running to them. If I’d arrived any later, there probably would’ve been more sorcerers joining in. Because of your level of magic, I might add. The same magic you refuse to use to track Frostvine.’

Gray’s heart beat hard.

Like he was running for his life.

Like he was about to enter an arena stage with an audience of a thousand.

There were so many things that Killian had wrong, he was making the wrong assumptions.

‘I’m not refusing to track her,’ Gray managed to say. ‘She’s refusing to be tracked.’

‘Tracking Frostvine is too difficult for you, I see,’ said Killian.

Gray bit down on his reply, because he knew what Killian was trying to do, he could see through Killian so clearly at this moment, and this man wasn’t going to get Gray twisted around his finger.

But, to Gray’s absolute horror, his throat tightened.

He had no damn clue why he was reacting like this. Killian wasn’t even trying to upset him like this, Killian was trying to goad him into doing the work that Frostvine would’ve been doing, because Killian was desperate for a mage, and even a half sorcerer would do.

Gray fought it down with everything within him, his head bowed. He regretted asking. Asking had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have brought it up.

Gods.

And then, because Gray couldn’t just keep standing there in silence with his head bowed to mask how tight his throat was, because he could feel Killian’s stare, Gray said, ‘You know why I can't use my magic.’

He didn’t intend to have such soft tones when he’d said that, he didn’t intend for his voice to make the words mean more than what they were on the surface.

He only meant his magic was difficult to access, and he couldn’t control the flow, and, and Killian knew this more than anyone.

Absolutely, he did not mean to imply what he could see in Killian’s face - that something huge was lying in wait within him, it was the cause of so much grief, and using it would be bad, so damn bad, and if only every other sorcerer had refused to use their magic, the world wouldn’t be so messed up right now.

He’d be at home with his family. With Alistair, even Elona might’ve …

Killian was immobile. ‘Because your magic might give away what you are?’

Gray couldn’t make himself move either.

‘Is this you admitting your papers are false, and that your mother was, indeed, Faye D’Oncray?’

Gray was frozen and he couldn’t make himself shake his head, but he needed to, he needed to -

‘Are you admitting that you’re Conor Griffin?’ The room was utterly still. And so, so quiet. ‘You’re not a random bastard from a nameless Griffin brother?’

Killian waited, and waited, as he was prone to, when he wanted Gray to make the next move, his next mistake.

But Gray couldn’t break the silence this time, not with him teetering on the brink of the unthinkable, of him breaking apart in front of this complete asshole.

Eventually, Killian ran a hand over his face. ‘Who did you go running to? When it happened?’

Gray forced himself to speak. He didn’t have to ask what it was. ‘Barin.’

‘Barin,’ said Killian softly. ‘They underestimated your attachment to your … boss, yes?’

Barin loved Alistair. Barin was a force to be reckoned with, especially when shit went down. If it had been Alistair in his place, if it was Alistair being kept prisoner by Killian, Barin would’ve had him freed already. He ploughed through bad situations to get things done. It was one of the few qualities Barin had that Gray could see Elona falling in love with. Of course, Gray went to Barin when Alistair needed help. Going to Branbright or Longwark hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Killian had it wrong. That’s not what had been happening. They hadn’t been trying to collect him, and they hadn’t killed Alistair.

It was something else.

‘Go to your bedroll,’ said Killian, rubbing his forehead. ‘No bath. Definitely no books.’