She licks honey off a spoon, smiles sweetly. ‘I needed to put the cat among the pigeons, see which way they’d jump.’ She grins wider, as she steps in and ruffles his hair. ‘You were my cat.’
Crowkisser can tell that he enjoys her touch, even though he wants to push her off. She runs her nails lightly over the back of his scalp, watches even that small resistance crumble. ‘I’m new at this too, Slick. It’s not easy.’ She feels the truth of that in her heart as it comes out, takes it, uses it to hook into him.
He responds almost immediately, takes her hand. Such nice fingers. He squeezes. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t mouth off. I sometimes forget how quickly all of this unfurled.’ A flicker of sadness touches his eyes. ‘Sometimes I can still see the trees in the south. Those big branches.’ He grabs her waist. ‘Thicker round than you.’ He laughs. He does have a good laugh.
She wriggles free slowly, letting the folds of her dress linger against his fingers, and eyes him critically.
‘This is a poor attempt at undressing. Sort yourself out so we can make up properly.’
Slickwalker salutes, wriggles his toes and starts working at the second boot. ‘Can I get some of that tea?’
She touches her palm to the copper, just warm enough. She can feel his eyes on her back as she pours, stirs in honey and reaches across to set the cup by him. As she leans in, he grabs her hip and pulls her down to his lips.
‘Am I being insufferable?’ His words are muffled by her skin, his tongue light against her teeth.
She nods. He kisses down her neck, running his hands over her sides. ‘How do you cope with me?’
She wriggles, bringing her mouth close to his ear, smells metal and sharpness and blood.
‘How do I cope?’ She lets the question hang, runs her tongue along his jaw.
‘How, do, I, cope?’ With every word, a bite as punctuation. ‘Persistence. Affection. Inertia.’
She sits back, stares him in the eye. ‘Plus, I really, really enjoy fucking you.’
Slickwalker laughs. A proper laugh, his eyes light. A rare thing. He wriggles an arm free, grabs the tea, cups it between them. ‘I’m too cold to fuck. Ask anyone.’
She pouts. ‘That won’t do. You can’t survive tangling with that pair and not get fucked. That’s just unfair.’
He sips the tea, regarding her over the rim. ‘Is that so? That’s the rule is it?’
She nods confidently. ‘Definitely.’
His face hardens. ‘Do one thing for me first.’
Crowkisser tips his head, runs her nails through his hair, ‘What?’
‘Tell me why Fallon’s kid is so important.’
She shrugs. ‘Because if Fallon thinks he’s safe, he’ll fight. Fight hard. And that’ll cost us. If he knows he’s dead, or that we have him, Hesper’ll open up like a nut. We can crack its gates without ever seeing the walls.’ She unbuttons his shirt, kisses down his stomach. ‘Make sense?’
Slickwalker nods as he watches her dark hair sink down his body. It feels so pleasant, it almost takes the sting out of the lie. He catches her hair. ‘And the kid’s in Thell?’
She nods, kisses him lightly.
He tugs. ‘And that’s why we need to march on the mountain?’
She smiles, slyly. ‘Not convinced?’
He snorts. ‘Of course not.’
She moves her hands down again, and he stops them, gently. ‘Explain.’
She pouts. ‘I’m not sure you’re really getting on board with this.’
For once, he holds his ground. ‘Explain. I need to know.’
She straightens, resting her elbows on his thighs. ‘Dad’s not just going to Thell for the dead.’ She pauses. ‘Well, he might think he is, but there’s another reason.’
