They stayed at the burrow camp for six days to give Kiernan’s ankle time to heal, and then four more days because a storm blew in and turned the air outside solid white. Kiernan was cozy enough, although not as comfortable as he would have been in the cave with a full fire going—it was hard to get things truly comfortable when your walls were prone to melting. But Kiernan knew he had nothing to complain about.

They certainly found ways to stay warm. They spent the first few days outside, working through the deer carcasses, and once it was clear that Kiernan’s ankle was healing well and he wouldn’t need to be dragged home on the sled, Grif went and found another deer that would leave them loaded up as heavily as they could manage.

When they weren’t working, they were playing. Sex, of course, but also talking. More stories were told, and when Kiernan slipped and referred to one of Grif’s adventures as “the time you were a sell-sword for the Vitruvan king,” Grif didn’t say he’d been a bodyguard. So when Grif slipped and called Vin “your lover” instead of “your friend,” Kiernan didn’t try to correct him. They were being honest with each other. It seemed important, somehow.

“I know there were bad times,” Kiernan said on the morning of the fourth day of the storm. “I know you might wish your life had been easier. But it’s made you strong, and you’ve seen so much! Your world is so much bigger than mine, for better or for worse.”

Grif shrugged and lifted his hands to rest behind his head. “Your world doesn’t have to stay small. You could travel. You could go anywhere you wanted.”

“By myself?”

Grif sounded more cautious, now. “By yourself if you wanted to. You’re smart—you can read and write, and there’s always work for scribes. You could find a merchant who needs someone to help keep track of his wares and you could travel the world with him.”

“A merchant,” Kiernan mused. It was frightening to think about it. Frightening, but also exhilarating.

Grif didn’t seem quite as excited. “Or you could set up as a merchant yourself. The gems—they aren’t all that valuable, but they’re enough for a start. You could sell them and buy leather goods from the tanners in Burtonsford, if you wanted. Those always get a reasonable price over in Houghton. Buy some wooden beads from Houghton and sell them in— Well, I don’t know where exactly wants wooden beads, but you could find somewhere. You’re smart.”

Grif didn’t say anything more for a while, and then his voice was a little too casual as he said, “I could come with you. You’d need a guard.”

Grif was suggesting that they go on together, not end whatever they had just because the season changed. It felt right. But Kiernan shook his head. “I don’t want a guard.” Before Grif could protest, could say that of course Kiernan needed a guard, and it didn’t have to be Grif as long as it was someone, Kiernan added, “I might want a partner, though.”

“That might work.” Grif still sounded far too casual.

“I’d be stealing the gems of my tsarn’s son,” Kiernan said slowly.

“Awkward,” Grif agreed. “But hardly impossible to get around. After all, I’ve already stolen them from you. Maybe I won’t give them back.”

“I’d never know. About Vin, and why he sent me on this mission. I’d never be sure exactly what he was thinking.”

“Maybe you don’t want to be sure. If he did want you dead, he probably still does. You might not be sure about that until he comes after you again.”

“I could protect myself. If I voiced my suspicions to the right people, they’d be ready to jump up with accusations if anything ever happened to me.”

“Well, then.” Grif rolled over and busied himself with trimming the wick of the tallow candle. “That’s that. Safest for you to go home.”

It would be safer. Kiernan couldn’t deny that. But a couple of days later, back at the cave, as they were unloading frozen venison into their stone-lined, ice-packed cache, he said, “We’d have to start with just short trips? In order to build up enough stock to make a sea voyage worthwhile?”

Grif nodded slowly. “Aye. But I should warn you—I’m not good on the water. My stomach doesn’t settle at all for the first few days, and even after that I’m puking over the rail at the first sign of heavy seas.”

“I could take care of you,” Kiernan said calmly, and from then on their conversations tended to be more about the future than about the past.

Spring came slowly to the mountains, and Grif said nothing to acknowledge its growing presence. Maybe if he didn’t mention it, Kiernan wouldn’t either, and the two of them could stay happily in their cave forever. Sooner or later another winter would come, after all, and if they spent a full summer preparing for it, they’d have a much easier time than they had this year. Dried fish, dried berries, maybe a wooden wall at the front of the cave so they could build larger fires and be even warmer.

But Kiernan didn’t seem to understand the plan. “Do you think we should get moving?” he asked one morning. They were sitting outside on the ledge of the cave in just shirts and trousers, the ice wall dripping into water behind them as the sun beat down on the valley.

“Could still get a late storm,” Grif said, and comforted himself that it wasn’t really a lie. Spring in the mountains was unpredictable.

Unpredictable, and totally uncooperative, because a week later their ice wall was completely gone, there were patches of grass showing all over the valley, and the trees were budding out.

“Dangerous to travel in this kind of weather,” Grif said. “This is how I got caught at the start of all this. Not enough snow to burrow into, but still totally possible for a big storm to blow in.”

That bought him another week. Then he came home from fishing one day and found Kiernan out on the cave ledge, the gems from the velvet bag spread out for inspection in the dying light of the sun.

“Some of these are quite nice,” Kiernan said. “Not enough for us to live in luxury forever, but they’ll be a good start to our business.” And it was obvious from the set of his jaw that Grif’s delaying tactics were no longer going to be effective.

So. That was all there was to it. Grif he didn’t argue as Kiernan started packing their belongings, talking about getting an early start the next day. And when the next morning dawned rainy and Kiernan decided they might as well stay in comfort for a little longer, it wasn’t even a real relief. The decision was a delay, not a cancellation.

The next day was clear and warm, and they said goodbye to their cave. Their refuge. Kiernan didn’t seem to be feeling any regrets or doubts, so Grif bit back his own. No need for him to ruin Kiernan’s happiness.

But it wasn’t easy to join in the chatter, either, and when they stopped for lunch, Grif found himself saying, “We’ll have to avoid Burtonsford.”

“That’s the first town after the mountains, isn’t it? Why will we avoid it?”

“It’s . . . Well. It’s the last town before the mountains. The last place people saw me. In the fall. When I wasn’t—I wasn’t at my best.”

“What does that mean?”

What did it mean? What in all the hells had Grif been thinking back then? How had he let himself sink so low? And how could he possibly explain any of that to Kiernan?

“There are some people there who wouldn’t be pleased to see me again. Seems a shame to ruin their happy spring with an unwelcome visit, doesn’t it?”

Kiernan squinted at him. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What? No.”

“Naïve, then. You’ve called me that many times, and I suppose you’re right. I am, about some things. So you need to help me understand. What is it you think you’re hiding from me, and why do you think it needs to be hidden?”

Grif thought about refusing to answer. He could do that. He could say the break was over, start off walking, and set a pace that would make Kiernan scramble to keep up and steal away all the breath he might otherwise use for talking. But Grif was trying to be less of a coward.

So he said, “I was done. I don’t know how to explain it. I’d been in the wind too long, on the road too long, without friends for too long—I didn’t care about anything. So I did some stupid things. Picked fights, cheated at gambling, stole whatever wasn’t nailed down—didn’t care about getting caught. Didn’t care about staying alive when I started out for the mountains.”

“That’s— I hate thinking about you like that. So, yes, we should avoid Burtonsford as a way to keep from ruining anyone’s nice spring. That’s fine. But as a larger issue: you need to share these things with me. Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

Grif sighed. There was no point having the conversation, not when reality would make itself apparent far too soon. Still, he tried. “I think you’ve forgotten what it’s like outside the valley. You’ve forgotten how many people there are. How many . . . choices.”

“Choices. Me choosing someone other than you. That’s what you’re worrying about.”

“Not worrying, exactly.” Because old ladies worried. Grif . . . anticipated complications. That was a wise, manly approach.

“Are you concerned that I’ll find someone to replace you in my business plans or in my bed?”

Questions like that were Grif’s punishment for trying to be honest. The gods were watching this scene and laughing. Still, he’d begun. So he muttered, “Both,” and prayed for an end to the conversation.

But Kiernan nodded sagely, then said, “I have the same doubts, of course.”

Grif stared at him and earned a wry smile in return.

“What do I offer to the business plans, really?” Kiernan asked. “The gems? We both know you can take them if you want them. I have no special skills, no knowledge of the larger world. I can’t offer physical protection. If you do well and business expands, you may eventually need someone who’s good at reading and writing, but you can improve your own skills in those areas, or hire someone to do it for you.” He waited a moment, then said, “And the rest? Honestly, Grif, of the two of us, who do you think would have greater trouble finding another bed partner? You’re handsome and huge and strong, you fuck like a god, and you’ll be wealthy from all your trading . . . You think you’re the one who has something to worry about, there?”

“But—” How to say it? How to put a word to the more that Grif wanted? Not just a business partner, not simply a bedmate. The way they’d been in the valley, together all the time, looking out for each other, caring about each other . . . How could he say that was the part he was worried about. The part where he anticipated complications?

Luckily, Kiernan was, as usual, the better communicator. “We’re close. We have a bond, you and me, and I think we have to trust that it’ll last even in the outside world. I’m grateful to you, Grif—you’ve saved my life. You’ve helped me learn and grow. But if that was all we had, I wouldn’t count on us staying together for all that long. Gratitude turns bitter if it keeps you from doing what you really want to do.”

Bitter gratitude. Yes. That was exactly what Grif wanted to avoid.

“But that’s not all there is,” Kiernan continued. “Not for me, at least. I respect you and like you and admire you and— Grif, I love you. Do you know that?”

Grif stared at him. Love. Love was for little girls to dream about before they grew up and got pregnant by the first man who came along, and had to start worrying about how to feed the kids. Love was for rich people, maybe. Not those so powerful that their marriages were arranged, but those with enough wealth to give them freedom and choice. Love for someone like Grif? It made no sense. Except—

“I’d die for you,” he said. Did that count?

Kiernan shook his head. “You’ve risked your life for coin countless times. When I first found you, you seemed to be throwing your life away for no reason other than stubbornness. I think you’d die for many, many things, of which I am only one. That’s not what love means to me.”

“I’d kill for you?”

Kiernan snorted. “How many other things have you killed for?”

Well, good point.

Grif didn’t like the love word; he didn’t understand it. But what else was there? He’d lied, cheated, and stolen; he’d whored; he’d killed, all for much lesser reasons. What word, what vow had he not cheapened with his past behavior?

Luckily, Kiernan was there to help him out. He stepped forward and caught one of Grif’s hands. “Will you trust me?” he asked. “Will you tell me when you’re feeling doubtful? When you’re feeling weak, will you let me try to be strong? I know you won’t need that very often. If there’s one lesson I’ve learned this winter, it’s how powerful you are, how unstoppable you are, once you set your mind to making something happen.” He smiled, but there was emotion in his eyes, a fierceness Grif hadn’t ever seen in Kiernan before. “But will you let me be part of the solution, sometimes? Will you trust me that I want this to work at least as much as you do? Will you be honest with me?”

It seemed so simple, so easy, but Grif knew that it wouldn’t be. It would be frightening and probably exhausting, and he didn’t have to do it. He could walk away. Instead, he nodded. “I’ll try,” he promised. “I trust you. I’ll be honest with you.”

And as soon as he said the words, everything was better. Well, he was better. The sun had been shining warm and bright before, but now he could feel it on his shoulders, heating and relaxing the muscles. The birds had likely been singing since dawn, but now he heard them. He trusted Kiernan. He was going to try. That was all he could do; the rest was in the hands of the gods.

For the first time in his whole life, that realization didn’t make him want to give up on everything. Because if he and Kiernan were together? If they were both trying? Then there was nothing they couldn’t do.