Page 87 of Paladin's Faith
It was none of his business.
Goddammit.
“Fine,” she hissed, twisting to glare at Davith. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Sweetheart, there’s so much unrelieved sexual tension between you two that I’m surprised your clothes don’t ignite. Bed him and be done with it before you grind your teeth into splinters.”
Marguerite realized that she had been grinding her teeth and deliberately unclenched her jaw. “It’s not like that,” she muttered.
“The hell it isn’t.”
She grunted. A minute later she realized that it had been a pretty good version of a Shane-grunt, and had to unclench her jaw again.
“Cheer up,” said Davith. “It could always be worse.”
She grunted again. It was a lovely noncommittal noise that did not indicate either interest or agreement, and furthermore did not give the other person anything to work with. She was starting to see why Shane liked it so much.
Unfortunately it didn’t work on Davith. “Sure it could. You could have been dragged out of your nice cushy job sleeping with beautiful women and made into a fugitive, all because you had a moment of ill-considered mercy. Instead you get to skip along this trail that would give a mountain goat heartburn without a care in the world, other than your libido.”
“I am not skipping,” said Marguerite, planting her feet with extreme caution and reminding herself that if she took a swing at Davith, he would very likely plunge to his death. That would be bad. Probably.
In theory, anyway.
“And at least the weather’s nice,” said Davith, gazing up at the mountain sky and the high white clouds.
Two hours later, it began to rain.
“You just had to say something about the weather,” Marguerite growled at Davith.
“I didn’t expect it to blow up so fast.”
“Flatlander,” said Wren. The four had taken temporary shelter under a large overhanging boulder, which meant that they were only getting rained on when the wind gusted. Unfortunately, since they were on the side of a mountain, this was approximately every ten seconds. “Weather changes fast in the mountains and you can’t see it coming.”
“At least it isn’t snow?” he said hopefully.
“Snow would be easier,” Shane said. Marguerite was pretty sure that he was standing partly in the rain, using his bulk to shield the other three. It was all very noble and self-sacrificing and faintly annoying. It was also keeping her dry, or at least, less wet.
“Easier?” said Davith, in disbelief.
Both Wren and Shane nodded. Wren added, “You don’t get wet as quickly. Being soaked through will kill you much faster than having snowflakes on your head.”
“Aren’t there…I dunno, avalanches and things, though?”
“There are…” Shane began.
“There, see? I don’t want to get knocked off the trail by an avalanche.”
“…but there are also mudslides,” the paladin finished.
Davith threw his hands in the air, narrowly missing Marguerite’s nose. “You know, given that I’m technically a prisoner, I should not have to be the optimist here!”
Shane and Marguerite grunted simultaneously, exchanged looks—his surprised, hers rueful—and then Shane gave about a tenth of a smile, clearly involuntarily, and looked hurriedly away.
“This isn’t letting up,” Wren said, after about twenty minutes. Shane nodded. Water dripped off the end of his nose.
“You’ve got more experience in this kind of territory than I do,” said Marguerite. “What’s our best plan?”
Wren sighed. “I hate to say it, but the longer we stand here in the rain, the colder we’re going to get. At least if we’re walking, we’ll be a little warmer, and we may find a better stopping point.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “In my country, there would be a shelter eventually, but I don’t know if we can count on that here. But even a hollow out of the wind would be preferable to this.”