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“Then we let them search,” Xan says, marching through the library to Jemel’s table where his oil lamp burns.

Jemel follows, wary of the flaming torch. As Xan sits he grabs it from his hand and snuffs it out against the stone floor.

Xan looks at him with stern eyes. Before he can question the action, Jemel says, “If you set this library alight we will be doomed whether they find us or not.”

“Do you know a way out from here?”

Jemel nods. “Yes. There is a route to the Gleam that should be safe, but it will be dangerous in the dark.”

Xan sits down. “The guards will find Trysta gone and assume I fled with her. We can stay here until dawn then I will make sure you escape safely from this palace to do what you must.”

“Very well,” says Jemel. Not sure what to make of Xan’s offer of protection, but grateful for it. “I wish to take as many books as I can. I suppose I can bring more with you to aid me.”

Xan nods. “You helped me free Trysta. I will do what I can to protect what you love.”

Jemel stares at Xan for a moment, uncomprehending, then realises. “Oh, you mean the books.”

Jemel collects a few precious volumes. Not too many. Even with Xan to help him he will have to leave so many of his favourites on the shelves.

He thinks about what Suki said about Lukas when she urged him to leave his brother behind. Does Lukas really have his own plan? He should have found a way to get Lukas out too. Xan has freed his prisoner, his blood, but what can Jemel do? What has he ever done except sit in his rooms and translate things?

He walks back over to Xan, sprawled at the table. He is cleaning his sword with the hem of his cloak. Jemel cannot help looking at him in the soft lamplight. He is sitting with his thick thighs spread wide. There is still blood on his cheek from the wound he took.

Jemel swallows and puts down a stack of five volumes. “Now we wait.”

Xan looks up at him. Jemel sees for the first time, the weariness in his face. “It must be late. I don’t suppose there is somewhere here we can rest.”

“Actually, there is. I used to work here at night sometimes. I have a place.” He takes up the oil lamp and shows Xan to the little corner he had made for himself where, surrounded by stacks of ancient paper, he has a pile of blankets and a bearskin.

He notices for the first time how cold it is in the library. His fingers are chilled to ice.

“This is your fine scholar’s bed,” Xan says, looking down at the puddle of blankets, perhaps realising too how meagre the warmth will be if shared between them both.

“It has served me well enough.”

Xan takes off his cloak and a small pack he wears on a shoulder beneath it and sits down on the nest of blankets. He pats the floor beside him. “Come then, Baraboo. Lie with me. It is too cold in this wretched place to rest alone.”

Jemel bristles to be ordered so, but he sits down. Xan’s big body takes up almost three quarters of the space. Jemel holds himself carefully so his thigh does not touch Xan’s.

“I don’t suppose you have anything to drink?” Jemel says, noticing his parched throat. Was ever a man more ill-prepared to escape a palace?

“Thirsty, Baraboo,” Xan says, his voice an infuriating seductive rumble. All the more infuriating for the way it easily lights Jemel’s loins.

“Don’t,” Jemel snaps into Xan’s grinning face. “Do you?”

“No. I did not expect to be spending a night in your library. Do you not have supplies here?”

Jemel shakes his head. “I prefer to imbibe only knowledge when I am in the library.”

Xan raises a brow and reaches for the pack he shrugged off when he lay down. “I have some biscuit, I believe. Would you care for some of that?”

Jemel shakes his head. “Save it. Perhaps we can use it to break our fast. If we are not discovered here.”

For a moment they are both silent. Then Xan says, “We should lie down and rest. Who knows what we must face when we make our way out of this place.”

Xan shifts, spreading his body out on the bearskin and pulling the blankets over himself. He guides Jemel to lie down beside him. Jemel does so, making his best efforts to lie still, rigid on his back. He does not touch Xan’s body, but he can feel the heat from it and he knows they would be warmer pressed together.

But thankfully, Xan does not suggest such a thing.