There was nowhere immediate for Jainan to get down. It was not easy for a grown man to carry another one; Kiem took a couple of wobbly steps across the boulders while Jainan held on and tried not to move. His face was buried in Kiem’s shoulder. Kiem’s hair pressed against his forehead, the smell and feel of it distracting in a way they really shouldn’t be. Kiem was holding him close—for balance, for balance—and Jainan could feel the press of his body even through all their layers.

Kiem came to a halt on flat ground as the boulders petered out. It took Jainan a moment to react, then he realized Kiem was trying to put him down and he was still holding on. He rolled off Kiem’s shoulder and half fell, landing on his feet.

Kiem stepped back very quickly.

Jainan caught his breath. Kiem looked more shaken from the climb than Jainan had realized, and his hand appeared to be trembling as he lowered his arm. Was that the effect of the stim tabs Kiem had taken, or had Jainan’s thoughts shown on his face?

Kiem rubbed his neck where Jainan’s hand had rested. Jainan gathered his defenses and swallowed the whole incident down, burying it where it wouldn’t affect either of them. “I’m not sure climbing is a sport I’m going to take up any time soon,” Jainan said lightly. “It’s getting dark. How much farther do we go today?”

“Right,” Kiem said, shaking his head a little and coming back to the logistics.

The mountains had long twilights even by the standards of Iskat’s long evenings, but now the deep blue above their heads was turning into dusk, and clouds were creeping up from the farthest peaks. “We should camp. Maybe not here though

—the snow’s pretty deep.” As he turned to scan the shadowed valley, his eyes skated past Jainan awkwardly. “We could probably reach that overhang in half an hour.” He shouldered the backpack again. Jainan fell in beside him, not too close.

The boulders at the base of the mountain gave way to rock and earth in patches visible under the thin layer of snow. This part of the small valley was more sheltered than the higher reaches, though the snow lay in smothering drifts on the other side. They didn’t talk.

The snow was still deep enough to crunch beneath their feet. Jainan’s breath crystallized in front of him in white clouds in the still air, which hung and then dissipated. He found himself sinking into a rhythm of walking, eventually

warming up enough that he unfastened his coat and let it flap open. Every now and then, a breath of wind chilled his face.

The stillness was the stillness of a shrine. None of the palace politics seemed important: even Internal Security and the Resolution felt toothless out here.