The words that came were hoarse, almost swallowed by pain, but they were steady. "You can kill me," Gram managed. "You can take your coin and your trinkets. But you'll never take what I need from that man, not while I breathe." He spat the words out like a challenge and, for a moment, the camp felt the pull between two certainties: Kael's control and Gram's desperate purpose.
Kael regarded him for a long, steady beat. Around them, the men shifted uneasily, hands brushing the hilts of blades and the grips of crossbows. The tension in the air was thick, waiting for Kael to make a move.
Then Kael's mouth tilted, not into a smile, but something close. A dry, humorless sound escaped him: a short, restrained laugh.
"Since you're so stubborn," he said at last, his tone almost casual, "clean yourself up. I've got a proposal you might actually be interested in."
