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Marigold laughed. “Since when do you help Skullstalkerswash? Does he need someone to scrub his back?”

Briar’s frown hardened. Marigold’s laugh died a swift death as she looked back at Wick’s injuries and made the connection.

“Oh,” Marigold said. “I’m sorry. I’m sure Briar can?—”

“I will be fine,” Wick repeated, firmer this time. “I will see you after you finish eating.”

Briar’s eyes narrowed. She was onto him, he was sure of it. But she pulled up a smile that got so close to carefree it almost fooled him and tugged Marigold toward the cottage once more.

“I hope you have biscuits,” Wick heard her say.

He watched them vanish into the house. He did not move toward the waterfall, even though he would badly like to bathe. He breathed in, the scent still lingering in the air where Marigold had been standing.

Lipseed. Just a faint whiff of it, but enough to make Wick pause. It was not common in this region, nor anywhere he had traveled with Briar. In this part of the country, he only ever smelled it on rich mortals’ hair or skin, rubbed there with oils.

Suspicion churned in Wick’s gut. He hoped he was wrong.

But he doubted it.

Not long later, Briar came to meet him at the waterfall.

“You were taking too long,” she announced as she pulled her clothes off and left them in a pile on the grassy bank. She climbed into the water and stretched, satisfied.

“Sonice to get naked and not have my nipples immediately turn to icicles,” she told him.

Wick smiled reflexively. He had been doing it more since Briar showed up. He always considered it a mortal gesture, one he avoided. Skullstalkers saw the act of showing their teeth as a threat, after all. But he could not stop himself from smiling as Briar waded up to him, her eyes roving over him in a way she would forever deny was concerned.

“I can bathe myself,” Wick told her gently.

“What? I know. This is purely selfish.” Briar’s gaze turned heated, her smile curling in anticipation as she placed a hand on his chest. “I’m using you for my pleasure.”

“And making sure you do not die,” Wick reminded her.

“And that. Whatever.” Briar tilted her face up, her eyes going half-lidded as she watched his mouth.

Wick swayed toward her, unable to stop himself. For a moment, all he wanted in the world was those soft lips on his, her warm body pressed against him. She was more relaxed than she had been in days. She was already wet, her sweet smell drifting up and making his mouth water and cock harden.

Wick stopped her just before their lips touched. “Your witch. Does she ever use lipseed in her spells?”

Briar blinked, surprised. “Don’t see why she would. I’m no expert, but that stuff is pretty useless for spells. Food, too. You only use it to pretty yourself up. Why?”

That was what Wick had been fearing.

He stepped back, letting Briar’s hand fall from his belly. “Your witch smells of it. Not enough for a mortal to notice.”

Briar laughed disbelievingly. “You think she… what? She arranged for Renault and his merry gang of bounty hunters to meet us in that village?”

“I do not know,” Wick said, but Briar was already talking over him.

“You think, what, he just swanned up here with a knife, and she immediately caved? She would have told me if she was being threatened. We have a secret code to tip each other off!”

“I don’t,” Wick tried.

Briar continued, her scent full of fury, “Or do you think he showed her a bag of money, and she immediately jumped on board?”

“Briar,” Wick said.

“Don’t,” she snapped. She shoved a finger in his face, her teeth bared in a way that made him think of Skullstalker rules: a smile was a threat. “You think my oldest friend—myonlyfriend—is fucking me over?”