"Fisk," Michael said gently, "You can take Tipple. And the money, since you can't hunt."
I wanted to hate him for not loving me. I could stand him shouting, or kicking me out. But being so damned kind made that impossible, so I had to stick to hating myself for ruining what we had.
"Thanks. But you can keep the money. I can earn it more easily." I indicated my wrists, the lack of tattoos.
Michael flinched, and I felt sick to my stomach for bringing up the subject.
'Well, I'm packed, so I'd better go."
"Where will you go?"
"I'll find a town where no one knows my name and take up an honest job."
He faked a smile. "That sounds great. I'm going to miss you, Squire Fisk."
"Not as much as I'll miss you, Noble Sir."
We stood there for a moment, staring at each other over the bag I'd packed. After all the stupid, reckless adventures, it was all over. Did it have to end like this? Did this have to happen every time I let myself be happy?
"Michael. You were able to do something I wasn't, and fair's fair."
My former employer looked puzzled.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to his forehead before I could lose my nerve. While my lips lingered, Michael tilted his head upwards. His mouth met mine hesitantly, but even that light touch was enough to send my head spinning.
"I love you, Fisk." He murmured without pulling back.
"Don't. Don't say that."
"I will never hurt you."
Fact was that it hurt to be so happy after all this time. I thought my heart would burst as Michael's arms tightened around my waist and pulled me even closer. The bag fell off the little side table and crashed the ground, spilling its contents out. I ignored it and pushed him into the wall, smiling against his lips.
I leaned back for a second. "If the innkeeper walks in…"
Without either of us touching the door, it swung shut and locked.
"It's definitely a Gift." I said.