"You wouldn't have been so cold if you'd gone after the mage."
"My apologies," he said wtih dry enthusiasm. "Although," he took back the sarcasm, "I have to thank you for coming in with me. It was brave of you and I probably would have gotten killed alone."
He raised his tankard and clacked it against her glass without much warning, holding it loosely in his frost bitten hand. And then he finished it off. If he was alone he would have done something foolish like throw the empty thing over his shoulder. Just to see what it would hit. But he simply set it down on the floor near the foot of his chair.
The fire wasn't dying yet. He'd thrown enough wood on it to keep it going until nearly dawn, as he wasn't sure if he'd be energetic enough to make it back to his own chamber. The hall they were in was normally used for guests, as it attached three smaller chambers which held beds and armoires for visiting friends of the country. But very few people called during the frigid winter, and Ithacles had found it a suitable spot to escape attention. The table behind them was covered with open books and illustrations, manuscripts on fencing and falconry.