“I just got rid of the semi from kissing you, earlier,” Hendrik pretended to complain. “As if you just looking like that didn’t get me hard enough.”
“Is it ever enough, though?” Another squeeze, and Dagan slid his hand out of Hen’s pants and took his arm instead. “For such a big boy, you’re as delicate as a flower sometimes, darling.”
“Speaking of flowers, what’s all this?” He ate his last bite of mushroom noodles, careful to savor the taste. The merchant had a queue half as long as the marketplace, now, so he doubted he’d get another bowl.
Probably for the best. Overeating was even worse than overdrinking, on the off-chance Dagan’s plans for the evening involved, well, apricots.
“Agricultural celebration, remember? Flowers are in full bloom, crops are heavy, color and warmth abound. We’re big into symbolism here, even if it’s real obvious symbolism.”
“It’s pretty,” he decided.
“What are parties like in the City?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Hendrik admitted. “Occasionally we’d go off to the Tavern District and get ridiculous, but mostly things were more…regimented.”
“That’s why you don’t dance?”
“I don’t think I would anyhow.”
“Come on, just once. It’ll start soon.”
“Can I watch you, instead?” Hendrik had to think fast to come up with that one. “You’ll have an audience who can’t look away, if so.”
“Ooh, smooth.” Dagan grinned. “Lemme go find Innan; they’re an amazing dancer.” And he disappeared into the swirling crowds again.
Leaving Hendrik holding his empty bowl and smiling like an idiot.
The next time he spotted Dagan, Innan was with him, the pair of them twirling around each other like feathers falling from the sky. They seemed just as weightless, Dagan’s braid whipping around as he spun, Innan’s bare feet barely touching the ground. Drums of some kind had joined the music, and though he knew nothing about music, Hendrik couldn’t deny that they made it all the more irresistible. He tapped his foot and leaned against an abandoned market stall, gaze fixed on the dancers. Other couples joined them, performing the same steps with more or less ease and grace, depending on age and circumstances unknown. Hendrik could hardly keep his eyes off of Dagan, from the graceful strength of his legs to the gentle curve of his elbows when he threw up his arms. He particularly admired the way Dagan’s shirt came untied and slipped to show his delicate collar bone glistening with sweat.
Kajja had somehow found him and leaned against the stall next to him, something delicious-smelling wrapped up in a flatbread in her hand and several previous glasses of wine staining her lips. “Look at them.”
“I can’t stop,” Hendrik admitted.
“Don’t you think Innan is beautiful?” Kajja asked quietly.
“What? Innan?” Hendrik tore his gaze away from Dagan and to his partner. “I mean, yes, they’re attractive.”
“I wonder if they like girls.”
“I could ask Dagan, if you’re interested?”
Kajja flushed deeply and shrugged one shoulder, chewing her flatbread-and-whatever. “No. I just. Wondered, is all.”
“And you say I’m easy to read?” Hendrik snorted. He watched both of them, now, Dagan and Innan, and decided that yes, they were very good-looking, with that fiery hair and those flashing, intelligent eyes. If you were into that sort of thing.
“You are,” she insisted. Then after a brief pause. “But this doesn’t make you jealous.”
It wasn’t a question, but Hendrik said, “No. I mean. I’m not sure I could be jealous of anyone, if he looks that happy,” Hen admitted. Then, “I guess I was worried about Innan at first, though. Wasn’t used to…other people.”
“Other people having Dags’ attention?”
“Dags,” he said with a chuckle. He’d heard it somewhere else, too, but couldn’t place where. “Cute.”
“Innan calls him that. It suits him.” Kajja nibbled some more. “So why do some things make you jealous of him and others not?”
“Kajja.” He sighed and laughed all at once. “I don’t know. Please, don’t make me think tonight.”
She laughed. “Fine, fine. We’ll argue enough soon.”
He shot her a look before returning his attention to the fine display before them. “What would you do if Innan—or anyone from the Heart Wood—did catch your eye?”
“I guess I’d try to spend time with them. Get to know them. See what they like.” She shrugged. “Like any other friend.”
“But say all that went well,” he mused, sipping at his ale. “Say the pair of you got along perfectly and a mutual attraction became undeniable.”
“Well, I don’t want someone that just agrees with me all the time.”
“No, of course not.” He snorted. “Someone who challenges you but also fits you. Someone you wish you could marry, or have as a partner, or whatever they do here. What would you do, then?”
“See if they felt the same?”
He glanced at her again to find her face scrunched up in confusion but her gaze still fixed on the dancers.
Apparently, he needed to be clearer. “No, I mean: How would you picture your life? Here, in the Heart Wood? Would you want them to go back to the City? Would you want them to help in your fight to free it? Or would you want them to wait for you here until it was safe? What would you want?”
“I guess…” She sighed. “Hendrik. This is a hard question. I don’t know! I don’t know what people do when they fall in love. You follow your heart, right?”
“I didn’t say—”
