He snorted. "And what has made you think this, or are you noticing things that ought not to be noticed?"

(We have a single word for that, aunera. You will find it under ievanset.)

"Nothing so uncouth," I said. "But there is too much in you that needs release. Ajan—"

"—is like a younger brother to me," Kor said.

"—is not your younger brother, and that is just a comfortable story you tell yourself to make it easier to maintain your distance," I said firmly. "He would cut himself for the chance at your bed, and he is well and again old enough for the privilege... and young enough to keep you well-exercised."

"Gods, Farren," Kor said, starting to laugh again. "Do you speak this way to everyone, or is it just me that inspires your blunt speech?"

"Oh, it's just you," I said, folding my arms. "You exasperate me."

This started a new paroxysm of laughter. He went flat on his back on the bed to indulge in it, until even my mouth started twitching. I poked him gently in the stomach. "Stop, or you will start me off again, and my aged and decrepit body cannot take much more."

"Your aged... and decrepit... body..." Kor said, wiping his eyes.

I pressed on my cheek to keep the smile from growing. "I am an artist, we indulge in hyperbole, now and then."

"Now and then," he agreed, grinning, one arm over his eyes. It was good to see him so relaxed. Perhaps in lieu of a lover, I could provide the necessary exercise with well-timed quips.

"Are you really certain?" he asked, his seriousness the more startling for the mirth that had preceded it. "About this."

"About being ajzelin?" I said. "Yes. Of course. Or I would not have offered." When he didn't answer, I huffed. "Please, Kor. As if you are so surprised? You have been courting me since we met. Calling me peer, flattering me, pricking me with intimations of ambition and power... had you been any more obvious, I would say you had been trying to seduce me...!"

He moved his arm from his eyes, enough that I could see the amusement in them.

"Deny it," I said. "If you can!"

He laughed, moving the arm up against his brow. "No, no. I can't. You fascinated me, I will admit to it." He glanced at me. "And I have fascinated you, yes?"

"Well, yes," I said, flushing in the ears. "You're Kherishdar's Shame."

He snorted and closed his eyes. "I am Kor Nai'Nerillin-osulkedi."

"That also," I said, content. Looking at him was like eating. I wanted my charcoals, my ink pot... anything dark, so long as I could muss it with my fingers directly, without the intermediary of brush or pen. Perhaps that was my new instinct as ajzelin speaking: to touch directly, to be free to do so.

"When we return to the capital..."

"We will worry about the future when we are done with the present," I said.

He made a disapproving noise. "Rephrasing an aphorism is in poor taste, Calligrapher."

"One cannot make a basket without bending the willow twigs," I said.

He laughed and I grinned. "All right, that was clever," he said. "You may have the point back."

"We have enough before us," I said, more seriously. "Let us win our way through it before we plan our disposition afterwards."

He looked at me. "You'll stay, though."

My heart softened. "Of course," I said, quieter. "Should love be retracted?"

His smile grew wry. "Love is not equivalent to time spent. One may love, and not be near."

In answer, I touched his cheek with my fingers, and that was answer enough. For now, anyway. His fears could not be laid to rest without time... time and the demonstration of my faithfulness. And that one who was loved and served with such zeal could still have such fears... it filled me with pity.

"Sleep next to me," he said, and when I made to lie down, touched my arm. "Without the robe."

"I tend to cold," I said.

He snorted. "I tend to heat."

I hesitated, then sighed and said, "I hope you also do not kick."

"In my sleep?" Kor said. "Gods, I have no idea."

"If I wake up sorely afflicted, I will expect a massage," I said, shucking the robe and settling alongside him. "And tea. And perhaps some citrus trifles, the kind that are as much air as cream..."

He began laughing anew. "Shall I also apologize twelve times, and bow between each?"

"I really hate being kicked," I said, prim, because I knew it would make him laugh, and it did.

And then we were in bed together, nude from the waist up, and he drew me close and put his arm around me. He tucked himself against my back; as I was taller, it put his nose below my shoulder, and I felt his breath pluming against the thin fur there. And indeed, he was warm... very warm. Not just his body, but ah... the spirit. It was as if I had been moving to and fro in an empty house, never realizing that the hearth was cold, until it was again lit.

Against my shoulder, he murmurs, "And to touch is like the sound of temple bells."

When I grew still and attentive, he continued:

"as the spirit, so the fingers—"

His hand traced the length of my arm, light.

"as prayer in the mouth,

so the hand on the skin,

as love in the heart,

so the breath in the body,

when it is shared.

To be touch-lovers is to enter the temple."

"Ereseya," I said, voice low.

"Meditations on Love," he agreed.