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Sirsha nodded, brooding, until finally she glanced across the fire at Quil. “While we’re waiting, there’s something we should discuss. I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days.” She turned the spit, and fat dripped into the fire, sending up a fresh plume of smoke. “Us. Our…trysts.”
“Ah. Is that what we’re calling them?”
Sirsha lifted her chin, which Quil noticed she did when she thought she was about to get resistance. “I thought we should lay some ground rules.”
I’m more interested in the punishments for breaking them, actually.Quil had sense enough not to say it, but Sirsha read whatever passed across his face. Color rose in her cheeks. “Get your head out of the gutter,” she said.
“Right, sorry.”
He wasn’t sorry. He didn’t try to hide it. Sirsha looked away, still flushed. Her hand went to their coin.
“The design on our coin is growing too complex,” she said. “You’re a crown prince who must return to your people. I’m a tracker looking to get as far away from mine as possible. Let’s not make this more complicated than it needs to be.”
“Fine,” Quil said, though it wasn’t fine. Not at all. “What else?”
“No…romance, or poetry or flowers on bedrolls. No tokens of affection. No cuddling.”
“What about when it’s cold?” Quil couldn’t help saying, and at the ire in her expression, he held up his hands. “Joking!”
“Nicknames are fine,” she said. “They sell our Adah oath to R’zwana, at least. The occasional casual physical contact is acceptable. But nothing…sweet. No lingering touches or gentle pecks, or brushing my hair out of my face, or—”
Quil got up to kneel beside her. She fixed her dark gaze on him and opened her mouth to protest. Nothing came out.
He held her stare, tangling one hand in her dark hair and flicking up her shirt with the other so his palm was flush against her warm skin.
“So,” he said quietly. “Nothing like this.”
“I know what you’re doing.”
The flare of need in her eyes sent blood rushing to inconvenient places, and he pulled her closer slowly, until his lips were a hairsbreadth from hers.
“Do you?” he whispered. “Tell me, Sirsha, how am I supposed to know when you want me if you never touch me?”
“Assume I always want you,” she murmured, and he couldn’t help the curse that slipped from his mouth into hers as their lips met. She wrapped a leg around his waist and pulled him tight against her—
A whoosh overhead. Quil wrenched himself away. The Kegari Sailhad returned. Too fast, the bastard. It circled again and then dropped onto a nearby stretch of flat land.
Quil brushed her hair back and kissed her lightly—in direct defiance of her orders. “I’ll be close by.”
He disappeared into the woods, heart still thundering, Sirsha’s scent permeating his senses.Sails. Kegari. Interrogation.He made his way up to a copse of trees a dozen yards from Sirsha, stilling his body until he felt a part of the night sounds—cricket song and rustling leaves and the fire crackling. He’d need a clear shot at the Kegari if they gave her trouble. But that meant getting close while making sure they didn’t see him.
Sirsha began to hum—rather hypnotically, Quil noted with a smile, unsurprised that there was yet another skill Sirsha Westering excelled at.
His neck prickled and he turned, scim at the ready—to find J’yan walking through the trees. He glanced up—a second Sail circled.
“I don’t like this plan,” J’yan whispered.
Quil turned back to the clearing. “Next time come up with a better one, then.”
J’yan settled in beside Quil. They could just make out Sirsha’s hair piled atop her head.
“She likes you,” J’yan said. “More than she’ll let on.”
“Good to know, what with being her fiancé.”
“You’re no more her fiancé than I am.” J’yan rolled his eyes. “Your secret is safe with me. Whatever you might think, I care about Sirsha. And I want to understand what lies between you. Why did you agree to speak the words of fidelity?” His voice was low and quiet. This was a man used to controlling his anger. Quil recognized a kindred spirit.
“Because R’zwana was going to kill her.”
