Oathbreaker

He frequently stopped what he was doing for long moments, just to look at her, his eyes full of wonder, as if this was something more magical for him than all the exercising of her powers as a sorceress. As if he couldn't believe that she was returning touch for touch and emotion for emotion. When he did that, she had to fight to keep back the tears of sympathy -- the only way she could was to keep a little corner of her mind free to concentrate on the hatred she felt for the women who must have treated him with coldness or indifference, so that this experience was such an unexpected revelation for him.

He stroked her with hands so gentle that she could hardly credit it. He was by no means the best lover she'd ever had; he was, perhaps, a little clumsy, and as he had confessed, not at all practiced -- but his gentleness made up for that, and more.

And besides, she rather figured that she had experience enough for both of them.

When they finally joined together, it was like nothing she'd ever dreamed of, for her heart was as involved in the act as her body.

'Kethry -- ' he whispered hoarsely as he started to sit up -- whispering into the darkness, for the candle had long since burned out. She could hear the beginnings of an apology in his voice, and interrupted him.

'Don't you dare,' she replied, reaching up for him and pulling him toward her so that his head rested on her shoulder. 'Don't you dare spoil this with any of your nonsense about being old!'

'Then I -- didn't make a fool of myself?' he asked shyly. 'You don't want me to go?'

'You weren't making a fool of yourself any more than I was,' she told him. 'If showing how you feel is so very foolish. I don't think it is. And no, please, don't go. I want you to stay. I've had my fill of nights spent alone.'

He sighed, and relaxed into her arms. 'Kethry -- I care for you, maybe more than I should.'

She reached into the darkness, and brushed strands of damp hair from his forehead. 'Don't think you're alone in caring more than you should.' She let him take that in for a moment, then laughed, softly. 'Or did you think I was only after you for your book collection?'

'Gods -- Keth -- ' He who was usually so glib was once again at a loss for words, then he joined in her laughter. 'No -- I didn't; Tarma, on the other hand -- '

They held each other for another long moment,until he spoke again. 'Kethry, what we've got ahead'

' -- makes promises foolish,' she interrupted him. 'We've already made all the promises either of us dare to for now. Let's just enjoy what times we have, and worry about staying alive, shall we?'

'That's probably wise,' he replied, with a reluctance that made her heart race.

He raised himself on his elbow for a moment, and cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her -- kissed her in a way that made his words about not making promises a lie.

And eventually he fell asleep with his head cradled on her shoulder.

Kethry held him, her heart full of song.

Oh Windbom, this is the one, she thought, before she joined him in slumber. He's -- he's like something I've always missed, and never known I missed it until now. But now -- I could never be content with anyone but him.

Not ever again.

Eleven

Kethry sighed, rose from her chair, and went once more to the window. She stood there restlessly, leaning on the sill, with her chin in her hand, watching the street below; a dark silhouette against the oranges and reds of a spectacular sunset.

More than a hint of weariness in that sigh, Jadrek thought sympathetically, rubbing his tired eyes. Last night was yet another late night, with both of us too exhausted at the end of it to do anything other than sleep. Tonight looks to be the same. There's never a moment to spare for simple things like food and sleep, much less anything else. I want to tell her how I feel -- that I -- I love her. But there never seems to be any time, much less the right time.

He studied the way she was holding herself, the sagging shoulders, the way she kept turning her head a little to ease the stiftness he knew was in her neck because he had loosened those muscles for her far too many times of late. His own neck felt as stiff, and he felt echoes of those same aches in his own shoulders. Gods. We're both tired, mentally and physically. She's spent more hours cajoling stubborn, suspicious merchants than I care to think about; I've spent almost the same number of hours dancing around the touchy sensibilities of priests and highborn. Not the way I would have chosen to spend our time, and both of us return from meetings so-