written a poem about Harding and Hamchet Banniss, the beginning pages of a journal that would chronicle her trip up the mountain and her escape, and she was halfway through a love poem for Sober that she would probably never let him see.

He stood and walked toward her and she quickly covered the poem with a fresh sheet of parchment.

Laying one hand on the back of her neck, he said, "I'm going to bed."

She tipped her head to look at him. "It's early still. We could play a game of bobberchinks. I saw a cup of cubes on the bookshelf by the door."

He shook his head. "It's early, but here we are, stuck alone in this room, and I'm having a hard time keeping myself from sweeping you up and kissing you every two minutes."

Heat rushed into her cheeks. "Would that be such a horrible way to spend the evening?"

"Hmm. Let me check." He kissed her. Finally he pulled away and whispered, "Just as I thought. Trust me, Repentance, I'm not to be trusted."

At the door he turned and winked. And then he was gone.

Repentance looked around the room, which a minute earlier had felt warm and cozy, and shivered at the emptiness she felt. She gathered her parchment and her char-stick and went to her own room to soak in a hot bathing pool and then try to sleep. Between thinking about her family and Hot Springs and Sober not being trustworthy, she doubted she'd be able to sleep a wink.

A wink.

She loved it when he winked.

When Repentance entered the library the next morning, Sober was already there. He stood when he saw her, crossed to her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.

Her knees went rubbery, and she had to cling to his shirt to keep her feet.

He broke the kiss but kept on hugging her. "I missed you all night," he whispered into her hair. And then he was kissing her again.

Compassion came in. "Oh. My. Oh, my," she said, and she stopped so suddenly the dishes on the breakfast tray rattled against one another.

Sober let Repentance go and she quickly smoothed her dress and patted her hair.

"I'm so sorry," Compassion said. "Excuse me. Please." She began to back out of the room.

Sober chuckled. "Don't leave, woman. Can't you see we're starving? We're so hungry we decided to try to eat one another."

Repentance kicked him. "Sober!"

"Oh, my!" Compassion said.

"She doesn't taste very good, though," Sober said. "So, if you don't mind, I'll take some breakfast."

Compassion set the tray on the low table in front of the settee.

"Is Lord Carrull back yet?" Sober asked her.

"He's not," she answered. Then she toddled out of the room without even pausing to pour the coffee.

Two hours later she'd still not come back for the breakfast dishes.

"You scared her off," Repentance said.

Sober shrugged. "I didn't think she'd be so shocked. Has she never seen two people kissing before?"

Her cheeks felt hot. "That kind of kissing is usually reserved for people who are buttoned."

He twisted on the settee and looked directly into her eyes. "I did some thinking about that last night."

Holding his gaze, she put an encouraging expression on her face, willing him on.

"Will you wait for me, Repentance? I won't be able to join you in Montphilo for seven years."

She ducked under his arm and leaned against his chest. "Seven or seventy, Sober. I'll never button anyone else."

He laughed. "And if I've learned one thing about you, it's that when you make up your mind about not buttoning someone, you follow through."

"This time I've made up my mind to button someone, though." She twisted around and kissed him.

There was a knock on the door and it opened halfway. Starved stuck his head in. "Is it safe to come in?" he asked.

"All safe," Sober said. "Where is Compassion?"

"She's, uh ... busy giving the cook directions for lunch. Sent me for the dishes." After he stacked the dishes, he turned and tripped over the table leg. The tray and all its contents flew from his hands and landed in Sober's lap.

"I'm so sorry."

Sober stood, His pants and shirt were covered in coffee and sticky jelly stains. "I'll go change," he said.

"These feet weren't made for fancy libraries and parlors," Starved said. "I'm more comfortable in the barn than in the house."

"I'll live. Anyway we needed a little excitement. It's been awfully boring sitting around all this time."

Starved laughed. "Compassion had a different tale to tell this morning."

Sober went to his room and Repentance helped Starved clean up. After he left, she browsed the bookshelves, but nothing grabbed her. She stuck her hand in her pocket and, playing with her gray buttons.

A horn sounded in the street.

Another blast followed the first, and Repentance became aware of the fact that she'd been hearing the blasts for some little time. They'd been getting louder and louder over the last fifteen minutes or so.

She went to the window and peeked out.

A crowd clogged the street below, following an open-bed skim wagon, like a slow moving mudslide. An overlord trooper sat in the wagon behind the driver, blowing the horn. It was probably some kind of Moonlight Festival celebration.

Pulling the shade back a little, she saw a woman standing in the wagon bed with the trooper. She was dressed in a thin shift like Repentance used to wear in the swamp. The wagon drew closer. The woman's hands were tied behind her back and she was turning circles as the trooper hit her with his horn between blasts.

As the wagon drew even with Lord Carrull's house, Repentance could see it wasn't really a woman—not a full-grown one, anyway. It was a girl.

And then the

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