She followed his gaze to see Gavril setting up the bounty hunters' tent. "Are you asking . . . ?"
"The first time you kissed me, I said I could not be with you, no matter how much I wanted to. Not until I was sure of how you felt about him."
"And I told you--"
"You told me there was nothing between you. Not that way. But I worried that if he somehow had an excuse for his betrayal, things would change." He looked at her. "I presume he's given an explanation."
"He has, insomuch as I wished to hear it. I am satisfied that the massacre of my village was as great a shock to him as it was to me. As for the rest, I will hear more when I'm ready, but I accept his explanation. I will not say that I have forgiven him. But I no longer plan to kill him as soon as I get the chance."
She said the last with a smile, but Tyrus stood there, holding himself tight, that wary look in his eyes only growing, as if braced for the worst.
"And so . . ." he said.
"If anything had changed, do you truly think I'd have greeted you with kisses?"
"It was spontaneous. Perhaps--"
She kissed him. Deep and long and passionate enough to leave him staggering back when she pulled away.
"That was also spontaneous," she said. "But if you think I would kiss you that way if my relationship with Gavril had changed--"
He cut her off with a kiss, even deeper than her own, his hands in her hair, his body against hers, heat licking through her until he left her gasping.
"That was my apology," he said.
"Then I certainly hope you make more mistakes that require them."
He laughed, pulling her into a fierce embrace. When they parted, she pushed her cloak over her shoulder and laid his hand on the amulet band.
"I make up my mind, Tyrus, and I do not change it, and if you are going to question my loyalty every time we are apart . . ."
"I'm truly, deeply sorry," he said. "If it had been anyone else, I would not have questioned."
"There has never been anything between Gavril and me."
"I know, but . . ."
"Not a look. Not a word. Not a touch. Nor ever a time when I longed for one."
"Yet there is a bond between you. I saw it from the moment we met, and even if you did not think of him in that way, I cannot help feeling that could have changed, that if the possibility had been there . . ."
"It was not."
"But if it had been--" He cut off his own words, kissing her. "No, that isn't a question. Or if it is, I'll not ask it, because it does not matter. The possibility is no longer there. That is what counts. He is your friend. I am your lover. That is enough. More than enough. It's all I want, Moria, and I apologize for the rest. It'll not happen again."
"Good." She looked him in the eye. "I'll never give you any reason to question my loyalty, Tyrus. I expect the same from you."
"You have it. Without question."
She nodded and began to take off his amulet band. He put his hand on hers. "Keep it."
"No, it's--"
"Yours. For as long as I am. When you tire of me, you can give it back."
"Then I don't imagine I ever would."
He pressed his lips to hers. "I'll not argue with that. Now, it looks like Gavril has that tent ready. It's yours for the night."
"I ought not to take--"
"I insist. And I am still a prince, so you must listen. Or at least pretend to." He took her hands and pulled her to him. "If I were to join you--"
"Yes."
He chuckled. "You didn't let me finish."
"It's still yes."
"I was going to qualify that by stating my intentions before I shocked you with the suggestion. But I forgot who I'm speaking to."
"You did. It's yes. And please."
His smile evaporated in a look that sent a shiver through her. Then he pulled her to him and gave her a kiss that made her think they weren't going to make it back to the tent at all.
"Don't tempt me, Moria. I'm going to be honorable."
"Blast it."
He laughed then, loud enough to ring out over the empty plain. "I was going to ask if I might share your tent without the expectation of anything that might normally come with sharing your tent." When she opened her mouth to protest, he put a finger to her lips. "I know you're curious, but I'll not take advantage of that, and I'll not rush." His mouth moved to her ear. "Or you might discover that my experience with girls is not quite as extensive as my reputation suggests. Though I'll trust you to keep that between us."
"Of course."
"Good. Then you will allow me to proceed slowly and explore . . ."
"Yes. Please."
He grinned. "All right. You get the idea then. I'll share your tent with no expectation of anything. And if you wish, more, though I'll do nothing that could leave you with child."
"I know how babies are made. And I know that precautions can be taken to prevent that, though I suspect we wouldn't have such devices on hand. Unless you carry them around with you."
"Did I mention there might be a discrepancy between my experience and my reputation? I most certainly do not carry any such thing with me. Which means we have the perfect excuse for limiting our nights to--"
"Yes. Now can we stop talking and get to the tent?"
He grinned and led her back.
TWENTY-NINE
Gavril was laying out his sleeping blanket at the campsite.
"Moria will take the tent," Tyrus said.
"As I presumed."
"And I will be bidding her good night. Go ahead and get some sleep." He looked at the proximity between the tent and Gavril's sleeping blanket. "Perhaps you should move to the other side of the fire. The wind seems to be shifting, and you don't want to sleep with a face full of smoke."
"I will," Gavril said. "But I'll not be sleeping yet. After you've spoken to Moria, I'd like to talk to you."
"I . . ." Tyrus glanced at Moria. "I'm rather tired."
"I will be brief. I will rest better if we speak."
Tyrus's shoulders slumped. Moria could see the struggle in his face, wanting to do the right thing . . . and yet truly not wanting to do it, not at this moment.
"Could it possibly wait?" Tyrus began.
"No," Moria said quickly. "Go and speak now. You can say good night to me later."
He took her aside and whispered, "Are you certain? I would truly rather . . ."
"I should certainly hope so," she said. "But I would truly rather have your full attention."
"You shall. I'll keep this as brief as possible." He kissed her cheek and headed off with Gavril.
When Moria first climbed into her sleeping blankets, she congratulated herself on being so selfless, insisting Tyrus speak to Gavril before she got her time with him. As she lay there, though, she began to worry about what Gavril would say. No, she knew what he'd say--an explanation. The question was how Tyrus would react. He'd want to forgive Gavril. It was in his nature, because deep down he still considered him a friend. What if Tyrus couldn't forgive him? What if he returned preoccupied by what Gavril had said?
Could she change his mood if that happened? Distract him from his thoughts with kisses and . . . other things? That would be much easier if she knew what "other things" were. There were kisses and there was sexual congress. That was the extent of her understanding, in spite of all her efforts to expand her knowledge. The furthest she'd ever gone past kissing was with Levi in Edgewood, and that was only rather awkward groping, and entirely one-sided, as he'd grab her breasts and arse through her clothing, rough squeezes that suggested he knew no more than she did.
It was very vexing, to be so ill-informed. There were books, Ashyn had said, blushing madly as she'd admitted to hearing of such things. But they were not to be found in Edgewood. Nor with any of the traders--Moria always checked. Was one expected to simply wait for a lover to demonstrate? And what if neither knew more, like her and Levi?
Moria had explored her own body, but that was no
less frustrating. It felt good and yet, she had the feeling she was trying to get somewhere she could not quite reach. An itch she couldn't scratch, and those explorations left her overheated and feeling rather thwarted.
From Tyrus's hint, she suspected answers were coming. If he was not overly distracted. She could try to refocus his thoughts. Disrobing would help, although, personally, she'd rather disrobe him. But what if she disrobed, and he didn't refocus? That would be a humiliation beyond bearing.
No, the proper thing to do, if he came back distracted, was to remind herself that there would be other nights and to talk to him about Gavril instead. Moria sighed. Sometimes doing the right thing was not nearly as easy as one might think. Which was perhaps why people did the wrong things so often.
Finally, the flap on the tent opened.
"Out you go, Daigo," Tyrus said.
The wildcat growled.
"Someone needs to stand guard."
Daigo sniffed but slunk out of the tent. Tyrus fastened the flap. Then he opened the one on the roof, letting moonlight stream through. Moria studied his face, but the angle left it in shadow. He deposited his cloak by the door and lowered himself to the sleeping pallet, staying atop the blanket, which seemed a bad sign, but then he kissed her, and while he kept it light, it was as sweet and heartfelt as any kiss that came before it.
"Did he . . . explain?" she whispered.
"He did, and it is a lot to think about, but I'm not going to do so tonight."
When she hesitated, he stroked her cheek. "It's fine, Moria. I understand what he did, and while I do not think he always made the right choices, he made the choices that I would expect of him. He tried to keep his honor. He knows he did not, and that burns most of all, and that absolves him most of all, to me. The friend I knew has not changed, however much he may think he has. He is still as difficult and as exasperating and as wrongheaded as ever. But as idealistic and, yes, as honorable, too. That is all I needed to know. That he made mistakes, and he owns them. That many of those mistakes were a choice between two evils, and the other was no better."
He looked down at her. "Can I stop talking now?"
"Please."
"Do I need to ask if you've changed your mind about--"
She answered by pulling him into a kiss. Soon he was under the blanket with her, just kissing, and Moria decided that while kissing standing up was all very well and fine, kissing horizontally was an entirely different thing. It was body against body, hands in hair, legs entwined, deep and hungry kisses that seemed to go on forever. Even the position changed, and with each new configuration, there was some new sensation to delight in. Tyrus on top, the weight of his body on hers. Moria on top, straddling him and discovering . . . Well, discovering something to rub against, something that sent waves of pleasure through her and made him gasp and push against her until he stopped abruptly and lifted her off to lay beside him.
"We ought to slow down," he said.
"Why?"
"Because otherwise, this will be finished very quickly. Or my part will, and though that won't affect my willingness to complete yours, it will change the tenor of things."
"Why?"
He chuckled and seemed ready to brush off the question with a joke or some opaque explanation. Then he saw her expression, sobered, and explained in detail and seriousness. While Moria understood the basic act of sexual congress, it appeared that significant and important details had been left out.
"Yes," she said. "We'll slow down then. And thank you for explaining."
He kissed her. "I will explain anything you want, Moria. If I dodge a question, make me answer. I am simply not accustomed to discussing such things."
"You make a very good teacher."
"It helps to have an eager student."
"I am eager."
He pulled her back to him. "So am I. Yet if I do anything you decide you do not want, stop me."
"I will."
The kissing started again, slower this time. They were pacing themselves, embracing but no longer entwined. His hands slid under her tunic, carefully, growing more confident when she sighed in pleasure as his fingers touched her bare skin. His hands slid over her stomach and sides, gradually making their way up to her chest, and when they found their goal, the difference between Levi's groping and Tyrus's touch . . . ? It was like the difference between fouled water and honey wine.
It was . . . incredible. There was no other word for it. His hands on her, exploring and touching and finding every spot that made her sigh and gasp and moan. That a simple touch could make her feel that way seemed beyond imagining. The heat she'd felt in her own exploration mounted to a fever pitch and then . . . And then . . . There were no words for the rest.
Afterward, kissing and embracing and whispering, and then feeling him against her, and whispering, "I don't know how . . ." and letting him show her. And that was almost as wonderful as her own pleasure, watching his face, hearing his sighs and moans and gasps, and bringing him to the same place she'd been and taking him over the edge, leaving him shuddering and holding her, face buried in her hair, telling her how wonderful she was, how she was everything he wanted.
And then, remarkably, there was still more for her. It seemed that her "end" was not as final as his and he took her back there, and when he was done, they fell into exhausted sleep, curled up together.
Moria woke to a sound from outside the tent. Or so it seemed, but all was silent and she could see Daigo's dark form at the door, meaning nothing was amiss. Tyrus still had his arms around her, seeming too tired even to shift in sleep. She kissed his lips and nuzzled against him, but lightly, trying not to wake him. While there was some temptation to do exactly that, it was more curiosity than physical need. Her body was satiated and content. Her mind was still open to more exploration. Was it all right to touch and explore when one's lover was asleep and unable to give permission? Likely not. She'd have to broach the subject with him.
Daigo scratched at the tent flap. She opened the tent to see him gazing into the predawn night. She could make out a figure and she tensed, ready to grab her dagger and warn Gavril. Then she looked to see no sign of his sleeping pallet and realized the figure was him. His back was to them. She squinted into the sky. While she could make out streaks of light at the horizon, and they'd walked half the night, he ought not to be up and about yet. Especially with his sleeping gear.
She took her daggers and donned her cloak. After one glance at Tyrus, who'd fallen back into deep sleep, she hurried off after Gavril, Daigo following.
She caught up with him in only a few running strides. He seemed in no hurry, trudging even. When he heard her coming, he turned. He said nothing, but waited for her to catch up.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I . . ." He hefted his pack and glanced away.
"You're leaving? Without a word?"
"I left a note."
"All right then. Let's return to the first part. You're leaving?"
"I . . . thought it might be best. Tyrus is here and you do not need a guard."
"I don't ever need a guard, Kitsune."
"I misspoke. You now have a companion for your journey, someone to fight at your side. And so does he. You are both in good hands. The best possible hands."
"Forgive me, but I was under the impression that we were pursuing a shared goal."
"I thought it might be wise for us to part. Each time we are seen together, it only lends credence to the rumors."
"I do not care about the rumors."
"It is not only about you, Keeper. If Tyrus and I were found together, it would damage his claims to innocence. It would appear he was not merely duped by us but complicit in our betrayal of the empire."
"We have no say in that decision? Despite the fact that it is about us?"
"How does that help, Keeper?" His quiet voice gave way to his usual impatient snap. "If I ask your opinion, you will be bound to tell me I'm welcome to stay."
"I am not bou
nd by any such thing."
"Tyrus then. He will feel honor bound by our past friendship to stand by me."
"Then let me answer for him, having spoken to him before he fell asleep in my tent. If he woke up to find you gone, he would feel as if you have turned your back on him, as if you are saying in the clearest possible way that you are no longer friends, that such a thing is no longer possible, and that you do not even wish to be his ally or his companion."
"That is not--"
"I would feel the same. There's no reason for you to leave, and doing so only complicates matters. He would need to decide whether we should leave you be, as you seem to wish, or go after you to watch your back, only to risk being rebuffed again. If you wish to make amends with Tyrus, you do not do it by slinking off in the night."
"I was not slinking."
"You were and it doesn't suit you."
He seemed inclined to argue, but after a moment, said only, "In my defense, I was still considering, and probably would not have gotten far before I returned."
"Good, but the fact that you considered it at all tells me you're unsettled by more than Tyrus's arrival. Obviously, what happened the other day--"
"I'm fine."
"If you wished to talk about it . . ."
"I'm fine."
"All right then. I'll leave you alone."
She started back for camp. After she'd gone about five steps, he called, "Keeper?"
When she turned, he strode over. "Perhaps I would like to speak of it. Briefly. If you aren't tired."
"I'm not. Let's walk."
THIRTY
The next day, Moria said nothing about Gavril's attempt to leave. By the time they'd finished talking last night, he'd been quite embarrassed about the whole thing and agreed that, yes, lingering grief over his mother had caused him to react foolishly to the new travel configuration.
They spent most of the day walking companionably, as quiet conversation turned to lighthearted storytelling and heated debates. Of course, they did not forget they weren't merely strolling through the steppes. They were still hunting for Alvar's camp. They'd decided that, having not seen a shadow stalker since the previous afternoon, they'd either encountered all who had escaped or they were headed in the wrong direction. Since the latter seemed more likely, they changed course. After a half-day's walk they found an empty shadow stalker corpse. The man was not one of the bandits. Nor was he dressed as if he'd come from Edgewood or Fairview. He was perhaps in his fifth decade. His coloring suggested he was native to the steppes, and his bag contained items that had clearly come from the bandit's wagon, meaning he'd happened upon it and helped himself to the abandoned goods. They found another corpse--a woman around the same age--also carrying a satchel of stolen items. She had not been turned into a shadow stalker, but rather set upon by the man, likely her husband.
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