Their packs were just far enough away to be out of reach from the bed, which Vivian now considered one of her worse decisions. Once she stood up, she remembered that they’d left their clothes to soak. “And one of us should check what the storm’s doing,” she added aloud. Movement spurred awareness, awareness spurred memory, and memory held many tasks. Damn. “Probably me, considering. Mind laying the clothes out to dry while I’m about it?”
“Oh, I mind us not having the day to ourselves and an army of servants,” he joked, getting to his feet. Vivian, who was wrapping herself in a blanket, paused to watch. He was quite the sight in motion—quite the sight lying still, for that matter.
He was new, she told herself. Familiarity would wear the shine off the view, if…but that led to thoughts of the time they didn’t have and the sneaking suspicion that her own advice might not be entirely true, neither of which would be helpful to dwell on.
“I’d take one or two. Or a single laundress,” she said, jammed her bare feet into boots, and headed toward the outer passage.
The good news was that Vivian didn’t need to go all the way down the tunnel and stick her head out into the blizzard to know it was continuing. She could tell that perfectly well from the sound of the howling wind, which she could hear from the entrance room.
The bad news was that the wind was still strong enough to hear from the entrance room.
She did go a little farther than that, down the length of the passage until she could see the hole where they’d entered, just in case the noise of the wind had all been due to the tunnel and the storm was really over. No such good fortune: there was only a cloud of whirling white beyond the cave opening.
Olvir was in the sleeping chamber when Vivian returned. He’d found a set of clean linen in his pack—despite the heated stone, the air was too chilly for most people to walk around naked, sadly—and it looked as if he’d taken another dip in the pool before he’d put them on. The rations were spread out on the stone in front of him: dried meat and fruit, bread, and their waterskins.
He’d been waiting for her to return before he started eating. Vivian felt a foolish smile work its way across her face, one that was too much trouble to try to hold off.
“Thank you,” she said. “You didn’t have to hold off.”
“It isn’t as though we’ve reason to hurry, do we?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Well,” he said, picking up a piece of bread as Vivian sat down across from him, “the company’s good, at least, even if the food is nothing spectacular.”
She bowed, in as courtly a style as she could manage while wearing a blanket and sitting cross-legged. “I certainly can’t think of anybody I’d prefer to be with in this particular situation—unless perhaps a wizard who could turn stones into honey cakes and water into wine.”
“I’ll try and make up for my flaws there.”
The food wasfood, so Vivian had no real complaints, except that she had to remind herself to leave adequate supplies both for Olvir and for the future. She thoroughly enjoyed every speck of the dry bread, and the tough meat and fruit were likewise a pleasure, which made her laugh.
“It’s a common joke for us,” she said in response to Olvir’s questioning expression. “Trail rations tasting good is a known sign of starvation. I’m fairly certain the Mourners would back us up on it.”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised.” When they finished, Olvir got to his feet. “Shall we take a look at the other rooms?” he asked, offering Vivian a hand.
“I admit I’m curious,” she said, letting her gaze linger on the hard muscle of his thighs. “But I also don’t know that I’ll get a better view than what I have now.”
Laughing, she let him help her up, and they went exploring.
* * *
As flattering—and as arousing, even with his strength not yet quite back—as Vivian’s comment had been, Olvir knew that it wasn’t true. He would have suspected that without Tinival’s gift, given their surroundings, and the first room they entered proved him right.
It was spun out of tiger’s-eye and emerald, woven together in twisting patterns without a seam or a lump. Slim stone trees grew in stately groves. Hanging from them, glowing, was fruit made of jewels: dark garnet cherries, topaz citrons, grapes in a darker shade of amethyst than had gone into the walls of the sleeping room. The stonekin had only paid vague attention to nature, for ruby apples grew on the same tree as jade pears, but it was a sight to make Olvir stop and wonder nonetheless.
Vivian plucked a peach, which came off easily in her hand. “They’re stones, all right,” she said, trying and failing to squeeze it. “But smell.”
The fragrance, when Olvir leaned closer, brought long summer days to mind. His mouth watered.
“If Ulamir believes it’s all right,” he said, “I’d like to stop here again on the journey home.”
They both ignored all the otherifsinvolved in that. It wasn’t the moment for realism. “They’d make wonderful souvenirs,” Vivian said.
“Or gifts for other stonekin.”
“Do you know any?”
“No, not personally, but you never can tell what might happen. Unless you think that’d be rude,” he added, suddenly considering that possibility.
