“I tried.” I keep my eyes on the chrono for the moment, afraid to let her see just how much that still hurts. “The signal doesn’t reach down here.”
Nimh leans forward, studying the display, and then lurches back as I touch the button that projects it as a three-dimensional holograph. She flashes me a skeptical look. “North, thisismagic. There are hints of such things in our most treasured relics. But even I have never seen something like this.”
“It reallyisn’tmagic,” I say helplessly. “It exists because of centuries of scientific advancements and experimentation and invention. I could take it apart and show you all the circuits inside.”
She nods eagerly, eyes lighting with curiosity. “Please, I would like that.”
“Well …” I check myself, my grin turning somewhat sheepish. “I actually can’t take it apart, not without breaking it. I wouldn’t know how to put it back together.”
Nimh raises an eyebrow at me, and an instant before she speaks, I know what she’s going to say. “You told me that magic is just science you cannot explain. But here is more of your technology that you cannot explain. How can you be so certain it contains no magic?”
I can’t help it—I laugh. “Just … look at the picture, okay?”
It’s one of my favorites, from about a year ago, taken when the three of us went on a weekend trip to one of the smaller islands in the Alciel archipelago. Saelis is in the middle, one arm around Miri, the other around me in a fake choke hold. My face is contorted with laughter, and Miri’s side-eyeing the both of us, her cheeks pink.
Nimh studies it, the challenge in her expression fading away to be replaced by something softer. “You seem very fond of each other.” It’s almost wistful, that look in her eyes.
I pause then, because there’s an easy answer to that observation, and a hard one. There’s one that agrees that, yes, they are my best friends, and I care about them. And there’s one that opens up a far more private part of me.
“I am very fond of them,” I admit. “We wanted to make a three—Miri and Saelis and me. We … we all felt that.”
“Such unions are not allowed in your land?”
I can feel her eyes on me, though I keep mine on the picture. “Not for a prince. It simplifies matters of heredity when it comes to my eventual heir.” I swallow, then continue, “I think the two of them will end up a pair. And truly, I’m happy for them. I want the very best for both of them.”
“You sound like Menaran,” she says. “Watching the Lovers from afar.”
“Who now?”
She turns her head to study me, and her dark eyes meet mine. “Perhaps you use other names. The Lovers are what we call the moons.” She lifts one hand to point at each in turn, and we both look up. “Here is Miella, and here is her beloved, Danna. Menaran was a riverstrider, and Miella was his betrothed. He had a journey to make, so he left her in the city with his sister Danna. When he returned, the two were in love, and would not be parted. So he returned to the river. Now Miella and Danna dance together in the sky for eternity. Menaran is a point of light that appears every century or so.”
“A comet?” I suggest.
She shrugs, so perhaps the word is unfamiliar. “A riverstrider returning from his latest journey,” she replies. “To pass by them and look on once more.”
We stare at the moons for a while, the sounds of lapping water at the river’s edge blending with the occasional creak of the wooden boat. The air moves more quickly across the water, creating a gentle breeze that cuts through the humidity of the forest-sea. My eyes automatically seek out the dark gray mass that’s the underside of Alciel—I can’t help but wonder if those clouds are all I’ll ever see of my home again.
Then I realize that Nimh is no longer looking up at the moons—she’s watching me instead, gaze curious. “Can I ask you something, North? Something personal?”
“All right.” There’s not much I wouldn’t answer right now, not much I wouldn’t do to keep the pain in her eyes at bay.
“I was wondering …” She looks away, gaze on the stars above us. And on the Lovers. The clouds are creeping in, threatening to obscure them. “Did you ever kiss one of your friends?”
Whatever I was expecting, that certainly wasn’t it. I blink, consider the question, try to ignore the way my cheeks are heating, and nod before I realize she’s not looking at me. “Yes,” I say. “Yes, I did, both of them.”
It feels like something I shouldn’t admit to her. I don’t know why. But when she looks back at me, there’s only curiosity on her face, and perhaps a hint of loneliness. “What does it feel like?” she asks.
I nearly choke. I suppose I did agree to answer a question. “Well, it …” I have to pause, thinking back, trying to quantify the feeling somehow. “Well, this part is probably obvious, but the feeling starts at your lips. Sort of a tingle, or … not a tickle, but it’s related. It’s very enjoyable. Then it moves, sometimes to the back of your neck and down your spine, sometimes along your arms, to your fingers. And you have your eyes closed, so you forget where you are, and what’s happening around you.”
I’ve lowered my lashes while I’m speaking, and when I look up at her, she’s staring squarely at me. I can’t pull my eyes from her lips, still dusted with gold from the ceremony.
“It sounds … lovely,” she murmurs.
“It, um …” I drag my attention up to her eyes with considerable effort, and swallow hard. “It is. I—I wish I could show you.”
Those eyes of hers widen a little, the gold-dusted lips parting, and this time I see the moment in which her gaze flickers down, fixing just a moment on my mouth. Then she drops her gaze entirely. “I … I apologize for my questions.”
“Don’t,” I murmur. A little thought flickers to life in the back of my mind. “Nimh. No mortal is allowed to touch you, because you’re divine. But …”
