That surprised blush in his cheeks, unacknowledged, with the weight of his gaze now... increases my awareness of my body in other ways, too.
Do I need him for something?
I think maybe I do.
Not just as an anchor in a world that will be unfamiliar to me.
But to make me feel like maybe I am a person after all.
A person who is more than what being a sage made me.
A person whowantsmore.
Perhaps, I think as I meet his gaze, which has gone intent, his blue eyes glowing—mine may be too, in fact—I want more than I had ever realized.
Dangerous thoughts. I’m not sure I will ever be able to reach for so much. But—
“May I borrow your spare clothing?” I ask.
And Zan realizes what kind of step this is for me, perhaps not so much forward as sideways but a step nevertheless, and he nods. “Of course.”
But rather than leaving right away, he dampens another cloth and then runs it over my hair. Not enough to really get it wet, just to wipe the dust off.
The intimacy of that simple motion stirs something within me, and now my eyes aredefinitelyglowing.
Zan meets them without hesitation.
A man who isn’t afraid of what my power means.
And then he says, “This way.”
This time, hedoeshold out a hand.
And I take it.
Thespareclothesarea large black sweater and flowing pale pink pants with a drawstring to tighten. I think I pull them as tight as they can go while Zan valiantly does not laugh.
I find myself wishing he would actually feel safe to laugh with me.
Instead, he crouches down to roll up the cuffs of the pants so they’re not dragging on the floor, only to discover that they don’t stay rolled, which causesmeto shake silently with laughter.
Zan scowls, but his eyes are dancing. “Hang on.”
Zan disappears into another room while I regard the image I present of drowning in his clothes, and then he returns with a bolt of blue cloth.
He reaches for me and then hesitates. “May I?” he asks.
I have no idea what’s happening anymore, but I nod.
Then he touches me.
I feel that strange surge of feelings again—warmth, but also a rush—gone before I can place it.
But I’m more conscious this time of the experience, so I file away the sensation for later examination.
In the meantime Zan has hoisted the pants much higher and wrapped the blue cloth around my waist like a sash to hold everything in place. The oversized black sweater is big enough that it mostly covers it.
“Why do you have such big clothes?” I ask him. “You’renot this big.”
