He followed the fireflies’ bumbling course until he lifted his head and stared at Saeldian’s hand and the pinch of fleece they held, at Saeldian’s hair still covered with their silk bonnet, their sleeping shirt, their bare knees on the rug. He looked at them with understanding shading his eyes as the firefly started a loop and then veered off, as if it had forgotten what it was doing partway through.
Saeldian didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t anything they could say. They hadn’t talked about how he’d held them until their eyes hurt from weeping, or how they tried to eat him alive with kisses, how they rubbed their cheek against the curly hair on his chest and belly, resting for a moment on its soft, relaxed strength, exulting in how their kiss had made him go hard and tense with wanting more, until he broke the spell with a question and saved Saeldian from losing everything. He’d been awake with Saeldian’s hand on his shoulder, waiting as the sky lightened, and he hadn’t moved. He’d watched Saeldian’s half-panicked rush to cast a spell and their relief when it worked.
There wasn’t anything to say because he understood what it meant. Saeldian searched for words, an explanation, something that would sayI shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorryandThank you for stopping me in timeandI wish to all the gods that you hadn’t stopped me,but every word refused to march over their tongue, and they didn’t know why.
“Sheld,” Kell said. “I—”
“Helloo!”
A voice from outside. Saeldian rocked up to their feet to answer the door, and an elf veiled in meadowflowers who wasn’t Helfyra bustled in. “Are you slugabeds ready to—oh.”
She stopped, eyeing the bed—or, more accurately, the barrier behind Kell in the bed—while Kell went wide-eyed at their intruder. “Oh. Well. I’ve come to ask if you want breakfast before it’s nothing but scraps.”
“Yes.” Saeldian pulled out a little pinch of fleece they had combed from Righthoof Manor’s goats. “Are there any eggs?”
“Only if you hurry. No need to dress for breakfast! You’re fine as you are.”
And then she walked out.
“We’d better hurry.”
“Wait.”
Saeldian tossed a thick fleece robe at him. “No time.”
Kell caught it and hopped out of bed, strong and wide-shouldered and completely naked, and because Saeldian adored suffering, they couldn’t stop looking at him. But soon his legs and chest and all the soft, curling hair that grew on him were buttoned over. “Listen. I know her.”
Saeldian should probably do some buttoning too. “Really? Where from?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I’ll explain later. Just stay wise around her. Something is up.”
They grabbed their boots and jumped on the barge barefoot. The elf watched, amused, as they hopped around getting them on.
“I’m Dylstra, summer’s shadow.”
“Saeldian Charmhand,” they replied. “Good morning.”
“Kell Redsong,” Kell said. “We came in last night.”
“Just in time to witness the heart-fasting of Bisana and Nerinis Storraneld, yes? A wonderful couple. Stumbled in here by fate! Quite a story.”
“They mentioned it at the ceremony,” Saeldian said.
Dylstra fluttered one hand to the pendant around her neck, and a tiny diamond flashed as the rabbit twisted in her fingers. “Thewholestory, I mean.”
“Will they be at breakfast?” Kell asked.
“I’m not sure if they will still be there. They planned to leave right after. You’re our only guests now. The starless time is nearly on us.”
“When your lady will sit in vigil by her beloved’s side,” Kell said. “Our poor timing.”
“Those whose heart-sore path leads them here are always welcome, even as we turn to winter. Look.”
Dylstra gestured to the shore, where morning had finally broken over a forest aflame with autumn’s color. Those leaves were falling, carried into the whims of the air to slip in spirals and spins, landing on the ground and in the mirror-still water, brilliant against the surface.
