Page 168 of Given to the Black King

“That was not an argument for repeating danger.”

“No. It was an argument for letting me choose what I risk.”

His jaw tightens out of old habit. There is no ache beneath it now.

“I will not lose you.”

“You do not control that.”

His claws extend.

I take one hand and place it flat against my belly.

“Neither do I. We choose anyway.”

He looks down at his hand.

Nothing is there yet.

Only possibility.

The bond opens around his hope.

It is enormous. Tender enough to hurt.

“When?” he asks.

“I stopped taking seedward this morning.”

His eyes lift to mine.

“Soon,” I say.

“How soon?”

“Do not start issuing schedules.”

“I require information.”

“You require patience.”

“I have demonstrated patience.”

“For four months.”

“A significant four months.”

I pull him down by one horn and kiss him.

He lifts me, turns, and sets me on the broad windowsill.

The new glass is cold at my back. His body is not.

“Here?” I ask.

“No.”

His answer is immediate.