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His thumb moves once across my knuckles. With the claw withdrawn, its tip is smooth against my skin.

“And holding my hand does that?”

“Yes. I’ve wanted to touch you since you arrived.”

The pleasure of hearing it catches against the memory of standing in my wet coat, waiting to learn whether I could stay.

“You made that very difficult to guess.”

“I was angry with Neimura. I spoke before I considered what those words would mean to you.”

“I’d spent three days wondering whether you’d be pleased to see me.”

His hand stays open enough for me to withdraw mine.

“I hurt you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

I look at the green bark beneath my fingers. My throat hurts, and I wish he had said some of this at the boundary.

“I like being here with you now,” I say. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“That’s enough.”

He starts walking when I do. I keep his hand.

For the rest of the path, I’m aware of every place our bodies might meet. His forearm is close to my shoulder. When he bends to hear a question, his mouth is near enough that I can study the shape of it without pretending to look at his antlers.

Once, he catches me.

I lose track of what I was asking.

He waits, a little smile at the corner of his mouth, until I admit that I forgot.

“It can’t have been very important,” I say.

He glances at our hands, and I forget to be embarrassed about the question.

Reivaka passes us on the way back, heading toward the keepers we saw at the eastern road. Daurek tells her he’ll see her after lunch.

At my door, a red flower has grown from the vines.

Daurek studies it. I’m still holding his hand.

“Does the room know?” I ask.

“The roots connect to the garden. It felt the same thing the trellis did.”

“Me holding your hand.”

“Yes.”

I want to ask what else the forest can feel in him. I want to ask whether he’s imagining kissing me, because I’ve spent most of the walk back imagining it myself.

Instead, I reach for the flower.

The stem loosens from the door vines and comes away in my fingers. Another bud grows in its place, opens, and bends toward Daurek.

He takes the second flower with a patience I find more appealing than I should.