Page 57

“I won’t.”

He says it against my clit and keeps his mouth there afterward, and the heat that has been gathering low in my belly since the root step yesterday stops gathering and starts to climb.

I try to hold it. I want him to stay where he is with his eyes on my face. I want to stay at this edge and never go over.

I go over.

I come with the vine biting my palm and his name in two pieces. My thighs close on his shoulders. My back arches off the rail so hard that the vine at my calf takes my whole weight, and Daurek’s flowers burst open from collarbone to antler, white and pale gold, dozens of them, all at once, because the whole forest heard me.

He gentles, but he doesn’t stop, and a second smaller wave rolls through me while I’m still shaking from the first. I say his name again, whole this time. My free hand finds his antler and holds on.

He stays kneeling until my breathing steadies.

The vine at my calf unwinds and drops off the rail.

Daurek rises with petals caught along his jaw. He kisses me, then rests his forehead against mine.

“You are staring,” he says.

“You have a garden on your face.”

“They’ll close.”

“I enjoyed it.”

I reach up and free one pale flower from the leaves beside his cheek. He turns toward the touch.

I tuck the flower into the leaves beneath his antler.

“Leave that one.”

“All right.”

He waits while I smooth the petals. My fingers are clumsy, and he steadies my elbow without hurrying me. I have spent so much time wondering how much of my wanting he can see. Now I’m sitting in front of him smiling, with no useful way to pretend otherwise.

“Have I got any leaves left?” he asks.

“A few.” I laugh and kiss his cheek. “You’ll do.”

He turns while I’m still close and kisses me properly. I stay against him afterward, my forehead resting at his jaw. Somewhere behind the branches, a bird calls twice. The river answers with the same quiet rush it made before we came here.

“I’m glad you brought me,” I say.

His hand moves once over my back. “I wanted to show you.”

He helps me down, and I straighten my skirt. He checks that the cloth around my wrist is still secure, then gathers the vines away from my boots.

“Do you want to go back?” he asks.

“In a little while.”

He sits on the low step at the end of the bridge and draws me beside him. I lean against his chest, listening to the water.

When the light begins to fade, he kisses my hair and asks again. This time I get up with him.

He opens both approaches before we leave. At the turn toward the Heartwood, I ask whether the flower is still there.

Daurek bends his head so I can check.