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“That’s fine.” I turn my arm so he can see, then catch his fingers and kiss them.
He settles beside me and draws me against his chest.
I trace the whole line of his cheek. He turns his face into my palm and waits while I do it again.
There are things I wanted to ask earlier, stories I meant to tell him. None of them feels urgent while he is looking at me like that.
“Are you thirsty?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He gets water from the pitcher on the reading ledge and brings it back in two cups. I sit up against the moss while he draws the blanket over my legs. He gave me his cup, the one he has used often enough to wear a pale patch into the handle. I fit my fingers around it and drink.
“What?” he asks.
“I’m in your bed.”
His smile is slow. “I noticed.”
“With your cup. You’ll have to lend me that blanket if anyone knocks.”
“I could answer the door.”
“You could tell them to come back.”
“I would.”
I hand him the empty cup and pull him down beside me.
The room quiets around us. I have spent nights imagining how different things might be in Karath, counting what I would take with me to Tesseny, composing answers to questions nobody had asked. Tonight I am interested in whether Daurek will let me put my cold foot against his leg.
He does.
He settles closer. His hand moves slowly along my back, warm against the places where the room has cooled my skin. I enjoy the touch until my eyes begin to close.
He kisses my forehead.
“Sleep.”
“Stay here.”
“I’m in my own bed.”
“Good. You’ll know where to find me in the morning.”
VAI
“Your own notices contradicted each other,” Surevai says. “A driver should not have to decide which keeper to believe.”
Daurek sits beside me beneath the council pavilion at the eastern boundary, listening. I have changed into my green dress and braided my hair for the morning; he has already freed one loose strand from the leaves at his shoulder. Across the table, Surevai has given the adjudicators a short account of the delays at the shared approaches, the two caravans held at the southern bridge, and the traffic held by Daurek’s standing order. Nobody has interrupted him. There is too much truth in what he says.
“The Ilden owns the forest,” he continues. “That is settled. I am asking you to transfer control of the trade road and its tolls to my court. We can give travelers a route they can follow.”
The eldest adjudicator turns to Daurek.
“Did traffic have to wait for your decision?”
“Yes. First because two districts’ instructions conflicted, then because I let a keeper override Reivaka’s decision. Two caravans were held at the southern bridge after that; Reivaka cleared a diversion without holding the northbound traffic first.”
