“Exactly. Arrogance coupled with overconfidence was the flaw of many a priest . . . and I can see it is just about time for supper.” Hearing Rexei sigh, he glanced at her. “What now?”
She turned to lean against the wall next to the mirror, folding her arms. “Gabria. And everyone who thinks like her. I went down for a cup of mulled cider earlier, and three of the people I passed gave me startled looks, two more wouldn’t meet my eyes, and all five of them practically scuttled away like your little paper bugs, there. I don’t like feeling like a . . . well, like I’m a stupid, arrogant Mekhanan priest.”
“Time and patience will hopefully bring them around. In the meantime, the other mages have been moved back into town, so that means my brother’s back in his own quarters,” Alonnen told her. He focused on the crystal tablet in his hands, repositioning his paper spies. “I know you’re supposed to be assigned a room . . . which you would have to share, since the inner circle is still pretty full . . . but you’re welcome to take his spot on my sitting room couch.”
She felt ambivalent over the offer. Gratitude for the fact he offered her a place in his sanctuary. Annoyance for the fact that place was on a couch of all things. Giving in to her sense of humor, Rexei quipped, “Oh, I see how it is. Even you are afraid to let me back into your bed, now that I’ve gone and summoned a Goddess.”
He grinned and slanted her a mock-chiding look in between positioning his paper spies. “If I truly felt that way, I’d have made you sleep on the couch last night at Big Momma’s. But, if you want . . . you could sleep in my bed. You’d have to share it with me, though. And I’ll give you fair warning, Rexei Longshanks. I find you very appealing. I might ask for a kiss at some point.”
Looking up from the task of guiding one of the folded-paper bugs across a set of steps, he tried to gauge how she felt about that. From the blush on her cheeks and the shy way she bit her lower lip—darkness swept over the mirror, the image fuzzed, snapped, and shifted to another cockroach’s view. Blinking, he tapped through to the next viewpoint . . . and saw a small smear of color on the steps. Specifically, a bit of squished paper in the wake of a novice coming down off the tiers ringing the chamber.
“Dammit, I just lost another one!” he complained. A muffled noise made him glance sharply at his companion. Eyes bright, cheeks pink, and bottom lip bitten by her teeth, Rexei tried not to laugh out loud . . . but it was obvious she was laughing. Unable to help it, Alonnen grinned back at her. Only for a moment, though. Turning back to the mirror, he sighed and sent one of the other paper roaches scuttling forward to scoop its mangled, lifeless brethren off the steps. “Right . . . dispose of this one, stash the others in good viewing angles . . . then contact my fellow Guardians to let them know it looks like we have a little breathing room.”
“I’ll get back to my Charter-drafting,” Rexei agreed, her mirth subsiding. She raked a hand over her short, dark locks. “Part of me wishes I could still be a kid again, responsible only for myself and my own safety. But I’m an adult now, and that means being responsible, respectable, dependable . . .”
“Lots of words that end in ‘ibble,’ eh?” Alonnen asked, not without sympathy.
She nodded. Arms crossed on her chest, she stood there for a moment, feeling restless and unsure. An impulse crossed her mind, one that Rexei found herself blurting out, “I want a dress.”
Alonnen blinked but otherwise showed little surprise. He thought about it, then tipped his head. “That can be arranged. And it’s a good sign.”
“It is? Of what?” Rexei asked him, unsure what he meant by that.
He smiled. “That you’re feeling relaxed enough to want to wear a dress, rather than tromp around in trousers all the time. I’m glad you feel you can trust me, and everyone else here.” He made a fluttering, shooing motion with his fingers. “Scuttling away notwithstanding.”
She blushed and ducked her head a little, but otherwise, she didn’t hide the shy smile that curved her lips. On impulse, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. Rexei raised her head a little, her eyes wide with wonder, not fear. Swaying close a second time, Alonnen kissed her on the lips. Soft and sweet, it felt just a little too brief and light for his tastes, but he pulled back anyway. Not far, just enough to break the kiss and look into her brown eyes, wondering how she would react.
Rexei wondered, too. This wasn’t a stage kiss for some play, and she wasn’t playing the part of a young man at the moment. Alonnen knew she was female, knew she was leery of . . . well, things completely unlike what he had just done, she realized. He kissed me because he wants to kiss me. And he’s . . . he’s nice. A truly nice, good man. Her gaze drifted down his long nose to his lips. And I actually want more.
Being kissed by him felt natural and right, not staged or forced. She wanted to ask—no, she acted, closing the gap between them without a word. Not just pressing her lips to his, but her chest to his, her arms around his shoulders, her fingers touching the soft ginger curls of his hair. She felt him inhale deeply, and felt the shift of his hands as they cupped her arms. Not to reject, but to accept her kiss, for those hands slipped down to her waist and around the small of her back, holding her closer.
Warm, hungry, satisfying, the kiss deepened and lengthened until somehow her hands wound up on his ribs underneath his sweater while his landed on her rump, both kneading every bit of flesh they could reach. One particular squeeze on his part lifted her up onto her toes and rubbed her groin up against his. For a moment, she shied from the hardness her body found, then Rexei relaxed into it, accepting his interest in her.
The chiming of his newest mirror dragged Alonnen back to his senses. It was not easy, not when his attraction to the woman in his arms was surprisingly strong. Until now, Alonnen had considered her appealing, but more for her inner qualities, her intelligence, her strength of mind, her manifested belief in a better way of life than everything they had known. Now, though, he knew the way she felt against him, the way she tasted in each kiss. The soft sounds she had made—curious, hungry, and interested in more—left him aching and heady, as if she were some undiscovered wine.
A wise mage avoided any excess of wine. A wise Guild Master attended to his duties, such as the mirror which chimed again, trying to get his attention. A wise man did not let his passions rule his life when there was still work to be done.
Alonnen kissed her again. Not for long, but enough to let both of them know just how much he wanted to continue. Lifting a finger, he touched the corner of her mouth and smiled softly.
“This is a bookmark,” he told her. “If you want me to continue . . . kiss me here.” He tapped the same corner of his own mouth—and got a peck of a kiss from her. Caught off-guard, he laughed, then hugged her. “Kiss me there later, love,” he mock chided. The mirror chimed, and he sighed ruefully. “Unfortunately, duty calls.”
Stepping away, he moved to grab the green pair from among his collection of viewing lenses and a scarf to wrap around his hair and chin, while Rexei moved back to her temporary desk. Once he was ready, he opened the connection. It was Tipa’thia; despite her rich, natural tan, her age-seamed face still looked a bit pale and puffy from her heart troubles. Her brown eyes were still sharp though, and her voice smooth as it came through the mirror, translated by whatever magic Guardian Kerric had wrought in the mirrors he had passed to everyone.