A familiar, deep male voice says something to Mora in what sounds like a Smaragdalfar dialect that my glamoured koi’lon rune doesn’t translate completely. I can only parse out “evening” and “tea.”

Anxiety spiking, I peer through the port side door’s open slit and my stomach drops through the floor. Fyon Hawkyyn, my metallurgie professor from Verpax University, stands beside Mora, tall and straight and dressed in traditional green Subland Elf clothing.

With no way to flee, I remain frozen in place as Mora hands Professor Hawkkyn a cup of tea with an expression of great import, and he accepts it with a deep level of gravitas, his silver eyes intent on hers. Seeming frozen in anticipation, she watches as he takes a sip, the sharp lines of his face illuminated by the glowing violet steam. He sets down the cup, their gazes locked.

“That would be thirty cups of tea, Fyon,” Mora says, sounding breathless as she raises the green book in her hand.

Professor Hawkkyn’s eyes seem to ignite as he steps toward her, his voice suddenly thick with passion. “Mora’lee Starr’lyrion, I want to court you. I can’t stop thinking about you. You consume my nights.”

Mora’lee’s eyes widen along with mine. “Heavens, Fee.”

Great Ancient One on High, I marvel, surprise cutting through my urgency. Severe, intensely private, and stridently reserved Professor Hawkkyn...is a blazing romantic.

“I adore you, Mora.” His voice is ragged, like a man tortured by fierce love for one-too-many sleepless nights. “I’d give anything to kiss you...to hold you in my arms.”

Mora pulls in a long, shaky breath, a rueful tension in her voice when it comes. “Fyon, be clear on this before you say more. You live for the sublands. I live for the skies.”

“I don’t wish to take you away from any of the things you love,” Professor Hawkkyn declares, maintaining a respectful distance, even though it seems as if he’d scoop her into his arms and carry her off if she’d allow it.

They regard each other for a charged moment as Mora leans into the deck’s metal railing, her back to the sheer drop down the mountain’s side.

“Have you no feelings for me, then, Mora?” Professor Hawkkyn asks softly, as if forcefully holding back his vast tide of emotion.

Mora goes very still. “You are the bravest man I have ever met, Fyon.”

He waits, but is met with stoic silence, the air seeming to grow even more heated between them.

“Mora,” Professor Hawkkyn breathes, “I know who you are. I want to court you.”

Mora huffs out an emotional sound and a trembling smile takes hold. “Well, that’s a relief, Fee. Because I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.”