Or’myr glances at the festive couples streaming by and waits for a gap in the crowds before he responds. Two laughing young women stumble close, bumping him in the arm as they pass. Wreathes made of glowing lavender moons grace their hair, multiple Xishlon’lure necklaces hanging around their necks. They’re dressed head to toe in glittering purple, their arms draped around each other. As they pass, they glance over their shoulders to flash bright, joyous smiles at both Or’myr and Tierney.

“Find the moon!” they call before breaking into flirtatious laughter, and Or’myr’s face warms in response to the traditional Xishlon greeting, a thinly veiled invitation to kiss...and more.

He sets his gaze back on Tierney, determined to maintain his composure. “I needed to pick up some zoisite.” His voice drops to a whisper. “It’s speeding the runic spells. I imagine you know that Vang Troi’s agreed to meet with her?”

Tierney nods, her gaze darting around, as well. “We were detained for a bit until we got word of it. How much longer till she’s freed?”

“Soon. Before morning. There’s not much to do at the moment but give it time.” He glances up, then gives Tierney a beleaguered smile. “And wait for this ridiculous moon to set.”

Tierney smiles, nodding with obvious understanding. “It’s surreal,” she says with a wave of her hand. “This tiny respite. Before the coming battle.” She gives him a meaningful look. “Take a moment to find your Xishlon’vir while you can, my friend.”

He gestures toward the necklaces in her hand. “Are you searching for your Xishlon’vir, as well?” As soon as the teasing words leave his lips, he regrets them. He meant for them to sound lighthearted, not awkward and conveying too much of his own Xishlon longing to kiss someone.

To kiss her.

He resists the urge to wince.

Tierney’s eyes widen, but she frowns and shakes her head, huffing out a jaded sound as she eyes the necklaces with obvious discomfort. “Thurryy Nim handed these to me as a Xishlon gift. Mostly in jest, I think.”

“Likely not.” He gives her an arch smile. “You’re more than a bit sought-after.”

“All of my loves have been unrequited, Or’myr.” Tierney looks past him, scanning the lovestruck gardens like Or’myr surveys them—like someone perpetually on the outside looking in. She lifts the necklaces dismissively. “I’ve no interest in putting on one of these things and pursuing meaningless Xishlon kisses. Even if we weren’t poised on the brink of war, I’m not interested in a love who isn’t truly interested in me.” She stops, seeming abruptly mortified. “I... I don’t usually talk about such things.” She shoots a discomfited glance upward. “I think it’s the damned moon. None of this is important right now.”