“But your family...” Trystan says, hurt breaking through. But also concern. “You told me they’ll shun you.”

A defiant spark of lightning crackles through Vothe. “I don’t care. I don’t care what anyone makes of this. Not anymore.” Vothe reaches across the table and takes Trystan’s hand, a sudden, mutual flare of power coursing through them both. Trystan’s breathing goes erratic as he glances around like a cornered animal and then withdraws his hand, and Vothe feels the sting of his rejection acutely.

Trystan shakes his head, as if silently refuting Vothe’s thoughts, his tone strained when it comes. “You don’t understand. None of you do. In Gardneria, if you and I showed any closeness in public...” His lips tighten as he looks away, his brow rigidly furrowing.

Vothe leans toward him, swept up in sudden understanding. “We are not there. You’re not hated for this here.”

Trystan coughs out a bitter laugh. “Oh, no. I’m only hated for everything else.”

Emboldened, Vothe holds his hand out on the table for Trystan once more, palm up. An offering and a challenge. Trystan glances at Vothe’s hand, then looks away. He swallows, his throat bobbing, and Vothe can sense a swell of heat in him that’s reaching out for Vothe along with the heightened turbulence in his waterline.

“I don’t want to fight this any longer,” Vothe gently prods.

Trystan shakes his head, his voice fractured when it comes. “I don’t either.”

“Then give in to it,” Vothe offers, his lips edging up. “And kiss me on this night of the Xishlon moon, since it’s in unforgivably poor taste to not kiss someone on this night.”

Trystan raises an ironic brow, but Vothe can feel the unsettled fire rising in him. “Vothe, think carefully about what this is going to mean for you. And...the whole world is about to descend into chaos.”

“Then what’s a little bit more?” Vothe takes hold of Trystan’s hand, invisible sparks flying as Trystan moves to draw his hand away again, but Vothe holds on. “You’re not in Gardneria,” Vothe vehemently maintains. “And you need to break through this. Tonight. Let’s walk to the center of the square.” He angles his head toward the plaza beside them, a large stone statue of Vo in its center. “Kiss me there. Right there, Trystan. In the middle of the city. Where everyone can see us. That’ll cure you of Gardneria.”

Trystan coughs out a derisive sound. “You think it’s so simple to cure me of Gardneria.”

“No. I don’t. I know I’ll never truly understand. But that doesn’t change the fact that you should kiss me right there. Because you can here, Trystan. And I know you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you.”