“Sweet gods,” Tierney blurts out, giving up on reticence as she boldly looks him over. “No wonder you’re so cocky.”

Fyordin laughs, then morphs back to Asrai.

“You’re quite good at glamouring,” Tierney notes with a sigh. “I’ve no glamour abilities. If I did, I’d demonstrate exactly what I was trapped in to avoid wandfasting attention.” She regrets the emotional tremor of her voice as soon as the words leave her lips. Her throat clenches, and she looks away from him, mortified by her flare of honesty and the way their power is now rippling around each other.

Fyordin bumps his shoulder lightly against Tierney’s, the contact sending a thrilling shiver through her aura. “You might be able to glamour in time,” he says, growing serious. “You don’t know what you can do, Asrai’lir.” He draws back and considers her closely, a warmth in his gaze that deepens Tierney’s pulse. “Spend Xishlon with me.”

Tierney stills, then cocks a blue brow at him. “Fyordin...our magical draw to each other aside...when you’re not barking orders at me, you’re debating my loyalty to the Asrai Fae because I’m close friends with Gardnerians. Now you suddenly want me to spend a purple moon holiday with you?”

“I want you to be my Xishlon’vir.”

Holy hells.

Tierney blinks at him, unable to form a coherent response.

It’s not an idle invitation, to be someone’s Xishlon’vir—to kiss someone on the most sacred day in the Noi calendar. The night of the Sacred Lavender Vo Moon, when the Goddess Vo’s manifestation of Universal Love reigns supreme. It’s considered a great blessing to kiss someone on this night, and it implies the beginning of a serious courtship.

“Aren’t we here to fight a war?” Tierney sputters, her thoughts scattering. “How can you swing back and forth from... Xishlon whimsy to preparing for the end of the world?”

Fyordin scrutinizes Tierney as if she’s a puzzle he’s determined to figure out. He pivots against the railing to face her fully. “We deploy soon. We’ll likely be at war for a long time. But we have this one Xishlon.” He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes intent on hers. “I’d like to spend it with you.”

Tierney blinks at him, thrown by his bizarre, forthright politeness and all too aware of her flush heating to a scald. “Are you honestly offering, Fyordin Lir?”

“Yes, Tierney Asrai'lir,” he answers without hesitation. “I want to kiss you under Vo’s purple moon. Or...dive with me, right now, into the depths of the Vo. And let me kiss you there.”

Her pulse thudding warm, Tierney considers this. She imagines Fyordin is probably very good at kissing at the bottom of powerful rivers.