“It’s all right,” she said. “You may.”

He pressed his hand to her knee and realized he was doing it to comfort himself more than her. “If there’s anyone I know who could come out of this alive without sacrificing her humanity, it’s you,” he said.

“Did you know I was your mother’s lover?” she said.

He pulled his hand away. “I did,” he said.

“If I told you I wanted to spend the night with you, would you worry it was because I loved your mother?”

“I… No, I would not.” Ahkio did wonder, though, if she would think differently about him if she knew who his mother really was. Would she still stand with him? Would she be looking at him like that right now?

“Is it a mutual desire?” she asked.

Ahkio had to look away from her then. It was still frightening, sometimes, to talk so frankly about desire. But this was Ghrasia, the woman who turned back the Dorinahs at the pass. He should have known she would speak of it plainly instead of continuing to dart around it.

“I’m married,” he said.

“As am I,” she said.

“I don’t expect Mohrai will give her permission for such an affair,” he said, “even if your husbands did.”

“I’m barren,” Ghrasia said, “though I expect that will not dissuade her.”

“No,” Ahkio said. “Barren with your husbands does not mean barren with me.” He wanted that to be the end of it. But he opened his mouth again and said, “Our desire would need to have limits.”

“I’ve heard your wife has an eye on your seat,” Ghrasia said.

“She does,” he said. “And some days, I have a mind to let her have it.”

“Why is it you didn’t just turn it over to her? We all knew you didn’t want to be Kai.”

“Maybe that’s why,” he said. “I always did like being contrary.”

“So, let’s pretend I didn’t ask about an affair,” she said.

Ahkio wanted to touch her again. He was already on fire with images of the two of them together. He’d been dreaming of her for weeks.

“I think I’m afraid of having a happy moment,” Ahkio said.

Ghrasia reached out her hand. He took it. He wanted her so desperately, he nearly fell into her lap.

“I’m far more afraid of never dancing again,” she said, and led him upstairs.

Ahkio lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He heard voices from the courtyard. They faded before he could make out the words. He thought about Roh and Dasai, and wondered what had become of them. Were they awake, too? Or dead? The moons’ light bled in from the window. He had forgotten to draw the curtains and now regretted it. He did not often desire or require privacy.