“Not at all,” said Oberon. “Nearness is enough. But when we do touch, it is especially beautiful. Sometimes, when we touch, the emotions of two will combine and blend in our hearts; we will feel each other, in our skin, and the feelings will change. Like voices in harmony, in a song. It is a language to which you have no access at all. And since I came here,” he added, “neither do I.”

And did that grieve him? How could it not? But the sight of that still, angular face told Ángel nothing.

“So you can’t feel humans’ emotions?”

“I can,” Oberon said, “but it’s like when you hear another language. I don’t understand them. I have come to understand Lily, a little, and Chandler. But you, you are baffling to me. The first day you were here, your heart was beating fast. You were almost dancing. Your skin seemed warm, and I thought you were excited to be here. I thought you were happy. I didn’t understand that you were terrified. I could hardly have made a worse mistake.”

“I wish I knew this sooner. Am I still baffling?”

“Yes,” said Oberon. “Constantly. I can tell you are having feelings, but I have no idea what they are. It is very disconcerting, Ángel.”

The way Oberon’s lack of expression was disconcerting to Ángel, presumably. They both spoke English, but there was a communication gap that they couldn’t seem to bridge. But Oberon wanted to bridge it. Oberon was reaching out to him for help.

“For me too,” he offered. “You know, you have another way, as well. Your voice changes when you talk. And sometimes I can sort of smell you, and your smell changes. I suppose that over the next four years, I’ll learn how to interpret the way your voice changes. And you’ll learn to interpret, uh, me.”

“I hope so,” said Oberon. “But until that happens, I have a request, Ángel.”

Ángel forced himself to meet Oberon’s green-gold eyes again.

“My species’ sensitivity to magic makes it almost impossible for us to lie to each other. But I could easily lie to you, because you can’t interpret my magic. And you can easily lie to me, because I don’t reliably understand your expressions and movements. So I ask that, since we must rely upon spoken language, we do so without lies. Or do not speak at all, if we cannot speak honestly.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“Shall we try now?”

“Oh, you want to . . . Okay. Sure. Ask me anything.”

“You’ll answer truthfully?” Oberon was watching him fixedly.

Ángel squirmed. “Or I won’t answer.”

“I will do the same. Do you miss your home?”

“Yes,” said Ángel. “So much.”

“I miss mine too.” They were quiet for a moment, and then Oberon gently said, “Now you.”