Instead, he touched her cheek. “I know what it’s like. Okay, sure, the person I trusted didn’t turn out to be Relos Var, but even so … I know how this must hurt.”

“He was grooming me.” Janel’s face twisted. “That ass…”

“He healed you after Xaltorath possessed you. I can’t hate Relos Var for that. Is Xaltorath the one who gaeshed you?”

“I don’t know—” Janel looked away. “If she was, she never exploited it. Anyway, Relos Var only healed me because he can’t use a broken tool.”

“His motives can go jump off a cliff. I don’t care why he did it, only that you’re here.”

They stared at each other. Then Janel walked her fingers up his misha until they reached his jaw, resting there with the lightest of touches. Kihrin wondered who’d started playing drums in the room and then realized that was his heart.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Janel whispered.

“Oh, good. I’d like that too.” He lowered his head to meet hers.

Their kiss started soft and slow and gentle, the touch of their lips against each other almost shy. That didn’t last long. He couldn’t even be sure which of them escalated, but suddenly their kiss graduated into something needful and fierce, a dance of lips and tongues that left them both gasping. She dug her fingers into his back and yanked him closer, until he felt every curve of Janel’s body pressed against him. He smelled the woodsmoke lingering in her laevos hair, heard their hearts beating in time. What had Khored called it? An immediate connection? That. A thousand times that.

He pushed his hands up under her tunic and felt metal instead of skin. Kihrin blinked and looked down. “Are you wearing mail?”

Janel paused, embarrassed. “I want to be ready the moment Morios shows up.”

“Ah. Right. Makes sense.” Kihrin started kissing the side of her neck when several loud horse snorts interrupted them.

Janel looked over at the firebloods and rolled her eyes.

“Did they just tell us to find a room?”

“Worse. They’re critiquing.” Janel smoothed his misha over his chest. “We could always use a few straw bales in the back.” Her eyes were bloodshot from tears, but her smile told Kihrin she was serious.

Kihrin felt sure she was. As much as that idea excited him—and oh, did it excite him—he knew what this was. Another way of drowning the pain, using slick flesh and motion instead of aris and beer.

Kihrin kissed her forehead. “That sounds itchy and quick.” He whispered, “I don’t want our first time to be either of those things.”