Her hands curled around Madeleine’s upper arms, taking all the air out of the room while they were at it.

“It’s not love,” Madeleine managed to croak. Hæra’s touch was as firm, as possessive as ever. “I told you…too soon…”

“I have had six years to want you.”

What burned brighter, the flames or Hæra’s eyes? “You wanted your idea of me. Sister Madeleine the nun, you said so.” At the memory of Hæra’s disappointment and anger, her chest ached. “But that’s not who I⁠—”

“I knew what was real,” Hæra hissed. “I knew then, and I know now. I know what you felt like under me.”

Madeleine lost her breath again. She knew what that felt like too, even if the memory was fuzzy from a head injury. She’d lain weak and helpless, the cold chased away by the searing heat of the woman who held her now.

“That was real,” Hæra said. “And so was your strength. I thought I didn’t need anything else, but now...” Her eyes grew impossibly hotter. “What would be enough of you? Can you tell me?”

Madeleine rocked forward, rising up on her own knees so she and Hæra were almost of a height. Her heart beat so hard that she swayed to its rhythm. “L-love isn’t possession.”

She’d never said anything less convincing in her life.

“Then what is it?” Hæra moved forward until their knees bumped. “Something that gets me near this fireplace?”

Hæra hated the heat. “Will that hurt you?”

“It confuses me. Like you.” Hæra leaned in. Their noses were almost brushing. Again, Madeleine could feel Hæra’s breath on her mouth. “So. Love?”

Yet again, nothing came to mind but Saint Paul’s most famous words. No matter how Madeleine felt about her faith, they seemed appropriate now. “Love is patient,” she whispered. “Love is kind.”

Hæra snorted and looked unimpressed.

Her voice shaking, Madeleine continued, “Love does not envy. It doesn’t boast. It isn’t proud. It…”

“That’s enough.” Hæra curled one hand around the back of Madeleine’s neck. “It seems clear that I don’t love you.”

The words created a cold pit in Madeleine’s chest, even though Hæra was only agreeing with what Madeleine herself had said. Of course they couldn’t love each other yet. At least not more than people were supposed to love one another in general.

“I’m not kind,” Hæra whispered. “I’ve been known to boast. And I’m a proud creature, Jonathan’s told me.”

So am I. A lifetime ago, Sister Catherine had said pridefulness was Madeleine’s besetting sin.