It was nice. Interesting. Not tantalizing, but she liked being close to Mari, she liked burying her face in his neck, she liked moving with him and filling her mind with him. She trusted him. And he was attentive and patient, but also wanted her. It made her feel . . . important. It was such a strange feeling.

“It’s fine,” she told him, when he worried about her. “I’m not going to finish. It’s okay.”

Then, right about the time he was finishing, her body started wanting it. He gasped out his joy, then dropped into sleep, like someone had put a sheet over a birdcage.

“Hey,” she said, poking his shoulder, frustrated.

“What?” he said, waking up with a start, looking around in blurry confusion.

“I didn’t finish.”

“I thought you weren’t going to.”

“Well. I was indifferent at first. Now I want to.”

“Okay,” he said. And to her vast surprise, he disappeared under the covers, positioned her legs just so, and began to apply his tongue to her, so gently that her body sang out in wonderment. Wow. When did Mari get so good at these things? Who knew?

The pleasure rose slowly, became almost overwhelming, then became shattering. When it was over, she started to cry again. She hid the tears from him, confused about whether she was happy or sad.

Mari fell asleep with his face buried in her neck. Lovisa lay awake for a while, sniffling quietly, thinking, released from the grip of worry about the queen, if briefly. She wondered if they’d do it again tomorrow.

—

In the early morning, she woke to him murmuring happily and planting tiny kisses behind her ear. When she turned to him, she saw starlight in his eyes.

“Wait,” she said, immediately alarmed. “Why did you change your mind?”

“What?”

“About sex.”

“I guess because I trust you.”

“But you’re not in love with me?”

“I’ve known you all my life,” he said. “We’re still friends, right?”

“Yes,” she said carefully. “But maybe we shouldn’t do that again.”

“Didn’t you like it?”

“It was very, very nice,” she said. “But now I’m afraid of you falling in love with me.”

“Because I was kissing you just now?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I just want to have more sex with you.”

“Oh,” said Lovisa, who hadn’t thought of that. “Okay. But listen, Mari, will you promise me that you’ll be honest with me, about all your feelings about this?”

He considered the question, with that sleepy morning dopiness that made her remember that she’d known him when he was five. “Would that be a one-way promise,” he said, “or are you going to be honest with me too?”

“About my feelings about sex, yes,” she said. “Not about the stuff I can’t tell you.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Also, when we stop having sex, promise you won’t try to isolate me socially.”