The moment she rapped on the lightglobe by the door, even that much of a view vanished. It was replaced by awkward, if well-lit, reflections of the two of them entering her chamber. Saleria felt almost as disjointed as her gridwork-disrupted image did, as if there were several versions of herself competing for space in her room: The part of her that was the Keeper, knowing she had to get up before sunrise in the morning. The part of her that was a priestess, knowing she couldn’t lead Aradin into expectations of a romantic encounter without at least some sincerity of affection from her heart. The part of her that honestly did want help in packing for what had to be the single most monumental religious moment in two hundred years, the chance to stand before not just her own Patron God and Goddess, but the Patron Deities of hundreds of nations around the world. The part that wanted to take him in her arms, and somehow get them to her bed without any awkwardness, or pauses, or . . .
Feeling awkward, she turned and backed up to the bed, with its feather-stuffed mattress shaken and patted and mounded until it was fluffy and high, and dropped onto its edge. Dented its perfection. Sat there feeling awkward, tired, and wanting without any getting.
“I have no idea how to do this . . .”
She didn’t realize she had spoken until the words were already out, filling the quiet between them. In three steps, he was close enough to kneel at her white-clad feet. In two heartbeats, he had her hands cradled in his. In one smile . . . lopsided and honest . . . he warmed her heart.
“If you’re talking about packing, I can help with that,” Aradin told her. He continued before she could correct him. “But if you’re talking about having a man at your bed, I have enough experience to know what to do . . . but I also know it’ll be different with you.”
She considered his words, then eyed him warily. “Different, because each woman is an unique individual when it comes to tumbling, and lovemaking, and all of that?”
Freeing one hand, he touched his finger to her lips. Content she would stay silent, Aradin explained. “Different, because if I could have stood before my God and Goddess—and before yours, too—and said to Them, ‘This is what I want with my life; this, and thus, and so, and these are the things I have always longed for’ . . . my youthful visions of turning my predilection for working with plants and my burgeoning magics into an outstanding, challenging Hortimancy career . . .
“Things like my yearnings to explore the vast world, and my longings for a wonderful place to settle down.” He shifted his hand, brushing the backs of his fingers lightly against the velvety-soft skin of her cheek. “My dreams of a brilliant, willing partner to work at my side and share my life . . . If I had gone to Them and stood before them, and a hundred and more Gods besides . . . then this is what They would have given me.” Hazel gaze earnest, he looked into her eyes and gave her the absolute truth. “I do not pray every day like you do, conducting empowered pleas capable of moving mountains, praying literally to make the world a better place . . . but I have faith, absolute faith, that They will grant these things to me, and grant similar things to you.”
Touched deeply by his words, Saleria covered his hand with her own, cradling it against her cheek. She turned her head to the side for a brief kiss, then lowered their shared touch to her lap, where their other hands were still clasped. “Considering I know you didn’t set out to be a priest originally, I am grateful you do feel a calling, now.”
Aradin smiled, ducking his head a little. “. . . If I admit I’m a little surprised by the strength of it, will that count against me?”
She snorted, scoffing at the idea. “Considering I’m smart enough to realize your desire to serve as a priest is tied up with your desire to work as a Hortimancer, no, I’m not that surprised. You do so in a slightly different way than I, but we both still serve.” Leaning close, she brushed her lips against his brow. “And that’s why I’m falling for you. All of you.”
Lifting his chin, he met her next forward sway lips to lips . . . and felt a jolt of sunshine within him, making him gasp. One strong enough that she gasped, too, from the touch of the Light carried in Teral’s grasp. Swaying back onto his heels, Aradin struggled to retain his physical senses. It was difficult, for the bowl that his Guide carried was large, and over-full, and spilled with every breath, filled past the brim with a great big bowl of “. . . Yes!”
(Yes, indeed,) Teral whispered, sharing his revelation with both his Host and their hostess. He spilled some of the divine answer into Saleria’s mind, sharing it in equal measure so that all three of them could manage what he had barely been able to carry home. (Great Darkhan and His Beloved Dark Ana have agreed. We may stay and assist you, Keeper Saleria, with the restoration of the peaceful and safe sanctity of the Holy Grove of Katan . . . provided Jinga and Kata agree.)