The Grove(48)

“Have you, ah, taken any oaths of chastity? Celibacy? Abstention from . . . romantic congress?” he asked her. His cheeks picked up a faint pink glow.

“I . . . well, no. Of course not,” she repeated, bemused by this turn of the conversation. “You couldn’t get anyone into the priesthood with a mandatory vow of celibacy, not when we have a married God and Goddess. But . . . uh . . . surely your own Order . . . ?”

He smiled and slid his hands around her waist. A subtle pressure on the small of her back swayed their bodies together. “For the same reason, we don’t have any.”

“But—what about Teral?” Saleria asked, feeling a little awkward at the thought that the older Witch might be studying her behind those hazel eyes.

Aradin shook his head in brief dismissal. He liked the feel of her leaning against him, the warmth of her in his arms. His Witchcloak had kept him cool in spite of the day’s heat, but it was open along the front, letting their bodies touch. Letting their bodies stir a different sort of warmth in his flesh. “He’s gone into the Dark to ask it a few questions, and to seek out a friend. He won’t be back for a while.”

“Oh.” She mulled that over. “But . . . what about when he comes back? Isn’t that awkward for . . . ah . . . relationships? Always having that other person there, or at least almost? Watching both of you, whatever you do?”

Sighing, Aradin loosened his hold on her waist. He didn’t release her or step down, but he did ease his grip in case she wanted to move away. “It can get awkward, but only if we let it get awkward. And it’s far less so for a fellow Darkhanan than an outlander such as yourself. But it doesn’t have to be awkward. At the end of the day, this is still my life, and my choice. Teral . . . approves. Tentatively,” he amended, tipping his head in acknowledgment of his Guide’s reservations. “We don’t know everything about your culture, though we did know that casual . . . entanglements . . . are not frowned upon, with the right precautions.”

A soft frown pinched her brow. Saleria considered his words, and their implications. Particularly the unspoken ones. “But what about long-term entanglements? Is that the price your priesthood pays, never being able to know and hold on to a lasting love?”

The snork sound that escaped him broke the somber mood instilled by her words. Biting his lip, trying not to let his shoulders shake too much, Aradin shifted his hands to her face. Gently cupping it, he mastered his mirth. “No, it doesn’t cost us the price of never being able to have a permanent love. It does make it a little rarer, since many people don’t care to share their beloveds with more than one person at a time. But, I’ll ask you this:

“What would you expect would happen if you fell for a man who had a son from a previous love? Someone whom he was responsible for? Someone he couldn’t set aside on a whim and ignore?” Gently, he tipped her face so that their foreheads touched. “Would that stop either of you from knowing love and happiness, always having that boy constantly around, watching and listening, and demanding attention?”

“Well . . . no,” she allowed. Her training had included how to counsel widows and widowers with children on the risks of new romantic relationships. “But Teral isn’t your son,” she pointed out. “He’s older than you.”

“And if I came with an aging father or grandfather who depended upon me for care, would you automatically cast all of us aside as not worthy of your time or your affection?” he asked her next. At her wry look, he smiled wryly and released her cheeks. Sliding his hands down her arms, he laced his fingers with hers. “It is true that some people cannot manage it. They have neither the patience nor the energy to deal with children, or parents, or whatever. But many more do. Teral likes what he sees so far in you. I like it, too. If either of us should fall in love with you . . . since our tastes in women are similar, you’d more than likely just have two men falling in love with you.”

She didn’t untwine their fingers, but neither did she let the subject go. “What if Teral is the one who falls for me, and . . . and I for him? But not you? What would you do? What if you fell for someone else at the same time? Or . . . or you and I for each other, and Teral for, oh, my housekeeper, Nannan? How would you explain that love-tangle?”

Wincing a little, he dipped his head. “That does start to complicate things, yes. But I as the Host would have the highest priority, and control of the situation. If it were just you and Teral . . . and I had no others in my life . . . I would consider giving the two of you time to share and grow your love. If it were all four of us—and as I have yet to meet your housekeeper, I have no idea how she’d react to such a thing—then my life, wants, and wishes would still have priority. If all four of us were amenable to sharing, then it might be very possible . . . But in most cases, it would simply devolve to you and me, and Teral would have to content himself with warmer memories from his own life, and mild displays of affection.”