The Grove(49)

“I’m . . . not sure I could handle that. Teral and some other woman, I mean . . . if you and I were involved,” Saleria clarified. She laughed a little. “Actually, the four of us I know I couldn’t handle. I rely upon my housekeeper for managing my home, but I know I wouldn’t be able to share more than that with her. Our personalities clash a little too much for such . . . emotional intimacy.”

She looked down at the last two words, a little embarrassed to be discussing them so soon or so freely. That only focused her gaze on the bit of sternum showing at the neckline of his plain green tunic. A corner of her mind wondered if he had any chest hair.

Freeing one hand, Aradin lifted it to her chin, nudging her head and her gaze back up to his. “I was promised by Alaya, Teral’s own Guide, that I would eventually find great happiness when I took her Host as my Guide. That I would find happiness—not both of us, as in Aradin-and-Teral. Now, I have no idea if you are going to be involved in that happiness, but I do know I’d like to at least test the possibilities of it. If you’re interested. I find you smart, amusing, and admirable in your dedication to your work. The rest will take effort, open-mindedness, and time.”

His words made her blink. “Dedication. Work. Right. We need to get moving. I don’t want to have to ward the last bit of the wall in the dark.”

Nodding, he started to move aside, then shifted back in front of her. “One moment; we forgot one little thing . . .”

“Oh?” Saleria asked, lifting her brows. Only to find his mouth brushing lightly against hers. Ah. A kiss. Yes, we shouldn’t forget a kiss . . .

Lightly wasn’t enough, though. Swaying into him, she returned the touch of his lips. Most of her felt grateful he wasn’t celibate by vows, and clearly not by inclination, though Saleria still wasn’t sure about this life-sharing business. But this—this was just a kiss. A wonderful, sensual, delicious kiss. Hints of stubble rasped against her chin and cheek when he tipped his head, deepening their connection, their taste.

A kiss that ended in a sudden intake of his breath. Pulling back, Aradin blinked, cleared his throat, and told her, “Ah. Teral is back. He’s asking if you want him to step out again for a bit?”

Conflicting emotions tumbled through her, like tart currants and bitter nuts poured into some sort of sweet batter. Part of her just wanted to keep kissing him, regardless of who watched. Part of her wanted to send Teral away before she even tried. Part of her was thrown off the thought of more kissing by this reminder that, no matter where the Guide was, she was technically kissing two men at once. The rest of her . . . knew what her duty was.

Regret dipped her gaze to the hands that had risen to his chest at some point in their kiss. She wanted to explore the warmth of his skin, but sighed instead, and gently removed her touch. “I really do have to set the wards, now. That must come first, before all else.”

“Of course.” Backing down the remaining two steps, Aradin offered her his hand for stability. He felt better about the implicit rejection in her choice when she accepted his help without hesitation, though. Of course, a little distraction might help her get over the weirdness she’s no doubt feeling. “Are all the locus trees shaped like this one on their insides? I stayed out of the eastern one, last time.”

“As you should’ve stayed out of this one,” Saleria reminded him, activating the cutting end of her staff as they exited the living cave. “But it’s alright. Even without your mage-oath, I believe you’d be trustworthy. And yes, they’re all shaped like that, as if several trees around the clearing had been drawn in and up, twisting together to form a protective shelter. Keeper Patia was the one who conceived of the way to contain the rifts, who grew these trees . . . but she was killed shortly after starting the process. She may have been a Hortimancer, and had a plan in her mind, but I don’t know.

“I do know they all have step stools in them, though I really should get that particular one replaced with something a little taller . . . which I keep saying every few days or so,” she muttered wryly. “It gets the job done, but . . .”

“Let me guess: You forget about it the moment you get home again?” Aradin asked her, eyes flicking around the Grove as they emerged from the twisting path tucked between the roots of the trees.

“Pretty much. When I get back to the house, I just want to relax, forget about all the hard work I’ve done, eat a nice meal, attend to evening prayers—simple ones, with no force of will or magic poured into them—and rest.” She wanted to roll her eyes and sigh, but while the air did escape her lungs a little roughly, her eyes flicked in wary little glances all around. “Having to constantly be alert is exhausting for both mind and body.”