The Broken Eye
Page 193

“It’s too late in the day now. It’ll have to be done at dawn. We’ll meet a luxiat I know at the little temple across from the Crossroads. You know it?”
“I know the Crossroads. It was the old Tyrean embassy. It’ll be enough to find the temple. Wouldn’t it make more sense to go now, and have the ship captain marry us?”
“Yes, but no,” she said. “I need the marriage on the books, official, here, with witnesses, by a luxiat in good standing, otherwise your grandfather might have it annulled.”
“Smart,” Kip said. And it was. Maybe she was smarter than he’d thought.
What a terrible thing to think about your future wife.
She brightened. “Thank you.”
“It—”
“No, really. Thank you. To have my intelligence praised by a Guile? That’s not something we mere mortals often get. I mean, I saw you standing there, thinking, when I asked you that question. You were probably seven forks down a winding road in your mind, weren’t you?”
“Uh. Yes?” Kip asked. He wasn’t sure why it came out as a question. Probably because he was receiving the admiration of a woman. Not used to that. Wow, she was pretty.
Tisis said, “I’ve spent weeks thinking about all this—and trying not to think about it—and I tell you, and you figure it out in minutes. It’d be vexing if it weren’t so impressive. And not only impressive. It’s almost as attractive as these are.” She stepped forward and reached out to lay gentle hands on each of his shoulders. “Can I say that? Or do you think me too forward?”
He knew his shoulders were wide—that was just a function of his bone structure, right? He came from a line of broad-shouldered men. But he hadn’t really thought of them as ‘broad’ in the way that people say ‘a broad-shouldered man’ and mean it as a compliment. Kip was just big. Right? But to have her hands on his shoulders, he couldn’t not be aware of the muscles there, and that she thought he did have broad shoulders in the way that people referred to broad-shouldered men and meant it as a compliment. He felt like his brain was smoking, he was thinking so fast. Wait, she thought his shoulders were attractive?
He hadn’t thought of his shoulders more than three times in his life, maybe. And those had been when he was trying to share a bench in chapel and there wasn’t room to sit next to the other wide-shouldered Blackguard initiates. She thought his shoulders were attractive?
She was standing right in front of him. This close. His mind wasn’t working—shoulders? shoulders?!—and wow, her lips were close, and full, and her eyes were wide and emerald green on green and terrifically distracting, and her eyelashes were long, and her cheeks were pink, but maybe they were always pink, or maybe it was cosmetics? And why couldn’t he, with his Guile memory, remember if they had been pink before this moment? and Orholam have mercy, blood was flooding his cheeks, and, and, and, he was supposed to do something, wasn’t he? Yes. Yes, he was.
He was supposed to kiss her. Oh shit.
He was supposed to kiss her, right now, before the moment passed. But what if she didn’t want him to kiss her? What if he was misinterpreting the signals? He’d never been signaled before. He could well think she wanted him to kiss her, but maybe she’s signaling something completely different. Orholam have mercy, if she did want him to, and he missed the signal, she’d think he was a complete idiot. He was young, younger than her, and she’d think of him as a child again, and then he’d be set back in her regard forever. Maybe she’d cancel the wedding.
Wait, she’d asked him a question, hadn’t she? But what—how was he forgetting everything?!
His ears were hot, and his shoulders were taut as drums beneath her hands. She removed a hand from one shoulder, and he nearly leapt, nervous tension thrumming through him. Embarrassed, he looked down at his feet, unable to bear the eye contact. He’d totally botched it.
Shit shit shit!
And looking down, he saw not his feet, but straight down the front of her dress. Orholam’s—breasts. He froze. Now there was a sacrilegious thought. Not that he’d ever worried too much about sacrilege when he said ‘Orholam’s balls,’ and surely Orholam made balls and breasts both, right? And then, he was aware he’d frozen, looking at her breasts—no, no, not looking. Looking implied that you just looked. This had gone on and on, this was a stare, at least. He’d have a gray beard by the time he tore his eyes away. Maybe that made it a leer. But a leer kind of implies some intent. It makes it seem creepy, and he wasn’t being—it was—
Orholam’s breasts. It had been too long. She couldn’t fail to notice. He looked up at her, wincing.
“Anything I say is only going to make this worse, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Shhh,” she said, smiling sympathetically. “Relax.” She picked up one of his hands, which had been held ramrod straight at his side, and pulled it up to her waist. “I happen to think it’s adorable.”
Adorable. ‘Adorable’ is what you called puppies and poppets. There’s no way to say ‘adorable’ without pitching your voice up, as if speaking to an infant, Oh, that’s adorable. And then you pinch a cheek.
She took his other hand and placed it on the back of her own neck. She sidled in close, pressing her body against his.
I’ve just been emasculated. By my own stupidity and social ineptitude. Adorable. Dammit, Kip, there was your chance and you—what is she—?
And then she pulled his head down and kissed him gently on the lips.
Kip … lost a few moments in the sweet smell of her breath—who has sweet-smelling breath? Isn’t breath, at best, a neutral o— And the sweet soft moistness of her lips, and the sweet soft pressure of her body molding itself to his.
Oh. Oh my.
She released him, and, nerveless, he let her slip away.
“Kip, I know we barely know each other, but I find your quirky mix of innocence and strength … intoxicating.”
Kip swallowed. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m already blushing from, uh, the other thing.”
“And why’s that a good thing?”
Because otherwise my blood would be getting confused which end of me to rush to. “So I don’t have to go to the effort of blushing anew,” he said.
She laughed, and he stole a glance at her cleavage. And then felt weird. Now that they were basically betrothed—they were betrothed now, weren’t they?—was he supposed to stare at her boldly? Or was it leering?
Orholam, I don’t know anything!
He glanced at the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Honestly?” he asked.
“Honestly.”
“I was kind of hoping bad people would break down the door, and I’d have to fight them. I actually know how to deal with that kind of thing.”
“The virgin thing, huh?” she said.
He groaned. “Er, kind of hoped I’d buried that in all the words after it.”
She pursed her lips, eyes twinkling. “There might have been another hint or two.”
Kip covered his face with his hands. “Orholam take me now. I’m ridiculous.”
“I told you already: you’re adorable.”