He watched, mesmerized by the sight of those slender fingers making rhythmic circles as they moved closer and closer to the junction of his thighs. According to the rules, she should not be venturing onto the molwine, but she lacked the experience to recognize where the pelvic ridges ended and the exquisitely erogenous molwine began. It was up to him to tell her.

  That, he discovered, required more strength of will than he possessed.

  Her movements became more careful, the circles growing smaller as she neared his molwine. Then she reached it, sparking a response so intense that he shuddered.

  She did not comment on his reaction, though her enjoyment was clear. Slowly, she traced the curved ridge with a fingertip, then slid down to tease his entrance.

  “That’s not nonsexual,” he finally managed in a hoarse voice.

  Her wicked smile reappeared. “Oh. I didn’t realize.”

  Not only was she unashamed of her blatant lie, it somehow reignited her passion. Though he was pained by the loss as her hands dropped away, the return of her full, vital presence more than made up for it.

  When she asked to be the first to mark him with the dala berry paste, he agreed without hesitation.

  She led him to the bed, where he lay face down and enjoyed the contrast of relaxed muscles and tense expectation. Then she straddled his hips, and he nearly flew off the mattress.

  “Shh,” she murmured, brushing her lips over the back of his neck. “Calm down.”

  “Wait.” He turned his head to the side. “What will we say? When we find those places? Lhyn said it was something like ‘blessed by the gods.’ I could say ‘blessed by Fahla,’ but that wouldn’t work for you.”

  She sat up, idly rubbing circles on his back. “How about something simpler? Just ‘blessed.’ I feel blessed tonight.”

  He glowed with happy pride. “Blessed it is. And so do I.”

  She found the spot behind his ear right away, satisfaction sinking into his skin as she marked it with the paste.

  “Is it bilateral?” she asked, and nuzzled her nose behind his other ear.

  When he gasped out a “blessed,” she laughed in delight.

  “This is the best ritual I’ve ever heard of.” She marked it, then moved her lips across his upper shoulders.

  He soon discovered that high arousal made it difficult to separate truly sensitive locations from overall receptivity. After the undressing, the mutual massage, and most of all, her conscious return of trust, his entire body was an erogenous zone. But she was patient, testing places multiple times until he could decide.

  By the time she turned him over, she had marked sixteen locations.

  She found twenty-three more on the front, though he argued that the molwine should only count as one, not the three she claimed it to be.

  “You’re wrong,” she said, painting a mark on his right ankle. “You reacted differently in those places. The spot just left of center—you jumped so high that I thought you might damage your spine. One finger-width away and you only jumped half as high.” She set the bowl on the bedside table and sucked her finger clean. “You’re done. Thirty-nine locations, I’m impressed. That gives me a lot to work with.”

  He sat up and scooted to one side. “Lie down and let me map you.”

  “Impatient?” she teased, sliding forward onto her stomach in a graceful motion that made his mouth go dry.

  “Disbelieving.” She was there, in the position he had fantasized about during his talk with Lhyn. But this was real, and he could hardly believe his luck.

  He skated his fingers through her hair and across her scalp, inspiring an immediate groan.

  “We already established that one,” she mumbled. “But you don’t need to stop.”

  “Do you know the greatest benefit of not being a youngster?”

  “What?”

  “Much better stamina. I don’t plan to stop for hanticks yet.”

  The back of her neck was a given. He tested its full length with lips and tongue, finding it beautifully sensitive at the nape yet dulled to his touch where it met her shoulders. Retrieving the bowl, he dipped a finger and drew a blue line down the top two-thirds of her neck.

  She didn’t share his sensitivity behind the ears, but when he moved across her upper back, he discovered an area around her shoulder blades that she didn’t know about.

  Her spine was soon blue along the entire length of her back, a journey he drew out as long as he could. Eventually, it was joined in its decoration by two rings encompassing her buttocks. He hadn’t needed to test those, but did a thorough job of it in the interests of satisfying the ritual.

  She approved of his dedication to gathering data.

  The crease where thigh met buttock, the backs and sides of her knees, and the soles of her feet were added to the list.

  “That’s how I know I’m aroused.” Her head was resting on crossed arms, and her leg was bent at the knee while he held her small foot in his hand. “If I’m not, it tickles and I won’t let you touch them. If I am . . .”

  “I can do this?” He ran his tongue from toe to heel.

  A guttural series of syllables came out of her mouth, sounding like a particularly fervent oath. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Blessed.”

  He painted a blue line to match the one adorning her other foot. “Much as I hate to lose this view, we’re done on this side.”

  She drew her foot from his hand and rolled over, presenting a whole new view as she reached for a pillow and pulled it beneath her head. “Then you’d better start gathering data on this side.”

  He sat on his haunches and admired her unmapped skin, broken only by the exotic patch of hair where an Alsean’s central pelvic ridges and molwine would be. Then he picked up the bowl of dala berry paste, moved back to her head, and began the second half of his explorations.

  It was immediately apparent that, while she lacked his sensitivity behind her ears, she had it and then some in front. He brushed his nose there, intending to kiss it, but she was already groaning out a “blessed.”

  He marked one side, then the other, then kissed her mouth, which was not part of the ritual.

  She didn’t point that out.

  One side of her jaw was sensitive, while the other was not. Her biceps, inner elbows, and palms were soon marked. When he took one of her fingers into his mouth and laved his tongue along its length, she looked at him with the wide eyes of one undergoing an epiphany.

  “Shekking—oh, blessed. I can’t even describe how that feels. Incredibly erotic.” Her lips were parted, and her opposite hand curled into the bedcover.

  He slowly pulled back, finding her focused stare nearly as stimulating as the emotions coming through her skin. “Has no one ever done this for you?”

  She shook her head.

  Her previous lovers were fools, but there was no need to say so. Instead, he took her second finger into his mouth, never breaking their gaze.

  By the time he had sucked all ten fingers, she was short of breath. He marked the base of each, fiercely proud that she was learning her own body through his touch.

  Then he caressed the smooth skin that had so fascinated him, marveling at the lack of chest ridges and losing himself in the softness of it. She had no particular sensitivity there, but her nipples and the underside of each breast were left with a dab of paste. He set the bowl on the table and returned to pull a newly blue nipple into his mouth, delighted when she arched her back in response.

  “You already marked that,” she managed.

  Slowly, very slowly, he allowed the nipple to slip free. “I wasn’t certain the mark would remain.”

  “Ah. That was a test.”

  “Yes, but an incomplete one.”

  “I applaud—” She gasped when he switched sides. “Your attention to detail.” An incredulous laugh escaped. “My sainted Shippers, you’re good at that.”

  That she was incapable of further speech for the next several ticks was, he felt, a greater compliment than any words she could have said. There were many ways to touch this particular area, and he tried them all. When her hand came up to hold his head in place, he knew he had found the best one.

  Leaving was difficult, especially when she voiced her objection with a wordless murmur that was the very definition of erotic.

  He explored her sides, loving the curve of her waist but finding nothing to mark there. Her stomach he left for last.

  The fronts of her legs were not as sensitive as the backs, but her toes were soon dabbed with blue dots. She had already known about those, leaving him to wonder why her past lovers were unaware that her fingers were twice as responsive.

  Deciding that was a question for later, he moved back to her stomach and sensed her surprise. She hadn’t noticed the omission, he realized. Which meant she was not accustomed to being touched there.

  A shiver ran through her when he brushed his lips along the first silvery stripe.

  “Oh, stars,” she whispered. “Blessed. I can’t believe it.”

  He painted it blue, then moved to the next one.

  “Blessed.” Her voice was choked.

  Carefully, he marked that one as well. She was trembling, a complicated mixture of arousal, shock, joy, and sorrow rising through her skin.

  When he kissed the third, she covered her eyes with her forearm. “Blessed,” she said hoarsely.

  There were two more on the opposite side. By the time he ran his tongue down the second, she was chanting.

  “Blessed, blessed, blessed . . .”

  He heard the tears in her voice, though grief was not her ascendant emotion. Something had been triggered, and she was lost in an emotional storm that burned his palms as he pressed them to her stomach.

  “Micah.” She raised her head, tears streaming down her face. “Please.”

  When she held out a hand, he moved over her and slid his arms around her back, then rolled them to their sides.

  She clung to him, her face tucked into his throat, and shook. “It’s not you,” she managed.

  “I know. It’s all right.” He stroked her back, hoping the touch would calm her, but she could not stop whatever had taken hold. She trembled and shivered, her breath coming in short gasps, until a violent shudder racked her body and she inhaled deeply. On the exhale, she went limp.

  He kissed the side of her head and moved his hand into her hair, lightly scratching her scalp.

  “Astonishing,” she murmured. “It still works even after that. Please don’t stop.”

  “I have no intention of it.”

  She relaxed in his arms, her breathing returning to normal, and he was startled by the ferocity of his emotions. He had not felt this protective of a lover since Realta.

  All too soon, tension returned to her muscles. He loosened his hold, unsurprised when she pushed herself back.

  Her eyes were wet but clear. “I think I owe you an explanation.”

  “Can you? From what I sensed, you’re not certain what that was.”

  “I’m not. But I can make a guess.” She wiped her cheeks and gave him a tremulous smile. “What we’re doing here tonight—this isn’t just a joining. I’m not alone in thinking that, am I?”

  He shook his head.

  “Does this feel as spiritual to you as it does to me?”

  “Yes. But I wouldn’t have had the courage to say it.”

  She put a hand to his cheek, tenderness soaking into his skin. “You would have. Eventually.” Her hand slipped to his throat, then traced his chest ridge before dropping to the blanket. “Part of me has been dead for a very long time. I know you understand why.”

  He nodded.

  “I never imagined it could live again. Eleven moons ago, Rahel woke it up.” Seeing his surprise, she added, “That’s a long story, and I’ll tell you, but not now.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “Mm-hm. I realize now that I’ve made the classic mistake of a healer. I’ve misunderstood my own healing process. I thought what I went through with Rahel put something back that was missing, but what really happened is that I began to heal.”

  He reached for her hand, missing that connection.

  “And then you touched my—”

  “Child Sign,” he said firmly.

  She chuckled. “Yes. That. And it felt incredibly good. But I didn’t know I was sensitive there. I didn’t know, Micah. No one has ever touched me the way you just did. It felt like a true blessing. And while you were doing that, I was trying to understand. Have I been dead there all this time and I’m only now waking up? Or was I always sensitive there, but never knew it until now? Did I waste half a lifetime in ignorance of this part of myself?”

  She paused, having no answers to give. He knew she expected none from him, but perhaps he could help.

  “There is a passage in the Truth and the Path that might apply. The philosophy that guides honorable warriors.” Encouraged by her curiosity, he continued. “It says a system in precarious balance is one breath from failure. In the right circumstances, even a pebble may start an avalanche.”

  Her smooth forehead crinkled. “That’s a war philosophy?”

  “It’s a philosophy that can be applied to war. But also to governance and politics. To relationships. To ourselves.”

  “To medicine,” she said wonderingly. “To every biological system in the body. To our minds.”

  He rested a hand between her breasts. “To our hearts.”

  “Damn,” she whispered. “That’s what happened. It was everything at once, and all on top of the beautiful spirituality of this ritual and the prayer I haven’t said since I was twenty-one. I felt something come back to me.” Her chest rose as she inhaled. “Will you take me to the temple tomorrow?”

  “It would be my pleasure.” He would call Lanaril first thing in the morning to make certain she was available.

  “Thank you.” She lifted his hand and kissed the knuckles, then pushed him onto his back. A moment later she was astride him, her hair hanging over one shoulder and her face sharply beautiful in the candlelight. “I’ve set us back, but you did say something about stamina. Are you willing to work back to where we were?”

  “It won’t take long,” he said, and reached for her.

  16

  Temple

  Lanaril Satran sat comfortably on a padded bench within sight of the great outer doors. She had chosen a vantage point off to the side and quite some distance away, not wanting to disturb Micah and his new lover. Her distinctive tunic was laid across her legs, its silver molwyn design hidden in the folds. Without it, she was as anonymous as she could be in the temple.

  The glass dome overhead showed a cloudless blue sky, but she would have known the weather even with her eyes shut. On days like this, so much light poured into the temple that it might have had no walls at all. The ancient molwyn tree bathed in it, its leaves seeming to lift and swell with happiness. When she was in a particularly fanciful mood, she swore she could hear it humming as it transformed sunlight into life.

  Few worshipers stood beneath it, and the crowds scattered around the rest of the temple were thin compared to the early rush that had passed or the midmeal rush to come. She had suggested this time to Micah for the sake of her schedule and because it would offer more privacy.

  A third, unspoken benefit was that she saw them as soon as they walked through the doors.

  Colonel Corozen Micah was distinctive, with his powerful build, military bearing, and short-cropped silver hair. Beside his bulk, Alejandra Wells looked small.

  It was an illusion, one that had shattered the first time Lanaril met her at Ekatya and Lhyn’s bonding feast. Alejandra’s forceful personality could barely be contained in her slender body. She only seemed small until she spoke.

  The new couple walked toward the molwyn tree and stopped at the first available oil rack. When Micah pulled out a credit chip rather than cinteks, Lanaril knew this would be a substantial offering.

  He picked up the wand of eternal flame and offered it to Alejandra, who lit the ten bowls in the top row. She returned it to Micah, who lit the second row and handed it back. Taking turns, they proceeded to light all one hundred bowls, creating a glorious display of dancing flames in the translucent rack.

  Substantial indeed. Micah had not indicated their relationship during his early morning call, but she had listened to the words between the words and made an educated guess. This confirmed it. They had lit the rack together, an offering of gratitude for the gift of each other.

  She hardly needed the additional proof of Alejandra slipping an arm around his waist as they bowed their heads and prayed. It was a public statement, even if she didn’t realize it. But he did, and his only reaction was to lay his hand atop hers.

  “Fahla’s blessings upon you,” Lanaril murmured. She rose from her seat and walked a leisurely path across the temple, waiting until she was closer before donning her tunic. When she was ten paces away, Alejandra lifted her head, saw her immediately, and offered a hesitant smile.

  “Well met, Alejandra.” She held up a palm.

  “Lanaril, well met. Thank you for seeing me.” As with all Gaians, her touch was a blast of emotion on top of what already filled the air around her.

  “I’m honored that you’ve come to my temple. And that Micah chose me,” she added, turning to him. “What a surprising morning! I’m so very happy for you both.”

  His grin transformed him from formidable warrior to lovestruck man, and she thought no one deserved it more. “Thank you. This is all rather sudden, as you know. But nothing has ever felt so right.”

  “Wait,” Alejandra said. “I heard his side of the call. He didn’t tell you anything. Can you feel it from us?”

  “Yes, but I knew before I came in range.” She gestured toward the flaming rack. “That’s as good as a printed sign, and when you put your arm around him, you made an announcement.”