The Kingdom of Gods

I truly hadn’t meant anything by it. Jumping felt good and laughing felt good and she felt good and kissing her felt good. Her mouth was soft and warm, her breath a tickle against my upper lip. I smiled as I let it end and sat up.

But before I could, her hands gripped the cloth at the back of my shirt, pulling me down again. I started as her mouth found mine again, more delicious sweetness like flower nectar; then her tongue slipped between my lips. Now the sweetness turned to honey, thick and golden, sliding down my throat in a slow caress, spreading molten through my body. She shifted a little to press her small breasts against my chest. (Wait, little girls didn’t have breasts, did they?) Oh, gods, her hands on my back felt so good, I hadn’t liked a mortal this much in ages, could it be the love that Remath schemed for? No, I loved Shahar already, had loved her since childhood, oh yes oh yes oh yes. Exquisite mortal, here is my soul; I want you to know it.

We parted then, her gasping and jerking away, me letting out a slow, trembling sigh.

“Wh-what …” She put a hand to her mouth, her green eyes wide and so clear in the afternoon sunlight that I could count every spoke of her irises. “Sieh, what —”

I cupped her cheek, sighing languidly. “That was me.” I closed my eyes, relaxing into the moment. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

I didn’t feel like explaining, so I didn’t. I just rolled onto my back and let myself drift. Thankfully, she said nothing for a long while, lying still beside me.

Such moments of peace never last, so I didn’t mind when she finally spoke. “It’s your antithesis, isn’t it? Marriage, things like that. Anything to do with adulthood.”

I yawned. “Duh.”

“Just talking about it made you sick.”

“No. Finding out that I’m dying and worrying about my orrery and talking about marriage made me sick. If I’m already strong, a little thing like that can’t hurt me.”

“Your orrery?” I felt the bed shift as she sat up on her elbows, her breath tickling my face.

“Nothing important. It’s gone now.”

“Oh.” She was silent a moment longer. “But how do you keep yourself from thinking about things like dying?”

I opened my eyes. She was on her side now, head propped on her fist. Her hair had come partially loose from its swept-up chignon, and her eyes were softer than I’d ever seen them. She looked thoroughly rumpled and a bit naughty, not at all the poised and controlled family heir.

“How do you keep yourself from thinking about death?” I touched her nose with a fingertip. “You mortals have to live with that fear all the time, don’t you? If you can do it, I can, too.” I would have to, or I would die even sooner. But I did not say this aloud; it would have spoiled the mood.

“I see.” She lifted a hand, hesitated, and then yielded to impulse, resting it on my chest. I couldn’t purr in this form, but I could sigh in pleasure and arch a little beneath her hand, which I did. “So … what was that, just now?”

“Why, Lady Shahar, I believe it’s called a kiss in Senmite. In Teman it’s umishday, and in Oubi it’s —”

She swatted my chest hard enough to sting, then blanched as she realized what she’d done, then got over it. Her cheeks had gone that blotchy pink that either meant sickness or strong emotion in Amn; I guessed she was feeling shy. “What I mean is, why did you do it?”

“Why did you kiss me last night?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. It felt right.”

“Same for me.” I yawned again. “Damn. I think I need to sleep.”

She sat up, though she did not immediately leave the bed. Her back was to me, so I could see the tension in her shoulders. I thought she was going to ask another question, and perhaps she meant to. But what she said instead was, “I’m glad you came back, Sieh. Really. And I’m glad … what happened that day wasn’t …” She drew a deep breath. “I hated you for a long time.”

I folded my hands under my head, sighing. “You probably still hate me a little, Shahar. I took your brother from you.”

“No. Mother did that.” But she did not sound wholly certain, and I knew the mortal heart was not always logical.

“Wounds need time to heal,” I said, thinking of my own.

“Maybe so.” After another moment, she stood with a sigh. “I’ll be in my room.”

She left. I was tempted to lie there awhile longer and fight the urge to sleep, but there are times to be childish and times when wisdom takes precedence. Sighing, I rolled over and curled up, giving in.