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“Sorry. I don’t have anything prepared for you,” Darcy said. “Do you need-”

“I need nothing. Do not trouble yourself.”

As if to prove it, I left her and followed Cherry and Silar outside to find my own shuldu as they mounted theirs. My grey and white mare, Rabbit, was comfortably ensconced in one of Fallon’s shuldu stalls for the night. I checked to make sure she had ample food and water, which she did, gave her a pat, then retrieved the pack I’d attached to her saddle before leaving my station this morning. Inside, I had travel essentials, including a small sewing kit.

When I returned inside the house, the kitchen was empty, the candles blown out. Darkened quiet rustled, soft as a cloak. Every nerve seemed to come to exquisite life inside me as I considered the door that led into the room Tasha occupied.

Thecloseddoor.

I supposed I should not just open it. That would probably be rude. And I perhaps might discover her in some state of undress.

Just because that was a tantalizing thought did not mean I would actually do it. Besides, why would she already be undressed when she had nothing to change into yet?

That was why I was here, clutching my travel pack with its sewing kit and this blasted slippery fabric, was it not?

I leaned forward until my nose bumped the door’s surface.

“Hello, Tasha.”

Silence.

“I am at the door,” I added.

A small sound. It could have been a laugh or a sigh, neither of which were ideal.

“Come in.”

I shifted my load of supplies to one arm and opened the door.

There were candles yet lit in here. Tasha stood, illuminated in the light as I lingered in the darkness.

And yes, I did linger, despite her call to come in. Because in the soft caress of the candle glow like this, while the rest of the house was entirely quiet, if not asleep, she looked so blatantly,painfully pretty that I felt it like a physical blow. A destabilizing wallop to the head.

“You could have just knocked, you know,” she chided when I finally mustered the strength to step into the room.

“Knock?”

“The door.”

“Knock the door? Knock it over? I do not see what that would accomplish,” I said, coming fully into the space and dumping my supplies down on the bed.

“No, knockonthe door.” She went to the door and closed it, shutting me in with her. I became suddenly aware of how small the room was. How her scent was so much easier to identify in the enclosed space. Sweet and strange and human beneath the dust and dry air.

Tasha raised her hand, formed a fist, and tapped her knuckles against the surface of the door to demonstrate her meaning.

“Noted.”

“What is all that?”

“Supplies to make you some clothing and…”

“And?”

Empire help me. I’d already forgotten the ridiculous human word for sleeping clothes.

“And… The things you wear for sleep. The jamborees.”

A smile touched her mouth. I wanted to touch it, too.