I walked out of the tax hall with Fenn's torn bond in my fist and half the bridge watching me do it.
A rope walker by the steps looked me over like a cut of meat.
"Did he have you over the rail after, or was the kiss all?" he called, loud enough for the whole stair.
Fenn walked beside me with his lip split and his bond in two pieces in his pocket.
Fenn: You kissed him back. In front of all of them.
There was no answer that did not sound like a defense, so I gave him none.
Sorrel: I know what I did.
Fenn: Then why are you angry at him and not at yourself?
Cedric took him home after that, and I was glad, because my brother was eighteen and already too good at cutting me.
Calder stood at the gate with his arms crossed and a grin I wanted to knock off his face.
Calder: The whole bridge saw the lord's mouth on yours. By supper they will have you under him in three versions.
Sorrel: Say one more word and I will tell him where your hands were in the kitchen.
His grin went out like a lamp.
I went up through the hall with my boots loud on the stone, because I wanted him to hear me coming.
Vareth stood at the great hearth with his sleeves rolled and his burned hand bare, calm as a man after a good meal.
That calm was the match on the whole fire.
Sorrel: Do not look pleased with yourself.
Vareth: I am not pleased. I am finished. There is a difference.
Sorrel: You put your mouth on me in front of every clerk and bench in that hall.
Sorrel: You made me a thing people can point at.
Vareth: I made you the one thing in that room they cannot touch.
Sorrel: You made me yours. Out loud. Like a brand on a door.
He turned from the fire and looked at me, and the heat in that hall was not all from the hearth.
Sorrel: Say you are sorry.
The fire popped once. He did not blink.
Vareth: No.
Sorrel: No?
Vareth: I will not lie to you to make you feel softer. I would do it again.
Vareth: If I had asked first, they would have watched you decide. This way they watched me.
He crossed the hearthstones and took my wrist, turning it to the light where four red marks sat from the guard's fingers.
Vareth: Who held you?
Sorrel: You do not get to be angry for me.
Vareth: I am not angry for you. I am angry that a man put his hands on what is mine and walked out whole.
His thumb moved over the marks, slow, and my skin woke up under it before I could stop it.
Sorrel: There it is. Mine. You cannot say three words without it.
Vareth: Because it is true.
Sorrel: A collar is true too. I said no collar, and you found a softer one and put it on me in front of a crowd.
His jaw went tight, and for a moment he looked like a man who had been struck.
Sorrel: You will answer for it.
Vareth: On the last night.
Sorrel: No. Not on a night you choose.
He let go of my wrist, and the place his thumb had been stayed warm.
Sorrel: You will answer for it when I ask, and you will not smile while you do.
Vareth: Then ask me when you can hear the answer.
Sorrel: You are very good at making your answers my fault.
That night I stood at my window with the gorge black below and Glasshold warm at my back.
Down in the yard a tall shape stood in the dark with his face turned up to my window, and did not move.
I knew then what I would do. I did not say it out loud, and he did not hear it from me that night.