Kamiéra had discovered that sitting perched on the knee of Alfen, the broad-shouldered young man who delivered grain and hay, while sipping wine and listening to the boy's surprisingly clever and flattering poetry was entirely pleasant. He could smell Alfen's scent, a mix of the crude soap made in the area and something coarse and warm, and could feel the ropey muscle at various points of contact.
It was, however, not merely the close proximity of this handsome young man nor the second glass of wine that was making him blush.
Teslain was a gifted narrator, made even more so by virtue of being Gifted. When she spun a story, especially one she had personally lived, she unconsciously embraced the Wind and brought the story even more to life in her listeners.
Kamiéra normally loved and admired this talent, but never so little as right now.
"...you could see the Wind around her, she was practically moving each Company like a puppet," and he was back in that moment, bleeding from his left shoulder but barely aware of it, the Wind racing out to minds and bodies, amplifying the sun and darkening it by turns and to bewilder the increasingly well-organized Ontim. He was both mortified of what was coming next and absolutely in the moment. He was absolutely silent and he was also barking orders, his voice modulating with the Wind to travel all across the field. He had embraced the Wind more fully than ever and could hear and see and absorb everything in the battle before him as never before.
He was acutely aware of Alfen's hand just above his hip and slightly dizzy from the strong wine.
The Ontim ranks were holding from the probing assaults of the Fourth and Second Companies, the Third tied up on the right flank. They were even calling up reinforcements, which by itself was a magnitude leap from their historic level of organization. Actual casualties were piling up, though blessedly there were no deaths yet Something was wrong, but Kamiéra was in the moment and nothing could move him.
"And then she raised her hand," his lieutenant continued, "And
The Fourth Company buckled as the magnified sunlight faltered, the girls turning and running. The Second Company raced in to hold the gap and let their sisters-in-arms have precious moments to escape.
"her fist clenched"
The sunlight suddenly became blinding in the Ontim eyes as the First Company, Kamiéra's sisters, appeared from behind a Veil of Wind and crashed into the Ontim ranks from behind like a hammer, running and stabbing and slashing in perfect unison; and the Second and Fourth Companies turned, again synchronized at a level no mere human could manage, and became the other half of the vise. The heathen beasts screamed
(one seemed to cry out "Father"?)
and the slaughter began.
Everyone was breathless, caught in a moment they'd lived or were living for the first time now. Teslain smiled. "And then my sister, stabbing struggling Ontim as she strides toward us, gets That Look on her face." She did an impression of a caricature of a mockery of a passionless Queen striding through mud. Everyone laughed.
Except Kamiéra. He did not get That Look and indeed, did not have a Look Like That. Unfortunately, he could keenly remember what came next.
"And she opens her mouth, still with That Look," more laughter, "and tripped over one of those stone axes the Ontim have started using, and lands face-first in the mud!" She pantomimed the trip. Catching herself, she paused a beat and choked out, "She kept the Look the whole time!"
If Kamiéra could have died of a ruptured head at that moment, it would have been a mercy. He was torn between wanting to laugh, to cry, and to hide in a hole.
"I think you are the most amazing girl I've ever met," he heard Alfen's voice behind him. He turned to face the young man. Something about the look in Alfen's eyes froze him. Everything seemed to slow down. He became incredibly aware of his own heartbeat and the way his chest seemed to swell a bit. Alfen's lips quirked. "Even when you get That Look."
He leaned in. His eyes closed. Without thinking, Kamiéra leaned in, eyes closing.
Alfen's lips touched hers and this was her first kiss and his mouth tasted of the same wine she was drinking and a metallic taste she couldn't place and she opened herself to it as she felt his hands grip her waist a bit more tightly and their tongues touched and her body
The kiss broke and Alfen smiled at him and he smiled back, breathless and dizzy as his sisters whooped and made catcalls.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He knew that men and women kissed each other and he had certainly enjoyed perching on Alfen's leg and feeling his hands on him and smelling his scent. There was absolutely no way to deny he had enjoyed it.
But Scripture teaches that the Father and the Mother made men and women for each other, but that a man lying with a man or a woman lying with a woman was abomination.
But he wasn't--
He was--
He felt Alfen's finger under his chin, turning his face to the boy's
He couldn't--
their lips met again and this time she fully opened herself to him, and his tongue reached out to hers and hers yielded to draw his in deeper and then and there their mouths danced and she felt her nipples tighten and a warm joy that spread over her whole body and a moistness and an aching openness between her legs and with a certainty that wasn't even conscious that went to her core she knew that she wanted more and her hands traced his narrow but muscular shoulders as she drew his kiss in even deeper and there was nothing in the whole world but the two of them
Everything went sideways
Everything seemed wrong and right and unreal
There was a click like two pull-stones coming together
--imagine what he thought the problem might have been. He smiled, sipped his wine, enjoyed the dreamy look on the young man's face, and decided that he was alive and it was time to enjoy it a bit.
When his sisters half-carried him home that night, tipsy on wine and young romance, there was no trace of That Look on his face.
