Page 111 of The Book That Wouldn't Burn

Livira took mercy on him. She flew over him in a delicate arc and landed lightly on his far side. “Maybe we’ll save it for later.”

“Much later.” Evar stood up hastily, trying to recover his dignity.

“Come on.” Livira skipped away. “Let’s get to the city.”

“You’re not going to fly?” Evar hurried after her. “Ghost-girl.”

“Only if I need to!” And full of a sudden, unexpected joy Livira put on a turn of speed, determined to reach the city first.

Evar answered the challenge, closing the gap with remarkable swiftness. With a squeal of delight, Livira leapt into the air, taking to the skies as the road dipped away. She dived towards the great plaza, arrowing high over the steps where Yute had shown her the mouths of the caves ancient peoples had lived in.

Evar seemed to have shed his fear of heights, or at least of slopes, jumping down the steps with reckless abandon. As Livira took the crow’s path over the houses and gardens behind the main square, Evar followed, almost as fast thanks to a breathtaking display of athleticism. He vaulted walls taller than Livira could reach and tore through open spaces like a hurricane.

Even so, Livira was first to the square, landing lightly on her toes. Heartbeats later Evar was there, flushed and panting, a fierce grin showing white teeth.

“I’m impressed!” Livira said. “Especially for someone who’s spent their whole life walking the library floor...” She remembered her first encounters with slopes and stairs. She’d felt like a baby learning to walk again.

“This feels right.” Evar hauled in another breath, exhaled, snatched another, chest rising and falling. “This feels real. I like it.”

“Come on.” Livira ran, white robes flowing, to the pillared entrance of the largest building. The edifice stood where King Oanold’s lesser palace would one day sit, and was grander still.

“What are we going to do?”

Livira clambered up the overlarge steps, stopping halfway to the scroll-worked iron doors above. “Teach you to fly, of course.” It had occurred to her that a deadly drop wasn’t a critical ingredient in the process. “Stand there.” She indicated the spot beside her.

Evar joined her and she took his hands again, sensing once more that momentary flinch at what must be unfamiliar contact. He closed his fingers around hers, meeting her gaze with dark intensity.

“Keep your eyes on mine.” Livira stared back. “Only on me.”

Evar didn’t look away. They stood like that for longer than necessary in the building’s shadow. Evar’s breathing calmed. Livira enjoyed the feel of his hands in hers, the largeness of them, the gentleness of his grip, the heat between him and her. By rights he should be sweaty, but he didn’t seem to sweat.

“Stay with me,” Livira said, studying his gaze. “Keep your eyes on mine. Step when I do but focus on me.”

Long moments passed them by; he held her hands tighter, not painfully so, but affirming the contact.

Livira stepped towards him, he stepped back. “Do you know how to dance?”

“What?” Evar’s eyes widened with something like fear. She stepped left. He stepped with her. “No.”

“Neither do I.” Livira grinned, stepping to the left again. “Maybe we can teach each other.”

Evar stepped with her. “Clovis knows some battle dances. But those are to teach parries and counterthrusts.”

Livira leaned back, forcing Evar to resist her or be drawn forward, and began to circle.

“Mayland says dance is the oldest form of expression. Older than words. Much older than writing.”

“Older than the library then.” Livira smiled, leading him into a spin.

“Kerrol says—”

“What do you say?” Livira didn’t want his brothers or sister interrupting.

“I like it.” They rotated between two fluted pillars. And moments later into the sunshine.

“Look where we are!” Livira released his hands with a laugh. The expression on Evar’s face when he realised they were more than two yards above the ground made her double up.

It’s a rare thing that lives up to expectations. First kisses are rare.

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