Page 148 of The Demon Tide

He raises a derisive brow. “Um...no. I don’t partake in their festival.”

I’m surprised by the exclusionary way he calls it “their” festival. Purple is Or’myr’s kindred color—all his magic is oriented toward the hue. And it’s clear he’s romantic, given the private things I’ve learned about him here in his secret space. He has quite a few volumes of poetry crammed in amongst his multitude of books and grimoires.

And not just any type of poetry.

Lovepoetry.

I spotted something else upon arriving here, before he quickly whisked it away. A pencil sketch of Tierney rising from the Vo’s waters, partially unclothed, his skill as an artist fully conveying the potency of his crush. He attempted a nonchalant air as he turned the sketch facedown, but his cheeks colored furiously.

“I thought that all of you Noi’khin were supposed to go off and find someone to kiss on Xishlon,” I gently tease as glittery violet-clad crowds stream by far below.

He casts me an exasperated look. “Thatwould be a completely futile quest.”

I blink at him in surprise. “Why would you say that?”

He sighs, frowning. “I’m not high on anyone’s Xishlon’vir list.” He shakes his head, flushing as he shoots me an abashed look. “I know you saw my sketches of Tierney. Yes, I fancy her. Unrequitedly, I can assure you.” His mouth tightens into an unsettled line. “I’d prefer if that could remain between us. Tierney and I have been working together for over a month now and she’s become...a friend to me. I don’t want to lose that.”

“She’s a good friend to have.”

He looks back out over the spectacular view, fireworks blossoming in the sky. “She’s one of the few who doesn’t judge me for my lineage.”

I nod at this, affection for Tierney welling, abetted by moonlight that seems to amplify love in all its forms. “Tierney’s certainly of her own mind.”

“Well, it’s incredibly refreshing. She doesn’t adhere to the rigid rules about who she’s supposed to care for or be friends with. Ilovethat about her.” He stops, his face tensing. It’s clear he’s given this a lot of thought. That he’s givenTierneya lot of thought. And that his feelings revolve more around who Tierneyisrather than what she looks like.

“This damned moon is making me say too much,” he grouses as he glares at it, then gives me a sheepish sidelong glance.

“It’s okay if you say too much to me, Or’myr.”

His expression softens and he nods, our eyes meeting in mutual understanding and acceptance before he looks back up at the moon. “So, you knew Tierney when she was glamoured.”

“She looked quite a bit different. It was hard on her.”

“She told me she was unattractive.”

“It was a different world over there. For all of us.” I study his profile closely—myprofile, only male and with pointed ears. “But it’s clear that the East is not without its challenges.”

His lips give a bitter twist. “I had it easier here than Wrenfir, since I look Urisk except for my green eyes.” He focuses them on me. “But still, most of the Urisk here view me as quite a bit ‘polluted.’ And, of course, many Noi’khin hate my mother for loving a Gardnerian. I’m guardedly accepted, at best, let’s put it that way.”

I don’t press for more, sensing his angst in the way his magic is now fitfully spitting lightning. “You know,” I hedge, the moonlight itself seeming to coax the words from me, “I can sense attraction.”

His gaze flicks to mine with some skepticism. “Like a shape-shifter?”

I tilt my head, considering. “No, not completely. I can sense it through the flow of magic, not from smell. And...” I shrug. “I think that, perhaps, you should take a moment to find Tierney this Xishlon night.”

Or’myr’s eyes widen a fraction. “Why?”

I bite my lip, realizing the moon’s thrall is prompting me to cross broad lines of discretion, but what does it truly matter? We’re all about to go to war, and this kind cousin of mine deserves a small moment of happiness before we do. As does Tierney. I give him a knowing look.

He blinks, seeming thrown. “Did you sense something from her?”

I hesitate. “There might be a mutual pull.”

Or’myr looks to the floor then to the river, as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with this information. But then he gives me a level look, his cynical expression returning as violet runic orbs decorated with purple roses float up from the tier below.

“This is a frivolous conversation brought on by a frivolous moon,” he insists, lightning forking through his aura. “Even if Tierney returned my interest, all it would take is one kiss to scare her away.”

I blink at him, thrown. “Whyever would you say that?”

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