Page 32 of Kael

Huh. “That’s convenient.”

“It was necessary,” he corrects. “As the prince’s guard, it’s my duty to understand and communicate with the many species of Terrafeara.”

That’s… surprisingly practical. “Still,” I press, “English isn’t exactly common here. Did you, like, study it? Listen to humans speak?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, quietly—reluctantly—Kael mutters, “Books helped when I was being taught by the royal guard.”

I blink. “Books?”

Another beat. Another long, deep inhale. “I found… books.”

Holy shit. “You learned English from books?”

“… Yes.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic.” I shift slightly, trying to see his face. “What kind of books?”

Kael hesitates. He’s clearly regretting this entire conversation. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, no, it definitely matters.” I grin, sensing an opportunity to get under his skin. “What kind of books, Kael?”

Silence.

“Kael.”

More silence.

I nudge him with my chin. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to assume it was something really weird. Like… cookbooks. Or, bloody hell, children’s books.”

He makes a noise—something between a sigh and a growl. Then, so low, I almost miss it, he grumbles, “Romance.”

I freeze.

Wait. What?

“Romance?”

Kael’s grip on my thighs tightens slightly, and for the first time since I met him, he sounds genuinely embarrassed. “It was from a human dwelling. Many cycles ago.”

I bite my lip, trying so hard not to burst out laughing. “So, you learned English from… romance novels?”

“They were well-written.”

Oh, this is golden. “So wait, you’re telling me you speak English fluently because you spent cycles reading books about… what? Star-crossed lovers? Forbidden passion? Torrid affairs?”

Kael makes another of those long-suffering sighs. “It was informative.”

I lose it. I’m shaking against his back, gasping for air, my entire body convulsing with laughter. Kael mutters something in Glowranth under his breath. Probably a prayer for patience.

When I finally catch my breath, I wipe at my eyes, still giggling. “That’s incredible. That’s—wait, hold on.” A thought strikes me, and I can’t not ask. “Do you, like, understand human romance? Or did you just learn the words?”

There’s a pause. “Both.”

“So, theoretically,” I say, fighting another round of snorting laughter, “if I described, say, a romantic date, you’d get it?”

“… Yes.”

I cackle. “That’s so fucking weird.”

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