As anyone could have guessed, it took a while for everything to settle down.

Until now, Dohalim had contented himself with ensuring that the Renans—for lack of a better word; they were all used to thinking of themselves as such—had all immigrated to Dahna. As for more specific locations, Elde Menancia was the obvious choice, since the Dahnans of Viscint trusted Renans more than in the other realms. Perhaps to a fault: many still respected Dohalim as a lord, though he had little desire to be treated as such.

His traveling clothes did not help him blend in as well as once they did, but he had become accustomed to wearing them all the same. In many ways, they were more comfortable than his lordly attire, but even in the midst of familiar scenery, he felt like a stranger.

It would have helped if Kisara had been able to remain by his side.

Her absence had spanned less than a season thus far, but Dohalim missed her more than he had anticipated. He had grown to rely on all his friends, but having known Kisara for much longer, her absence from his side ached like phantom pain. More than anything else, it was disquieting that he did not know the full reason behind their separation. Kisara had said only that Dohalim's work should begin at the top, and hers closer to the bottom, and that they should not stop until they meet in the middle.

It was not that they had not met at all during this time, or that Kisara acted any differently around Dohalim than she had before. It was merely unusual to have no one offering advice or new perspectives unbidden, and needing to seek them out for himself. Likewise, it was more than a little discomfiting that Kisara had refused Dohalim's offer to assist her in her work. However gently she had pushed him toward duties better suited to his talents, she had nonetheless pushed him farther away from her.

Dohalim had seldom cared for others' opinions of him in the past, already knowing himself to be lacking, but found himself wondering about Kisara's feelings more often than perhaps he should. Had she been working more closely alongside him only in the interest of their common goals? She had once approached him with doubts as to her usefulness, and now Dohalim understood why she had felt so lost.

Now, Dohalim stood at a crossroads, both metaphorical and literal. During their separation, he had been living inn to inn, but now that he had flatly refused to accept a position of power, there was a lull in the work he was willing to do. That meant that he finally had time to start working on more personal projects, but among all his hobbies… he found his thoughts drawn to the union of Nottio and Cagari.

It was not a rational unease. Dohalim had officiated their wedding as requested, true, but it had been on such short notice that he found himself dissatisfied with how it had gone: could he not have better integrated their cultures into their joining? Now that he was free, so to speak, he felt that his mind would not come to rest on the matter until he had devised a more complete ceremony. And that meant that he needed to find somewhere to stay longer-term while he did so.

The main problem was that there were only so many places that Dohalim felt he could comfortably reside. After all, his former home of Autelina Palace had been repurposed to house the budding central government. He was glad of that, neither deserving nor desiring such riches now that he had seen more of the world. The only wealth he needed came from Dahna's beauty, especially now that it was no longer held in thrall to some otherworldly being, and there was plenty of it to be had along the road by Talka Pond.

Still, even with the gradual evening out of the climates on Dahna, the most hospitable place to live was still Menancia. While Law still flitted between Orbus Calaglia and Cyslodia, often with Rinwell at his side, Alphen and Shionne had claimed a plot of land in the vicinity of Pharia Ranch, enlisting Kisara and the Gold Dust Cats to help them build a modest house there. A dwelling like that, perhaps, would suit Dohalim well—though privately he thought that he might have taken less inspiration from Mahag Saarian architecture.

Lost in thought, he nearly missed the landmark Kisara had told him of, and stopped in view of her newly built cabin. It was humbler even than Alphen and Shionne's residence; from the looks of it, the place could not have had more than a few rooms. That was her home, then, to which she had invited him. That invitation had been enough to give Dohalim hope, but not confidence.

Taking a deep breath of cool autumn air, he approached the door and mustered all his courage to knock at the door… but nothing happened. For several long moments, Dohalim stood there awkwardly, wondering if he should knock again. There was no way Kisara could not have heard him, in a house so small, but perhaps she was asleep…

"Did you really think I'd be inside on a day like this?"

Kisara's voice came from behind Dohalim, and he whirled around to find her standing some distance behind him, one hand on her hip. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she was not wearing her usual armor. There was no reason she should have been, of course, but the sight of her more casual attire—a bodice, blouse, and vest, with the typical Dahnan skirt-like scarf worn over shorts—caught Dohalim off guard all the same. "My apologies."

Kisara laughed. It was a wonderful, warm, mellow sound, and served to set Dohalim's mind at ease… at least until she took a few steps closer. "You have nothing to apologize for, Do."

Dohalim gave a smile that felt somewhat lopsided. That nickname still made him uneasy, in light of which friends had used it and under what circumstances, but… it pleased him, too, on her lips. "I am glad to hear it."

As Dohalim spoke, Kisara closed the remaining distance between them. Thinking that she meant to move past him and open the door, he tried to step aside, but then she wrapped her arms around him, and he froze. Even after he registered what had happened, he could not move: without her armor, Kisara's embrace was soft and warm enough to bewilder his senses. "It's good to see you."

Her grip was not especially tight, but Dohalim could not initially speak, as surely as if she had crushed the air from his lungs. Only after a pause did he muster the strength to place his arms carefully around Kisara's shoulders. "And you as well."

Perhaps Kisara sensed that something was wrong, because she moved back slightly to look up at Dohalim's face, and then let go. (Dohalim found himself far more disappointed than relieved.) "I'm sorry," said Kisara, and Dohalim's eyes were drawn to her mouth as she spoke. "I got ahead of myself. I suppose I've just gotten more used to touching my friends, now that Shionne's thorns are gone."

Dohalim shook his head. "You have no reason to be sorry, either. I'm simply… somewhat unaccustomed to physical contact." He made an effort at a smile, trying to put words to his feelings. "But I confess, I would like to familiarize myself with it."

Kisara grinned. "You're going to have to learn how to say what you mean someday, Do."

"Oh?" Dohalim raised his fingers to his chin, trying to think of what he said that might have been disingenuous. "Was something I said unclear?"

"No. Just incomplete." Kisara did not give Dohalim much of a chance to think on it any further. "Anyway, if you wanted to come in, I'd like to show you around." Moving around Dohalim, she opened the door and ushered him inside. "Not that there's much to see, but at least I can make you some tea if you'd like."

"That would be lovely, thank you," said Dohalim, glancing around. This room appeared to be the bulk of the cabin—a woodstove in the corner, the living area seemingly infused with elements of a dining area. The furnishings were simple, but they held a rustic kind of beauty, and the connection to nature was strong even indoors. Whatever wood had been used in the construction, it smelled almost like incense. "This place is quite cozy. You built it yourself, yes?"

"With some help," said Kisara, busying herself with the woodstove. "It's not much, and I only really started living in it a week or so ago, but it already feels like home."

"That is good to hear," said Dohalim honestly. "You, more than anyone, deserve a place like that."

"Oh, I don't know about 'more than anyone'," said Kisara, straightening up, and checked the contents of the kettle. "But thank you."

Dohalim nodded his acceptance. "Sitting in a place that has only recently come into existence reminds me that it has been a while since last we met," he said, trying not to let on exactly how long that while has felt. "How have you been passing the time?"

"Besides having this place built?" Kisara poured some water from the kettle into two waiting glasses before replacing it on the stove to be heated. "Just helping out here and there, the same as you—coordinating resource distribution efforts, helping reform and manage various ex-rebel organizations, things like that. You name it, I've most likely done it."

"That seems like the kind of work we could just as easily have done together."

Dohalim tried not to let any tartness into his voice, but suspected that he failed as Kisara pressed her lips together briefly. Seating herself at the table, and setting down the glasses of water, she looked him in the eye. "You missed me?"

"More than you know."

Kisara was on high alert in an instant. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing that endangered my life or livelihood," said Dohalim, taking a sip of water, and then a longer draught as he realized that he was thirsty. "I had simply become accustomed to your presence by my side, so I found your absence… jarring, to say the least. Many times, I opened my mouth to ask something, only to realize that there was no one there to hear."

Closing her eyes briefly, Kisara let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry."

Kisara's tone gave Dohalim pause. It seemed to him almost as though she had expected or dreaded this, and that combined with her refusal to allow him to assist her in her own work made him curious. The only reason he could not call it suspicion was because he was far too anxious to turn blame outward. "Is there something you have not told me, Kisara?"

"Well…" Kisara hesitated a moment, downing most of her water as if buying time, then sighed. "I don't want to call it a test, but I wanted to see how you fared on your own. You've really spread your wings since leaving Menancia with us, and I wanted to give you a chance to be more independent."

Dohalim frowned. "Independent?"

Kisara nodded. "A few times, the others mentioned that I watch over you a little too closely. I thought it might be best if you could make your own choices, go where you wanted to go, and do what you wanted to do. Without my help or influence. That's all."

"I suppose that does make some sense," said Dohalim grudgingly. "Though, if I might make one thing clear, I acquiesced to our separation only because I thought that you had some purpose you could not fulfill alongside me. Had I truly been free to choose, and had you allowed me to remain by your side, I would have chosen to stay with you."

"But I did have a purpose I could not fulfill alongside you," said Kisara, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. Dohalim had rarely seen her so agitated. "I realized some time ago that, even after we left Menancia, I was still in the habit of looking after you first and everyone else second. I wanted to make sure that it was of my own free will—that I wasn't just doing it out of habit, like a slave. I thought the easiest way to tell would be to see how I acted without you, and what I felt."

"And what did you conclude?" Dohalim kept his voice steady, but his heart was in his throat.

Kisara hesitated a moment. "That… I care for you because I want to, and for no other reason." Her reassurance soothed Dohalim more than he expected, and he found himself returning her small smile. "I missed you too, Do. Not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you, and the time we spent with our other friends. I'm sure it's been the same for you."

"Indeed," said Dohalim. "Though I must admit that I felt the others' absences less keenly."

"Well, I have spent the last several years in your service," said Kisara, setting her elbows on the table and leaning forward, chin resting on her hands. "I suppose it's only natural that we should find it strange to be apart, especially after all we went through after leaving Menancia."

"I'm surprised at you, Kisara," said Dohalim, shaking his head. "After all your talk of emancipation, do you really think that your former position has any bearing on our relationship now? You are not a slave, but a dear friend." He met Kisara's eyes, the color of wildflower honey, and had to struggle against getting lost in them. "Perhaps… my dearest."

The phrasing was an accident, but Dohalim recognized truth as it left his lips. My dearest. How he longed to whisper that to Kisara, with only the stars for company. The universe lay open to him in that instant, and his own depth of feeling nearly swallowed him—sudden, yet inexplicably right. He may only have recognized it in the moment, but it felt eternal, and inspired in him such euphoria that he could not even call himself a fool.

Kisara must have understood the unintentional implication and seen the desire in Dohalim's eyes, because her breath caught audibly before she masked it with a faint cough. "I've never been called anyone's dearest, er, friend," she said, turning steadily redder. "But… I think you may be mine, as well."

Dohalim smiled. Kisara's phrasing was doubtless as accidental as his own had been, but he would take it. Once, he was her lord; now, he was simply hers. But, only just having realized such a thing, he could not put the sentiment into such bold words. "Such a title is an honor for me, considering my competition. I shall strive to be worthy of it."

"No need," said Kisara, smiling a little tentatively. "You already are."

"Is that so?" asked Dohalim, genuinely surprised. "I would have thought that some of our other friends might be better able to understand you. Our upbringings were drastically different, as is our approach to life, more often than not." After all, she had told him off countless times for rhapsodizing about their experiences instead of helping out. "You are all pragmatism, and I am all poetry."

"But you make the effort to understand, even when it doesn't come naturally to you," said Kisara, with unexpected passion. "That, more than anything else, is what matters. And I don't think a poetic worldview is bad at all, even if it can be a little… overwhelming for the rest of us sometimes." She glanced out the window. "You see the beauty in things I take for granted."

"And you remind me of the truth whenever I am blinded by that beauty," said Dohalim. "Our reality may be harsh at times, but ever since we left Menancia, I've found that I prefer to engage with the world as it is rather than indulging most of my idler fancies. Only the ones that I cannot possibly make a reality remain." Love, save for the love of music, had eluded him until now.

"Haven't you been busy enough to keep that mind of yours occupied?" asked Kisara, eyes alight with curiosity. "I've heard about all the policies you've been working on, not to mention various diplomatic meetings. You've already effected so much change that I'm surprised you even had time to miss me."

"There is always time enough to miss you," said Dohalim, unable to tell whether he was more relieved or disappointed at Kisara's shift in subject. "And I have been busy, yes, but… in addition to the times my thoughts have kept me awake late at night, I've found that some projects scatter my focus. My latest venture, for instance, is somewhat more difficult than the tasks with which I have been faced up until now."

"Oh?" asked Kisara. "What's giving you trouble?"

"As I'm sure you recall, I officiated the wedding of Nottio and Cagari," said Dohalim. "However, I cannot help but think that my input was… generic. If I am called upon to officiate another interracial marriage in future, I should like to do better." Kisara looked like she was trying to suppress a smile, but Dohalim could not think what she found funny. "My experience with the Dahnan view on courtship is limited, to say the least, and I wish to know more about it. I do intend to ask our other friends at my earliest convenience, but I have not yet had the chance."

Kisara nodded. "That's a very you problem to have, Do," she said, but continued before Dohalim could ask what she meant. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure how much help I can be. I've witnessed a few weddings in my time, but from what I've seen, Dahnans don't have much of a ceremony. Your approach wasn't much of a departure from the usual."

Dohalim blinked. "Is there not a less anecdotal way of acknowledging a newly joined couple?"

"Besides the rings?"

"Yes," said Dohalim. "Though, speaking of rings, it surprised me that Dahnan tradition also includes them. I would have thought that such a tradition would have been discarded as soon as it was rendered impossible for so many."

Kisara bowed her head. "Back when we were enslaved, the local leader might call attention to the couple, and everyone would wish them happiness and offer whatever they could, but… without any resources, we couldn't give each other much more than promises. We just held onto the dream of being able to afford rings." She looked up at Dohalim again. "It's why there's no set formula for a wedding these days, and why I don't think you need to worry about how you did. The rings are the most important part, even if no one knows why anymore."

"On Lenegis, they initially served as a symbol of the cycle of life and of love," said Dohalim. "One must offer their heart to receive that of another, and receiving another's heart inspires them to offer their own. It is an endless circle, like an intricate dance." He let out a long breath. "But in recent times, such a gesture has been used more frequently as an often ostentatious display of the wealth that each partner can grant the other. Given that contrast with the original meaning, it is a pity that so few nobles have been allowed to marry for love."

Kisara looked at Dohalim for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "Would you have been among their number?"

Deliberating over his words, Dohalim drank the rest of his water. "As you may have noticed by now, I don't much care for abiding by tradition simply for tradition's sake. Otherwise, I could never have shirked my so-called responsibility to embrace power."

"Point well taken," said Kisara, and swept on as though she had not asked anything, though she did not meet Dohalim's eyes. "At any rate, I haven't attended a wedding since joining the guard all those years ago; I've just seen a few in passing on my days off. I'm sure Alphen and Rinwell will be able to tell you much more."

Dohalim nodded. With Alphen's connection to the distant past, and Rinwell's interest in cultural studies, those two were his surest sources. "And… what of courtship?" That was admittedly a more personal investment, and not necessary for creating a wedding ceremony, but it was something he wanted to know more about. It had been merely a passing interest before this moment, but now that he understood more of his own heart, it felt much more important.

Kisara let out a small, awkward sort of laugh. "What makes you think I know anything about that?"

"What indeed," murmured Dohalim, half to himself, and saw in Kisara's slightly widened eyes that she had heard him. Her blush crept slowly back, but she said nothing. "Do you mean to tell me that in all your years of adulthood, no one has approached you with the intention of declaring their feelings?"

"Not that I've noticed," said Kisara, toying with a lock of her hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail. "I think that many men are intimidated by a woman in better shape than them, and many women find it difficult to relate to me for one reason or another. It's been hard enough making and keeping friends without advancing beyond that."

"I see," said Dohalim. "I have little choice but to trust your judgment regarding other women, but I can see no just cause as to why any man should run from you." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "That said, if their avoidance means that my time with you goes uninterrupted, then I am glad that they have so little courage."

Kisara barely managed to meet Dohalim's eyes. "I've always known you had a silver tongue, but I never thought I'd see the day when you'd try it out on me." Her voice was steady enough, but the flush across her cheeks was more obvious than ever.

Heaven help him, but Dohalim loved making her blush, and allowed himself a small smile. "Do you think I jest, Kisara?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "You know that I have always spoken my mind, even when perhaps I should not. Do you really believe that I, the proverbial leopard, have changed my spots for the sake of empty flattery?"

Kisara hesitated, lowering her eyes. "I…"

At that moment, the kettle whistled, and Kisara jumped up as if grateful for the distraction. Dohalim let out a silent sigh, watching her retrieve mugs and teabags, then pour the boiling water into each to let them steep. A short time later, she set their mugs down before them, steaming, though did not seem to feel the heat at all.

Before Dohalim had a chance to repair their broken moment, Kisara spoke. "Before we go any farther down that road, I want to know how long you intend to stay."

Dohalim tensed despite himself. "Have I overstayed my welcome already?"

"Of course not!" exclaimed Kisara, so vehemently that Dohalim had no choice but to believe her. "But sensitive subjects, or subjects that might become sensitive, are best addressed only when there is enough time to work them out to everyone's satisfaction. If you mean to leave by sunset, for example, then it might be better to wait."

"Then you needn't worry on that account," said Dohalim. "I have no particular obligations."

"In other words, you haven't settled down yet," said Kisara matter-of-factly. "If that's the case, then you can stay with me for a while."

Dohalim couldn't help but chuckle. "Am I really so transparent?"

"Not necessarily," said Kisara, smiling. "Maybe I just know you better than most others."

"That you do," said Dohalim, but hesitated, glancing around. He had been going to ask Kisara to put him up for a while, but seeing how limited this space was already, he could not bear to reduce it any further. "Still… I would not want to impose on you."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Kisara, crossing her arms. "I don't mind living alongside people I trust, especially since I got used to traveling with you and the others. Living out here on my own is relaxing most of the time, but once the sun goes down, I feel… lonely." She smiled, or at least, made an effort at one. "You'd actually be doing me a favor if you stayed with me, at least for a while."

Dohalim marveled at his good fortune in friends. It would have been easy for Kisara to pretend ignorance after she had seen right through him, and easier still to simply turn him down, but she had transformed his wish into a request that he had no reason to deny. "Thank you, Kisara."

"Oh, no need to thank me," said Kisara, returning Dohalim's smile. "I'll make sure you pull your weight."

"That sounds ominous," said Dohalim, but his spirits were hardly dampened. Kisara's company was so familiar and comforting that it felt almost as though they had not been apart at all. Yet, despite the ease they felt around one another, Dohalim felt the passage of that time acutely. "Though I am certain that no chore with which you might task me could affect my mood more adversely than our separation."

Kisara laughed. "You know I like doing chores myself. I had something else in mind."

"Oh?"

"You told me earlier that you wanted to… what was it… 'become more familiar with physical contact', or something to that effect," said Kisara. "As it happens, I've been craving that lately, myself. If you think of me as a practice partner, then it's a winning situation." She smiled, but it had a mischievous edge. "Unless you think touching me is a punishment."

"Perish the thought," said Dohalim. "On the contrary, I can think of no greater pleasure." As he spoke, he reached out tentatively for Kisara, sliding his forearm across the table, palm extended, fingers up. She met his hand with her own, and both smiled at the difference. Her hands were not small, but they were still smaller than his, and rougher.

And then, Kisara intertwined their fingers.

Resonating with this tangible closeness, Dohalim's heart felt tender in every sense of the word—painful and soft and warm. It fluttered against his ribs like a caged bird, aching to be let out to sing. "Even without thorns, the borders between classes are almost as forbidding," said Dohalim quietly, giving Kisara's hand a gentle squeeze. He found himself afraid of crushing her, though their physical strength was comparable. "But they were wrought by men, and as a man, I may tear them down."

"Let me help," said Kisara, extending her free hand, and Dohalim pressed his other palm to hers. Once again, she curled her fingers to grasp him more fully; their arms encircled their cups of water and of tea, still steeping between them. "Boundaries running that deep aren't just yours to erase."

At Kisara's words, Dohalim's heart seemed to ignite in his chest so that he was certain Kisara would see its glow. This time, the beauty by which he was blinded and the reality underlying it were one and the same. "Kisara…" Her name fell from Dohalim's lips before he recognized it.

She looked up, but only met his eyes for a moment before dropping her gaze down to her tea. "Wh-why are you looking at me like that?" Flustering Kisara to this extent was a rare and precious treat, but rarer and more precious still was the question she asked, inviting rather than deflecting.

"I'm afraid I can't see myself right now, so I don't know," said Dohalim, leaning further forward on an impulse. "But perhaps, if I looked more closely into your eyes… I might catch sight of my reflection."

"Oh." Kisara's utterance was barely above a breath. They both understood that this was a way for her to accept or reject him without saying as much outright. Dohalim braced himself for her to ask him to look into his tea instead, or to change the subject, but Kisara said nothing. Instead, she pulled her hands carefully from his. Dohalim's heart froze and cracked, but thawed again in an instant: Kisara's eyes lingered too warmly on his face for this to be her true answer.

And then, slowly, deliberately, she stepped around the table to stand before him.

Rising to look down at her, Dohalim dared to lift his hand and caress Kisara's cheek. There was much that he wanted to say, but words escaped him amid this newfound joy, and he could not think of any. The reflection he sought in her eyes was drowned out by feelings he could scarcely comprehend, but which mirrored his own almost perfectly: anxiety and anticipation, excitement and elation, desire and determination.

"Is that close enough for you to see?" asked Kisara, and Dohalim knew from the way her eyes sparkled that she too could see his heart. It had been far too long since he had allowed it to shine through in such a way, but he could think of no worthier audience.

"Not quite," said Dohalim, daring to rest his hand on Kisara's shoulder, and moved in closer still—but it was Kisara who, twining her arms about his neck, leaned up the last few inches.

Their lips met. It was a light touch, chaste and pure, but Dohalim felt instantly as breathless as if he were drowning in Kisara. His hand curved to the back of her neck, drawing her closer. As if in response to that gentle pressure, Kisara's lips parted, and Dohalim's breath hitched as they tasted one another—

"Too much?"

Her voice was distant to Dohalim's ears, and he only realized that his eyes had slid shut as he opened them again. Kisara's countenance was regretful, her eyes darting nervously between each of his. Worry and sadness did not suit angelic features like hers, and Dohalim drew her close again in an attempt to lighten it. "Not nearly enough."

"Good," said Kisara, her voice laced with a relieved laugh, and embraced Dohalim tightly. This time, he was able to reciprocate within the moment. "But I can't help but think that we might have put the cart before the horse, so to speak." As Kisara spoke, she walked Dohalim backward, and he followed until his legs hit the chair. "Before we come back to that, I think we should drink tea and talk about the weather for a while. I don't know much about courtship, Dahnan or Renan, but that's where it usually starts, right?"

Dohalim seated himself, smiling a little self-consciously. "I suppose you have a point," he said, certain that he was blushing every bit as much as Kisara—only less visibly. "Forgive me. Our tea has scarcely finished steeping, and already have I lain my heart at your feet."

"Even if it was necessary to forgive you, it'll be easy for you to make it up to me later," said Kisara, settling back into her own chair, shyness and triumph shining out of one half-moon smile. "If we've bared our hearts within the first quarter hour, I look forward to seeing what even just one more day might bring."