Hal awoke with a start, unsure as to why. A dream perhaps, but its contents were already long forgotten. But she still felt uneasy, listening carefully to make sure she did not hear anything out of the ordinary. She lay there in the dark, silently cursing her frazzled mind when she realized she still had some time before she actually needed to be awake. She refrained from groaning out loud. It was as if she had traded her night terrors for this, as though she were waking herself up before they could commence. It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't happen several times a night and still left her anxious.
She felt movement behind her and had to refrain from making a different kind of groan. Murtagh sleepily pushed his hips into her backside, completely oblivious. He threw a lazy arm across her waist. "You all right?"
She nodded, already forgetting why she was awake to begin with. His early morning voice made her stupidly weak. "Yes. Just a dream."
"Which one?"
"I don't know; I don't remember anything. But it's nothing more than a nuisance. I'm all right."
He grunted that he had heard, kissing the back of neck. "S'kay if I go back to sleep?"
"Yes, go ahead."
He was out almost immediately, and she laughed quietly, shaking her head. In all fairness, the people in the fields had been pushed lately to get the crops ready for harvest. Some days, Murtagh was out the door before Hal, and returning much later in the evenings.
She stared at the wall, enjoying the feel of him against her. Amongst other things. But despite how much trouble they could get into, they never went further than what was discussed. There were some days, through some unspoken agreement, long after Denu had gone to bed, she would return to Murtagh's room and climb into bed. Sometimes he came into her room. They made sure to leave before they were discovered, but in those moments, those nights, they felt like they were in their own world. Sometimes they went to sleep immediately, sometimes they talked for hours, but it felt intimate as they explored this new side of their relationship. Which was especially helpful if Hal was feeling anxious or stressed. She felt safer in his arms. To wake up in the middle of the night from a bad dream and feel the heat from his body, his breath on her neck, was more of a comfort than she would have thought possible.
Hal smiled as Murtagh's fingers began to run the length of her arm, small bumps rising in response to his touch. "Are you suddenly not tired?" she teased.
"No, but at least I have you to help me wake up."
His lips were on her neck, his teeth playfully biting down on her skin before running his tongue across it. He pressed his hips into her and she had a fleeting thought that perhaps he wasn't as oblivious as she had assumed. His lips seemed to move at a calculated pace, sending her skin abuzz at a speed that was easy-going and light.
Okay, no, it wasn't all innocent. But she certainly wasn't complaining.
She threw her arms around his neck, twisting so that she could kiss him. She pulled away, laughing. "Heavens, rider, your breath is horrible."
"Funny, doesn't seem to stop you most mornings."
"That's because you're so damn cute."
"Cute?" he repeated, as if affronted.
"It's meant to be a compliment. It shows growth and maturity. Remember when you were once just adorable?"
"I'll show you cute…"
Hal's laugh was lost as he pulled her in for another searing kiss, his tongue suggestive and teasing. The ache was bad, as strong and needy as ever. Hal rotated her hips, trying to alleviate the pressure growing in her groin. She hated how desperate he made her feel. It wasn't uncommon for her, at this point, to return to her room and rub herself furiously until she came. Especially as his touch became more confident, more eager and exploratory, giving her imagination more ammunition than it needed.
Just like now.
She regretfully broke away. "We should stop." She could feel his disappointment, only a mirror of her own. She turned so that she could face him, giving him a remorseful smile. "Before this goes further, faster than we expect it to."
"I know, I know."
She patted his chest before sitting up, stretching and cracking her back as Murtagh asked, "Where are you going so early?"
"Figured, since I'm awake, I might as well get some practice in."
He grunted before sitting up as well. "I'll join you. I've got nothing better to do for a while."
"You don't have to —"
He silenced her with a slow kiss that was too suggestive and cruel to not lead to something more. "I figured, since I can't have you the way I want, I may as well find other creative means of getting you on your back."
He barely managed to dodge her foot, darting away laughing as he went to freshen up. And despite how vastly she had improved, as always, he made good on his word. But at least it was only once, and Hal had stupidly tripped when a particularly difficult set of footwork threatened to twist her ankle.
He continued to praise her on her keen senses, quick thinking, and creative techniques, but he always seemed just one step ahead of her. And it was starting to get frustrating.
"You look upset," he muttered quietly, his face red from the exertion of their sparring. He handed Hal her canteen, having just refilled it since she was too worn out to move from her spot. She sat up as he sat down beside her, leaning back against a tree for support.
"Not upset, just a sore loser."
He nodded. "I've been thinking about that, actually."
Her lip curled in a sneer. "Charming."
He laughed. "No, not that you're a sore loser!" Hal relaxed some. "I meant the reason why."
"You've had years to practice, it's only natural —"
"Not just that." His chest was rising and falling quickly, but when he spoke, his tone seemed even and relaxed. "May I see your sword?"
"You mean your sword," she reminded him, passing it to him, handle first.
"It hardly feels right to take it back from you."
"It was never mine to begin with."
"My point," he continued with broad grin, "is that there are very few blades that can measure up to a rider's sword. Ours are forged with a rare metal known as brightsteel, crafted in the woods by an elf. At least Zar'roc was."
"I take back my comment about your attendance at the king's balls. That was perhaps the fanciest sentence I have ever heard." Murtagh hid his face behind his hands as he began to laugh, his eyes brightening. Hal grinned at the sight. "I'm sorry, I interrupted. Please, continue."
"I was simply wondering if you would feel confident with your own sword. One made for you, much like your bow. There might be something on Illium strong enough to withstand the blows you are dealt."
Hal had not thought about it before. The idea of it sounded nice, and she felt it could make a bit of a difference, although probably not enough to suddenly best Murtagh. But while she had grown comfortable with the hand-and-a-half, she realized that the weapons she was best with, even her daggers, were made for her palm, her height, grip, and strength factored into the carefully crafted pieces. That was why she treasured them so, but it was also why she felt more capable using them.
"Wouldn't it be too much work to make a sword though? I can still use yours for now."
"Are you sure? I could talk with Invidia and Blödhgarm about it just to get their opinion."
"I do not want to trouble you over anything unnecessarily," Hal countered. She gave him a kind smile. "But thank you for acting as though my losing might have been something other than my overall lack of skill."
He laughed.
They continued to rest until Invidia and Blödhgarm arrived, both pleased to see them already there and having been practicing. "Shur'tugal, will you be joining us today?"
"No, I must be heading back before I'm late." He was already gathering his things, and for the briefest of moments, Hal felt a familiar twinge in her chest at the thought of his departure. However, she ignored it, preferring to chalk it up to their sparring. They spent most of their days apart, so there would be no reason for it to bother her now. But she could not help but feel particularly sad that he was leaving. He threw his bag over his shoulder before leaning down to kiss Hal on her forehead. "Fight hard, iet dunei," he whispered, so that only she may hear. "I will see you this evening."
Hal nodded, and he departed before she had time to acknowledge whatever he had said in the Ancient Language. He knew she wouldn't know what it meant, which was rather annoying. She shrugged it off, making a note to ask him later. Blödhgarm jumped right into his lessons, preferring to get them in first due to Invidia's habit of wearing Hal out to the point of collapse. But before they began, she wanted to briefly redirect their lesson before she forgot her question.
Remembering to speak only in the Ancient Language, she asked, "Why is the Ancient Language required when we use magic?" Her speech was still slow and choppy, lacking the deftness and fluidity of the elves. But it was good enough that they were able to respond. Usually.
Blödhgarm looked at her in surprise. "Has Murtagh not told you?"
"We were pressed for time when he first began my lessons. Or, at least, we thought we were. So all he could mention was that magic for new users required the use of the language. He said only the most skilled magicians could perform non-verbal spells, but at a much greater risk, but the language itself was still needed."
"And he was right," Blödhgarm explained. "I imagine something happened for you to suddenly ask this question."
Hal hesitated, but decided to tell them the truth, speaking plainly. "I've used magic several times now, without using of any sort of spell or the language. I didn't even use non-verbal spells. I just…it just happened. Usually because I was under emotional duress. But the biggest example was when I collapsed the cliff with the Ra'zac."
Blödhgarm reeled back, but did not seem as surprised as she would have thought. "We had been curious as to how you managed such a feat."
Invidia looked shocked. "That's not possible. I've never heard of such a thing before."
Blödhgarm, however, only looked mildly amused. "Come now, Invidia. You of all elves should know that just because we do not see something for ourselves, does not mean it's not real or isn't possible. Halen, walk me through exactly what happened."
She did, not shying away from any detail too small should it prove informative. When she was done, Blödhgarm looked amazed despite Invidia's disbelieving expression. "Murtagh is absolutely right. Your magic is not common, if it exists elsewhere at all. But that makes it all the more exquisite, and it is a very good chance that it is why the Shade is after you."
"How is her magic not bound by the Ancient Language?" Invidia demanded as Blödhgarm took a pebble his hand.
"Hal, you know what to do. Only this time, remove the Ancient Language from your thoughts altogether."
She hesitated, surprised he was giving her permission after Murtagh had told her not to. Was this all right? Surely, with Blödhgarm and Invidia close by, it would be okay. She breathed, focusing on her magic the way she would focus on the world around her. Everything fell away, the noises coming to a standstill. There were no distractions. There was nothing, except Hal, her magic, and the stone.
She imaged the pebble lifting from Blödhgarm's hand, focused on the weight and size of it as though she were planning on tossing it herself. She opened her eyes and simply commanded her focused energy on the rock. And suddenly, it shot out of Blödhgarm's hand with ferocity, and Hal leaped back in surprise, craning her head to see what happened to it. While stronger, even she knew her magic lacked the control that the Ancient Language brought with it.
Invidia gasped as Blödhgarm laughed with discovery. "This changes everything the world thought it knew about magic," he surmised. "Of course, we can never do that again for it could pose a risk, but that was astounding Hal. Tell me what your process was."
When she was finished speaking, the two elves looked quite beside themselves, although for different reasons. "No wonder your magic has always felt restrained," Blödhgarm continued. "It's as if the most natural state for your magic to be in is without the use of the language. This is truly fascinating."
"Why is that, exactly? Murtagh explained that the Ancient Language is practically required to use magic, but he mentioned it hasn't always been like this."
"No, it has not," Invidia said sharply. "And for good reason. According to myth, the people who were one of the first to inhabit Alagaësia used magic, almost as you do, without verbally speaking the language. But they still had to use it."
"What happened to them?"
"One of them nearly destroyed all of Alagaësia because of a stray thought. The remaining Grey Folk — as they have come to be known — used their remaining magic to bind the Ancient Language to magic itself so that users had to speak it to keep from getting distracted. They have since faded into obscurity and are presumed to no longer exist."
Hal felt no closer to understanding her strange abilities. So even those believed to be the originators of such magic still had to use the Ancient Language?
"Am I…am I human?" she whispered, not meaning to voice the question aloud. There was a heavy silence, one that made her chest tighten with all of the speculation surrounding her magic.
Blödhgarm moved closer, taking her hands in his. His smile was warm. "You are as human as I am elf. Do not fear your magic because you do not understand it."
"No one understands it," she challenged petulantly.
"Then you are truly one of a kind. Do not let fear ruin what you have worked hard for. Continue to use the Ancient Language — you are just as capable with it as you are without. Leave the rest to Invidia, Murtagh, and myself. We will do our best to aid you."
Hal nodded.
"Now," he said, leaning back and switching to the Ancient Language, "let us continue; we are behind schedule."
…
Hal was beyond sore and exhausted when she made it back to the hut, carrying a dead and skinned rabbit in her hands that she had caught for dinner. She quickly washed up and changed, boiling the meat and some veggies for a quick and easy stew. She was too tired to put much effort into anything else.
She could not help but feel foolish. When Invidia had first begun to talk about the Grey Folk, Hal's first reaction had been, perhaps, she was distantly related. But even their magic had required the use of language and, she had realized later, that no one in her family had shown a propensity for it. Not on accident nor on purpose. She had thought if there was something in her family, perhaps it could explain the strange quirk. But alas, she was back where she started with no information, no ideas, and no clues.
She straightened up around the hut, sweeping out the floors and taking down the laundry. She was rushing to have everything put away by the time Murtagh and Denu returned home that she almost missed the haunting chill that ran down her back. She turned, her laundry basket on her hips as she examined the woods, taking a wary step back. Nothing seemed out of place, and yet she was confident in her instincts. Something was watching her.
Or perhaps she had finally lost her mind.
She imagined, or perhaps she hoped, that it was the spirit again. But it did not reveal itself like it normally would, which made her falter a bit into doubt. It seemed like everything was enough to put her on edge. It was becoming increasingly difficult to feel safe. She wondered if she ever truly would…
Is everything all right?
Hal jumped, having forgotten that Thorn was back. His neck was snacked around the side of the house, as if having sensed her distress. Yes, Hal said slowly, glancing back at the forest, now doubting she had had sensed anything at all. Yes, much better now. Thank you, Thorn. He nudged her cheek encouragingly.
She had to douse her face with water repeatedly before the others arrived home to make sure her composure would not falter. Nothing had happened, and she did not want to raise any unnecessary flags because of her own paranoia. And Murtagh and Denu were too sharp when it came to her moods and emotions to miss anything.
They arrived home about the same time as they often did, their laughter reaching Hal long before they walked through the front door. And the allure of the sound made her momentarily forget her worries, as it gave her something meaningful and happy to focus on. She emerged from the kitchen, having just taken the bread out of the brick oven, just as they were stepping inside. Murtagh caught her eye and she did not even think to contain the smile that overwhelmed her at the sight of him.
"Good evening, my child," Denu declared, dramatically boastful as ever when he returned home. "And what have you prepared for us today?"
Hal cleared her throat in preparation for a grand presentation. "For you, Denu Davidsson, I have traveled to the far reaches of Illium, swam the deepest parts of the ocean, and hiked the highest mountain to prepare the finest meal known to man." She paused dramatically, letting their playful anticipation build. "A rich, extravagant…stew, with a side of honey-baked bread."
"A feast fit for a king!" She laughed at him as he began moving towards Hal, his expression firm and filled with purpose as if he and Hal had not danced this dance hundreds of times before. He reached out to place her, his hand touching her shoulder. Then he moved carefully until he was cupping her face in his hands. He pulled her down to kiss her forehead, but was easily distracted by the smell of foot that wafted towards him. "While Murtagh gets cleaned up, I insist on sampling the wares to make sure everything is properly prepared for a man of my status."
"Oh, but of course." Hal said, bowing out of his way as he moseyed on past her towards the pot. "You deserve nothing but the best." That part, she was only half joking. She watched him carefully to make sure he did not accidentally hurt himself going for the spoon. But she always set it at a safe distance from the flames, and he then tapped the counter until he rapped against the pot, knowing where it was.
"Do not spoil your appetite, old man," Hal warned him.
"Bah," was all he said, waving his free hand to dismiss her, blowing on a spoonful of stew and otherwise preoccupied.
Hal rolled her eyes, but finally felt like she could look away, and nearly broke into a run to close the distance between herself and Murtagh. It was dizzying, how good it made her feel to see him again. And not just to see him, but to be able to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him, which was exactly what she did. She cursed herself whenever she thought of how long she had wanted this, how long she had denied herself such pleasures. But she was certainly relishing them now.
"I missed you today, iet dunei," Murtagh told her, his voice low so that Denu's sensitive ears didn't pick up their conversation.
Hal beamed at this, and the joy it brought out of her. "I missed you too," she admitted, her face flushed with shy pleasure at being able to say it back. Or, to be honest, to be able to say it all. And then she realized she had almost missed it again. "What, what does that mean?"
He was thoughtful a moment. "I supposed, in this particular instance, it means I was sad that I was not with you. I thought about you for most of the day, wishing you could — ow!"
Hal had pinched his arm. "You know that's not what I meant, you ass. What is…eet…i-et…yet…?"
He stepped overwhelmingly close. Close enough that she lost all train of that. He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb, lifting her gaze a bit. His eyes were stormy with a secret. And Hal felt herself itching to know it. And itching for something else as well the longer he looked at her like that. "Iet dunei," he repeated, pronouncing it slowly.
Hal felt herself shiver, eyes riveted on the way his lips has moved as he spoke. "Yes…that's the one," she said, feeling a little breathless.
He grinned knowingly. "I can't tell you. It's a secret."
"Liar, it is not."
"I've never lied to you, Hal," he tossed back with a superior smirk. But there was something else in his expression she could not quite fathom entirely. But it was gone before she could study it properly.
She was about to argue when Denu came back out of the kitchen. "I'm too old for you two to be holding up my dinner. I will eat without you if I must!"
Murtagh shot Hal a look of faux anger. "Look, now you're getting me into trouble."
"Keep it up, rider, you'll eat outside."
But his taunting grin robbed her of her senses, and she knew that without having to say anything at all, he had still gotten the last word in. Bastard.
It felt like one of the longest nights in Hal's life. For once, dinner, dessert, and wine all dragged out, everyone chatting away merrily about the work in the fields, recent gossip, and other such nonsense. Hal, at first, was simply content, unable to fathom her own blessings. At times, Murtagh would catch the serene happiness on her face, and his expression would soften as they shared a knowing smile. But after quite a few of these, she began to grow anxious, eager to be with Murtagh privately. She wanted to have him to herself for a few more hours before they went to sleep.
To get Murtagh back for his earlier cheek, Hal began to casually and randomly shoot Murtagh suggestive glances over her wine glass or while he was in the middle of telling a story, causing him to stumble and blush uncontrollably. She had to hide her laugh, coughing into her hand, which she was sure didn't convince Denu of her innocence in distracting him. But at least the old man couldn't hear or see the way she would bite her lip at Murtagh. That, she was able to keep between herself and the rider.
When Denu began to yawn rather incessantly, Hal finally called it a night. Regardless of how anxious she was to spend time with Murtagh, Denu always was her first priority. "Come on, old man. Let's get you settled into bed —"
"Here, let me," Murtagh said suddenly. "Let me help for a change."
"It's fine, I've got him."
"Halen."
His voice was stern, and Hal fumbled in surprise. "Oh my," Denu mumbled, as though embarrassed. "You both will make an old man blush, fighting over me like this."
They both tried not to laugh.
"All right fine, rider, you win," Hal relented, sitting back down as Murtagh took Denu's arms.
"And don't even think about touching the dishes. I'll do those when I get back."
The command in his voice left little room for argument, and Denu's brows lifted in amusement at Hal as he and Murtagh walked out. Hal laughed with disbelief, sitting her chin in her hand while she waited. Putting Denu to bed wouldn't take long. He often just needed help with minor things, like making sure things were put away precisely where they needed to be so that he could find them again.
Eventually she strolled to the window, breathing in the silence of the night as she poked Thorn's side to tease him as well, and they chatted for a bit. Murtagh came in then, collecting the dishes and ignoring Hal's offers to help. When he finally returned, she was waiting impatiently for him, arms crossed and expecting an explanation. He rolled his eyes, sitting down on his cot, back far enough that he could rest against the wall. Hal remained standing. "You always do the chores here," he clarified at last. "I could certainly offer to help more."
"You are out working the fields every day. Even if I do get out, I'm just helping with the children. You shouldn't have to tire yourself with such mundane tasks."
"Do not trivialize your lessons. I know you're exhausted. Besides, I want to help, Hal," he said. "This is my home now too. I can and should pull my own weight."
She stood there, stunned. The silence felt heavy as her mind tried to process his words, to make sure she had not misheard. Then her eyes began to swim with tears. She blinked. "Truly?" she whispered. "You see this as your home?" She had assumed so, but he had never actually said the words aloud since he had decided to stay. It was always "Denu's hut", or "the spare room". Anything that kept him from actually claiming what had long since belonged to him.
He looked at her and his expression softened when she realized she was crying. "You are so sensitive," he teased.
"Then you should not say such things so suddenly," she berated. He grabbed the material of her skirts, pulling her towards him until she was sitting down on the edge of his cot. He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead.
"Come now, iet dunei," he laughed, his voice lilting with surprise at her emotional response. "Why are you crying?"
She immediately shook her head. "Heavens, it's too stupid to admit."
He studied her for a moment, his thumb rolling across the skin of her cheek. "Hal, you could tell me that the sky is green, the ocean black, and that Thorn is a cat. And even still, I could never think someone like you is stupid. You have far proven otherwise and I would not dare think so low of you."
She may not have been stupid, but her smile certainly was at his words. "You certainly make a fool out of me, Dragon Rider." He looked oddly triumphant about that. Hal nervously bit on her lip. "Do you remember the morning after we woke up together? The morning after you asked if I would travel with you?"
He tucked her hair back behind her ear. "I do."
Hal knew she would never forget it, so she was relieved he remembered it as well. And judging by how gentle his confirmation was, she could only imagine he recalled it as fondly as she did. Quietly, she admitted how, after he had fallen back asleep, she had watched him for a bit. And she had seen how peaceful he looked. And how she hoped that wherever he ended up, he would sleep that peacefully again. And at the time she had wished…she had wished…
"I wanted you to choose me," she admitted. "Despite how confusing my feelings for you were becoming, even then I knew that much. That I wanted you to stay, and choose me. And the Tenari. And Illium. And a small part of me feared that we…that I wasn't enough. But I was willing to let you go because I wanted you to be happy.
"So, to hear that you think of this place as your 'home' it just…it feels like a wish come true," she finished. She sniffed, laughing at her own ridiculousness and beside herself with joy. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears and smiled. She rolled her eyes playfully, trying to soften her own emotions. "Now I know why Denu kept crying when I said it. It feels nice. It feels good. Like you chose us. Like you wanted us and I just —"
Murtagh leaned in so close, Hal could count his lashes as they brushed against his cheeks. Could feel his breath on her skin, causing her face to grow warm. He then slowly closed the space between them and pressed his lips to hers, his arms wrapping around her shoulders, enveloping her in a warm embrace. And she marveled at how easily and quickly this intimacy him had become so natural. Almost from the first kiss, she had sensed a rightness to it. The way his mouth would unlock hers, and how her body would awaken when he did. She did not know how much more of this heated modesty she could take.
She had to pull away to catch her breath, still flustered from crying. Murtagh's lips brushed against hers, gentle, like a silent promise. "And if I ever had to do it over again, I would choose you and the Tenari every single time."
He stared at her, hard, and she nodded to show that she heard him. That she understood. He kissed her again, this time with much less restraint than before. He placed his arm around her shoulder while his hand held the back of her knee, carefully moving her towards the top of his cot so that her head would rest on the pillows as he leaned her back, never breaking the kiss. His touch felt different, slower. Like there was no need to rush. She wasn't going anywhere.
And neither was he.
His body fit perfectly between her legs, his hand still cupping the back of her knee to keep them open. The weight of him on top of her was searing in its bliss, even through their clothes. Their kiss deepened, a familiar intensity driving them like it did many times before. The heavy neediness of the moment, the careful dance of how far to push themselves. And Hal began to realize she was dangerously close to losing.
When Murtagh tore his lips away, she thought he was doing the responsible thing. Thought he was going to remind her they needed to stop. Instead, his lips fastened onto her neck. And in that moment, the skin near her throat felt more sensitive than usual, and Hal lost her head completely. She dug her fingers into his hair, holding him to her, relishing in every illicit thought running through her mind. Every fantasy she had welcomed when she was alone at night reared itself, and she wanted it all. Wanted to know if his hand gripping her thighs would feel as good as she imagined. Wanted his kisses to explore her body the way his hands did. She wanted uncontrolled and unrefined, not careful and chaste.
"Hal!"
Murtagh was laughing as he suddenly kissed her again, but he pulled away and said, "You are going to give us away if you keep making those noises."
"I — what?" She hadn't even been aware of herself.
His expression was teasing, but the magic was lost. "We should get some sleep. It's late."
Hal felt a surge of frustration, but not with Murtagh. With herself, and these rigorous expectations. She sat up just as he began to lie down, but he stopped when he saw the look in her face. "Actually, I think I'm going to sleep in my room tonight."
"Oh." He was disappointed, she could hear it. She turned to look at him as he asked, "Are you sure?"
"No," she admitted. "But I will."
He nodded, and Hal leaned forward and kissed him. She quickly deepened it, nearly climbing into his lap as she gripped the front of his tunic, feeling how his heart raced underneath. Then she tore herself away, panting a bit as she shot him a wicked, secret smile. "Don't worry, rider. I will be thinking of you fondly in my dreams even though we are only a room apart."
She could tell by his flushed, yet innocent smile that he had no idea what she meant to do the second she got behind closed doors. But if she did not relieve herself of this ache soon, she would become increasingly temperamental. She whispered to him a soft goodnight, barely looking back as she left. She did not know how far they planned to take this. Everything still felt too new and fresh to ruin with anything heavy and domestic. She could see in his face how happy Murtagh was with this progression and she did not want to do a single thing he was uncomfortable with. She did not want to be selfish and ask more of him than he was willing to give.
But heavens, she hoped he would give her something. And soon.