Note: One-hundred and one reviews! -is floored- Wow. Just...wow. I've never ever gotten this many reviews or so much positive feedback on a story before. Ever. I would like to thank each and every one of you who has ever reviewed. Your comments put a smile on my face and help me get through the day. It means a lot to me. -hugs- I love you guys.

Chapter Fifteen

Kalasin prowled the library all the time. Whenever Kaddar or the world was getting on her nerves, she could take solace in the dark, lonely, book-filled halls. It helped that the Imperial Palace had several such escapes, each stocked with thousands of books on every subject imaginable. Reading relieved tension. And boredom.

Which was why she was wandering the corridors of the Imperial Library aimlessly, noisily chewing on a piece of mango skin. It was true. She, Kalasin, was bored. Bored to death. There were no meetings, no parties, no visits, no ambassadors, and Kaddar had decided to catch up on a week's worth of sleep. He hadn't moved in about three hours. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't fallen asleep diagonally, leaving no space or blankets for her.

Kalasin gave her most world-weary sigh. Tyran conquest of Gallan land? Read that. History of the Copper Isles' most deranged rulers? Been there, done that. Inbreeding in the Carthaki Imperial Family? She wrinkled her nose, and passed the old volume with suspicious red stains by. No wonder Emperor Ozorne had been so desperate for foreign alliances.

After a thorough perusal of the history, drama, and horror sections, Kalasin collapsed in an armchair near an old lamp, despaired. She had read everything. Watching the warm patterns of golden lamplight dance against the dark red walls, mingling with the purple lights of sunset, she sighed. She was alone and miserable, and…

…something was poking her in the side.

Frowning, Kalasin turned around and found the culprit. A corner of something sharp stuck up out of the vibrantly orange velvet cushion she was sitting on, and Kalasin pulled it up hard. A small book lay in her hands. It was small, and pink, and it had sharp edges. The writing on the cover was a bit hard to read, and she squinted down at the faded gold calligraphy.

The Art Of Romance.

Kalasin almost scoffed and threw it away. Like she needed a sappy love story.

A glint from the cover caught her attention, and she put the book an inch away from her nose. A subtitle had appeared. "Not a sappy love story," it read.

She stared. She could have sworn the subtitle hadn't been there a minute ago. But then again, the books in the imperial palace were frankly weird. Rubbing her finger against the silky cover, Kalasin noticed how yellowed the parchment was, and how faded the title was. And yet the book was in perfect condition. The binding wasn't even creased.

It was curiosity, more than anything, which compelled her to open the book and begin to read.

The table of contents in itself was an adventure. First kisses. The technique of kissing. Do's and don'ts. Flattering lighting. Turning an average bedchamber into something with romantic atmosphere. What colors to wear. What to wear, in general.

There was a rather large section devoted to not wearing anything, which reduced Kalasin to shrinking down in her chair, blushing. All this time, she didn't know people wrote about this kind of thing. There were pictures, too…

Kalasin tore herself away from "One Hundred Ways to Spice Up Your Night" with a shiver. Some of the…techniques…described looked downright painful. There was no way she would let Kaddar blindfold her and lick whipped cream off her shoulders. Being tied to the bedposts was out of the question. And she didn't know if she and Kaddar even had a bearskin rug.

She flipped back to the Technique of Kissing interestedly. Those pictures were far less scarring.

How to angle your face to avoid bumping noses.

How to part your lips without bumping teeth.

Ways to make your lips look endlessly kissable.

Non-awkward ways to initiate a first kiss.

What to do with your hands and arms while kissing.

In order to avoid clashing noses, a couple will often turn their faces to one side or another when kissing, so that their heads are at an angle from one another. Often, to make this more comfortable, one person, sitting upright, will support another, perhaps across their lap and in their arms, thus combining hugging and kissing. The person supporting the other is most likely taking the more active role in kissing the other.

Kalasin stared at the page. She didn't know what to think. She just knew that she was still blushing. She tried to imagine sitting in Kaddar's lap and being kissed. Nothing came up. They had kissed briefly before, but…still. Kissing for purely recreational purposes? This was a completely new train of thought for her.

Impulsively, the empress picked up the cushion on her lap and stared at it for a while. She turned her face to one side. The cushion stared back, mockingly. Kind of like Kaddar. Kalasin turned her head to the other side, still eyeing it dubiously. Steeling up her courage, she plunged her face into the cushion and kissed it.

After a few moments, she pulled away, spluttering. Kissing was suffocating. And the cushion tasted (and smelled) like sour grapefruit.

Kalasin quickly consulted her book for advice.

Above all, do not plunge your face into your partner's. Approach gently and slowly, and keep your nose tilted slightly away during the kiss, so that you can still breathe.

…Oh.

Why did uncomfortable things like this always happen to her?

Kalasin slouched and sulked, not knowing why she was worrying like this. After all, Kaddar was the one who should kiss her. He had always kissed her first before. But…it was Kaddar. And knowing him, in a non-stressful situation, he'd probably do something hopeless, like accidentally knock her into a fountain while trying to kiss her. Or something awful like that.

Naturally, she had to make the first move. Leaving something like this up to Kaddar would be nothing less than complete, utter stupidity.

Kalasin sighed. It looked like she, the grapefruit-smelling cushion, and the weird book were going to be spending some quality time together.

--

Later that night, Kaddar speared a noodle with his fork, giving Kalasin a covert glance. She sat on an armchair across from him, and had covered the seat with a big blanket. There was also a cushion she was resting her head on, a garish, orange monstrosity that smelled vaguely of grapefruit, one that he didn't recall being there that morning.

Kalasin was being unusually quiet. When she thought that he wasn't looking, he had noticed her gazing intently at his face, his nose in particular. And then she would tilt her head slightly to the side and lean forward, as if she was in deep contemplation of something.

Maybe she wasn't feeling well.It was almost disturbing. And now she seemed to be unconsciously mirroring his movements.

Kaddar speared a piece of chicken.

Kalasin stabbed a grape.

Kaddar put a mouthful of steaming hot fried rice into his mouth, and almost yelped and fell off the sofa at the heat.

Kalasin ate an entire pickled chili without flinching.

They hadn't broken eye contact.

There was silence for a few moments, both waiting for the other to break down. Kaddar gave her the evil eye. "What's your issue?"

"Nothing. I don't have an issue." She paused. "You have a bit of mango on your lip."

Kaddar licked it off automatically, and for some reason, she blushed.

"No, seriously, what is it?" he demanded. "You've been on edge since you got back from the library. First I walk in on you sniffing that dratted cushion. Then there's the head-tilting. It's like you've gotten a crick in your neck. And you've been staring at me while I was eating my ice cream." He sighed deeply. "Kalasin, we've had this discussion before, but if you want my dessert, all you need to do is ask…"

Kalasin crossed her arms defensively. "I do not want your ice cream. And please don't lecture me. I have a valid reason for being on edge."

"Oh? What would that be?"

"I want to kiss you. For recreational purposes."

Kaddar simply gaped. Kalasin clapped her hand over her mouth. "It wasn't supposed to come out like that…" she mumbled. "Um, um, forget that ever happened?"

"Not quite," he said, crossing his arms. And here he had thought that he had finally figured her out. As if. "You want to kiss me? For, um, recreational purposes?"

Kalasin felt like running away and hiding under the bed. "…Yes."

He sighed again. "Then kiss me, silly Kalasin. You're making a big deal out of this."

"Don't call me silly!" she exclaimed, backing away to stand behind the armchair. Not like she was going to be hit with the sudden, unbearable urge to throw herself into his arms and kiss him, but it was always wise to play it safe. "I'm not just going to randomly kiss you!"

"Why?"

Kalasin stamped her foot. "Because—I—don't—know—how!"

Kaddar stared at her, and then, to her complete and utter disbelief, he began to laugh. "Mithros, Kalasin, how hard do you think it is? Just walk up to me and kiss me! I don't bite, you know!"

Kalasin plopped down on the chair and buried her head in her hands for a moment, and then she began to dig around in the cushions of the armchair, finally emerging with the Art of Romance. She waved it in Kaddar's face. "I spent the whole evening studying this, and you undermine my efforts?"

Kaddar scoffed, glancing at the little pink book. "Kalasin, I appreciate it, but really…it's a book. Do you really expect it to teach you how to kiss?"

"Yes!"

"No," he corrected gently. "I could teach you much better than that book could."

Kalasin, who had made up her mind to be as difficult as possible, put her nose in the air. "Prove it."

"Fine." Without further ado, he lifted her up from the armchair and sat down instead, pulling her down on his lap, so that her back pressed against his chest.

Kalasin blinked, half-turning so she faced him, racking her memory for useful passages in the book. "Arms around your neck?" she asked.

He nodded, and she complied, her back feeling a little uncomfortable. Kaddar shifted more to the side, so that it was more easier for both of them. He smiled into her wide eyes. "Ready?"

Kalasin nodded, feeling her heart pound against her ribcage. "As ready as I'll ever be."

And he leaned in, and kissed her. Kissed her when neither of them were dancing, drunk, or crying. Just a kiss, for the sake of it. Something that neither of them had really thought would happen.

There weren't any fireworks outside the window. The world didn't come to an absolute standstill. Kalasin gasped a little, and tightened her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened. It was the strangest feeling she had ever had—and the most pleasurable, too.

When they broke apart, Kalasin simply laid her head on his chest, feeling rather dazed. "You win," she murmured. "That was the best lesson I have ever had."

Kaddar smiled, stroking her hair. "It was just a brief tutorial, you know."

"Do you offer more in-depth lessons?" she asked coyly.

"Oh, you have noidea," he grinned.

Kalasin cuddled against him. "Mmm…is that a bearskin rug?" she asked abruptly.

"Yes. Why?"

"Er, no reason. You don't like whipped cream, do you?"

Kaddar chuckled. "I might. You ask the strangest questions. I wonder what thoughts cross your depraved mind."

"You, ah…probably don't want to know."

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So, what d'you think? Are everybody's individual needs for fluff satisfied?