“You’re too thoughtful.” Tiiran nearly made it a curse.
Orin smiled with real warmth and waved Tiiran down when he tried to rise. “Rest andenjoyyour rest.” As if those were his parting words, he turned toward the way out. But then he didn’t move, only clearing his throat to speak. “You know, some might enjoy having two people fetching meals for them.”
He gave Tiiran a glimpse of his face and the gleam in his eyes, and spoke as if the situation was comparable to flirtation, when obviously it wasn’t. Tiiran wasn’t Mattin, who had once had two assistants vying for his attention with sweets and pastries.
“You’rebeing nice,” Tiiran complained, too embarrassed to make it forceful. “Hethinks I can’t take care of myself. Barely been here a year, spends half his time in the capital letting everyone fall all over him and his stupid, handsome face, but he thinksIdon’t know how to do anything.” He made his points to Orin, then finished with an unhappy scoff. “I could peel myself an orange if I wanted to.”
Orin turned away. “I’ll have to thank him for making sure you’re taken care of.”
Tiiran got to his feet despite Orin wanting him to rest. “I can…”
Orin cut him off by agreeing with him. “You can. But you often don’t.” He twisted to give Tiiran another study. “You’re red in the face despite all your hissing.” Orin’s lips twitched, but it didn’t seem like he fought a smile. “I’ll leave your food at the front if you’re not around. Should I bring enough for your friend?”
“He’s not my friend.” Nikoly would probably be amazed if anyone suggested it.
Orin raised both eyebrows. “For Mattin,” he explained slowly, incidentally showing he’d known the name all along and had been gently teasing Tiiran again. “Not for your handsome not-friend… unless you’d like me to feed him too.”
“Fuck off.” The thought of Orin bringing food for Nikoly, seeing him and undoubtedly finding him as handsome as everyone else did, made Tiiran want to do something. He didn’t know what. Butsomething. He finally took an orange slice but tossed it in his mouth to chew it viciously instead of throwing it at Orin. Orin would have just caught it anyway.
“Snarling again.” Orin was subtly pleased. “I haven’t lost my touch. The front desk,” he reminded Tiiran. “Don’t forget.”
He was two steps away before Tiiran was calling to him. “WillI see you tomorrow?”
He watched Orin’s great shoulders move; with a sigh or a silent laugh, he couldn’t have said. But Orin turned to give Tiiran a look that banished every worry, untangled his nerves, and made him think, strangely, that instead of lying on top of Orin, Orin could scoop him up and Tiiran wouldn’t even mind how small it would make him feel.
Orin swept a long, long look over him while Tiiran fought not to shiver. Then, at last, Orin said, “I’ll do my best, but it depends on if something comes up.”
Tiiran frowned but understood. “Much like here. But youwilltake care?”
“When I come back,” Orin said firmly, “we will discuss the library’s founding. So you’d better eat and rest and give yourself time to research it. Say you will, kitten.”
The mousers had fewer nicknames than Tiiran did.
He grew hotter at the thought.
“I have no family and no masters, Elorin Vahti,” he answered sternly, but then nodded. “I will also do my best.”
Orin’s long-suffering sigh and pleased, parting smile carried Tiiran through his walk around the upper levels to make sure lamps and fires were completely out and all tables and chairs were in their proper places.
Then he went downstairs and sat at one of the copying tables with Mattin beside him, both of them reading while eating cooled soup with a whole basket of bread and butter shared between them. After that, he ushered Mattin out and locked up, and went to his room to prepare for sleep at a somewhat reasonable hour.
Alone in his bed with the candle blown out, he let himself be confused and hot and hungry. He wondered how Orin’s hands would feel on his back and if it would feel as good as when Orin was proud of him. If it would be better. If anything could be. And what Orin would do if Tiiran behaved as Orin wanted him to—if Tiiran even could.
He didn’t want to disappoint Orin, but Tiiran wasn’t how Orin thought he was. He wasn’t Mattin with two suitors. He was Tiiran, without even one.
The scent of oranges lingered. Nikoly had removed even the stringy bits from every slice. It made no sense for him to do that when just peeling one was an enormous ask. The scent of oranges would have lingered on Nikoly’s fingers too, Tiiran realized, and then could not let the thought go.
With his eyes closed, it was almost as if someone else touched him. Another’s hands, prettily decorated, but Orin’s voice,One of these days, kitten,over my knee you go, until Tiiran had to clamp his jaw closed tightly to keep from shouting or crying out although he was alone in the room.
Chapter Three
Tiiran hadsomeidea of what Orin had meant, of course; library assistants were not shy. He could even ask someone about it and they would undoubtedly fill him in on their personal experience—which was precisely why Tiiran didn’t speak a word of it the next day despite how it stayed on his mind.
He’d skipped bringing oranges into the library with the rest of the food, but someone else did it for him: a large serving bowl full of fruit from the palace orchards and orangery that was apparently a gift from one of their lovers. Tiiran ignored the bowl to spare himself the blushes.
He should have been thinking of those banners, or the library’s founding, or what tasks he would need to get done quickly in order to give him time to get to researching. The events of yesterday had demonstrated that Tiiran had been adding to the problems by trying to attend to everything himself, even the tasks he was not particularly suited to. If he would never assign Mattin to dust unless there was no one else available, then he should not have himself speaking with library visitors except in cases of those who would not be reasonable. Tiiran told himself that several times, and then, when he had to go try to save Niksa’s last binding so it wouldn’t have to be redone, asked Nikoly to stand at the desk while he worked on his copies.
Nikoly’s instant acceptance of the task, the dip of his chin and pleased smile, nearly distracted Tiiran from his reply of, “If you wish it, honeybee.” But if Orin was going to go around calling himkitten, then Tiiran supposedhoneybeewasn’t too different. At least no one else had tried it, Po and Niksa shooting wide-eyed looks Tiiran’s way when it had happened as if they couldn’t believe Nikoly would dare.
