“May I touch you?” Nikoly said it as if he hadn’t placed Tiiran on the window seat. He put his palm to Tiiran’s cheek, lightly, not how Orin did it. To ask, not to make Tiiran listen. Then he went down onto his knees in front of Tiiran to look up at him, ignoring Tiiran’s flustered wheezing. “Will you kiss me now?”
“You’ll get sick,” Tiiran said instantly, panic making him a loose-mouthed ninny. Nikoly seemed unconcerned with that excuse, perfectly valid though it was. “It won’t be good,” Tiiran added, more panic making the words loud and shaky. “It won’t be like with Ori—with your others.”
Nikoly frowned, but it didn’t seem angry. “I don’t know why you’re jealous now.” He kept his voice gentle and low. “You have no right to be upset about anything I or Orin did, or do, or didn’t do—but only because you have not asserted that right. I’ve been waiting, most worthy Tiiran. So has he.”
Tiiran didn’t breathe. His eyes watered. Nikoly pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and handed it to him. Tiiran clutched it mindlessly.
Nikoly got to his feet. “I’ll bring you back something, then?” When Tiiran still didn’t speak, Nikoly gave him a more cautious look. “And you may call me Ly, if you like.At leastLy. Like the others do.”
“I don’t understand,” Tiiran managed at last.
Nikoly took the cup from him as if perhaps Tiiran had been about to drop it.
“I’m realizing that more and more, and wondering how much more difficult this might have been without Orin having already cleared some of the thorns.”
“Roses again,” Tiiran complained.
“You like roses.” Nikoly said it with an air of satisfaction. “Tell me what else you like and I’ll get it for you. Please.”
He’d said please to Orin too. That mattered, but not in a way that was upsetting. At least, not in that moment.
“I don’t know what else I like.” The confession was dazed, but also unsatisfactory. Tiiran frowned. “The orange slices were nice.”
Nikoly was suddenly radiant. “Perhaps some feast day treats? We can start there. Or more fruit. For now, you’ll rest, and we’ll talk more when you’re ready. For your sake,” Nikoly continued as if Tiiran had been about to argue, which he possibly had. “And for his. He won’t like the fact that you wore yourself down and became ill. You know he won’t.” His palm briefly graced Tiiran’s cheek again. “Neither do I.”
“You’re leaving?” Tiiran absently wiped his nose. “Afterthat?”
He’d pleased Nikoly again. “I have to be at the desk to help run your library. Shall I come by with more food, or send someone, or walk you back to your room before I go?”
Tiiran scoffed, mostly because no one would have had a sensible answer to that, especially not someone in his condition.
“It’s just the snuffles,” he said despite his own thoughts. “You don’t have to lure me with treats. I’m not actually an alley cat.”
Nikoly smiled. “We can discuss all of that when you feel better.”
“Some pup,” Tiiran muttered, but fell back down onto the seat cushion as if that conversation had sapped his strength.
“A dog,” Nikoly answered, or seemed to, but Tiiran was likely already asleep, and he’d wake up in bed with no handkerchief of fine linen and no blue robe blanket and know he had dreamed all of it.
Chapter Thirteen
Nikoly presented Tiiran with a bag of roasted nuts mixed with dried cherries at the desk the next morning, not in front of everyone, but in front of enough of them. Po was the sole assistant who didn’t smirk or whistle. She made eye contact with Tiiran and smiled onlyafterhe’d accepted the bag. Tiiran’s face was on fire the whole time, which didn’t make him feel any better about his red, rough nose, especially next to Nikoly’s brilliance.
He remembered to thank Nikoly at least, publicly and then again, quieter, when they were side by side at the desk before Nikoly shooed Tiiran back to the office and the desk there for another day of rest. And water with lemon. And tea. And eventually, a spare robe of Mattin’s since Tiiran had not received his back from the palace laundry.
Mattin was the only one there near his size with robes to spare. This one was deep red, with embroidery at the hem and the cuffs—plain, by Mattin’s standards. It was also softer than anything Tiiran had ever owned or slept on.
Nikoly walked in on Tiiran rubbing the sleeve against his cheek when he came in with a tray for tea, calmly resuming their afternoon ritual as if Tiiran hadn’t been blushing and unable to look up whenever Nikoly had come near him.
Tiiran had gotten more work done than he’d expected that way, as had Niksa, which at least meant the snuffles were not the kind to linger for weeks. Nikoly seemed to think this was due to rest and all the tea. Tiiran had no argument there since he’d never rested this much while sick before, but it did seem to be working.
Nikoly wondered aloud why Tiiran would tell Niksa to rest but then not try to rest himself, and Tiiran told him, glancing away, cheeks hot, to shut up.
Undaunted, Nikoly then asked if Tiiran had liked the cherries.
“Relentless sunflower,” Tiiran grumbled back at him, and received a smile in reply that was so stunning, so stupefying, that he didn’t object to Nikoly leading him to the window seat until he was already sitting on it. “I was working.” Not on official work, but he’d been working.
“You can return to that after your break,” Nikoly returned sweetly, handing Tiiran a cup before sitting down next to him.
