“Tiiran.” Nikoly was almost scandalized.
“I’ll call him what I want. He’s my… Orin, and he tangles me just to untangle me, and Iallowhim to do that. I’m sensible enough for that but not for anything else. I understand.”
“Honeybee, please don’t cry.” Orin kneeled on the bed to reach for him.
“Honeybeeto you now too?” Tiiran demanded, curling to hide his face against Orin’s knee, which then got wet, because Tiiranwascrying. “Oh,” he realized aloud, “I will apparently argue even when pain-drunk. But I felt these things before. Idid. I just didn’t know they were wrong.”
Orin rested a hand over the back of his neck. “You’re not wrong. You’re just overwrought and need to sleep.”
“If I may at least settle one argument,” Nikoly interrupted in a tone that Tiiran knew to watch out for, but Orin possibly did not, “Orin, there is a book for you on that table.”
By the time Tiiran realized which book Nikoly meant, Orin had left him to cross to the table, now wedged against the wall by the door. Nikoly pointed to direct Orin, and then Orin picked up the slim volume bound as simply as any other library copy, except for the pressedOrinon the front.
Orin held it with both hands, inhaling softly, then flipped it open.
Tiiran was lying atop the blankets and had nowhere to hide.
“This is your handwriting, Tiiran.” Orin said it as if he knew Tiiran’s hand well, although Tiiran couldn’t remember writing anything for him but a list of his borrowed books. He slowly and carefully turned a page, very clearly reading the start of the poem Tiiran had copied for him. “Thank you, kitten.” Orin’s voice was warm and rumbling. “I’ll read it under the moon and stars and think of you.”
Something in that made Tiiran want to frown, and it was not the return of the comforting feeling in his chest since that was apparently not to be trusted. “You sleep outside? I thought outguards were welcomed in the homes of nobles.”
“Sometimes we rest for the night between towns.” Orin looked over another page, then closed the book gently and held it in both hands again. “And sometimes I like sleeping under the sky… though admittedly less as I get older.”
“Firelight would be better to read by. For your eyes,” Tiiran clarified, not missing a moment of Orin bringing the book to his pack and setting it down with a little sigh. “You’ll get headaches.”
Orin turned to consider him. His expression made Tiiran feel small and silly, his heart bigger than his ribs. “Poemsanda snarl? I am truly blessed by the fae tonight. Say what you will, Tiiran, it’s true.”
Teasing again. Tiiran rolled onto his back to ignore them both.
“He’s been hanging onto that poem for a while,” Nikoly revealed.
“Shut up,” Tiiran told him tightly. “I’m sorry I can’t do this right.”
“You’re doing very well.” Nikoly wriggled over to curl against his side again, tugging a blanket up over him at the same time. Tiiran shivered, suddenly aware of how cold he actually was, that he was just lying there, naked while he sulked. “You do well in everything, bee. It’s intimidating.”
Tiirandidscoff for that. “You are skilled at everything and everyone admires you. Even me, which you know because you tease me.”
“Tiiran,” Nikoly exhaled against the back of his neck, “when I realized your scowling and fussing over me meant you cared for me, I couldn’t believe it. You’re determined, and clever, and people really do fear you. I knew you thought I was pretty, but that you also want to protect me from those you believe wouldn’t treat me well? That I didn’t know. You are the authority in that library, and you are the authority over me, and I will call you Master Keeper even if you don’t feel you’ve earned that rank yet.”
Tiiran looked up, desperate, and Orin was there at the side of the bed, wonderful warmth in his gaze while he watched Tiiran struggle.
Throat tight, Tiiran extended a hand. Orin climbed into bed next to him, leaving the last candle by the fireplace to burn. Nikoly tossed over the remaining blanket, thin though it was, and Orin accepted it, yet arranged most of it to fall over Tiiran.
Nikoly wrapped an arm around Tiiran’s waist. “Tiiran? Did I frighten you?”
Orin rolled onto his side and brushed Tiiran’s cheek with his fingertips. He answered Nikoly as if aware that Tiiran couldn’t. “We both worried over his emotions and how he might struggle to accept this and then we gave him everything he wanted all at once. I’m sorry, Tiiran, we could have done this better.”
Tiiran shook his head, then swallowed. Opening his mouth did him no good; no words emerged. He shook his head again, then grabbed Orin’s hand and pulled it to his chest.
“But, Orin?” Orin guessed. “Rest now and find your arguments later, my exhausted kitten.”
Tiiran fought for words. “Touch me? Just touch. I…. It’s good.”
“Like a blanket?” Orin was so wonderful. “But perhaps with a bit more force?” He curled an arm under Tiiran and pulled until Tiiran was up against him, his back to Orin’s chest, and Orin was holding him tightly. “Kitten needs sensation to quiet his mind,” Orin explained softly, which was when Tiiran realized Nikoly was fretting. Orin gestured for him to come closer, which Nikoly did, wiping more of Tiiran’s tears away. “Pressure is easiest,” Orin went on, gentle and quiet. “He likes to be held tightly, don’t you, little cat? That’s it.”
The words of approval were for Nikoly, pressed to Tiiran’s front.
They told him the warmth at the thought of them wasn’t real, then told him it was. If Tiiran hadn’t been a stray, maybe that would have made sense.