Traitor's Moon

there was nothing he could do to assuage that wound; better just to move on.
    A hand slid slowly under his jaw, cupping his cheek as lipsbrushed his cheek. The touch spread a tingle of anticipation down his whole right side.
    â€œThis, talí. You,” Seregil said, breath warm on his skin. “I couldn’t see your face back then, but it was you I dreamed of. I’ve had so many lovers—dozens, hundreds maybe. But not one of them—” He broke off. “I can’t explain it. I think some part of me recognized you that first night we met, battered and filthy as you were.”
    â€œIn that distant foreign land.” Alec turned to meet the next kiss with one of his own. How long before someone missed them and came looking?
    Time enough
.
    But Seregil only pulled him closer, cradling him without any of the usual playful groping that preceded their lovemaking. They sat like that for some time, until Alec finally realized that this was what Seregil had come here for.
    They fell silent again, and Alec felt himself slipping into a doze. He snapped awake again when Seregil shifted his legs.
    â€œWell, I suppose we should go back down,” Seregil said.
    Alec rose awkwardly, still sleep dazed. The night air felt cold against his right side where he’d lain against him. The sudden loss of physical contact left him disoriented and a little melancholy, as if he’d absorbed Seregil’s sorrow through his skin.
    Seregil was looking at the guest house again. “Thank you, talí. Now when I look over here from there, I can remember this as more than just a place that isn’t mine anymore.”
    They replaced the tick and were almost out the door when Seregil paused and turned back, muttering something to himself.
    â€œWhat is it?” asked Alec.
    Instead of answering, Seregil pulled the bedstead to one side and disappeared behind it.
    Alec heard the scrape of stone against stone, followed by a triumphant cackle. Seregil popped into view again, holding up a grappling hook and rope.
    â€œWhere did that come from?” Alec asked, amused by his friend’s obvious delight.
    â€œCome see for yourself.”
    Alec climbed onto the dusty bed and peered over the edge. Seregil had pried up one of the polished stone floor tiles, revealing a dark space underneath.
    â€œDid you make that hole?”
    â€œNo, and I wasn’t the first to use it, either. The grapple was mine,a later addition, and this.” He lifted out a clear quartz crystal as long as his palm. “I found the loose tile by accident. These other things were already here. Treasures.” A pretty box of Aurënfaie inlay work followed the crystal, and inside Alec found a child’s necklace of red and blue beads and a falcon’s skull. Seregil placed a painted wooden dragon with gilded wings beside it, then a small portrait of an Aurënfaie couple painted on ivory. Finally, with great care, he lifted out a fragile wooden doll. Its large black eyes and full-lipped mouth were painted on, but the hair was real—long, tightly curled ringlets of shining black.
    â€œBy the Four!” Alec touched a finger reverently to the hair. “Do you think this is Bash’wai?”
    Still kneeling behind the bed, Seregil touched each object with obvious affection and nodded. “The doll is, and perhaps the necklace.”
    â€œAnd you never told anyone?”
    â€œJust you.” Seregil carefully replaced everything except the grapple. “It wouldn’t have been special if anyone else had known.”
    Standing, he tilted Alec a crooked grin. “And you know how good I am at keeping secrets.”
    Alec uncoiled the grapple rope. It was still supple, and knotted every few feet for climbing. “It’s too short to reach the ground.”
    â€œI’m disappointed in you, talí,” Seregil chided, carrying it out to the balcony. With one easy toss, he threw the hook up and secured it on the edge of the roof above. Giving Alec a parting wink, he shimmied up and out of sight.
    Knowing that he’d just been issued a challenge, Alec followed and found Seregil waiting for him in the large colos there.
    â€œI used to sneak out of my room this way, then use the back stairs over there to get out of the house. Or Kheeta and I would meet up here and trade sweets we’d nicked from the kitchen. Later on it was beer, or turab. Actually, it’s a wonder I didn’t