Diavla watched the forest as they passed through, recognizing a few clearings and streams. She wondered whether they would stop to camp in the same place they had on the way to Rivermarch. If it were not so cold, it would be a beautiful day.

  Eubexa appeared to be having a bit of a rough time. Diavla tried not to disturb her for Western lessons too much, as the sickly elf was trying to read the book about demon-fighting. She suspected that Eubexa was having more difficulty than she wanted to let on. Her ears caught what sounded like soft grunts and groans of frustration, and occasionally muttering as Eubexa slowly sounded something out. She was pretty sure Tom couldn't hear any of it. Poor little round-ear, she joked in her head, looking affectionately at her tolanor.

  Her tolanor. Diavla had realized the depth of her feelings for Tom had grown to that point. The humans would apparently call it being in love but Eubexa insisted that that was a poor translation. At one point, Diavla had gotten frustrated and asked Eubexa why she couldn't translate things like kanashim, erotalsh, and tolanor better. The veiled elf had responded by asking, “How would you explain humor to someone who has never laughed?”

  Diavla was sure that wasn't a fair comparison either. The humans obviously did have all those feelings, but they weren't well-defined. They just didn't think about them that way. Diavla would simply have to take Tom's actions as a guide to how he felt about her.

  She really, really enjoyed some of Tom's actions. A lot. And wanted them to continue, as often as possible.

  On the way into the city, something had seemed to burst like a bubble inside her, igniting her libido. She still didn't know what it was, but spirits of Passion now heeded her when they never had before. Diavla also felt stronger than ever, magically.

  Of course, much of that was probably due to her starting to practice again for the first time in ages. She had fallen out of the habit, stopped doing the exercises. Once she had learned that her ability to Heal was—putting it kindly—minimal, and that she wasn't particularly powerful in other areas either, she had mostly lost interest. Getting outshone in Kilder Vald in every area by Little Miss Perfect didn't help.

  Diavla took a breath. I'm getting more immature, too. I don't understand why. I didn't resent Sheema before...well, not much, I don't think. I'm feeling surges of jealousy—now that's a very childish emotion. You wouldn't even think I was an adult, to look at my emotions lately.

  I suppose it is because I unlocked something last week, and my soul hasn't settled yet with my new relationship to the spirits. Perhaps the spirits of Passion are having some fun with me, since I am such a late bloomer. Spirits of Fire are making me jittery as well.

  Maybe I'll try to light the campfire tonight with magic instead of a striker. That will be more than a bit embarrassing, if I spend half an hour trying and then fail. But spirits know, I want to light something on fire. She felt a slight stirring of the spirits in response to the thought.

  I had better start doing my spirit-sense exercises regularly, if they are going to be this active in my soul. I need all the self-control I can muster, especially with eleven stone of yummy human male sitting next to me all day. It was harder than she expected to keep her hands off of Tom while he was driving the wagon.

  Life has certainly gotten very interesting lately.

  ° ? ? ? °

  When Tom steered his wagon off the road and onto a fair-looking campsite, Diavla explained what she wanted to try. Orvan would be the most put out by the delay in starting dinner, but he gave her a faint smile and nodded encouragement. So, the others gathered firewood while Diavla prepared some kindling. Tom hovered nearby, until she asked him to back away. That man is too distracting. Instead of messing around with lighting fires I could be messing around with—Diavla firmly shut down that thought. Self-discipline, woman!

  She did her best to clear her mind and ignore Tom's curiosity, which was still palpable even with him on the other side of the wagons. Kneeling, she took a deep, cleansing breath, and started trying to meditate. It was difficult, but not as difficult as it would have been even a week ago.

  Within a couple of minutes, she was already deep enough to open up with her spirit-sense. Who is around? Diavla cast about with her soul. Spirits of Nature, of course...Passion...Curiosity...Fire. Good. She gathered her strength, and put out a call.

  FIRE.

  Diavla opened her eyes and focused them on the kindling before her. She could feel spirits of Fire and Curiosity, and not a few of Passion, coming closer and swirling around her and the fire pit. Diavla had always had an affinity for spirits of Curiosity, and they tended to answer her calls regardless of her request. Diavla didn't know whether she could do this, and wanted to find out—that was enough to draw them in.

  The spirits of Passion were probably responding to the desire she felt, but she was trying to suppress it at the moment. Her call for fire felt weak to her, if she was honest. It wasn't the best spot for this, but it wasn't terrible either. The fire pit probably saw enough use to encourage spirits of Fire to stay in the area. The fault was with her.

  She wanted to give up, but disciplined herself to keep trying. She focused on one twig—concentrating spirits of Fire often made it easier to create that first spark. That was better, but she sensed it might not be enough. As she tried to make herself keep going, her thoughts shifted to Tom. In particular, to the way they had woken each other up that morning. Now that's a fire I want to—

  The kindling erupted in a brief pillar of flame.

  Diavla felt the surge in her spirit-sense just soon enough to jerk back and save her eyebrows. Everyone else in the camp cried out in surprise, as spirits of Passion helped the spirits of Fire answer her call. Quickly, she grabbed the rest of the kindling she had prepared and added it, so that the fire would not starve in an instant. Orvan crouched down next to where she knelt and helped coax the flames to become a steady campfire.

  “Well done,” the old elf murmured.

  “Thank you,” Diavla whispered back. She stood, turned and marched over to Tom.

  “Diavla, that was amazing! I didn't know you c—!” She cut him off with a kiss.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Spirits of Passion, I make you an offering. Thank you.

  Tom returned her kiss enthusiastically. After a few moments, though, he started trying to end it. “Diavla... Diavla, this is great, but...a little later...”

  “Not good enough,” she growled, trying to pull him back in.

  “Not good enough?” Tom echoed her Elvish. Something shifted in his eyes—something Diavla liked very much. He gripped a fistful of her hair and bent her head back away from him just a bit. Very deliberately, he whispered, “Then...you...will...wait...and want...more, more...You think...what I do...tonight. You think big. You think more more. You want me now, you want me soon. Do you understand?”

  “Yes...” she whispered back, her soul aflame. Tom gave her a hard smile that made her feel weak in wonderful ways.

  The spirits of Passion strongly approved.

  ° ? ? ? °

  Once the excitement over her accomplishment had died down a bit, Tom said something and walked away from everyone else. “He's going to train,” Eubexa explained.

  “Saa, entertainment!” Varga declared, and moved to follow.

  “Don't crowd him,” Diavla cautioned. “You don't want to get stabbed.” She followed as well. Tom noticed and rolled his eyes with a smile. He shook his head as if to clear it, then drew his sword. He took a deep breath. Just like when I start to meditate, Diavla thought.

  Tom held out his sword, making tiny adjustments to the position before he was satisfied. Then he lifted the blade, but very slowly. The human had a look of intense concentration as he stopped the blade, then abruptly cut downward in a slash, jerking the blade to a halt before it went too low. He frowned, seemingly dissatisfied.

  He did it again. And again. Varga seemed to give up from boredom, but Diavla kept watching as he switched to a different move, and practiced that over and over. Eventually he went back to the first move, going a bit faster. And faster. And faster.

  Diavla slowly got more and more impressed as Tom's drills picked up speed. He added some footwork. She could almost see his imaginary opponent as he practiced parries, thrusts, and lunges. Over and over, faster and faster, until Orvan called that dinner was almost ready.

  Tom was sweating, and he stepped over to the creek running along the edge of the camping area. He took a few moments to take off the top half of his armor, the mail making a jangling metallic sound as it pooled under his hand. He pulled off his shirt, then began to wash up. Diavla smiled and walked over. She picked up a clean rag, wet it, and started scrubbing Tom's back without his asking. He looked at her over his shoulder, amused and slightly suspicious to judge by his expression.

  “I help,” she told him, as innocently as she could.

  “Mm. Thank you.” He straightened up and stretched most pleasingly, and Diavla enjoyed rubbing him down. She liked the way he smelled, but she did prefer it when he was clean. With effort, she kept her behavior chaste, and soon Tom was putting his shirt back on, then his mail shirt over that, leaving the rest of his armor for the moment. They headed to dinner, which Diavla knew from experience was very important to Tom.

  Winnie had gifted them with fresh bread when they left the Carvers' place, and it went well with dinner. Diavla had a serving, and as usual Tom had two, and a little more. Eubexa beat him, as she had three servings—though she had to be persuaded first that the food was going to waste otherwise.

  Once everyone had finished, Diavla shared out small portions of desserts from Sally's Sweets, savoring her favorite, a beet cookie. After that, it was time to drag Tom off for something not as fun as she'd like. “Eubexa, I could use your help for a bit.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Tom, I want to teach you some magic.” Eubexa translated, and Tom blinked twice.

  “What?”

  “Don't worry, you won't be lighting fires. We should get away from distractions, though.” While Eubexa rendered that into Western, Diavla stood up and headed for a log on the far side of one of the tents they had set up, away from the fire where the other elves were huddling.

  Eubexa stood up on her own, with the help of a walking stick. Diavla paused.

  “Are you all right?”

  Tom asked the same thing in his own language.

  “Be patient with me, and I can walk.” The veiled elf moved very slowly, being careful of her injured foot.

  “Of course. Congratulations. Tell us at once if you need help, though.”

  The two women settled themselves on the log, and Tom sat on an overturned bucket facing them. “How are you going to teach me magic here? I can barely see you here in the shadows.”

  “You don't need your eyes for this. You will be looking inward.” Spirits, I sound like the Wise Woman at Temple. I hated her lessons. Diavla gathered her thoughts. “This is going to be hard to translate, Eubexa, I apologize in advance.”

  “I will do my best.”

  “The first step is to calm your mind, to clear it of distractions. Do you know what meditation is?”

  “That's when the devouts just sit still with their eyes closed and...the gods like that, or something.”

  Diavla squeezed her eyes shut a moment, then sighed and opened them. “It is...a little like dreaming. Perhaps... a little bit like when you are practicing with the sword, and you focus your soul very closely on what you are doing.”

  “You want me to concentrate.”

  Diavla rocked her head back and forth. “In a way. It's like...imagine focusing on your sword, and then...take away the sword—just leave the feeling of focus.”

  “That...does sound like something a devout would say.”

  “Well, let's try it. You want to be very calm, almost like when you're tired at the end of a busy day and want to sleep, but instead of sleeping, you focus your soul. Start with a deep breath. Breathe with me.” Diavla deliberately made noise for Tom to hear as she breathed, and she could hear him imitating her.

  “Yes...like that. We're in no rush. It takes me minutes to calm my soul sometimes.”

  “Well, I'm not surprised—your soul is very quick, and busy, and skilled. More than mine.” Tom snorted. “Maybe being less clever will help me.”

  “Thank you, Tom, but stop talking for now. We're trying to get you closer to meditation.”

  “Yes, Teacher.”

  Diavla grinned in the dark. Oh, I'm going to make you pay for that later, Tom. “Hush. Just breathe.” Tom settled down, and the two of them took a lot of deep, slow breaths together. It was an odd form of intimacy, and Diavla couldn't help but feel more because she was doing it with Tom.

  When she felt enough time had passed, Diavla said quietly, “All right, Tom. Very good. Now, I'm going to push you, very gently, with my soul. I want you to try to feel it when I do that. Try to sense when I am pushing.”

  Diavla quieted her mind further, readying to reach out with her spirit-sense. One final, deep breath, and she opened herself to the impressions. Among others, there were spirits of Curiosity swirling around both of them—but primarily around Tom, which Diavla took as a good sign. Then, she focused herself as if about to make a call, or “cast a spell” in Tom's terms. Instead of asking anything of the spirits, though, Diavla just pushed outward with her soul, trying to listen for any reaction from Tom's.

  She sensed nothing back from him. It wasn't too surprising. It might be a long time before Tom could manage even the basics. She pushed at him with her soul, slowly, deliberately, a number of times. Finally, she pushed as hard as she could.

  Tom sneezed violently.

  With a mental groan, Diavla gave up for the moment and roused herself to normal awareness. “That's enough for now.”

  Tom took a noisy breath. “What was supposed to happen there?”

  “I was hoping that you would feel it when I pushed, and get a slight awareness of magic, so that you could practice, and learn to recognize it.” Diavla sighed. “We'll just have to keep trying.”

  “All right. Thank you for the lesson.”

  Diavla raised an eyebrow at the translator. “Is that what he actually said?”

  “Well, what he actually said was, 'Thank you for the lesson, I guess.'”

  “You have the makings of a diplomat, Eubexa. But, keep it the unpolished truth when it is just Tom and me.”

  “I will, as best I can. Translation isn't perfect, and my editing mostly makes things more accurate to what was intended. I'll be more careful.”

  “Thank you.”

  They got up and returned to the others. Tom set up watches for the night, putting himself on duty first. Diavla was disappointed, but Varga murmured, “It's hard to get to sleep when you two are dancing below the belt. Just get used to morning sex for a while.”

  Diavla knew she must be turning red as a rose or an apple, but was unable to feel very guilty regardless. She had the morning to look forward to, after all.