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“All the time is a little harsh.” A little more humanity cracked Eithan’s smile. “I will allow, though, that I can be a unique experience.” “Let him kick you,” Yerin suggested. Everyone looked to her—Naru Huan’s face had grown substantially brighter—but she didn’t back down. “You want to show you’re sorry? Let him kick you.” Eithan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’m a little disturbed at how quickly you came to that suggestion.” “I dream about it every night.” Naru Huan controlled himself, but Lindon could see that he was holding back excitement. “I would like that very much.” “Well, if I’m
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He wondered aloud if maybe not everyone could advance as quickly as he did, even given the chance. Yerin had stared at him for five straight minutes when she heard him say that, while Eithan laughed himself sick and then stored the memory in a dream tablet to share with others. Lindon still didn’t see why it was funny.
Lindon had also once dreamed about fighting side-by-side with other sacred artists as an equal, but he wasn’t about to mention that now. “Then let’s go,” Lindon said. He moved to pick up Ziel, but Yerin was still holding onto him. “Two and a half seconds,” she said into his outer robe. Then she reached up, red eyes blazing, and dragged his head down for a kiss. She released him and he took a breath. “Two and a half more,” she said, and kissed him again. When she finally released him and picked up Mercy, he had to catch his breath. He very carefully did not look at Eithan.

