Page 135 of The Sun He Buried

Then I take Baldr’s face in both hands.

“I came after you because I wanted you.”

His hands close around my waist.

“You have me.”

“Good.”

I kiss him.

He holds still for one second. Then his mouth opens over mine, and my back meets the nearest post.

The wood is solid.

Excellent roof.

Baldr’s hands move beneath his coat and over my wet cloak. There’s far too much clothing between us. I pull at the ties under my chin until one catches in my hair.

He frees it. “Slow down.”

“I’ve been walking slowly all day.” My hands are already back in his coat.

“You ran here.”

“Badly.”

“Still counts.” His thumb moves along my ribs.

I kiss him again before he can keep being reasonable.

Snowpetal growls inside the stall.

We both turn.

A horse is staring down at her. Snowpetal is staring back. The horse moves its nose closer.

She licks it.

The horse sneezes in her face and Snowpetal falls over.

I start laughing.

Baldr presses his forehead against the post beside mine. His shoulders move.

Snowpetal gets up, shakes herself, and marches toward the hay with what remains of her dignity.

“She’s perfect,” I say.

“Of course.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Not remotely.”

His chest is shaking. He’s not even trying to hide it.

I poke him.