Chapter 4: All of It

They pulled turnips until the sun was high.

There were forty plants, and every one came out of the ground with ten fat purple turnips hanging off it.

Aoi stamped each sack with the little brass hen from the starter chest, because that was what the game did, and heaved them into the shipping bin.

Caelrin carried the sacks without being asked and watched the bin the whole time with his mouth set in a line.

"Do not ship all of it," he said.

"Why not?"

"I do not know yet."

"That's not a reason."

"It is the only one I have."

She looked at the nine sacks left on the grass, and at his face, and kept two for the kitchen.

By the time the lamps were lit, her back ached, her hands stung, and she had stopped caring about any of it.

He stood at the door of the farmhouse with his scarf in his hands.

"The light is on," Aoi said.

"I see that."

"The door closes."

She pushed it shut behind him, and the latch clicked.

His shoulders dropped.

Then he crossed the room and kissed her.

It was slow this time, deep and thorough, with his hands framing her face.

He kissed her until her knees went, and then he walked her backward to the bed, and she sat down on the yellow quilt.

He knelt in front of her and began to unlace her boots.

"You don't have to do that."

"I have waited a very long time to do this," Caelrin said. "Let me."

He drew off one boot, and then the other, and her socks.

He kissed her ankle.

Then he rose and undid his coat, and dropped it, and pulled his shirt over his head.

Aoi stopped breathing.

He was lean and pale and hard-muscled, a soldier's body gone a little thin from two years of bad food.

An old scar ran in a pink line across his ribs, and another sat low on his hip.

His stomach was flat and ridged, and a faint line of dark hair led down from his navel into his trousers.

"You are staring," he said.

"I'm going to keep staring."

He smiled, small and crooked, and she wanted to be good enough to deserve it.

She reached for the buttons of her shirt, but he caught her hands.

"Allow me."

He undressed her slowly, one button at a time, and kissed each place he uncovered.

The collarbone.

The slope of her breast.

The soft inside curve of her belly, where she held her breath and did not feel one bit ashamed.

When she was bare he laid her back against the pillows and looked at her for a long time.

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