And of course, an entire evening spent studying the note got me absolutely nowhere.

Actually, that's not entirely true. I did manage to discover a feeling even worse than making no progress whatsoever . . . which was making no progress while suffering from sleep deprivation.

I'd spent hours staring at the hateful piece of card stock, researching things, referring to various journals in my library, reading up on codes and encryption techniques, everything I could think of. What was especially frustrating was the fact that the note itself was so short. A longer note would have provided me with more options, like taking note of which letters were capitalized, or combing through individual letters to see if there were any marked differences between them . . . comparing the way that this 'g' looped with that one, all of the usual methods people used when concealing a message inside another.

Then there were some of the not-so-usual methods I tried, like the number-based ones, where you assigned each letter a number value and calculated the total value for each word, then used that number to reveal a letter based on your original number-letter scheme. That particular method yielded a result that began with 'Nvreugzu-', and ended with me crumpling up my calculations and chucking them towards the far end of my study.

Out of desperation, I even tried the highly detailed three-step encryption process that had been invented and documented by Lord Terncrest in his journal. It was a code that to my knowledge had never seen use, and probably never would, due to how mind-shatteringly complex it was to employ correctly. I won't even bother attempting to describe how poorly thatwent.

When none of my attempts at deciphering the message panned out, and deciding a fresh perspective might be required, I took the note down to my exercise hall and consulted with Theo. I was surprised to learn that he was familiar with an esoteric, little-known form of battlefield encryption used by Vereetian soldiers, one that was based entirely on where and how often the ink of a note intersected itself. However, after half an hour of painstakingly marking dots on two separate pieces of paper, he grudgingly admitted that this battlefield code wasn't being used in this particular case, unless I knew of a man named 'Vrrhk' who wanted to move troops to somewhere called 'Pffwq' . . .

Reluctantly admitting defeat sometime around six bells the following morning, I decided to catch a couple of hours sleep so I wouldn't be completely useless for the rest of the day. Once I woke up, I immediately banished the cryptic single-sentence note from my thoughts, put it away somewhere I wouldn't think about it (okay, okay, so I was still carrying it around in my inside breast pocket) and focused all of my attentions on something else altogether . . . something I felt was entirely overdue.

I was spending a little longer than I'd intended staring into the small mirror I kept in my study, making small adjustments to what I was wearing here and there. This morning I'd opted to wear a dark green shirt underneath my usual black vest, though very little of it could actually be seen due to the black and gold three-quarter cloak I was currently wearing. I don't usually wear a cloak inside my own keep, but Talia had commented on how well it fell on me the last time I'd worn it, something that factored prominently in my thinking just then.

This was the big day - the day I'd be springing Talia's birthday gift on her . . . although this was now technically going to be a 'late' birthday present, since her birthday had been the previous day. I had spent most of that day unconscious and locked away in a jail cell, however, so I figured a little tardiness was forgivable.

At least, I hoped so.

Realizing that I was in the process of inspecting myself again, I put the mirror face-down on my study desk. Then, after a few moments spent just standing there, I picked it up and considered my reflection once more.

If you haven't already guessed, I was nervous.

These weren't the sort of nerves I'd feel when burgling, or dueling, or any other potentially dangerous activities of that nature. Honestly, there's a bit of excitement that comes from doing those sorts of things, the kind that blends together with your nervousness and transforms it into something resembling anticipation. Once, when throwing myself off the roof of a three-story building while simultaneously firing a hand-crossbow at a nearby window, hoping against hope that the grapple line I'd just fired would catch on some object inside the room, I actually caught myself thinking 'Gods, this is fun!'

This involved a different bundle of nerves entirely, the kind that made you want to find something else to do rather than to actually begin the activity you're anxious about. In some ways, jumping off a building was almost preferable. I mean, at least I had some control over how that might end up going. I've practiced stuff like that.

As far as courting went, I'd been trying to do what she'd asked of me, and exactly none of my attempts to orchestrate heartwarmingly tender moments had paid off in any way, shape, or form. I mean, I'm not saying that everything I've tried should have triggered romantic fireworks, or caused the heavens to open up and the gods to congratulate me or anything like that, but hey . . . not causing her to look like she was about to burst into tears would have been nice.

Nothing about anything involving Talia had really gone according to plan. Although we still occasionally frequented public places together, seemingly going through the motions of courtship, I was still waiting for some sign from her that my efforts weren't all for naught. Or that they were even welcome, for that matter.

True, there'd been times here and there where we appeared to have made progress, or broken through this perplexing, enigmatic wall that seemed to exist between us. We'd talked often during our outings, about both everything and nothing. We'd even encountered a few moments where I began feeling the tiniest bit optimistic about where our relationship was headed.

Then again, there had also been moments where I'd savagely beaten someone half to death right in front of her. How much of that incident now colored her perception of me? I supposed I'd be finding out shortly.

This was probably going to be my best shot when it came to showing Talia what she meant to me. If this didn't suitably impress her, or at least cause her to acknowledge that I was trying my damnedest to do so, I'd be at a complete loss regarding how to proceed. I'd likely have to abandon romantic gestures like these entirely . . . perhaps even give up on the possibility of courtship altogether.

And so, given how badly my other attempts at wooing her had gone, being a tightly-wrapped bundle of nerves about this seemed perfectly understandable. While I'm not generally the sort of person to put all their eggs in one basket, it honestly felt like I was beginning to run out of baskets at this point . . .

Guessing the time to be around eleven bells, I gave myself one final adjustment in the mirror, fetched the shallow box containing Peyla's sword, and then abandoned the relative safety of my study so that I might discover Talia's whereabouts.

After finding no trace of her in the upstairs area, I headed downstairs to the main foyer, where I encountered Janviel engrossed in conversation with a knight I didn't immediately recognize. When both knights became aware of me, they turned and bowed from the waist, which I acknowledged with a nod. The other knight then offered a quick bow to Janviel before turning and exiting through the front greeting room.

"You've managed to locate my doors, I take it?" I said, gesturing at the exit the knight had just used.

"Yes, Milord," Janviel said, giving me a ghost of a nod and gently clicking his boot heels together as he did. "The faux wall covering the doorway was damnably clever, but once we figured it out we were able to expose the front entrance late last night. The cloth was another matter - we'd made very little progress removing it until just this morning, when a fellow with a strange looking teak staff arrived and offered his assistance. I'm not certain what was so special about the staff, but it helped tremendously, and the fabric began to practically fly off. The last of it was removed around ten bells or so. I'd told the fellow you might wish to personally thank him for his assistance, but he wouldn't offer his name, and left without a word just as we'd finished up."

That sounded like Tenarreau's work. I nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, that was certainly fortunate. If you see the fellow again, be sure to point him out to me, will you?"

"Aye, Milord," Janviel said, looking as though he was bracing for some unpleasant task. "And I wish to apologize for this whole ordeal. You had left me in charge of things last night, and thus I am responsible for-"

"No need to explain, Janviel. This wasn't your fault."

"Nevertheless," he said, somehow standing even more at attention than before, "you were understandably upset by what happened, and I accept full responsibility for allowing it to occur. I wish to assure you that I will not be allowing any incidents like this to trouble you again. I've also calculated what last night's intrusion cost us in terms of equipment and man-hours, and I would completely understand it if you subtracted it from my monthly stipend, or-"

"You've been taking captaining lessons from Cyrus, haven't you?" I said, giving him an odd look.

Janviel gave me one in return. "Milord?"

"Never mind. It's fine, Janviel . . . relax. I wasn't really upset last night, just a bit surprised. It's hardly the sort of thing that happens every day, after all. Say, if you had received orders to do something like that, how would you have gone about it?"

"Milord?" His expression became troubled, then thoughtful. Eventually he shrugged. "I'm afraid I have no idea."

"Ah well, something to ponder these next couple of days. If you do think of something, be sure to let me know. Also, I was wondering if you could do something for me right away. This belongs to Preceptor Albusequa," I said, gesturing at the package I held before motioning for him to take it. "I believe you've met her briefly at the palace once. Could you please return it to her, and to her alone? It's something I borrowed of hers . . . very important."

"At once, Milord," he said, carefully accepting the shallow box from me and cradling it in one arm.

"Excellent. Oh, one other thing, before I forget. We've been spending rather a lot on lamp oil these past few weeks. Not your fault," I said, holding my hand up to interrupt him before he had a chance to apologize profusely, "but if you could please pass along a message to the staff that, starting immediately, we will be extinguishing the torchlamps in the courtyard and the front gates at precisely ten bells rather than allowing them to burn through the night, I would most appreciate it."

"I'll communicate your wishes the moment I'm back from the palace, Milord!" Janviel said, giving me a single hurried bow from the neck, clicking his heels together as he did so. That done, he turned about and immediately set out in the direction of the carriages.

He'd done well as a spontaneous replacement Knight-Captain, I mused. I'd have to inform Cyrus of that fact once he returned. A naturally nervous fellow, it seemed, but a solid performer nonetheless.

Of course, the same could probably have been said of Cyrus just over a year ago. Maybe all Knight-Captains started out that way . . .

I gave a light, quiet sigh, ran my fingers through my hair, and then instantly regretted it. Quickly locating the nearest wall-mirror, I took a moment to re-adjust my appearance and straighten my garments before I went looking for-

"Milord, there you are," Talia said, slowly making her way down the second-floor stairway to the greeting room.

Argh. Of course she'd happen upon me just as I was looking at my reflection, primping and preening myself like a peafowl on its way to a plumage festival.

"Uhm, yes," I said, my nervousness suddenly multiplying by about a billion or so. "I was just, err- . . . hi. Talia."

Yup, devastatingly smooth and charming, that's me.

Talia acknowledged me with a graceful bob of her neck, arriving at the bottom of the stairs in short order. "I haven't seen or heard anything from you since last night. Did your spontaneous meeting go well, Milord?"

"Well, yes. Sorry about that. I was going to check on you, but my 'meeting' went on for longer than I'd originally anticipated. And then when I did finally return home, I found myself a little busier than usual."

"Yes, so I'd heard," said Talia, giving me an arch smile and gesturing towards the front doorway. "They've been at it all day, removing that stuff. So . . . I would hazard a guess that the prince is rather vexed with you at the moment then, Milord?"

"Surprisingly, he's not. As it turns out, it's- . . . you know, we can probably discuss all of that later. You're off work in a couple of hours, if I'm not mistaken."

Talia shook her head. "I figured I might have trouble getting to sleep after yesterday's excitement, so I switched with Janna, Milord. I've only just started my shift."

"Well, no longer . . . you have the rest of the evening off. I'm not expecting any visitors, and we've still got the front gates locked to keep out nosy tourists, so I don't think it'll be a problem."

Talia frowned.

"Vincent, you can't keep doing stuff like this," she half-whispered, giving me a look I couldn't quite fathom. "The preferential treatment, giving me time off, things like that. I have a job to do!"

I suppressed a sigh. Already, this wasn't going as I'd hoped.

"A break then . . . a lengthy one." I held up a finger, stopping Talia mid-protest. "As part of your duties. As your Lord, I require you to escort me upstairs so that I might show you something essential to my happiness. If, afterwards, you feel you wish to return to work, I shan't speak a word of protest."

Talia considered me briefly, then cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow while simultaneously pursing her lips. After a moment, her eyes widened marginally.

"Oooo, I get to see 'the room' now, do I?" she asked, archly.

"Well, I suppose we shall find that out shortly," I replied, offering my arm for her to take. "While I did technically miss your birthday, I do promise to make it up to you in the future."

After a slight hesitation, she took my arm, and the two of us began heading up the stairs. I couldn't tell if my heart was racing or not, but I felt a little calmer. Despite a somewhat strained beginning, this whole thing was starting to go a bit better.

It wasn't until we reached the top of the stairs that Talia spoke.

"So, at long last, I get to see this 'room' you've been dying to show me," she mused, her tone containing the slightest edge. "What I'm assuming is meant to be my new, luxurious bedroom, conveniently located down the hall from your own. Likely some white-gauze wonderland of satin and lace, with comforts and lavish decorations fit for a queen?"

I sent her my best innocently confused look.

"What in world are you talking about?" I asked.

Talia gave a light laugh, but after a brief inspection of my face she appeared to do a double-take. "Wait . . . it's not?"

"Goodness, don't you think something like that would be terribly presumptive?"

"Well yes, I would, actually, but-"

"Hang on, is this your clever way of informing me that you find your current bedchamber to be less than satisfactory?"

"Of course not! I-"

"So, to be clear, you wouldn'tbe more comfortable in a plush, opulent bedchamber like the one you described?"

"Not at all."

"Well then, why in the name of Hades would I waste my time putting something like that together for you?" I smiled, gently patting her forearm with my free hand. "No, this is so much better . . ."

Talia stared at me for a few seconds before her expression became one of bemusement, and she gave a half-shrug with one shoulder. "Okay, I'll admit it. Now I'm intrigued."

Once at the top of the stairs, it was only a short walk to the simple oak door that barred access to the room in question. It was a nice enough door, I suppose, though a little plain. Its only real feature of note was the lightly etched brass plate that lay flat against it, upon which the handle and locking mechanism for the door were set.

I pulled a small key made out of brass and onyx from the pocket inside my vest, and held it up in a manner which drew Talia's attention to it.

"This . . . is the only key that will unlock this door. Without it, even I won't be able to get into this room. That's not a statement I make lightly, either. I had Connor add a little something to this lock, and when he was done he told me that if I could find a way to break into it without using this key, and without breaking down the entire door, he'd do dishes in Mosond's galley for an entire year."

Talia raised an eyebrow, then gave me a smirk. "So, naturally, you tried to break in."

"Naturally. There are some days when I retain the distinct impression that a year or so doing honest labor would do that boy some good. Sadly, I was unable to confound this particular lock, despite multiple attempts. So please, don't lose this." I took a half-step backwards, held up my forearm between us, and then made a small production of laying the key upon it and bowing my head, as though I were offering her a sword.

She made a sound that was at least half chuckle before reaching out and taking the proffered key. After briefly inspecting what she held, she slowly inserted it into the door lock and gave it a quarter-turn, producing a series of soft 'clicks' from somewhere behind the door. Then, looking very uncertain all of a sudden, she reached for the handle, twisted it, pushed the door completely open and cautiously took a step inside.

The first thing that drew the eye was the slate fireplace, which was set against the far wall, opposite the door. Beside it, an inviting fur rug lay on the floor next to a simple, nondescript couch. Although the chair itself seemed rather plain, I had it on good authority that it was one of the most comfortable couches in all of Harael . . . something I'd personally verified a time or two while I'd been preparing this particular room.

There was also a simple but sturdy end-table nearby, a brass wine rack, and an open cabinet containing two wine glasses and several empty shelves. The walls had been painted a warm grey, and the floorboards were lightly polished rosewood, the combination of which lent a quiet, peaceable feeling to the room itself.

"So, here's the thing," I said conversationally. "It seems like every other day I catch you on a break and reading in the sitting room, or attempting to read in the kitchen . . . although exactly how you're able to read in there, with Mosond yelling all the time, is something of a mystery. However, I figured that, rather than trying to find the odd minute here and there in the sitting room, you might like somewhere a little more private to do your reading, store some of your books, have your dinner, things like that. Someplace just for you."

Talia remained where she was, just inside the doorway, alternating between looking at me and staring into the room itself.

"This whole room . . . is for me?" she asked, taking a tentative step into the room, followed by another. "This is almost twice as big as my bedchamber! I mean, really . . . just how many books do you think I-"

She stopped, frozen in place, and was now staring to her left at the wall that hadn't been visible to her from the doorway. Her lips had parted ever so slightly, and she'd unconsciously raised a single hand to her cheek, transfixed by what she saw. Her expression, how she held herself, everything about her right at that moment struck you as the whole reason artists put brush to canvas in the first place. Right at that moment, a part of me wished that everything might stay that way forever.

I was, however, far too excited to stand still for very long. I only managed to last about three seconds before excitedly striding into the room and standing behind her, grinning like an idiot.

The entire wall had been utterly transformed. Undulating, sculpted branches and brightly painted green leaves spread themselves from one side of the room to the other, each of them winding their way back to and merging with the relief sculpture of an enormous oak tree that dominated the center of the wall.

Name-bearing placards had been fixed upon some of the branches at various points of the wall, each directly below where a small alcove had been carved into the wall itself. Each alcove, in turn, housed a number of books - a mere few in some cases, but dozens in others.

I'd once referred to the whole thing as a 'bookshelf' in front of the sculptor I'd commissioned to have it made, which had made the fellow so angry that he'd almost stormed out of my keep, threatening to quit all work upon it that very day. I'd apologized to him many times that day, and many times since. Just seeing it again, now, I wanted to find him and apologize once more. What he'd built in this room was nothing less than a miracle of artistic vision.

I breathed a happy, contented sigh.

"In Mirgaard," I said, "they have this thing called a 'family tree', which allows you to look up and identify family relatives, sometimes going back hundreds of years. Last year, you'd hinted that you had a Lord or two in your lineage, which got me curious . . . and my curiosity turned into, well, this." I stepped forward and gestured at the wall, still grinning maniacally. "Six generations in some cases, going back nearly a hundred and fifty years - the journals of your forebears. Or, at least, those I was able to track down and recover.

"Some were damnably difficult to locate, too. This one here, written your great-uncle Rawli, for instance. It had been sitting in a hunting lodge along the Norsh border for almost forty years, though only the gods know how it must have ended up there. And these three over here belonged to Lord Erich Ivyson, your great-great-grandfather, and were nearly impossible to get! A truly funny story, how I got them," I chuckled, turning to face her, "and honestly, I've been practically dying to tell-"

The last of my words died on my lips.

Talia was crying.

She'd found her way over to the couch and was sitting on it, looking at the floor, both hands covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking from her noiseless sobbing. She was crying so hard it seemed she lacked the capacity to make a single sound.

And these were not happy tears. It was as though right at that moment, Talia had become the embodiment of misery.

And I had absolutely no idea why.

It's difficult to describe exactly how much disappointment I felt just then. Maybe lack of sleep had something to do with it - had somehow amplified these feelings. It was like an infinite amount of nothing crashing into me, breaking apart bits of my insides, piece by piece.

I didn't understand why she was crying. Maybe I'd never really understood anything about her at all.

I'd tried my damnedest. I'd tried, and I'd fallen markedly short of the target. I'd failed.

Yet again.

It felt like something important was now broken inside of me all of a sudden, and I found myself desperately wishing to be somewhere else.

Bowing my head slightly, I swallowed once before clearing my throat, hoping it would help me sound a little bit less like I was choking on my own emotions.

"Talia, I can't do this anymore," I managed to croak. "I'm sorry, but I can't. It's-"

My thoughts just kind of melted away at that point. Turning, I took a few steps towards the door.

"No! Please!" Talia sat up a little, one arm extended, twin streams of tears winding their way down both her cheeks. "Please, wait! I-"

I realized my jaw was clenched . . . not out of anger, but more like when something tremendously painful is happening to you, where you're trying to keep from screaming, or crying out. My cheekbones hurt from how expressionless I was attempting to keep my face.

Bleakly, I stopped, turned in place to face where she was sitting, at which point I simply stood there. Just looking at her hurt suddenly, I realized, so I pretended to look interested in a nearby patch of floor, or some section of the nearby wall, patiently waiting, standing there as impassively as I could. Every second that passed was spent battling a powerful urge to leave this room, this keep, and just go and be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Like the Circles, maybe.

Yeah, a duel. I hadn't seriously dueled anyone for a while. I could fight a duel for someone later this afternoon. Maybe even two duels. I could make a day of it . . . it'd be fun.

Talia was still struggling to get her breathing under control. Her chin trembled mightily, and any tears she wiped from her cheeks were instantly replaced by fresh ones.

It was a full minute before she finally spoke.

"That one night - the night I'd come down to your study," she sniffed, wiping yet another trail of tears away with the back of her hand, "dressing you down . . . issuing demands? I was angry. And embarrassed. And once it was all over, I couldn't believe how I'd spoken to you - couldn't believe what I'd just done! Vain, angry . . . and so stupid." Talia took a quick, sniffling breath through her nose. "I had my things packed, and I was just sitting there, down in my room, waiting . . . just waiting for a knock at the door and instructions to remove myself and my things. And it never came.

"And then you . . . oh gods, you've been so good this whole time! So good, about everything! And this?" Talia waved a gesture at the wall of journals in front of her. "I saw this, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. Putting things like this together, doing more than anyone would ever dare dream . . . any of them more insightful than in a dozen flighty tales of romance. Doing all these things I don't deserve . . . like it was penance . . . and I just felt so badly because . . . because you were doing all this work, and it's not really what I wanted at all!" A few more tears spilled down her cheek, and the wobbling of her chin became more pronounced. She took a quick, unhappy breath before speaking in a quiet voice that was somehow even more miserable than before. "A perfect gentleman through everything, and I felt awful. And I still feel awful, because-" Her entire face crumpled the tiniest bit, and she forced herself to take yet another deep, shuddering breath. "Vincent, I don't want to be chased anymore."

And then, after I was done dueling, I could become a recluse. Maybe even an ascetic, or a monk. Like those bald ones from the temple, with that fringe of hair that went all the way around the back. They were always looking to recruit new people.

I wondered if I'd have to get my hair cut like that.

"I don't want to be chased," Talia repeated tearfully, her sobs becoming louder and even more miserable, making her the slightest bit difficult to understand. She sniffed, sobbed once, then sniffed again, weakly adding, "I want to be caught!"

Then again, even if the monks did require me to get some silly haircut just to be accepted by their order, it wasn't like I had-

Wait . . . what?

My brain began sending me urgent messages that something very, very important had just happened.

"I want to be caught," she repeated, every word coming out as though she were admitting to some foul, grisly murder, "and I don't know how! I mean, you're a Lord . . . and I'm just . . . I- . . . what do I do? It's not my place to . . . I mean, I can't just presume to- . . . I-"

At a loss for what to say next, Talia began weeping miserably once more.

I had to review what she'd just said a couple of times before I fully understood.

Caught. She didn't want to be chased anymore. Caught. She wanted-

But that meant-

Which meant that I'd-

I can only describe what happened next as an explosion of joy . . . something entirely contrary to what I'd been feeling just a few short moments ago. I've never in my life gone from one feeling to its complete opposite so quickly before. It was as if the crushing weight of all that nothing had been lifted away, replaced instantly by a feeling of invincibility and wonder, like I'd just discovered how to fly.

Talia hadn't known what she was supposed do! I was a Lord, and she wasn't. I'd taken her confidence and assertiveness at face value - assumed it was some part of her I'd overlooked all these years. I'd been successfully forcing her to engage with me as a peer, but hadn't once in all that time realized that this wasn't her default perception of me. I'd been so focused on trying to win her over that I hadn't even considered what it must have been like from her perspective!

I'd been an idiot about this whole thing, the entire time.

Even her reactions to everything made sense all of a sudden. She'd felt horrible after explaining I'd need to humble myself for her. She'd packed her things - had been prepared to leave, for Baal's sake! And every time I tried to do something for her, she'd been reminded of that fact . . . and reacted in a manner consistent with her feelings, how she'd felt about what she'd done.

How could I have missed that? Gods, how in the seven hells did I expect her to tell me if I'dwon her over? Would she just blurt it out? Inform me? I was a Lord, and Talia was my keepmistress, and I'd grossly underestimated just how much emphasis she had put on that difference. I'd been her Lord for almost the entire time that she'd known me - of course she'd be reluctant when it came to taking the initiative, which was exactly the thing I'd been waiting for this whole time! She somehow felt she didn't have the right, or something like that, and-

And I realized I should be paying rapt attention to Talia, who was doing her halting best to try to explain herself further.

"-and all that time I kept thinking . . . do I give you permission? Like I'm putting on airs, pretending I'm some haughty, self-important Lady - like I was allowing you? I mean, do I throw myself at you, like that gold-panning parasite Freyla tried to?" Her head fell into her hands, and her shoulders began shaking once more. "And every time I wanted you to kiss me, you'd be a perfect gentleman, and I didn't want that, but every time you did I'd just be reminded that you were doing it because I'd told you to, which just made things worse, and I'd feel awful, because here you were, doing all this, and I didn't know how to tell you not to anymore . . . and-"

Okay, I had to fix this.

Very quickly, I happened upon an idea. It seemed crazy, it was scary beyond anything I'd ever imagined, and worst of all, I had no clue if it would even work. But it was an idea.

". . . and I still don't know how to make everything okay!" she wailed, her last words mixing with her sobs and becoming a multisyllabic keening noise as she broke down in front of me.

I stepped forward, quietly, silently. Once directly in front of her, I crouched on my heels directly in front of where she was seated, gently placed a hand on either side of her head, then angled her face upwards. Looking into her eyes, I wiped the tears from her cheekbones with my thumbs, and then slowly leaned in towards her.

And then I kissed her.

It honestly felt like my hands and arms were vibrating, and I couldn't even really be sure they weren't, because my eyes were closed and my head was swimming. I was caught up in a whirlwind of bliss, as though every single thing I'd ever felt in my entire life was fighting to get from one side of my brain to the other, ramming into and exploding all of the other feelings that were trying to do likewise. It was as though I was the sharpest I'd ever been in my life, and at exactly the same moment, it was as though my brain had ceased functioning altogether.

It was like sprinting to the top of the tallest mountain in all of the land, and then stealing a star right from under the noses of the gods.

The kiss was broken eventually, reluctantly, though I can't say for sure which of us ended up pulling away. All I knew was that I was looking at Talia, staring into her eyes, which now had some red rimming the edges, as well as some moisture that still remained here and there. Somewhere in all of this, I could feel that I'd caught one of her tears on my cheek.

Talia's lips were gently parted, and she was looking at me as though something astonishing and bewildering had just happened. I imagine I probably looked much the same, just then.

An eternity passed, and in all that time, nothing else in the world existed but her soulful, pale green eyes.

Eventually, I mustered up the courage to speak. It came out as a whisper.

"So, by 'caught', did you mean . . . like that? Because, if that didn't work, I could always-"

She sprang forward out of her seat and pressed her lips against mine, which somehow managed to turn itself into me kissing her again.

I've read tomes on philosophy and poetry - seen words carefully penned on paper that were capable of making hardened men weep. I've wept at these words myself, knowing as I've read them that I could never even come close to encapsulating how perfectly they described a particular emotion, or feeling.

And in that particular moment, some part of me was laughing aloud at every single one of those words I'd read - those poor fragments of language that could never ever possibly be the match of how I was feeling just then.

Though only barely aware of my surroundings, I discovered at some point that both of us were standing, and that I'd wrapped my arms around her in some fashion, and was pulling her toward me. I felt my fingers twining through the ringlets of golden hair at the base of her neck, and could feel a similar touch on the back of mine . . . Talia's own hands doing likewise, frantically exploring the nape of my neck with her fingertips, clutching me and pulling me closer to her.

I realized I was feeling short of breath, and so I reluctantly took a moment to breathe, my forehead pressed against hers, panting for breath. In that moment, I discovered that my cloak had somehow fallen to the floor.

Perplexingly, my vest joined it a few moments later, and I also noticed that two of my shirt buttons had somehow come undone.

And I realized that of all of the clever plans I'd ever orchestrated, of all the crazy ideas I'd ever come up with, kissing Talia was by far the best one I'd ever had.