Of course, he had embraced the kiss—had wanted to share it—every bit as much as she had wanted to give it to him. He hadn’t done anything to stop it. In retrospect, he knew that even if he had the chance to go back and change things, he wouldn’t.
But having the memory embedded in his consciousness—a memory he knew he would never lose—was bittersweet. After all, where could kissing Phryne lead that would serve any purpose? Phryne’s life and his own were going in different directions. Now that he had assumed possession of and responsibility for the black staff and she had done the same with the Elfstones, it might seem as if their shared involvement with magic would actually bring them closer together. It might also seem that being from different Races wouldn’t matter, either, since neither of them had shown the slightest inclination to let that be a barrier between them. He had witnessed the reluctance of people from the various Races to intermarry or to form attachments that would cause difficulties for them later, but he didn’t think that was an issue here.
What was a problem and why they could never be together was that once she was absolved of the accusations against her, then in accordance with Elven law Phryne was going to become Queen of the Elves. With her father gone and her stepmother holding the throne under false pretenses, she was the logical choice. When that happened, she could never become involved with someone from another Race, especially someone like him. Trackers were rangers and scouts; they were seldom settled for more than a few days in one place. A Queen must be settled in one place forever and her mate or consort must remain at her side.
He didn’t know why he was thinking about this, and he cut himself off angrily. One kiss did not create a lifetime relationship. One moment did not define everything that would happen in the future.
And yet …
Phryne and he. Together.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it. There was no question that he liked her. Or even that she liked him. It wasn’t something he could mistake. It was there in her eyes and voice, in the way she talked to him, in the way she responded. He couldn’t say he didn’t find her fascinating in a way he had never found anyone else. He felt so different when he was with her, more so even than with Prue—who, after all, was his best friend. But this was something else. He had never thought it mattered that his brother–sister relationship with Prue was all he had. He had never wanted anything more, not with her or anyone. He liked his wilderness life. He liked sharing that life with Prue, the two of them companions on the road to new experiences and new discoveries every day they were together. Other men might settle down and marry. Other men might find a life in the villages and towns. He had never wanted that.
Until now. Until Phryne Amarantyne.
He took a deep breath to steady himself, deciding as he did so that breaking contact with her physically hadn’t solved the problem. He was still distracted, still thinking about her, still wondering what was going to happen to them. He knew, and at the same time he didn’t know. Not for sure. Wouldn’t know for sure, in fact, until their fate in the business at hand was settled.
Still tasting her mouth on his, still visualizing the moment in his head, he forced himself both to push a few levels deeper in his thinking and to pay attention to what was around them.
Their surroundings didn’t change much in the few hours that were left to them before darkness. The forest went on much as before, the mossy, lichen-striped trees stretching on in a seemingly endless maze, their shadows beginning to lengthen as the sun faded west. All this time, they saw nothing but the trees. Not even birds found homes here; not even the smallest creature. He guessed there must be insects, but they weren’t in evidence. It was a graveyard as stark and empty as the underground burial site of the Gotrins. While still daylight, it was easy enough to see what lay around them, what might prove dangerous. But as twilight approached and the last of the light began to fade, it became more difficult to be certain—even for Panterra, whose eyesight was excellent and who was trained to navigate in the dark.
“We have to find shelter,” he told her.
These were the first words he had spoken to her since the kiss, and they felt forced and awkward. Panterra did his best to pretend that they weren’t, that what had happened was relegated to the past and everything was back to the way it had been.
But he didn’t think he was fooling her, and he certainly wasn’t fooling himself.