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Oh, this- this is new, and I don't know if I want it, she thought, when she began to realise she liked Isas; it was altogether more convenient when they worked in the distillery without her fingers warming and trembling where his long, pale, elegantly beringed hands brushed against them to take a new vial.
"What, exactly, is the matter with you?" he demanded, when she dropped a dish and thanked the gods it had been wooden instead of glass, and full of rosehip oil rather than disease essence; she made a face at him, shook her head and set to cleaning the mess.
"Isas, if you're going to carp -" she began, rinsing out the cloth, and gasped when he leaned over the basin and kissed her; somehow she'd never imagined this way of moving on from her recent split with Thaina, because this was not just some man she'd met in lectures, this was Isas with whom she had shared countless evening services as a novice, with whom she'd stayed up till five in the morning eating or researching or talking, and who only this morning had taught her about the different types of birds in Olart.