Keeping their eyes locked, he brushed his lips lightly from Hashana’s fingertips to her knuckles and the back of her hand, reciting the greeting that had become second nature to him with fluid ease. “By the grace of Karasvati, who unites the continent, I, Iskandel Kanad, son of the emperor, humbly ask the guardian of Durgtah for a glorious consecration.” Each time his lips and breath brushed against her fingertips, a soft warmth seemed to well up from within Hashana, seeping into him through his lips. When he finished his plea and pressed his lips once more to her trembling hand, this time firmly, a sharp shudder ran through it.