L. J. Amber
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TEWWBAD Chapter 85
🕑 Added 2025-09-23 12:00:13 +0000 UTCCHAPTER 85 – Absent Resolutions
With her plan confirmed, there was nothing for Saphienne to do but wait for the right moment to make her move. That meant giving her adversaries time to relax, which in turn meant that they must see her often enough to feel reassured that she wasn’t a threat; they would worry about her, if she kept her distance.
Happily, Laelansa gave her the perfect excuse to be seen out and about, and the two of them went for increasingly long walks together throughout the village. Ruddles had found a priest from the Vale of the White River who would be leaving for home at the end of the week, and who was happy for the novice to come along, giving them six more days together before they were parted.
Every day, they stopped by the teahouse for drinks at the same time. At first – like on their first visit together – they would sit with whichever of the girls were present, and Saphienne took pains to be sociable with them… provided that their leader was absent. When Laelansa noticed that Saphienne was subdued around Lensa, her girlfriend began suggesting they sit elsewhere, leading to them curling up together on a couch near the railing on the second floor.
Saphienne liked that: being in sight but out of reach helped convince Lensa that she was unnerved.
Not everything about their visits to the teahouse went smoothly, however.
On the fourth day, Alinar climbed up the stairs with refills for other patrons; he paused when he saw Saphienne and Laelansa, and came over to them when he was finished decanting tea. “…Saphienne.”
He’d been short with her since the festival. “Alinar?”
Crossing his arms, his now-empty pot hanging from a finger, he ignored Laelansa as he studied the apprentice wizard. “…You know, Phelorna is a friend of mine.”
That explained a lot. Saphienne sat up, laying a hand on Laelansa to hush her as she composed herself to answer him. “I know she’s well-liked. I’m sure there’s very good reasons to be her friend.” She met his gaze with fierce calm. “I respect loyalty to the people we care for; her daughter was my best friend. Still is, if she’s alive.”
His eyes widened, and his countenance lost a little of its hostility. He wasn’t quick to forgive, however. “You called her some nasty things.”
“The only thing I called her was a monster.” She put no venom into the word. “I told her to go fuck herself, and that she deserved to go into the ground and rot. Anything else is a fabrication.”
“Because she spilled a drink on you?”
“No,” she corrected him, “she didn’t spill anything on me. She knocked over some glasses, but they were empty. We hadn’t spoken since before her daughter was taken away, but she tried to talk to me like we were friends — said she hadn’t seen me in some time. The way she phrased it, she sounded like she was going to mention her daughter, and I told Phelorna not to say– not to say my best friend’s name.”
“That’s hardly an excuse to–”
“She didn’t know who I was referring to.” Saphienne’s hand clenched in her lap. “I lost my temper at that. I shouldn’t have. But even if you dislike me for it, I won’t apologise for how I feel about her.”
Alinar unfolded his arms. “…She tries not to think about her.”
“Good for Phelorna.”
“It’s not like she wanted–”
“Alinar,” Saphienne interrupted, “if we talk about this, I’m going to lose my temper again, and I don’t want to. You won’t convince me that Phelorna didn’t have other choices; I’m not going to feel sympathy for her. I’m sorry this has to come between us.”
He sighed, heavily. “Kylantha was a sweet girl. I can see you were very close.”
She said no more, only waited for his judgement.
Instead, Alinar peered over the railing. “…Lensa shared the gossip. She said she was right there when it happened.”
That revelation made Laelansa inhale, and her skin flushed red with anger as she stood, her voice low but furious. “She’s lying! I was sitting beside Saphienne. So were Faylar and Laewyn — ask them, if you don’t believe me!”
Reading her sincerity, Alinar raised a hand. “Calm yourself — I believe you. From the argument I saw, it’s clear there’s no love lost between Saphienne and Lensa… I just didn’t expect her to exaggerate like that.”
This placed Saphienne in a very awkward position, needing to both acknowledge their acrimony and diffuse any potential confrontation. She decided to look away, putting frailty into her response. “…Lensa isn’t as nice as she pretends. But I don’t want to have any more fights, not since…”
Laelansa sat down to hug her.
And Alinar reconsidered involving himself in teenage drama. “Maybe she misremembered. I won’t say anything.” He gestured to Saphienne and Laelansa’s cups. “Do either of you want refills?”
She nodded, and he went off to fetch her more tea.
Yet Laelansa was still smouldering. “So that’s why you’re quiet around her… what an awful person.”
“She’s a lot worse than you realise…” Saphienne pulled her girlfriend closer, whispering into her ear. “…But don’t want to talk about it, not yet. Can you trust me to look after myself, and act like we’re all friends? Until I say otherwise?”
The request was challenging for Laelansa. “I don’t like being dishonest with people.”
“Sometimes,” Saphienne said, wrestling with her guilt, “it’s the least worst option. I don’t want any confrontation… not in the time I have left, before you go.”
That gave Laelansa a good reason, and she relented, kissing Saphienne’s cheek. “You’re right. You’ve had enough happen. Why let her spoil things for us?”
Saphienne quietly promised she’d tell her the whole story, eventually.
* * *
Far more enjoyable were their other excursions, including a long-postponed visit to the gallery adjacent to the crafting hall: Iolas had mentioned that Thessa’s art was temporarily exhibited there.
The gallery was two stories tall, the ground floor built so that its space could be reconfigured using movable screens, the upper floor airy and bright thanks to the skylights that formed the ceiling. Thessa’s watercolours were in one of hallways upstairs, and Saphienne and Laelansa arrived at the last possible moment to view them — the artist taking down her work when they strolled along.
“Cutting it fine,” Thessa teased them. “Or are priests like wizards? Do you both arrive exactly when you intend, and not a moment before?”
Saphienne scoffed. “Iolas has been working on his imitation of Almon, I see.”
“He may have performed a little.”
Laelansa was too busy studying the paintings to banter. “…These are beautiful…”
“There’s better work here,” Thessa protested. “I very nearly didn’t get a spot.”
“That would have been tragic,” the novice murmured, utterly entranced by the fading pastels and delicate figures. “I don’t know much about art, but I really like the sentiments these show. Is this one Iolas?”
A fuzzy figured reclined under the shade of a tree, ankles crossed, his posture very much like how Iolas chose to lie on the ground; he was depicted with the vibrant colours of summer, while his surroundings were in autumnal shades.
“I might have sketched him,” Thessa conceded. “Most of these are based on still life studies from the past few months. That doesn’t mean the subjects in them are the people I sketched.”
Saphienne added, “They’re just inspiration. She sketched me too.”
Her admission amused Laelansa. “Did it become a painting? Which one?”
Thessa crouched to lift the frame she’d just taken from the wall, holding it up. “This one was Saphienne and Iolas together, up by the lake.”
Scrutinising the watercolours, Saphienne’s breath caught.
Thessa had captured the experience of the lake perfectly, which was to say that most of the lake’s surface wasn’t painted at all, the white of the paper forming the reflection of the equally clear and boundless sky where the water touched the horizon. In truth, the lake was not so vast, but it felt that way, and the canvas conveyed a measure of the tranquillity to be found in its contemplation. The water turned green-blue where it neared the meandering shoreline, waterlilies and other plants crowding around the island that occupied the right side of the painting–
Where two elven women were sat, curled together in the unambiguous, romantic embrace of lovers in repose. They were depicted with soft golds and pinks, colouring the grass around them where the paint had bled. Two swans floated a little distance away, their necks intertwined.
“I love it,” Laelansa whispered.
Saphienne squinted. “…Are those waves in her hair, or just how the paint soaked?”
Thessa gave her a bashful smile. “Would you believe me if I said it was a happy accident? Don’t worry, she doesn’t look too much like you.”
Sceptical, Saphienne glanced to where Laelansa was grinning in delight as she absorbed every detail. “…So the gods willed it, then.”
Giggles accompanied Laelansa shoving her. “Maybe they did! This is exquisite. I think it’s wonderful.”
Thessa beamed. “Gaeleath liked it too,” she shared. “They said it was the best work I was showing, and that they couldn’t have equalled it with any sculpture — which was a lie, but a very kind one. They really liked the setting.”
“It’s a lovely spot,” Saphienne agreed. “The view from there is worth getting your feet wet wading out.”
Laelansa spun to her in excitement. “Can we go? Today? Tomorrow’s the last day before I leave, and I’ll be too sad to appreciate it.”
A little worried she would be exhausted by the trek, Saphienne hesitated–
“Saphienne,” Thessa tutted, “don’t even think about saying no. A gorgeous girl with romantic intentions wants to go somewhere secluded — say yes!”
Despite herself, Saphienne laughed. “…We’ll need to take our time getting there. I’m still not quite recovered.”
Laelansa grabbed her hand. “Let’s set out now!”
* * *
So it was that they bid Thessa farewell and hiked all the way up to the north of the Eastern Vale, strolling through the balmy summer afternoon as the wind stirred playfully around them. Several times they stopped to rest, but Saphienne wasn’t as tired as she feared, and didn’t regret leaving Hyacinth with Celaena. When they made it to the shoreline Laelansa took off her shoes and ran along the beach, splashing in the water, giggling happily and throwing her arms about Saphienne’s waist when she caught up.
The summer sun had warmed the lake, and after they crossed to the island their feet dried in little time. In Saphienne’s absence the swan’s eggs had hatched, the nest abandoned, but she saw the family further along the island, the six cygnets thriving, their pale grey down midway through shedding to reveal the first glimpses of their juvenile feathers. Soon enough the cob wandered over to investigate, but Laelansa knelt and offered her hand while cooing to him, and he responded with a perfunctory hiss and half-hearted peck at her bruises before settling down, satisfied that the young elves were no threat to his family.
“Didn’t that hurt?” Saphienne asked as they sat together, staring out over the faintly golden clouds reflected on the surface.
Laelansa brushed the welt on her arm. “Pain doesn’t bother me; there’s a difference between pain and suffering. He was just making sure I was peaceful. If it wasn’t for their young, he might have let me pet him.”
“You like animals?”
“I like the wilds.” She leaned her head against Saphienne’s, not minding that their ears brushed. “The wilds are a mirror to the gods… but, it’s also just good to go out into them. One day, when I’m old enough, I’m going to go wildling for a year or two.”
Saphienne let herself relax, drinking in the serenity. “What is going wildling, anyway? I know it’s travelling the woodlands, and that spirits are involved, but I never found a definition in the library.”
“Wilds-walking? It wouldn’t be commonly mentioned.” Laelansa turned and kissed Saphienne’s ear, then whispered into it. “Anything to do with spirits would be in the restricted section. Ruddles explained going wildling as–”
Saphienne had blinked, and interrupted as she turned. “Restricted section? You mean the section for children above the age of fourteen?”
“No?” Laelansa smiled in confusion. “Doesn’t your library have a restricted collection? Where they keep all the books that need close supervision?”
Months of observations crashed together in Saphienne’s head, and she swore aloud as she worked out what she’d missed. “…Filaurel, you cunning little bitch.”
“The woman who came to see you?”
Saphienne shoved that memory down with a forced laugh. “She’s the librarian for our village — Faylar is apprenticed to her, and she mentored me after I was old enough to begin searching for my chosen art. She knows me well enough to keep the restricted collection a secret, because I’m absolutely going to try to find it and read whatever I can, now that I know it exists.”
Laelansa smiled in glee. “I can see that! But if it’s like the floor in our village, it’ll be warded against anyone too young to enter. I’ve never even found the entrance.”
“Gross perceptual veil?” Saphienne couldn’t think of any other explanation. “I have a way around that… assuming we do have one, but it fits. Gods, Thessa knows about it — she talked about the upstairs books being tame!”
“Sounds like you’ll be busy, after I’m gone.” Laelansa refused to dwell on the future, and cuddled close again. “Anyway… going wildling is when an elf leaves behind all physical possessions and walks with a spirit through the wilderness, clothed only in the green, living in tune with the rhythms of the forest. It’s an ancient rite, one that anyone can undertake, though spirit and elf must trust each other completely.”
Her thoughts about the library faded away as she imagined it, seeing herself with Hyacinth, clothed in her blooms. “Would you go with Ruddles?”
“No,” Laelansa said. “Ruddles walks with me to teach me, but wilds-walking is meant to be about discovery. I’ll need to find a spirit-friend who is closer to my age, who doesn’t have much experience with being embodied.” She was silent for a long moment. “…It can be a very intimate experience…”
Saphienne caught enough of the implication to blush. “So many years away, then.”
“Yes.” She squeezed Saphienne’s arm. “Some go in groups…”
Anxiety stirred; Saphienne swallowed. “…Can we talk about this when we’re older?”
A trace of disappointment was in Laelansa’s breath. “If you like. I was just talking — I’m not trying to push you. I could wait a hundred years, for you.”
Her fear dwindled away. “I’m sorry… I don’t know why I’m–”
Laelansa pressed a finger to her lips, turning her to stare into a smiling gaze. “Everyone should be afraid of something. You like kissing me, so that’s– Saphienne?”
Remorse had shut her eyes, and she struggled for composure.
“…I need to confess something,” Saphienne managed, disengaging from the novice. “When you kiss me, it affects me, but I don’t… you make me feel things, but I don’t feel those things for you, and I don’t understand what–”
Yet Laelansa rolled her eyes and took hold of Saphienne’s ears, and she interrupted the confession with a kiss that ran care and lust together more readily than even the fluid hues of Thessa’s paints.
They both gasped when Laelansa drew away. “…You could have fooled me, Saphienne.”
Saphienne’s blush burned hotter, and she fought to steady herself as her lobes were massaged. “…I want your company, but I don’t yearn for you–”
Laelansa kissed her girlfriend again, briefly, and what she did with her tongue made Saphienne’s ears flutter.
“You,” she asserted when she finished, “think too much.”
And Saphienne burst out laughing.
For perhaps an hour they kissed, and talked, and held each other, Laelansa assuring Saphienne that as long as she liked her, and enjoyed their time together, then however she was on the inside was allowed to be confused and messy. Her own feelings for Saphienne weren’t simple, and Laelansa was nervous that she was pushing too much of her hopes onto the apprentice wizard, letting herself get carried away.
Saphienne kissed her, after that, and quite demandingly.
They agreed that they were young, and foolish, and that they might feel differently after they separated — and promised each other that would be fine, as long as they both swore to be gentle with their rejections. Yet neither of them believed that, and Laelansa’s expression betrayed how devastated she would be.
That was when Saphienne realised how much she was going to miss Laelansa, and the feeling mingled with other, older heartaches, and though she tried to resist, she cried inconsolably as she leaned into the summer-blonde hair of the girl who tried to soothe her. Futile though it was, she did her best to explain, unable to articulate that her tears weren’t wholly for the future — that they belonged also to another.
“We’ll write to each other,” Laelansa vowed. “Every week. And I’ll come back to visit as soon as I can.”
As the golden hours of evening descended on the lake, they lay together and kissed, languid and emotionally spent, until the younger girl drew away with a shiver. Declaring to Saphienne that she was going for a swim, she began to strip.
Frightened, curious, Saphienne turned away, too conflicted to look, though knowing that Laelansa wouldn’t care.
Then a splash, and she watched Laelansa’s silhouette recede into the water, outlined by the late glow. When her girlfriend resurfaced, the two laughed, Saphienne sad that her hand was broken, part of her wishing she had the nerve to follow along. She excused herself when Laelansa reemerged, leaving her to sunbathe dry and redress before they went back down to the village.
Was she happy? Was she joyful? Saphienne couldn’t tell.
Yet she felt alive, that day. There was enough in that to make her content.
* * *
On the day Laelansa was to leave, the novice took Saphienne into the garden and sat with her to invoke Ruddles.
Content to sit under the repositioned maple tree, Saphienne searched for subtler changes that signalled spiritual possession. Apart from her red-tinged yellow gaze, Laelansa’s breathing slowed, and her posture became impeccable as she sat cross-legged, her presence radiating self-assuredness that she ordinarily lacked. If Saphienne felt safer with Hyacinth, her girlfriend was bolstered by Ruddles–
“Saphienne,” Laelansa spoke, biting her lip, “would you like to speak with Ruddles? She wants to commune with you before we go — and she swears there won’t be a repeat of what happened last time.”
Smirking to cover her mild disquiet, Saphienne acquiesced. “As long as she’s sure…” She reached for the marigold with which Laelansa had invoked.
“Thou needest not touch bloom or bud,” Ruddles declared, offering her hand, “these fingers fair sufficeth.”
She hadn’t anticipated that. “…As you like…”
Touching Laelansa–
* * *
The cliffs were closer to the library steps than before, close enough that Saphienne saw Laelansa’s delight where she sat on a rocky ledge.
Then the stony rise was gone, and only the hill of marigolds remained, Ruddles descending in her fine floral gown to bow to Saphienne. “I have spoken at length with Ansuz. My kith who aggressed upon you have been reprimanded quite severely, confined to their cradles until the next moon. She has affirmed I was right to intervene as I did — and that I can be trusted to uphold the ancient ways in this communion.”
Saphienne returned her bow, then sat beside the stain on her steps. “I won’t reveal you as a liar.”
Ruddles laughed lightly. “I am no liar, Saphienne. The punishment laid upon you is not in keeping with the gods’ kindness, so I do not fail them by disdaining it. Gramercy, still, for not kindling a fight it would be unwise to let blaze.”
She tilted her head. “…Gramercy means ‘thank you’? Then you’re welcome. And gramercy to you, too, for risking yourself for me.”
The bloomkith shook her long, auburn hair. “Thine archaic elfish sore needeth practice, if thou wishest to…”
Saphienne followed her focused stare, seeing where she gazed long and hard upon the discoloured stone. “…I don’t know what it means. The steps used to be much larger, before I was attacked. They looked like they did when I was little. Then, after, it all became the right size — and this mark appeared.”
“A ruddy offering…” Ruddles crouched down, and sought Saphienne’s permission before tracing it with her fingertips. “…A blood sacrifice. Verily, a mark indelible. This sign is an omen, but I cannot tell what it foretokens.”
The assessment disturbed Saphienne. “…Is that how I feel about what happened to me? That it was a sacrifice? Isn’t it more likely just the mark of trauma?”
Acknowledging the possibility, Ruddles sat on her flowers. “‘Tis possible. You conceive yourself as being on the steps of this library, so harm to your mind would manifest as changes to it. Your lingering injury could be depicted so.”
Yet the sight of the disfiguration didn’t dismay Saphienne. “Then that’s a good omen, because it doesn’t worry me.”
“Ay? Then I am relieved.”
Sensing that the mixture of archaic and modern Elfish implied Ruddles’ serious intentions, she moved them on. “When we last spoke, you asked me if I knew why I’d been condemned so quickly.”
Ruddles nodded.
How much did she dare tell Ruddles? “I know about what the sunflower spirit–”
“Tyrnansunna.”
Saphienne blinked. “…She was declared an apostate…”
“Wrongly.” The sunflower spirit’s bloomkith sister was certain. “Hyacinth would not have been taught her name, but she was never declared anathema: her name may be spoken, though it will win you few friends.”
Much about why Ruddles saw Saphienne as unalloyed good became clear. “Ruddles, were you friends with her?”
“We were joined in faith alone,” the spirit shared. “I did not know her well, but I would have done as she did — then fled the woodlands. She believed that her guilt would be confirmed by flight, but it was preordained. There was no hope to persuade our sisters.”
“I see.” Mother Marigold wouldn’t flinch from a fight, but she had no appetite for martyrdom. “Freeing her imperilled the ancient ways, and the– and Mother Oak was so worried about the consequences that–”
“Not so.” Ruddles turned her palms upward. “You were not condemned merely because Tyrnansunna was declared an apostate and you freed her, nor because freeing her risked our covenant with elves. That is an oversimplification of the truth.”
Rather than risk saying too much, she waited.
“Most of my sisters think she should have been spared.” Ruddles held Saphienne’s gaze. “Not most of those who are devout — most of all my kith and kin. And of the remainder, only the devout believe she should have been punished. The rest hold no opinion.”
“But the ancient ways forbade it.”
“And very nearly did not hold.” She brought her palms together, scrutinising Saphienne intensely. “I pray you, belovèd of the gods, answer this question truly: would the elves have condemned her?”
There was no question in Saphienne’s mind. “Most wouldn’t have. Breaking from the ancient ways to save the life of a child? Almost every elf would have found an excuse to say it was other than it was.”
“As many have long believed.” She closed her eyes. “Now do you know why she was condemned? And why the same reason demanded Mother Oak leap to condemn you?”
Ghostly images of the dead elves in the clearing returned to Saphienne, and the sun above burned cold. “…Because the last time someone tried to change the ancient ways, half the woodlands went ablaze.”
“Again, not so.” Ruddles’ flowers writhed, tormented, growing thicker about her, the sun dipping lower upon the horizon. “She whom you refer to did not act alone. She led, and a majority followed.”
Sitting beside Laelansa, Saphienne paled.
“Both my sisters and the elves say that she bewitched the woodlands, and while there is some truth to this, it was not as they portray. As in the first days, when some refused to abide by what was agreed, or to depart? To ensure their peace, they were compelled.”
Leaning forward, kneeling, Saphienne wet her lips. “You’re not meant to share this.”
“Nor know it.” The bloomkith smiled, sickened. “But our memories are more easily inherited than yours, the truth conveyed in the roots we bequeath. The elders of elves and spirits refused approval, believing that suffering would only multiply if the young were permitted to persist in their folly. War followed.”
“Ruddles,” Saphienne asked, “what did– what was the proposal?”
“That the woodlands should expand to cover the whole world,” the spirit told her, “and elves and spirits should set about civilising the mortals, to one day embrace them as equals in all but longevity.”
She recalled the protectorates, and her lip curled. “Was she sincere?”
“None but her will ever know for sure.” Ruddles studied the sky. “Enough of our predecessors were sincere in their convictions that it matters not. They argued that the hazards of rulership were worth risking, and the sufferings required were worth inflicting, so long as they were less than the suffering of the world that existed. Their opposition declared it madness, slavery for the mortals and horror for those who would enslave them, and objected that even if it could be successful, no one had the right to demand such tremendous sacrifices from the unwilling.”
Stunned, Saphienne let the meaning of it all simmer inside her.
“There was no compromise to be had. The ancient ways forbade, as they forbid today, the intermingling of the woodlands with mortals, and refuse the premise of conquest. It was only afterward that the protectorates were conceived: a reluctant concession by the elders, to end the conflict that had engulfed our home.”
Now, Saphienne understood what hung in precarious balance. “Any softening of the ancient ways – any mercy toward Tyrnansunna – is seen by the elders as threatening to spark another conflagration like the first.”
“It risks a question they dare not contemplate.” Ruddles stood. “Saphienne, the quandary is not abstract. If a thousand years are punishment enough for breaking the ancient ways… what of six thousand?”
Goosebumps rose across Saphienne’s flesh.
The spirit folded her arms. “What of my sisters from that time, who have been sealed away for the crime of possessing elves? Would the gods will them shown grace, too?”
* * *
There were no simple answers; nor did Ruddles wish Saphienne to do any more. All the old bloomkith desired was to fix in her the reason why she was both cherished and reviled, and to impart to her the seriousness of the determination held by each side.
That, and convey a gift.
“This is not for you,” Ruddles said as she plucked a marigold from her gown, “but for Hyacinth to take. Were I to approach her directly, my transmission would be noticed, and she is too young to be taught what she must know.”
Wary, Saphienne didn’t immediately accept. “What is it?”
“A teaching through experience, swifter but less potent than guiding her.” The spirit kept the blossom extended. “Hyacinth knows how to possess elf and beast through the intermediary of her flowers, and could stretch to try with plants of like nature. Yet it can be done directly, achieved through wind to skin — or through skin to skin, as you have seen. She may have unanticipated need to join with you.”
Recognising it as a valuable gift, she accepted it, marvelling as the roots threaded painlessly across and into her skin. “I don’t feel–”
“Do not attempt to do more than hold the remembrance for her: you will only destroy what you are incapable of comprehending.”
She lowered her arm. “Thank you. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
“Have her practice with you, when you are secured in that house.” Ruddles nudged her eyes to Celaena’s home. “Tell no one. Should she by necessity perform it where it cannot pass unseen, have her claim divine inspiration in her desperation.”
Saphienne cooly smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be comfortable with that.”
Ruddles raised an eyebrow. “…Such jesting is reckless. Others would misconstrue your meaning.”
Chastened, Saphienne bowed her head. “I’ll be careful. Is that all?”
“On these matters…”
Ruddles roamed back and forth along the edge of the steps, agitated, perhaps even timid about whatever else she had to say.
At last she stopped before Saphienne and indicated the steps beside her, asking permission to approach. “May I sit with you?”
Allowing her, Saphienne felt the embarrassed tension in the spirit as she drew closer, and understood in a flash of insight. “This is about Laelansa?”
“Quick, you fly.” Ruddles folded her arms. “And loath am I, to intrude. But the novice in my care is maple-blooded and tender, and I would not see her come to harm in what you two pursue.”
A pang of dread struck Saphienne, and she withered. “…You’re afraid what I’m swept up in will endanger her again, and you want me to–”
“Nay!” Ruddles smiled at her with searing fondness. “Sweet are you, Saphienne, for I feel your willingness to forgo happiness for her — but that is not what troubles me. Against such challenges she is tougher than her years, nor do I think she is at risk, nor was she at risk, else I would not have switched with Hyacinth.”
Puzzled, Saphienne leant back on her elbows. “Then…?”
“Alack!” Ruddles gathered up her hair in her hands, worrying at the strands. “You are her first companion, and her heart has been deft won. I would ask your intentions.”
Saphienne froze.
“…She has neither mother nor father,” the old bloomkith explained. “Orphaned was she when very young, and no one would adopt her. She was raised by a priest of Our Lady of the Free Embrace, who took her in out of piety rather than want of motherhood, and whose affection was consistent and laudable, but entirely affected.”
Recalling how to breathe, Saphienne whispered, “She’s unloved?”
“By elves.” Ruddles glanced at Saphienne. “So I ask your intentions.”
How in the world was she meant to know–
Saphienne sat up, hunched forward. The spirit beside her could feel what she felt and think what she thought, and withholding herself would only give the wrong impression. After all that Laelansa had been through for Saphienne, and all they had shared together, the least she could do was try to explain.
Unmoving beside her, Ruddles nevertheless gave her space.
“…I like her.” That much Saphienne was certain about. “I enjoy her company. I’d be lying if I said I knew it wasn’t just the novelty of being close to someone, and I’d be lying if I said I love her, but… I’m fond of her. I’m going to be sad, when we’re apart.”
The old bloomkith waited.
If Ruddles had guided many initiates, surely she must know more about romance than Saphienne did? Mortified, but resolute, Saphienne buried her face in her hands. “There’s something wrong with me. I’ve read about relationships… including sex. I don’t feel like I’ve read. When I’m with Laelansa, I don’t feel… dizzy, or drunk, or giddy. And when we’re… when we kiss, I like it, but I don’t feel desire centred on her. And then the prospect of anything more than kissing makes me–”
“Saphienne?” Ruddles very delicately peeled her hands away, catching her eye. “Does being in her presence make you happy?”
“…I don’t know. I don’t think I can be happy.” Her chest ached. “But she doesn’t make me unhappy, and I’m closer to happiness when we spend time together.”
“And you enjoy what you do together?”
“…Yes.” Her flush nearly matched the spirit’s ruddiness.
“What do you want, then? What do you intend?”
“I don’t know. I want her to be happy. I want to spend more time with her. I don’t want to hurt her,” she sighed, “and I’m afraid I’m going to, because of all of… this.”
To her surprise, Ruddles slipped an arm behind Saphienne’s back, and pulled her into a sidelong hug. “Your mind is strange to behold, and your feelings thick as any ancient bramble, but you are not so very different in your wants and worries from most elven girls I have known. You are gentle in regard for her — and sensitive to her wellbeing. I will ask you this plainly, and without contempt: do you only wish fun with her?”
“Only?” Saphienne shook her head. “Ruddles, I don’t know what I wish with her, but if you ask my friends, I’m really bad at doing things just for fun. Faylar had to teach me how to try.”
“Thou art passionate — and by thy passions confused.” The bloomkith released her and took to the marigolds. “You two an odd couple make, but well-matched, I think. I will not betray to you all that she feels… but, in sooth, you are not dissimilar. Keep to these convictions you have shared, have patience for yourself, and then?” She grinned as she departed. “The rest, let settle as the gods will. Fare thee well, belovèd of gods and elf, until next we meet.”
Astonished and perplexed that she met with Ruddles’ approval, Saphienne forgot to wish her goodbye.
* * *
The contingent leaving for the Vale of the White River was small, only half a dozen elves beside Laelansa, most adults in full standing. They waited for her on the northern edge of the village, and when Saphienne and her friends arrived with her there was polite but firm encouragement that they exchange farewells.
Thessa was swift to offer an embrace — and a leather tube, stiff to protect its fragile contents. “Since you like my work so much, you can hold on to this for me.”
Laelansa’s disbelief transformed into an explosion of excitement when Thessa confirmed she was giving her the painting of the lake.
Each of the others was briefer, though Laewyn wasn’t the only girl to be tearful, Celaena showing emotion. “You can visit again,” she offered, dabbing at her eyes. “You’re a good guest.”
Faylar snorted. “She means she got used to having you around, and she’ll miss you.”
“Shut up, Faylar.”
He ignored her as he hugged Laelansa. “Travel safe.”
Iolas had a gift as well — a copy of the book he’d read to everyone, with warm wishes written inside. “Something to remember us all by.”
Their consideration overwhelmed the novice, whose tears won patience from her travelling companions. Saphienne took her by the arm and led her a little distance away, hugging Laelansa until she recovered.
“You look good in forest colours,” Saphienne remarked, having grown used to the festival dress.
Laelansa sobbed through a smile, and then clung to Saphienne — the intensity of the embrace reminding her girlfriend of Kylantha. “I’ll miss you.”
“We’ll write,” Saphienne reaffirmed. “I’ll send a letter in three days’ time.”
“I’ll compose one as we travel.” She sniffled. “And… as soon as I have chance, I’ll come back. In winter, if I have to.”
“Don’t be–”
Laelansa kissed her.
* * *
Was it their parting, cutting through the trepidation? Was it that grief, coupled with the unexpected kiss?
Saphienne would forever wonder why, on that day, for a fleeting moment in her embrace, she felt unambiguous desire for Laelansa.
Then the novice was gone — and vengeance waited.
End of Chapter 85
Chapter 86 on Friday — we're moving to Tuesdays and Fridays for updates (I'm trying something with the algorithms on the other platforms).
Comments
L. J. Amber
You do love your chef's kisses. :P
Claire Hiria Ahuriri-Dunning
" a kiss that ran care and lust together more readily than even the fluid hues of Thessa’s paints." god damn *chef's kiss* The chat with Ruddles about Laelansa was devastating and sweet <3 omg the ending, I'm so hyped!!!!!!!
L. J. Amber
My hunch is releasing the second chapter on Fridays will get me more visibility with people who check platforms going into the weekend. For consistency, aligning the Patreon with the platforms seems like the smart move.
oneirosophis
Best of luck with the eternally unknowable algorithms!
