L. J. Amber
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TEWWBAD Chapter 82
🕑 Added 2025-09-17 12:00:15 +0000 UTCCHAPTER 82 – Unaccountably Sick, and Tired
A small mountain of gifts awaited Saphienne when she returned to the guest room, as did Laelansa, who perched barefoot and cross-legged on the bed with the enchanted tray of tea and chocolates levitating beside her.
Yet Saphienne only shut the door and walked to the windowsill, studying the soil of the plant pot in which Hyacinth rested.
“…Saphienne?”
She wished Hyacinth was well enough to speak…
“What’s happened?”
…But she wouldn’t even know what to say. Rather than try to put what she felt into words, Saphienne drifted to the foot of the bed and sat on the floor with her back against it, gazing out the window into the brilliant daytime sky and thinking about when she had walked from the woodlands and into the protectorate.
How free she had felt, with Hyacinth; free from all that suffocated her; free of herself.
Laelansa crawled over to peer down at her. “Please talk to me…”
Her eyelids were heavy.
“…I just want to help you.”
She let them fall.
For all the life within it, the bedroom remained a desert.
“Laelansa,” she murmured, “can you keep a secret?”
“Of course!”
“Not like a child keeps a secret.” She thought of her friends. “Can you keep a secret even if it hurts? Can you keep it even if you should come to hate the one who told you? Can you–”
“I will never hate you.”
Saphienne looked up; Laelansa’s grey-green eyes were unblinking. “…Even so. Can you keep it from the whole world? Forever? Even when tired or angry or unfathomably sad?”
“I can.” She was sure. “My goddess will keep it for me; I swear before Her.”
Again she envied the novice her faith. “…Sit with me?”
Tumbling forward off the bed without fanfare, Laelansa landed beside Saphienne.
She snorted. “I see where you get all your bruises.”
“‘Tis only flesh, and time healeth all wounds.” Her lilt and cadence matched the way Ruddles spoke archaic Elfish. “I don’t really notice them, anyway.”
Saphienne lowered her head. “I can’t tell you what happened — not exactly. All that matters is… I did something the ancient ways say I shouldn’t have, but I’d never really been told what the ancient ways were. I still knew the spirits wouldn’t like it when I did it.”
“Why?”
A very good question. “…Because I believed it was the right thing to do. And yet,” she said as the twinge in her chest objected, “that wasn’t all. I did it because I was thinking about my… my best friend. You know who she was, what she was.”
Laelansa only listened.
“Were I an adult,” Saphienne continued, “I would be an apostate. The matriarch who arrived declared me an apostate, but Hyacinth objected, and she said I was too young to really know what I had done — or at least too young to be held accountable. She said I had been forced into it, either by unknown means…”
“…Or the gods?”
Saphienne nodded. “It wasn’t the gods, Laelansa. That doesn’t matter, though, because half the spirits decided I’m so wicked I’m beyond redemption, and the rest believed I must be what Ruddles tells you. There wasn’t any way to be sure which, or they didn’t want to decide then and there, so the matriarch decreed I would be corrected by being denied the blessings of the woodland spirits until I’m– until I’m an adult. Then,” she concluded, “since they couldn’t be certain of my virtue, Hyacinth was appointed my guardian spirit… and now my conduct is being judged.”
The novice dwelled on her story. “…It must have been something important. Did you hurt anyone?”
“No…” Again, her friends came to mind. “…But I scared some people, very badly.”
“And was it the right thing to do?”
No spirits but Hyacinth could hear her, she knew, in that grand and warded house. She nevertheless needed her every courage to face Laelansa. “That’s the secret I need you to keep: it was. And if I could go back, despite everything that’s happened since? I’d do it again.”
Yet the girl didn’t turn away. “…Ruddles is right about you. It was the gods, Saphienne, whether or not you believe in Them. And you don’t, do you?”
“No.” She was surprised by how forlorn she sounded. “I am an apostate. I don’t believe in any of it. None of it is–”
Laelansa hugged her.
Saphienne leaned into her embrace.
“I don’t know why,” the girl whispered in her ear, “the gods don’t want you to believe in Them. Do the gods believe in Themselves? I don’t think even Ruddles knows that, but if you’re being made like Them, this has to be part of it.”
“I’m not–”
“Then I’m wrong.” She leaned so close that her breath was in Saphienne’s ear. “Prove it.”
Saphienne shivered.
“I think you’re ceaseless, and you try to balance the scales. The gods are alive in you, Saphienne. Whatever you did, I won’t believe They didn’t want it to happen. And even if I’m wrong, and there are no gods? You can’t prove it.” There was smug satisfaction in her voice. “So as far as I’m concerned, you’re not an apostate — which you aren’t, because you’re too young to be one. So there.”
The novice was the most naïve person Saphienne had ever met… and that made her among the most wonderful.
Letting go of Saphienne, Laelansa held her good hand. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll forget everything you said. Would you like to open these gifts? Or have some tea? What do you want?”
What did she want? Not to think. Not to be herself. To walk with Hyacinth, were that not impossible.
Saphienne bit her lip.
“…Saphienne?”
“I’d like you to kiss me.”
Delighted, Laelansa grinned and briefly did as requested, beaming after.
Why did she feel so sick, and yet so thrilled? “I mean really kiss me.”
Her girlfriend blushed scarlet, and she giggled, looking down. “…I was wondering if you would like that…”
“I woul–”
Laelansa shocked Saphienne by straddling her lap, full weight upon her as she combed through her hair and gazed down into her eyes. As the apprentice wizard felt her heart race in dread, the novice pressed against her mouth, and the kiss she received made every other they had shared seem merely friendly, tame when compared to the passion that was loosed.
Too stunned to resist, too afraid to kiss back, Saphienne simply assented.
Eventually, Laelansa pulled away. “Was that good eno–”
“Again.”
The second time, Saphienne did her best to reciprocate, fighting down the urge to throw Laelansa off herself and flee, pushing through whatever she dimly felt certain was trauma but had no will to contemplate.
Pleased, Laelansa caught her breath. “So you liked–”
“Again!”
Laughing loudly, Laelansa threw caution to the wind, and she grabbed Saphienne by her tall ears and kissed her with every hunger, slipping her tongue between her lips in nervous foray–
Saphienne groaned, unsure whether in pleasure or pain, and pulled her girlfriend tight against herself.
* * *
So that was lust.
Saphienne had experienced something like it before — only far milder. What confused her then, as it did now, was that the desire she felt was not attached to anything in particular. She didn’t yearn for a person – or the fantasy of one – like she had read she ought to, and what Laelansa made her feel was not for Laelansa.
Still, as they slowly and and firmly kissed, growing more familiar with each other’s rhythms, Saphienne reasoned that she did like Laelansa in a sexual way, it was just that something in herself was broken. She vaguely recollected how she had felt when her girlfriend nearly kissed her on the first day of the festival, and though the memory was coloured by the present, she was sure she hadn’t felt the same horrible sensations as now.
Sensations that, gradually, as the kiss softened and the caressing of her ears grew bolder, lost their terror and diminished. That suggested it was anticipation–
Moaning, she broke away with a gasp. “Laelansa… I want to try something…”
Thrilled to hear those words, her girlfriend giggled. “Yes?”
“Promise me that we won’t fuck until we’re older.”
Never had Saphienne imagined someone could be stricken, flustered, and relieved in the same instant, but Laelansa succeeded. “I wasn’t– I hadn’t planned to do anything more with you–”
“Please, promise me we won’t?”
Where she scrutinised Saphienne, a brief pang of disappointment shone in Laelansa, then faded into gentle acceptance as she recognised the vulnerability she was being shown. “…Are you afraid?”
“I don’t know.” Saphienne swallowed. “That’s my conjecture.”
Laelansa slowly grinned. “And you trust me enough that my promise will make a difference?”
“I think it’s poss–”
“I promise.”
Saphienne blinked.
Laelansa solemnly held up her hands. “I swear before my patron goddess, Our Lady of the Proven Merit, that I, Laelansa of the Vale of the White River, will not fuck you, nor attempt to fuck you, until we are older, and you are ready. So may the gods help me.”
Saphienne blinked again.
Laelansa pressed her forehead to Saphienne’s. “Did that–”
Alas, whatever Laelansa was going to say not even she could know, for fury of the kiss that followed consumed them both.
* * *
By the end they lay on the floor in each other’s arms, their clothes soaked in sweat, burning in their embrace. Oblivious to the passage of time, Saphienne’s only reference was that the sky outside the window had yellowed.
Saphienne sniffed herself. “I need a bath.”
Laelansa smiled teasingly. “I need more than a bath.”
Choked, Saphienne gently poked her in the ribs. “…You promised!”
“You’re not invited.” Laelansa stuck her tongue out. “But I’ll be thinking about you, all the same…”
Ice cut through her belly — and this time, Saphienne was sure what had caused it. “…I am afrai–”
A knock at the door interrupted them.
“Saphienne?” Celaena called. “Can I co–”
“No!” both girls answered, and then glanced at each other, erupting into giggles.
A pause followed. “…Do you need fresh bedsheets?”
Saphienne tried to cover her face with both hands, half-succeeding. “Gods! Celaena!”
Muffled, wicked laughter carried through the door. “Are you both dressed?”
Before Saphienne could stop her, Laelansa replied, “Yes?”
The door opened, and Celaena gazed in — then flushed red. “I didn’t– I thought you were just being–” She quickly shut the door again.
Saphienne looked Laelansa and herself over, seeing that they were dishevelled and obviously amorous, but not indecent. “We were only kiss–”
“I’ll bring the Wand of Cleansing and run a bath,” Celaena cut her off. “I’m happy you’re feeling better… gods…”
As the older girl retreated, Laelansa stood, stretching her legs… and sagged.
Saphienne stared worriedly up at her. “What?”
She pointed to the floating tray. “The tea will be too steeped… and cold. I’ll go make a fresh pot.”
Seizing the hem of her dress, Saphienne tugged. “Stay? If you bribe Celaena with chocolate, I’m sure she’ll brew us another.”
“You don’t care about the tea; you want more kisses.”
“Only one more. Before she comes back? I need to substantiate my the–”
* * *
When she returned, Celaena was more composed, though she still blushed as she handed Laelansa the rod and sent her to the guest bathroom. Saphienne was surprised when she left the door ajar, strode in, and opened the window.
The breeze was cooling. “I’m sorry we–”
“My fault.” Celaena was visibly torn between her usual embarrassment and a wry smile. “Laewyn told me she caught you two kissing, but I didn’t think you were… I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Reflecting on what she knew, Saphienne sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not sure I do… not like everyone else.”
Her friend shrugged. “Who knows how everyone else really is? I don’t show that part of myself to anyone but Laewyn. She and Thessa are comfortable being obvious, but… it seems undignified.”
The mention of Thessa made Saphienne think about her brother. “I feel Iolas would call that ‘being uptight,’ but I can’t imagine him being like his sister.”
“They do seem very different.” Celaena turned around, careful not to knock the plant pot as she leant against the sill. “Faylar lacks confidence, but Iolas? He’s just… so polite about it he’s bashful. Laewyn is convinced he likes girls, but who knows? I don’t think anyone he was interested in would even know.”
They lapsed into silence, Saphienne pondering Iolas and Thessa, wondering whether he would become more like his sister as he aged, or whether she would become more like her brother, and how it was they were so different in some ways, and whether it was down to nature or–
Shaking her head, Saphienne let the future be. “Are there priests outside?”
“Iolas was talking to the last one when I came in.” Celaena’s expression grew concerned, and she lowered her voice. “He told me the gist of what happened. Saphienne… Iolas believes it was a spirit who tried to kill you. He’s sure of it, now. More than one of the priests had the same worry.”
Sighing, Saphienne threw herself back on the bed, draping her sleeve across her eyes. “Ever feel like every day brings something worse than the day before? Almon will–”
“–Hear about what happened, and he’ll be convinced of Taerelle’s theory–”
“–And when the spirits won’t cooperate, he’ll start digging.” Saphienne had foreseen everything spiralling out of control. “He’ll start by trying to find out why not, then who they have told, and when that goes nowhere, he’ll sit down with what he does know — and ask himself why I have a guardian spirit, and who she is, and when after our lesson Hyacinth became my guardian spirit, and he’ll line up the timing with the clearing, and remember everything that happened…”
Celaena sat heavily on the foot of the bed. “…He’s going to figure it out, isn’t he?”
“I,” Saphienne agreed, “am completely and utterly fucked.”
“Will the Luminary Vale help?”
“No.” Saphienne pictured the letter. “Reading between the lines? They were impressed I managed to stay on top of the situation, but they didn’t approve of what it implied about me. Taerelle is meant to fail me if she thinks I’m unfit to be a wizard. If I can’t manage this on my own, then I’ll lose the only thing they see as a positive.”
“Then…” Celaena clasped her hands. “…I see only two ways out. Admit the lies, and lose your apprenticeship–”
“–Or find a way to deliver the culprits to Almon.” Saphienne couldn’t fault her calculus; it was the same she had already reached. “But that’s not possible.”
“I know the lack of justice will hurt, but is your pride worth more than your apprenticeship?”
“That’s not…” Saphienne sat up. “…Shut the door. And close the window.”
* * *
Impassive, Celaena didn’t react as Saphienne shared what Taerelle had revealed, only clasping her fingers together as she learned about the covert justice that wizards delivered and the Luminary Vale pretended not to notice. She said nothing when Saphienne was done.
“…You see my problem?”
Celaena stared up at the ceiling, the blue in her gaze mirroring the false heavens it presently showed. “I see why you don’t want to. I don’t think it should be a problem.”
“But justice–”
“That’s not the issue.” The daughter of a wizard was pragmatic. “Justice would be that they’re punished. You’re concerned about the precedent — but that’s already been set.” She focused on Saphienne. “You don’t think it should be this way, I know. Yet it is. You’re not responsible–”
“I’d be complicit.” Saphienne crossed her arms. “And how can I trust it’ll be proportional? Almon has an awful temper.”
That latter argument gained purchase on Celaena. “…You’re right. And you’re a better person than me, Saphienne, because I wouldn’t care what happened to them, so long as it hurt.”
Her smile for Celaena’s honesty was bitter. “It has to even out. They shouldn’t be more affected than I was…” Her gaze drifted down to her useless hand. “…And not affected in the same way. I don’t want them afflicted. I just want…”
Sliding closer, Celaena murmured, “For them to be so afraid that they never treat a– that they never hurt anyone ever again.”
And for them to feel pain, Saphienne admitted to herself. “Close enough. But this is pointless… there’s no way to know they’ll be punished fairly. The only options are to accept my apprenticeship is going to end, or to hand them over.”
Finding no way around it, Celaena exhaled. “How long until he figures it out?”
Estimating that was very difficult, but Saphienne knew Almon, and so ran through the likely scenario as she hunched forward. “Right now, he’ll be absorbed by coordinating the magical investigation, because his peers expect him to lead, and his pride demands it. Travellers from the other vales would usually depart over the next week; the wizards and sorcerers helping him are all committed, so will probably stay until the end.
“Meanwhile,” Saphienne continued, “when he receives word about today he’ll want to know what happened. He won’t waste time with me — he’s an important wizard, so he’ll demand answers from the spirits. They’ll stick to my story, and evade the rest.
“He’ll end up asking the local elders, who know nothing, and then writing to the Luminary Vale, whom I expect will not respond quickly…” She asked herself why, then rolled her eyes at the obvious answer. “…Because the intelligent thing to do would be to see what conclusion he reaches, and to tailor their answer accordingly. So he’ll be left with nothing more to do while he waits, and it’s then that he’ll sleep, clear his head, and reconsider his assumptions.”
Straightening with a shrug, Saphienne was blunt. “My guess? Two weeks to exhaust himself, a night’s rest, and then maybe an hour — give or take.”
Celaena was wide-eyed.
“…What?”
She waved the question away. “Never mind… so we have less than two weeks to come up with a solution. Until we do, you need to act normally: do whatever you can to make clear that you’re unafraid of the woodland spirits.”
For want of another approach, Saphienne agreed. “Then, once I’m rested? I can’t just stay in here. I have to be seen.”
“And be seen confident.” Celaena gripped her wrist. “Lensa and the rest must know: they haven’t changed you. Could you act like you don’t recall?”
Stilling, Saphienne let her memories surface.
–The coin being pried from her broken–
She pulled away. “No. No, I can’t hide it from them if I see them.”
Celaena took a deep breath. “Then you’ll need to practice showing them that you remember it all, and that you’re unruffled…” Her smile was cruel. “…Because you know you’re going to fucking destroy them. Can you do that?”
Somewhere, within her heart, Saphienne felt her fury stir. “I think I can pretend.”
* * *
Once Laelansa was out of the bathroom Saphienne took her turn rinsing herself off and cleaning her clothes; Celaena and Laelansa were talking when she came back to the bedroom, and she paused outside the doorway to listen.
“… Will they be coming back tonight?” Laelansa asked.
Swallowing her tea, Celaena was unconcerned. “They should be. Faylar definitely will, but Laewyn might get herself into trouble with Thessa–”
Iolas interrupted; Saphienne hadn’t realised he had joined them. “She won’t. Thessa promised me she’d only tell her about secret revels, and that she’d walk her back here before she went off to have fun.”
Curiosity was in Laelansa’s voice. “What’s so secret about them? Anyone old enough to walk with a spirit–”
“I mean illicit revels — held by children, either in someone’s empty home or somewhere deep in the woods. The wardens try to break them up, or to catch children who’re too young to be out after sunset, but they can’t always protect children from themselves.”
“I don’t see why they can’t wait.” Laelansa’s lack of interest made Saphienne smile. “There’ll be plenty of time for that when we’re older… like you! Why aren’t you going to one of the real revels, with your sister?”
Celaena’s grin was audible. “That’s a good question! Why aren’t you getting drunk and finding someone to–”
“Because I’m a hopeless romantic — according to Thessa.” So too was his blush.
Deciding to spare him further interrogation, Saphienne slipped into the room. “If we’re unsupervised, what stops us spending the night here from being an illicit revel?”
Grateful for the interjection, Iolas crossed one foot over the other where he stretched out on the floor. “I asked Filaurel about that. She says it’s better if there’s always an adult, but small groups who often spend time together don’t worry anyone. The wardens are more concerned about visiting children getting carried away in the company of strangers…”
Laelansa frowned where she sat by the pile of gifts. “Aren’t I a stranger?”
Raising an eyebrow where she reclined on the bed, Celaena addressed her remark to Saphienne. “Not anymore, it would appear.”
Holding her head high as her cheeks glowed, Saphienne pointedly sat beside Laelansa and kissed her shoulder. “Help me open these, would you?”
* * *
Almost all the gifts came from people Saphienne hadn’t heard of.
Some she was sure she’d never met — many from the Vale of the White River, the notes attached to their presents indicating they had watched her competing with Laelansa. Entertaining them had apparently been enough to make them care.
Others – about half – belonged to the Eastern Vale, and Iolas and Celaena were able to identify who they were and how they related to the people she knew. She had no connection to most, though one couple who signed together made mention of yellow flowers…
Then there were the people she knew, or least recognised.
Eletha had sent an unsentimental promissory note for the jewellery she reserved for Saphienne, inviting her to collect it on the eve of the next summer solstice festival to be held in the Eastern Vale — five years hence.
Laewyn’s master, the baker Tanelia, had sent the diptych of the two gods that watched over her ovens, her short message musing that Saphienne needed them more than her. Recognising the deities immediately, Laelansa proceeded to explain all about Our Lord of the Everlasting Hearth and Our Lady of the Chosen Moment; Iolas quietened her by asking if she liked the taste of her tea, giving Saphienne opportunity to move on.
Fittingly enough, the next gift was from Iolas’ old teacher in calligraphy, Master Folwin, whom Saphienne had never met, but who had heard about her skill. Transparently lying as he denied telling him anything about her, Iolas was more touched by the considerate gesture than she was, and he couldn’t help but show his excitement at the fine pens, brushes, and inks she had been given.
Folwin urged her to keep writing, even if her hand was presently unsteady.
Next were three books, borrowed from the library. Despite Saphienne’s assumption, they were not from Filaurel, but Taerelle, and were comprised of the rules and process for investigating crimes within the woodlands. A page fell from between them as she set them aside:
Be sure, prodigy.
Celaena took all three volumes, curling up on the bed with them.
Yet the next gift demanded everyone’s attention, arriving in the form of a hastily scrawled letter wrapped around an unremarkable, small, oblong box. Saphienne and her friends read it together with deepening astonishment.
* * *
Apprentice,
Were I not occupied with matters of significant urgency, I would deliver these remarks to you in person. I make no apology.
Taerelle tells me she called upon you, and that you are fatigued, but comporting yourself with the necessary dignity expected of a wizard. I have entrusted her to see the enclosed item delivered in a timely manner.
As yet, I can provision you with no update as to the identity of the individual, or individuals, responsible for your predicament. I offer no conjecture, only an assurance that finer minds than mine are bent upon seeing the guilty brought to justice. A wizard must be patient, so neither will there be an apology for the delay.
I anticipate Celaena and Iolas will be attending upon you. Relay to them that there shall be no further lessons for the next two weeks, and possibly longer. You may add the disruption to your educations to the crimes of the guilty.
. We are no longer at truce, you and I, yet it would be unworthy of our conflict to expect you to resume hostilities before you are adequately rested. Attaining victory over you through outside interference would not satisfy me. Be assured, apprentice, that I remain certain you will prove too immature and overconfident to succeed in your studies, but I will not allow the excuse of recent events to soothe your ego when you fail.
. Saphienne: do not return to lessons until you are well, in body and in mind. The hourglass rests upon its side.
The enclosed item was discarded upon the ground when you made a fool of yourself at the festival — and we will be speaking of your conduct that day, have no doubt. Until then, I do not recall asking you to return this to me. For all that the interior craftsmanship is impressive, the exterior fittings leave much to be desired. Dispose of this as you wish, seeking counsel from Taerelle as necessary.
. Recovery is your only path,
Your master,
Almon
Master of Hallucination,
Wizard of the Second Degree,
Acknowledged in attainment by the Luminary Vale,
Appointed to the Eastern Vale
* * *
They stared at the wand, the rose-gold hyacinths having been carefully polished.
Laelansa was confused. “…Does your master dislike you?”
Iolas and Celaena let Saphienne answer.
Which proved more challenging the longer she meditated on it. Eventually, she turned the wand on herself, sprouting a hallucination of a hyacinth from her limp palm as she gave her best effort at an explanation. “He really dislikes me, but he grudgingly respects me, and he takes his role as my master more seriously than how he feels toward me. If I were alone and naked in the wilds, he would mock me for my predicament, then clothe me in the robes off his own back. He doesn’t think I should be a wizard, but his magical praxis depends upon his relationship with uncertainty, and demands that he be sure I’m unworthy, so he both wants me to fail and is determined to give me the chance to show him wrong.”
“…That doesn’t sound healthy…”
Gales of laughter from Iolas startled Laelansa, while Saphienne and Celaena just shared a resigned smile.
* * *
Overlooked by the others, there was one note that caught Saphienne’s interest.
“This one’s cute!” Laelansa passed it across. “A little child wrote to you.”
Iolas frowned. “Young children shouldn’t even know what happened.”
“But if they do, isn’t this a good way to make them feel better?”
Saphienne ignored their discussion as she studied the letter, which was poorly made, the folded sheet having been misaligned, a crude drawing of a strawberry in the centre, faint blotches all around it, the calligraphy rough and the writing pained:
im sory
Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck as she stared. She didn’t know any young children — and even if they knew her, how would they be aware of her favourite fruit? They would have to have seen her eating them… or have heard her complain about her sore stomach. Then the stains on the page, which looked like splashes…
“Someone you know?” asked Celaena.
Saphienne shook her head, tossing it face-down upon the opened pile and turning away to lift the teapot. She answered as she topped up her cup, avoiding looking at Celaena, “I doubt it.”
Her lie was successful, and they soon moved on to other gifts…
…But Saphienne’s thoughts were consumed by the strong and tall girl who had written the heartfelt apology, doubtlessly without the other girls knowing. Lensa would never have allowed it, and Tirisa would have struck her at the merest suggestion — that she had succeeded meant that she had known how they would have responded, and hid it from them.
Syndelle was guilty; she felt guilt for what she’d done.
Saphienne could use that.
* * *
When evening descended Faylar returned, rosy cheeked, and he brought with him another two baskets that he refused to carry up the stairs. “Thessa sent these — she’s gone off to visit Gaelyn with Laewyn.”
Iolas was anxious as he shut the door. “Is she well?”
“Thessa? She’s fine — Laewyn is the one who drank too much wine.”
Saphienne snorted, eyeing the uppermost balcony, beyond which Celaena had stayed in her sitting room. “…Don’t tell Celaena. She’s got enough on her mind today.”
“More than before?” Faylar shrugged off his mantle, letting it fall on the floor as he sauntered over. “Do tell! What did I miss?”
Fortunately, a gasp of delight from Laelansa redirected him. “A fascinator! And books! Iolas, your sister is wonderful!”
* * *
By now, Saphienne’s feelings toward fascinators should be unambiguous to you.
She, too, was amazed by herself when she willingly curled up with her girlfriend on the couch in Celaena’s private sitting room, staring into the ethereal pink of the fascinator while Iolas read from one of the books his sister had brought.
What more need be clarified? Laelansa’s enthusiasm was infectious, and for all that Saphienne’s feelings toward her were complex, even conflicted, the deepening companionship she enjoyed with the novice worked miracles.
Not that she particularly enjoyed the experience. Try as she might, Saphienne’s first encounter with a fascinator kept intruding on her participation, and several times she unconsciously resisted the scenes unfolding by its rippling light.
She was grateful when Thessa brought a sheepish Laewyn back to them, and the recital ended.
* * *
After reaffirming her solemn vow, Laelansa ended up sleeping under the covers in Saphienne’s bed that night. They kissed a little in the dark, then the novice nestled in the crook of her girlfriend’s arm, watching her as she stared up at the stars.
“Saphienne?”
“Mm?”
“What are you thinking?”
About Syndelle, and her next encounter with Lensa. “I’m just staring at the stars. There’s a poem our master shared with us…”
“Was it about hallucinations?”
“Perhaps.” She put aside her troubles. “Would you like me to recite it to you?”
“I would.”
Saphienne let the red ink flow.
* * *
When I heard the learn’d magicìan,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the magicìan where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
* * *
“…Laelansa?”
She slept.
Saphienne lay there with her, balmed by her sweet breath, peaceful, but discontented. She thought about Almon, and the final lesson on Fascination.
Eventually she slid free and glided out the room, wandering by herself into the private sitting room where the fascinator still lay, and took it from atop the arranged books, and crept tired down the column of stairs and into the seldom-used bathroom on the ground floor, shutting herself inside.
There in the perfect dark she breathed deep, knelt with her back to the wall, and turned over the gemstone in its setting, placing it down before her on the floor as it bathed the white tiles with allure.
… In retrospect, it was unfortunate Laelansa had seen her like that. Would she be able to forgive her behaviour? Given that the initiate had faith in the gods, she almost certainly believed in whatever she knew about the ancient ways, so reconciliation was unli–
“Saphienne.”
She stopped at the bottom of the grove, squinting in the twilight.
Lensa emerged–
Trembling, Saphienne held herself until her terror subsided.
… In retrospect, it was unfortunate Laelansa had seen her like that. Would she be able to forgive her behaviour? Given that the initiate had faith in the gods, she almost certainly believed in whatever she knew about the ancient ways, so reconciliation was unli–
“Saphienne.”
She stopped at the bottom of the grove, squinting in the twilight.
Lensa emerged from where she had been waiting in the foliage, followed by Tirisa, then Syndelle, and finally the two girls who had reserved the table, Elisa and Alynelle.
Their presence felt–
She gasped, desperate for breath.
Then she smacked the wall with the flat of her right hand, feeling its sting, and fixed her streaming eyes on the beguiling light.
Every time her mind tried to protect her, she refused to heed its warning. Every time she disbelieved, she started over again. Every time she cried, she choked down her tears, and let her pain cut through herself until she had its measure, then smothered it in the enchantment that reenacted the past to her.
She would not yield. Not to herself, and certainly not to them.
* * *
Hours later, Laelansa stirred as Saphienne came back to bed. “…Is it morning?”
“No. Sleep.”
Too drowsy to hear her tone, Laelansa snuggled close to Saphienne. “…I want to stay with you… just a few days more…”
Numb, Saphienne made herself kiss her forehead. “I think I’d like that.”
* * *
When she couldn’t doze any longer – when Celaena knocked the door and announced everyone was eating breakfast – Saphienne shuffled down to the dining room and slumped next to Laelansa. She ignored the joke Laewyn made about her tiredness, and joined Celaena in drinking the bitter black tea she favoured, then another cup, and then a third, her ears slowly rising into their proper place.
Amusingly, Laelansa inquired whether she had been snoring; Saphienne assured her that she was just unused to sleeping with someone else, then stared irritably at Laewyn when her friend readied another quip, the intensity of her annoyance making the older girl back down in apology.
Faylar noticed. “Are yo–”
“Yes,” she announced as she tore into a red, dripping apple, “I am a bitch today.”
He laughed, having only intended to ask if she felt well.
* * *
True to her half-dreamt word, Laelansa received permission from Ruddles to linger until the last group of travellers headed home to the Vale of the White River. That was how the group learned that she’d journeyed to the Eastern Vale on her own, in the company of neighbours who assumed she belonged — which impressed Laewyn, and horrified Iolas.
Abruptly, Saphienne proposed she show Laelansa the teahouse.
She took no part in the ensuing discussion, only stating that she wanted to go there with Laelansa, no matter how busy it was, and that she didn’t mind whoever else came along. The group decided that Celaena and Laewyn would accompany them.
Saphienne quietly accepted; she was glad Celaena was joining them.
Not that she needed her moral support — not to confront Lensa.
End of Chapter 82
All being well, come back tomorrow for Chapter 83.
Comments
DeleteLuna
During Almon's letter, there are a few periods at the start of the paragraphs, was that intentional?
L. J. Amber
Believe it or not, I've toned it down based on early feedback of the first draft of early chapters.
oneirosophis
I adore the way the writing shows how expressive their ears are, and how much they're a part of the elves' body language.
