L. J. Amber
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TEWWBAD Chapter 80
🕑 Added 2025-09-11 12:00:12 +0000 UTCCHAPTER 80 – Summer Snow, and Winter Sun
Of course — it had to be Laewyn who found them on the floor.
When Saphienne sat up with Laelansa – her fury at herself mistakable for the fervid bloom that lit her paramour’s cheeks – she saw the older girl leant against the doorway, grinning from ear to ear.
“…Oh, gods.”
Teasing was compulsory for Laewyn. “How long was I watching? At least five min–”
Laelansa pulled Saphienne to her. “Watch some more, then!”
Throughout the lingering kiss that followed, Saphienne had to admit: Laelansa wouldn’t back down. She further noted that the act itself was not unpleasant, and that she quite liked being kissed, for all that she wasn’t feeling the heady exultation or unquenchable lust that she ought to be.
Judging by the way her tall ears fluttered, Laelansa definitely was.
“Alright,” Laewyn conceded, scarlet, “enough!”
As Laelansa broke away with a victorious smile, Saphienne found herself strangely elated by the turnabout. Were she less self-conscious, she would have liked to have kissed Laelansa again, just to savour their win; instead she boldly held her hand as she faced her reddened friend. “So voyeurism isn’t one of your–”
“Saphienne!” Laewyn covered her gasp. “Oh my gods!”
Laelansa and Saphienne guffawed at her.
“…I was going to tell you that Celaena is sorry for shouting, and Laelansa can come in,” she muttered, “but if the two of you are going to be like that, you can both cool off outside.”
Squeezing Saphienne’s hand, Laelansa defiantly tossed back her loosed hair. “We’re not going further than kissing: we’ve only just met.”
Relief surged through Saphienne, who belatedly noticed she’d been apprehensive about what would happen next.
“I wouldn’t think that, if I didn’t know you both,” Laewyn managed, recovering a little of her playfulness. Then she giggled in mischief. “Saphienne: is she your girlfriend, or is this just a fling for the solstice festival?”
“Very funny.” Saphienne rolled her eyes–
But Laelansa was direct. “We’re girlfriends.”
Saphienne blinked.
Then, she blinked again, and slowly turned to Laelansa, her voice small. “…We are?”
Laewyn cringed in the background, slinking away.
“We are.” Laelansa bit her lip. “…Unless you don’t want to be? I know I’m too much… and I’m not as pretty as you…”
Distantly, and with intellectual detachment, Saphienne disagreed with Laelansa’s assessment of her own appearance. “You’re just as pretty as me. And I told you: being too much isn’t a bad thing.”
“…Do you want me?” Laelansa didn’t ask the question in desire, but with a quiet vulnerability which Saphienne was defenceless to resist.
“I do.” She realised she meant it as she reassured her — and though unsure quite how she meant it, in her naïvety, she decided she could figure that out later. She squeezed Laelansa’s hand as she made up her mind. “You can be my girlfriend.”
Happiness shone from Laelansa, and she kissed Saphienne again, more chastely than before, overcome with sudden bashfulness. “…Do you have any other girlfriends?”
Saphienne snorted. “No. I’ve never even kissed anyone before.”
“I didn’t think so…” The admission pleased her. “…Neither have I.”
They sat amid the scattered sunflowers and white roses in mutual, confused, enthusiastic regard.
Then Laelansa noticed the blooms. “Oh! Poor things. Let me–”
“Later.” Saphienne forcefully smothered her dread. “Kiss me again.”
* * *
Everyone, even Taerelle, was quick to forgive Laelansa for scaring them when they heard the good news.
That wasn’t to say they were immediately happy. Thessa vanished downstairs, and when she returned she had opened a bottle of the white wine that she’d brought for Laewyn, and sat sipping from it to calm her nerves — wordlessly sharing it with a clearly shaken Faylar. Celaena had sullenly retreated to her bedroom, where Laewyn consoled her, and Iolas was listlessly crunching boiled, sugary sweets where he sprawled on the floor.
Having found the wholestone, Taerelle had gone into one of the guest rooms to repair her beautiful gown, and she now sat next to Saphienne on the couch to retie the ribbons of her shoes. When she was done, she looked around the room, then wordlessly rose and lifted the wine bottle from where it sat next to Thessa, drinking deeply and directly from the neck, uncaring of what anyone thought.
She set it back with a warning to Thessa and Iolas. “I never saw this. Don’t let them have too much. And don’t give any to Saphienne.”
Stirring where she leaned against Laelansa, Saphienne was both indignant and ashamed. “…I’d only had one sip. I don’t really like wine.”
Laelansa kissed her head. “Me neither.”
Yet Taerelle folded her arms, canting her head as she scrutinised Saphienne. “I meant because you’re recovering — I wasn’t referring to what happened yesterday. But since you’ve raised the subject: walk me to the stairs, prodigy.”
Groaning at the reprimand she was about to receive, Saphienne levered herself up, wearily dragging herself after her tutor.
* * *
But despite her expectations, Saphienne was not to be admonished.
Taerelle shut the door behind them before she took Saphienne’s good hand, and she squeezed it warmly as they slowly walked down the hallway. “Officially, to uphold my appointment by the Luminary Vale as your moral guide, I suppose I am to lecture you about your conduct…”
Saphienne raised her eyebrows. “…You’re not going to?”
“If anyone should ask: I did. At length.” She smiled to herself. “I rebuked you for behaviour that is entirely unbecoming of an apprentice wizard, and made clear that I demand a higher standard from you going forward.”
“…You don’t need to take pity on–”
“Gods, no.” Taerelle looked down on her without any pity. “That isn’t what this is. You’ll likely still be censured by our master — assuming he remembers, once he has time.” Her expression darkened as they paced. “I spent most of today with him. He didn’t need to ask: all the senior apprentices left the festival to help. Some of the proven juniors did, too, though they were hardly helpful.”
Tired as she was, Saphienne forced herself to pay attention. “What were you doing?”
“Supporting the wizards as they performed the divinations.”
“Wizards?”
Taerelle led her over to the wall, then sat with her on the floor. “Every wizard who is visiting or lives in the Eastern Vale was waiting for Master Almon when he returned to his sanctum, along with a few sorcerers, and we apprentices.” She stared at the girl in her care, setting aside her superiority. “Saphienne… whether or not you ever become a wizard, you are an apprentice to one, and that makes you part of our community. Someone tried to murder one of our own — and to murder a child.”
The thought of all those people working to identify the culprits when Saphienne could have shared their names made her feel very guilty. “…I’ve ruined the festival, haven’t I?”
Taerelle’s eyes glistened, and she unexpectedly let go of Saphienne’s hand to slip her arms around the girl and pull her onto her lap. She hugged Saphienne very tightly. “You did nothing wrong.” There was black rage in her low voice. “I won’t have you think like that, prodigy. Not for a moment. Whatever you did or didn’t do in the past, this is not on you.”
If she knew, would Taerelle feel differently? Saphienne swallowed.
“And the festival isn’t ruined…” As she held her, the senior apprentice massaged the back of her head. “Most attendees don’t even know what happened. Those of us who have been helping have been organised by rota; we have more volunteers than divinations that can be attempted.”
How strange it felt, to be embraced by Taerelle. Saphienne was simultaneously soothed and roused and unaccountably sick, fearful of something she couldn’t express to herself — not consciously. “Did you find anything?”
Taerelle’s long hair shimmered on the floor as she shook her head. “It rained during the night, and the wardens couldn’t find much of a trail from your door. Attempting to reconstruct your movements through divination is very difficult… the chaos of the festival, together with uncertainty over timing, makes it very hard to be sure the spells can be counted on. We know you made it up the grove at around an hour past midnight, but where you started is proving elusive.”
Shouldn’t she tell her? Saphienne wanted to. “I don’t think it was a spirit…”
The senior apprentice stilled.
When Saphienne said nothing else, Taerelle lifted her chin. “Saphienne,” she said, very softly, “what do you remember?”
–Syndelle punched her in the chest–
“Fragments.” The lie had to be very good. “Not faces… just…”
Taerelle waited.
“…There were more than one of them. And they weren’t spirits. I don’t know why, but I can tell they weren’t.”
“What else?”
Saphienne let her eyes fall shut; Taerelle resumed rubbing her head. “I was walking to Iolas’ house… it was dusk. Someone said my name.”
“A man? A woman?”
“I can’t remember…” Lensa’s sapphire eyes were smiling. “I don’t remember where I was… I was on the ground, and they were all kicking me… that’s all.”
“Not a spirit.” Taerelle was certain. “That’s not how they fight.” She exhaled in relief, and hugged Saphienne closer. “This might not be related to what happened in the clearing after all… our master thought it would be someone close to my aunt…”
Saphienne blinked. “Your aunt?”
Taerelle smirked, and she slid Saphienne off her lap, standing before she helped the girl up — only to put an arm around her shoulders as they resumed their journey toward the staircase. “You’ve done well. I’m very impressed by you today, Saphienne. I don’t resent what the Luminary Vale have asked of me, not now.”
“Taerelle…” Saphienne felt another feeling, then, painful for its sharpness, the pang of fear and yearning and strange nostalgia. “…What’s going on? Are you just being kind to me because I’ve been hurt? That doesn’t feel like you.”
The senior apprentice laughed. “Gods, that’s biting. And true.”
They reached the banister overlooking the foyer, and Taerelle helped Saphienne to lean against it before she stood with her, hands clutching the railing.
“…Tell me why you threw wine on Phelorna.”
Saphienne studied Taerelle’s face, trying to pierce her veil of reservedness. “I didn’t call her a… corpsefucker, whatever that means.”
“It’s a slur for elves who have sex with mortals.” Taerelle studied Saphienne from the corner of her eye. “Living mortals. I wouldn’t be annoyed with you if you had called her that, though I don’t think it’s right to think that way.”
“I didn’t.” Saphienne peered over the edge; the drop to the tiles yawned. “I told her to go fuck herself, and I called her a monster, and I told her she deserved to go into the ground and rot.”
“Why?”
“…Because I hate her.” Saphienne’s eyes reflected the black floor. Unbidden, she thought of the words she’d heard Celaena use, not knowing what they meant, but choosing the one that had been said most forcefully. “She’s a cunt.”
Taerelle sharply inhaled.
Nervousness cut through her anger, and she glanced to her tutor–
Who was scandalised, but grinning at her in undeniable approval.
Saphienne blinked. “Taerelle?”
“…She is a cunt.” Her tutor tried, and failed, to smother her grin. “I fucking loathe her, Saphienne. If I could spare you from being attacked, by swapping you with any one person in the whole world? I’d put Phelorna there — and part of me would want to join in with beating her.”
For a fleeting heartbeat, Saphienne realised how strongly attracted she was to Taerelle… then felt nauseated by that attraction. She shuddered, forcing the feelings to retreat as she focused on what she’d just heard. “Why do you–”
“She destroyed my family.” Taerelle’s scorn was unconstrained. “As soon as she got pregnant and kept the child, my bitch of a mother wanted nothing more to do with her — but my father wouldn’t abandon his sister. They argued day and night, and eventually they split up.” The wood of the railing creaked beneath her hands. “My worthless father was miserable, and started going to rituals at the shrines every day, drinking that damned holy brew to escape himself — not giving a single fuck about anyone who cared about him.”
Her account had grown thick. “And my mother? She got someone else to put a baby in her, and my little sister might as well be her only daughter, for how she shunned me to dote on her maple-blooded child. So yes,” she concluded, “Phelorna is a selfish, stupid cunt who doesn’t give a fuck about the consequences of her bad decisions, and she should go into the ground and rot.”
Saphienne could only stare at her long, unbound, summer-blonde hair, lost in reverie at the sight, matching its shade to other locks that remained as bright no matter the season.
“Why do you hate her, prodigy?”
“…You’re her cousin…”
“No, I’m her–” Taerelle’s shock made her jaw drop. “Gods… you knew her daughter, didn’t you?”
Certain that all the camaraderie and sweetness was about to end, Saphienne closed her eyes and nodded.
“…That poor fucking girl.”
When she opened them again, she beheld Taerelle in magisterial fury.
“She’s the only one I have any sympathy for.” Her lip curled, baring her teeth. “My little sister might be blameless, too, but she’s not suffered… not like her.”
“…You don’t resent her?”
“Of course I did!” Taerelle snapped. “How could I not? Every day when she was a baby, I wished she’d never been born…”
Violence arose within Saphienne–
“…But then…”
Saphienne watched as Taerelle leant heavily on the railing, head bowed.
“…She was just a little girl. Heavy, short-eared, clumsy… a pathetic little thing… always tripping over herself… but just a little girl.”
Within her heart, the violence held and judged, unblinking…
“It wasn’t right, how she was treated. Everyone excluded her from everything. Even before she’d learned to talk, none of the other parents would let their children play with her — and things didn’t get better when her lessons began.”
…Saw her disdain, and her regret…
“My father didn’t care for her. Phelorna was always visiting with her… she was always so quiet, playing on her own…”
…And her grief.
Saphienne breathed again as what lay beneath her receded, appeased. “You spent time with her: I can see it. I can see you, in her.”
“Someone had to.” Taerelle stepped back from the edge. “Phelorna just filled her head with fanciful stories of adventure. She didn’t teach her how to stand up for herself. She never told her that she was just as good as the other children. She never taught her to fight for herself,” she sniffed, “and my cousin didn’t deserve to be neglected by her mother.”
Driven by too much, Saphienne threw herself against Taerelle, hugging her.
“Prodigy–”
She couldn’t see. “I love you.”
Taerelle froze in place.
“She was my best friend.” Saphienne’s lips trembled. “She was my only friend. I loved her more than anyone. She came running to me, that day… I was– I was in the–”
Kylantha’s cousin held Saphienne as she bawled.
*
“…Why am I always sitting on steps…”
Taerelle had brought Saphienne down to the ground floor, had sat next to her on the staircase to stroke her hair. “You probably favour places on the edges… places of transition.” She laughed. “One sympathises.”
“…I’m sorry I cried all over your dress…”
“It’s fine.” Taerelle ignored the snot upon her shoulder. “There’s a Rod of Cleansing here… assuming I still make the revel…”
“…That’s why you’re wearing it…”
“Sharp as always, prodigy.”
Saphienne stirred, lifting her brow from her raised knees. “…I’m sorry I said–”
“No.” Taerelle’s fingers stilled as she held her gaze. “No, you will not apologise for that. I know that you meant it when you said it, even if you feel embarrassed now; and I know you were really telling me how much you cared about my cousin.”
“…I still care.”
Taerelle shook her head, wry yet sorrowful. “You’re a tragic little shit, Saphienne.”
She snorted.
The senior apprentice sighed, resumed rubbing her scalp. “What am I to make of you? What a mess you are, you sweet little idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Obviously not.” Taerelle flicked Saphienne’s ear — gently. “This is how I cope with being completely out of my depth. You may anticipate further grievances, assuming I can’t find a way to get rid of you.”
Reading her was no more difficult than it had been the day they met. “You don’t want to get rid of me. You’ve decided you like me.”
“I’m a tragic little shit, too. Only not so little, these days…”
Shivering, Saphienne pulled her robes tighter about her shoulders as best she could with one hand, then leant forward again. “…I suppose Phelorna was good for something.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
They shared a smile.
Taerelle stopped caressing her head, folding her hands together as she lay back against the stairs. “You know I can’t fail you, now? I couldn’t live with myself.”
“…I don’t think I can manipulate you any more.”
“Liar.” Taerelle was unconvinced. “Little do I realise, this was all an elaborate scheme to win my sympathy…”
“Yes.” Saphienne shook with spent laughter. “I had Iolas and Celaena break my ribs, and Faylar dropped a rock on my head.”
“I’m sure Laewyn did your hand.” Taerelle giggled. “With friends like those…”
“Who needs enemies?”
“Not you, apparently. You appear to have them in excess…” Taerelle steepled her fingers, drummed them as she stared up at the ceiling. “…Fine, I’ll test you. Do you remember more than you’ve told me?”
Kylantha was lying beside her, asking endless questions. “I do.”
The drumming stopped. “…I’ll credit you with enough intelligence to have a reason: why haven’t you told me?”
“Because I understand how testimony works.”
Taerelle craned forward; her askance was cold.
Saphienne accepted whatever she thought of her.
The senior apprentice leant back. “…Moron. I’d ask how someone as gifted as you can be so oblivious, but you’d lack the self-awareness to be able to answer the question.”
Enough sincerity was in her voice that Saphienne frowned and sat up. “Why am I a moron? What am I missing?”
“Prodigy… I’m beginning to think your brain was more damaged than Gaelyn said.” She pushed herself onto her feet and walked a little distance across the tiles — crossing her arms as she faced her junior. “If testimony is all that matters in establishing guilt, why is our master going to so much trouble to try to divine what happened?”
“So the Wardens of the Wild can watch the people responsible, prevent them hurting anyone else, and maybe catch them in a lapse–”
“Yes, but no.”
Saphienne had no more energy with which to dance around the point. “Fine, I’m a moron: kindly explain the real reason.”
Taerelle clicked closer, and bent down to whisper in her ear. “Do you really think there’s no justice in the woodlands, but what elders dispense on behalf of the consensus?”
Saphienne blinked. “The Luminary Vale would–”
“Turn a blind eye.”
Horrified, Saphienne gaped at her tutor. “But, the other wizards–”
“You really have lost your wits.” Taerelle knelt, and as Saphienne lowered her knees she placed a hand upon her leg. “Do you think they volunteered in ignorance? If they can find an approved way to haul whoever did this before an elder and see them condemned for it, everyone will be happy. But if they can’t?” Her gaze was sharp. “Would you be content to wait and see?”
“…Magic can implicate innocent people.”
“And skilled wizards, working under common purpose, can satisfy themselves as to the likelihood that such spells have been cast.” Her face was impassive as she squeezed. “This is what magic is, Saphienne: to help or to harm, to absolve or to condemn, and to be accountable for your decision to your peers.”
Learning that wizards had their own justice both tantalised and repulsed Saphienne, and her mouth worked soundlessly, until finally she found her reply. “…That isn’t just.”
“Is it just to let them go free?”
There, Saphienne beheld her own hypocrisy in the icy blue of Taerelle’s eyes.
“…You weren’t planning to.” Her tutor smiled as she believed she understood. “You’re not upset that they’d be punished, only that you wouldn’t be the one to do it to them. How would revenge be justice?”
“No.” She clenched her jaw. “No. It’s that… it shouldn’t be tolerated. Seeing that they’re punished – outside of the consensus – shouldn’t be accepted by the Luminary Vale. It shouldn’t be aided by other wizards and sorcerers. It’s morally right — but socially wrong.”
“What a precocious little shit you are.” Taerelle patted her and stood. “You really do think you know better than millennia of accumulated practice, don’t you?”
Her ire burned. “Tradition? Traditionally, haven’t half-elves always been shunned?”
Taerelle faltered.
Using her working hand, Saphienne rubbed her temples. “I was going to leave it alone until I’m older. To wait and see.”
“And if they came for you again? Or if someone else were to be hurt?”
“The first is my risk to take.” Saphienne had a headache. “And you said I wasn’t to blame for what happened to me, so you can’t say I’m responsible if they attack someone else — not unless everyone’s responsible for every wrong they might have prevented.”
“They are when it’s this simple.”
“What about this is simple?” Saphienne rose, anger invigorating her. “What part of this do you think is simple, from my perspective? How am I to trust that the justice done under the cover of night will be right? How am I to trust you, or our master, or even the Luminary Vale to judge? You can’t ask me to do that, not when the consensus of the woodlands agrees — fair judgement isn’t possible.” She would have placed her hands on her hips, were they both functional. “Either the consensus ought be respected, or not. We can’t have it both ways.”
“You admitted you’re prepared–”
“To perhaps do something wrong, and be punished if I’m caught.”
“So you’re willing to be a villain?”
“If I have to be!”
Her shout echoed from the high walls, slow to fade.
Taerelle had flinched; she found it hard to meet her pale green gaze. “…You’ve had a very difficult day.”
Sagging, Saphienne sat back down, lowering her voice. “…I have. And no matter what you say, I’m not going to tell you who it was. Will you respect my decision?”
“Respect? No.” Her tutor exhaled with a quiver. “But I’ll abide by it. You need time to think about this, and despite us both doing it to our master, I don’t believe betraying your trust is a healthy example to set. Have you told anyone?”
“Why?”
“In case something does happen to you.”
Her concern was overblown, but not unjustified. “I have. I’ll tell them to let you know — if anything happens to me.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t believe it will. I don’t think they meant to go so far. I imagine they’re terrified now, doing their best to pretend nothing happened.”
Having experienced how well Saphienne could read people, though not entirely confident in her present judgement, Taerelle was somewhat mollified. “I hope you’re right about that. I don’t want to bury you in the Vale of Te–”
“Saphienne…?”
Iolas called down from the upper floor.
“…Did you shout for someone?”
She shrugged in resignation at Taerelle, and answered without tilting up. “I’ll need some help back up the stairs!”
“I’ll come down!”
Taking her cue to leave, Taerelle turned toward the front doors. “I’ll check in on you again soon.”
“…What about your gown?”
She had forgotten about the stain left on her shoulder. With a flagging glance toward the hallway and the laundry room beyond, Taerelle swept her hand over the necklace she wore, causing the fascinating aura to spring into being — and so diminish the mark. “It doesn’t matter… nobody else will be dressed by now.”
Thoughtless in her exhaustion and willingly beguiled by the fascination, Saphienne blurted out what she wondered. “…What kind of revel are you going to?”
Raising an eyebrow, the senior apprentice waited; when the sleepy girl only continued to stare up at her in expectant incomprehension, her lips twitched. “…The kind where we fuck. Goodnight, prodigy.”
Taerelle left Saphienne flustered on the steps for Iolas, laughing as she departed.
* * *
When morning came, Saphienne couldn’t remember going to bed.
She yawned away her sleep where she lay tucked among the pillows and cushions, sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains. The fabric bunched around a glazed, bright yellow plant pot that had been set on her temporary bedroom’s windowsill, the blooming roses and tall sunflowers happy where they shared soil.
The sight made her remember the night before, and she winced, blushing to herself as she relived events… though her lips curled up further the more she recollected.
She was very comfortable, more so than she had been in some–
Saphienne felt warm breath against her back, and blinked.
Twisting around slowly, her eyes panicked and her heart galloping, she saw Laelansa curled up and sleeping beside her, felt her clinging to her waist…
…Wearing a nightgown that had been borrowed from Celaena, and atop the silk under which Saphienne lay, having folded back the edge of the overlarge fabric to provide cover for herself as well.
Saphienne traced her hand along her own shoulder, feeling that she, too, was dressed in nightwear loaned from their host; the realisation calmed her as the moment stretched.
…Gods, Laelansa was even smiling in her sleep…
…Which gradually coaxed out the contentment that had hidden from Saphienne, and she settled back in place, accepting that the embrace was no different from when Faylar had held her.
Although, perhaps not quite so pure, given how Laelansa felt about her.
Either way, Saphienne let herself be held.
* * *
Celaena interrupted her dozing by knocking on the door and entering with a tray, halfway through asking if Saphienne knew where Laelansa was when she saw the two of them together.
After the older girl had shut the door and promised through her blush that no, Saphienne, she wouldn’t tell Laewyn, Celaena set breakfast on the bed and asked Laelansa if she wanted anything. When she received a glare in reply, the apprentice wizard flushed hotter, then bowed formally to the novice, apologising for having cursed and–
Whereupon Laelansa cut her short with immediate, easy forgiveness, and helped herself to some of Saphienne’s thickly buttered toast.
The last morning of the solstice festival was usually the quietest – so Thessa told them once they were bathed and dressed – and it wouldn’t be uncommon to see elves still walking with spirits about the village. Saphienne was too enervated to spend the day wandering around the festival grounds, and reluctantly admitted as much when Laelansa and Iolas both pressed her, promptly leading everyone to insist that they were happy to stay.
She wouldn’t accept that. While Laelansa was being genuine, Saphienne knew for certain that the others wanted to lose their stress amidst the celebrations, and she refused to let them miss out.
After much negotiation that pitted Saphienne and Laelansa against all the others, Faylar had the excellent idea of dividing up their time, whereby he would be with the couple for what little morning remained, Iolas could keep them company in the afternoon, and then Celaena would return home in the evening with whoever else wanted to spend the night again. Laelansa was excited by this, being keen to get to know everyone who mattered to Saphienne.
A little nervous at the prospect of Laelansa pestering her friends, but inwardly touched by the effort everyone was making on her behalf, Saphienne relented. Thessa promised to bring a mountain of chocolate for everyone — and demonstrated she was just as conscientious as her brother, writing down a list of requests to which Faylar and Laewyn and Celaena kept impulsively adding every manner of food and drink.
Laelansa suggested some fun story books, along with a fascinator, if one were available.
* * *
Once the others had gone out, Faylar searched for the wholestone, then snuck back into the unlocked sanctum. Saphienne and Laelansa soon caught him there, gathering up the wreckage of the robes and the mannequin, sorting the fragments into piles and then laying them out in an attempt to piece them back together.
“I like puzzles!” Laelansa eagerly sat on the floor. “Why don’t you do the robes and I do the ico– I mean, the statue? We can see who finishes first! Which will be me.”
“Mannequin,” Saphienne corrected her, giving Faylar a shrug. “She doesn’t mean to be rude — she just likes competing for the sake of it.”
He grinned weakly. “Saphienne, do you really think I’m easily offended? Or that – after all the time we’ve spent together – I can’t tell when someone is trying to be friendly?”
She called him an ass; he went to fetch her a comfortable seat, then laughed as he noticed the dining chair that Iolas had discarded the night before.
* * *
Laelansa asked questions far too bluntly.
Faylar grew less and less withdrawn as he answered, enjoying the vicarious embarrassment Saphienne experienced as she beheld an intimation of her past self. Once he understood that Laelansa was just enthused to be making a friend, Saphienne could tell he made a conscious effort to open up, and little-by-little, one joke taken literally by Laelansa at a time, his gloom lifted.
When Laelansa called a pause to their contest and then scrambled away to the bathroom, Faylar made certain she was gone, then bent down to hug Saphienne where she sat on the upholstered chair.
“…Was she that bad?”
He shook his head, his arms tensing against her back. “I really like her.”
Saphienne blinked. “You do?”
“She’s not trying to be anything she’s not… I like that about you, too.” He coughed, and Saphienne became aware that he was tremulant despite his mild tone.
“…Are you all right?”
He pulled back far enough to surprise her with a kiss upon her forehead, and then leaned his brow against hers, eyelids heavy. “…Please stop nearly dying. I’m begging you. I know you don’t do anything mildly, Saphienne, but twice in the six months I’ve really known you is too fucking much for me.”
“…Faylar…” She felt like how Laewyn sounded, when she was sentimental.
“You have to live long enough to make fun of me for being a worse wizard than you.”
Her smile was bittersweet. “…So you’ve accepted it…”
“That I’ll be a wizard? I have to be. I’m hopeless at book-binding! Filaurel despairs.”
“No,” Saphienne said, and tilted her head to plant a kiss on his cheek, “that you’ll always be a worse wizard than me.”
He laughed, lifting himself away. “Ass!”
“When I wear black, and you’re a junior– an unproven apprentice,” she mocked him, “I’ll ask the Luminary Vale to let me be your tutor. Someone has to teach you conduct that’s befitting of a wizard.”
“You know what?” He cocked his head. “That wouldn’t be the worst arrangement. I’d have an advantage over all the others, learning from you.”
She snorted. “You’ve gone soft. I should nearly die more often.”
“I’d say something to make you want to slap me,” he quipped, a little apprehensively, “but… there’s half a chance you’d fuck it up?”
Saphienne burst out laughing, then doubled over, nearly hysterical, and her cheeks hurt when she leapt up to hug him. “Thank you!”
“If I jest about you being not right in the head–”
“Taerelle beat you to it.”
“…There’s a joke about taking a beating, somewhere…”
She poked him. “Ass. Don’t press your luck.”
* * *
By the time Iolas returned, Laelansa had indeed won.
She’d then irritated Faylar by leaning over his shoulder to suggest how to finish laying out the robes, continuing incessantly until the apprentice librarian had confessed that he wanted to do it himself — as a small show of his thanks to Celaena, for helping Saphienne.
She’d immediately ceased. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?!”
The bell for the front doors rang while Faylar was deep in concentration with the wholestone, weaving the threads back together as Laelansa watched the pulsing, green and red flashes in amazement.
When Saphienne reached the foyer Laelansa caught up with her, and her girlfriend grabbed hold of her right hand before she could open the doors.
“…Laelansa, I need that one.”
“No you don’t!” Laelansa kissed her knuckles, then pulled the handle for her.
Sweating in the sunlight, with his silvery festival coat thrown over his shoulder, Iolas was surrounded by five heavy baskets — a dozen more sitting at the bottom of the gardens. “I’m going to need help bringing all of this in.”
While irked by – and endeared to – Laelansa, Saphienne let her prickliness go as she pulled away from her. “How in the world did you carry it all here?”
“People helped.” He sat two baskets on the tiles and slid them forward. “I said it’d be best to leave them outside.”
Laelansa lifted one of the lids. “…This fruit wasn’t on the list.”
He sighed. “Saphienne, try to see this from their point of view…”
His plea earned a frown from Saphienne. “…Are these gifts?”
“Word got around…” He busied himself with the remainder close to the doorway. “…Thessa overshared a little with the confectioners yesterday, and everyone’s been stopping in on them to try the chocolate. When she went back, she was ambushed… she’s really sorry, Saphienne.”
She clenched her jaw.
Laelansa opened another basket. “Are these chocolate? They look like strawberries.”
…Well…
…If she was going to be pitied anyway, Saphienne resolved to enjoy the benefits with her friends. “She’s forgiven.”
* * *
More than food and drink had been given, and Laelansa took the first batch of as-yet unopened boxes and envelopes to Saphienne’s room. When she came back down to the kitchen, she was carrying the plant pot — the roses wilting.
“I don’t think we can plant these together,” she concluded.
Faylar, having finished mending the robe, had been lured by the promise of chocolate. He was eyeing what appeared to be an entire cake finished with chocolate icing, amusing Saphienne with his expression, which she likened to lust. He glanced over. “Oh! Sunflowers feed so voraciously they stress many other plants. There’s a book, ‘Thriving Garden Companions,’ that warns about them.”
Saphienne smirked. “Light reading?”
“It was misfiled; I was curious.”
“I’ll ask Ruddles to mend them before I replant them,” Laelansa declared. “I’m late to commune with her anyway.”
Iolas emerged from where he’d been stocking the pantry. “The weather’s nice. If you’re going to be in the gardens, I haven’t sat for meditation today.”
Meditating would be wise… but Saphienne missed Hyacinth. “Faylar, save the cake for now. You can eat some at the festival.”
* * *
Before leaving, Faylar showed off to them, using his place on the guest list for the house to create a temporary rhythm of knocks that would open the doors.
Laelansa had seen Saphienne’s hyacinths in Celaena’s bedroom, and retrieved them, sitting cross-legged next to her girlfriend in the gardens and depositing a marigold beside the spring blooms before leisurely drawing one circle around both.
If Saphienne had only known what was happening, she’d have hurried her.
End of Chapter 80
Comments
Claire Hiria Ahuriri-Dunning
also lol I cannot wait to see what the anti-swearing crowd think of this chapter XD
Claire Hiria Ahuriri-Dunning
OH GOD everything was going way too nicely for a bit :[ Taerelle remains a stone-cold favourite <3
