L. J. Amber
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TEWWBAD Chapter 79
🕑 Added 2025-09-09 12:00:15 +0000 UTCCHAPTER 79 – Ask Not For Whom …
Gathered in the long dining room for interrogation by Taerelle, Saphienne’s friends were unprepared for the intruder alarm to ring, and the instant she tiredly announced its significance they started to panic.
Yet the senior apprentice was calm.
Saphienne’s eyes flew open as Taerelle seized her arm and yanked her upright, her tutor walking her to the centre of the room while gesturing in quick flourishes and uttering syllables in an eldritch tongue. Orange light coalesced in the apprentice wizard’s palm, and she immediately touched her own shoulder, the abjuration expanding into a spherical shell around her that faded from mundane sight — still defending her as she cast the spell again, this time imparting a ward onto Saphienne while she scanned the doors and windows.
“Do not run.” Taerelle was serene as she commanded her. “Not unless I say.”
Iolas recognised Taerelle’s authority, and he hefted the chair he’d been sitting on, wielding it as an unwieldy, improvised club. “Tell me what to do!”
“In front of Saphienne,” she directed him. “Don’t engage until I cast.”
Not to be outdone, Faylar had raced to the cabinet on the wall opposite the tall windows, and was holding a sharp knife as he stood guard in the doorway to the hallway–
“Foolish boy!” She had no patience for would-be heroics. “Stand clear — give me unobstructed line of sight!”
Laewyn was cowering under the end of the table, beside where Celaena was crouched; Saphienne could tell from the older girl’s calculating frown that she was considering the enchanted weapon locked in her desk.
Celaena made her decision. “I have a Rod of Repulsion upstairs–”
“When the spirit enters, choose your moment, then go for it.”
Capably defended by the woman in the evening gown, Saphienne admired the steel in her cool gaze, the discipline through which they scrutinised her surroundings, the analytical confidence she exhibited in effortlessly marshalling all the resources at her disposal. That Taerelle had warded herself first made sense, given that an intelligent assailant would focus on the most dangerous adversary in the room. “…You memorised two wards?”
“Every day — ever since the letter arrived.”
The depth of the senior apprentice’s preparedness made Saphienne acutely aware of just how far she really was from being ready to join Taerelle in black robes.
Still, was there actually a threat? No woodland spirit had tried to murder Saphienne, and the girls who had attacked her hadn’t intended to injure her so terribly — Tirisa, Alynelle, and Elisa had tried to restrain Syndelle when she went too far. That they would now want to kill Saphienne seemed improbable… especially since their leader had come to the main doors some time earlier.
No, for all that Lensa was shortsighted, she was cunning. Saphienne’s conjecture – based on how the vicious girl had carried herself – was that she knew the supremacy of testimony when elders were called upon to determine guilt. Supposing that Lensa understood how she and her followers would hold the advantage were they to be accused, why would she let them risk implicating her through rash action?
A shift in the ringing bells interrupted Saphienne’s momentary reflection, and Taerelle addressed the unproven apprentices without looking, her attention on all possible entrances. “Why have they changed?”
“Someone’s outside the floor above us,” Celaena answered. “The first pattern meant someone tried to open a window–”
“So not yet inside?”
“No–”
Taerelle marched Saphienne from the dining room. “Everyone, with me!”
Letting herself be carried along with the group, Saphienne reassessed the danger in light of the sudden escalation. The bells had to be audible through the windows — so whoever was outside hadn’t been scared off. Who would be determined enough to hear the alarm and still climb the tree? While she couldn’t come up with any answer that satisfied her, she was forced to conclude that the trespasser had ill intent.
She sought confirmation from Celaena. The wide, concerned eyes with which the girl stared back revealed that her confidant had reached a more fearful conclusion: someone intended Saphienne harm.
Taerelle shook her shoulder. “Stay alert prodigy! Where is the safest room in the house? No windows, at least two exits, plenty of cover.”
Saphienne hesitated. “…Does an upstairs window count as–”
“Can you climb with that hand?”
She studied her limp palm as they hurried down the hall. “Probably?”
“Then yes.”
Allowing Celaena to fetch the enchanted rod would improve their odds against an unknown assailant. “Celaena’s study — on the uppermost floor.”
Laewyn trembled as she clung to her girlfriend. “Why don’t we just leave?”
Taerelle stopped at the edge of the grand foyer. “The alarm may be intended to flush us out: the spirit could be waiting, and an open exit will create a way in.” She let go of Saphienne as she squinted upward, stepping out onto the black tiles with her hand readied to fling a spell — then paused. “Thessa! Are you alone?”
Far overhead, Thessa was bewildered as she called down. “Who are you? Where did everyone go? What’s going on?”
“Stay there! We’re coming to you!” The senior apprentice waved for Iolas to go ahead to his sister, taking hold of Saphienne as they began climbing the staircase.
When they passed the next floor, the bells pealed in a new rhythm.
Horror filled Celaena’s voice. “They’re following us up!”
Taerelle only quickened her pace. “The windows: how are they warded?”
“Abjurations of force! They push back if you lean–”
“Good.” She didn’t slow as they approached the uppermost landing. “Are any of the windows open or unlatched?”
“I don’t think so–”
Saphienne cut in. “One, unlatched inside her father’s sanctum — but the way inside has been sealed.”
Rushing over as the group surmounted the stairs, Thessa unwittingly blocked the route forward. “What in the world is happen–”
Taerelle pushed past Iolas to shove her aside. “An embodied spirit is trying to break in — likely to finish her attempt on Saphienne’s life. Keep quiet and stay close.”
“What? But–”
Iolas stumbled with the chair as he grabbed his sister’s elbow. “She’s a senior apprentice to our master, and she knows what she’s doing — trust her.”
Passing Laewyn to Faylar, Celaena ran ahead to open the door to her study and survey the room; she urgently beckoned Taerelle. “In here!”
The senior apprentice went ahead, sweeping her eyes across the corners of the room and under the table in an elegant spin before she nodded. Celaena was next inside, immediately unlocking the drawer of her desk while Saphienne moved to the bookshelves furthest from the door and windows.
Faylar gripped the edge of the table. “Do we barricade the–”
“Not unless the spirit enters the hallway.” Taerelle snatched the Rod of Repulsion from Celaena’s hands, checking the ruby on its lowermost end. “Celaena: have you ever hurt someone?”
Though pale, Celaena was resolute. “No, but I can.”
Taerelle took her at her word and passed it back. “Set it to the second level, then conceal it behind you. Cower and look pitiful if we encounter the spirit. Wait until she’s distracted, then strike from behind.” She pointedly held Celaena’s gaze. “If the first blow doesn’t disable her, do not hesitate: hit her with as many full blasts as it takes. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Kill whoever she’s possessing.” Celaena pursed her lips.
Iolas was aghast. “Wait! What if they’re a victim–”
The senior apprentice wizard was unmoved. “The spirit should quit their body once they’re incapacitated. If they keep coming, it will be because the spirit is powerful enough to heal them while puppeting them, in which case we have no choice — killing the host will stun the spirit, hopefully long enough for me to abjure her while the rest of you run for the centre of the village.”
“But–”
“A powerful spirit this brazen won’t leave any witnesses. Do you want your sister to die with you?”
Watching Iolas, Saphienne saw him overcome himself: deathly tranquillity settled onto his face like a horned mask as he discarded his self-doubt. “No.” His grip on the upturned chair tightened.
* * *
The warning bells chimed a third melody.
Celaena held the rod behind herself and took up position on the floor in the corner nearest the entrance. “They’ve climbed up to reach us.”
Thessa and Laewyn hid behind Faylar and Iolas; Taerelle placed herself in front of Saphienne, where she could observe all entrances.
Perhaps a minute passed in hushed anticipation.
“…Prodigy.” Taerelle had been thinking. “You said the way to the sanctum is sealed. Does only one door connect it to the rest of the house?”
Before Saphienne could ask her, Celaena spoke up. “Yes! The branch is completely separate from the living space.”
“And you and Saphienne are certain: the only unlatched window is behind it?”
Both girls nodded.
Revising her plan, Taerelle addressed the group. “Laewyn: stay in here. Scream as loudly as you can if the intruder enters. Faylar: stand in the corridor and watch both directions. Yell if you see anyone other than us. Iolas, Celaena, and Thessa: come with me and Saphienne.”
Thessa was scared. “Where are we–”
“Faylar and Laewyn are guarding the retreat.” Taerelle pulled Saphienne after her as she strode to the hall. “Your task is to scream and flee with Saphienne should I fall. Put Saphienne and Faylar in the study with Laewyn, shut the door, and then keep screaming as you run downstairs. Keep the spirit’s attention away from them.”
Saphienne could see her plan. “We keep quiet, open the window, and climb down?”
“Go for the centre of the village — don’t shout for help until you’re a thousand feet away, but don’t stop once you begin. There will be spirits walking in the festival grounds, and they will defend you from their sister.”
Faylar stood in the hallway, remaining in view of where Laewyn remained shaking and tearful in the study; Celaena led the way toward the chokepoint.
Iolas trailed behind with his sister. “…You want me to create a distraction for Celaena, don’t you?”
Utterly resolved, Taerelle didn’t coddle him. “If I don’t stop the spirit in the sanctum? You two will be all that stands between her and the others. Yes, apprentice: I want you to throw yourself in harm’s way, for their sake. This is what it means to be an elven wizard.”
* * *
Despite spending many hours in the impressive house, Saphienne had never seen the imposing entrance to the branch that held the sanctum. Two arched doors were set into a larger arched frame, the void above them filled with stained glass depicting the tree and stars of the Luminary Vale’s emblem. A hallucinatory, more personal emblem shimmered across the entire doorway, its mystical script as yet indecipherable to Saphienne — but reminiscent of the seal Almon had affixed to his letter of recommendation.
Beholding the Hallucination spell slowed Taerelle. “Your father is–”
Surprised and intrigued to see her shaken, Saphienne watched the senior apprentice recompose herself.
“…Later.” Taerelle was stern as she relinquished Saphienne to Thessa. “Prodigy: you are injured and of no use in conflict. I expect you to follow the plan I have outlined without innovation. Should you be struck down after me, whichever spirit wants you dead will have succeeded despite my sacrifice — and I will be very disappointed in you.”
Although she pulled Saphienne protectively against her chest, Thessa was struggling to hold herself together. “What if there’s more than one spirit? What if the spirit tries to possess–”
“I will not be easily possessed.” The woman in black sounded sure, and she knelt down to unlace the ribbons that wound up and around her calves to hold her shoes in place. “Should one of you be, resist as best you can — that will present an opening.” She kicked her footwear away and took hold of the hem of her dress, methodically tearing up its seams and then ripping the flimsy cloth horizontally, raising the hem line to her knees and discarding the excess fabric.
Iolas swallowed. “And if there’s more than one?”
“Then we’re fucked.” Taerelle gave him a bleak smile as she rose. “But should multiple spirits be involved? Then the ancient ways hang precariously — our demise would be prelude to an unfathomable conflict. I believe a lone aggressor is more likely.”
Celaena’s expression was mistakable for sorrowful dread, but Saphienne read the guilt her friend was feeling — for she felt it too. The two communicated wordlessly as Taerelle appraised the sealing spell, Celaena asking Saphienne whether they should admit who was really responsible for the beating.
Shaking her head, Saphienne pulled free from Thessa and crossed her arms. “Let’s hope whoever is stalking us isn’t–”
Silvery-blue sparkles hung where Taerelle cast another spell, a hallucination that projected the emblem of Celaena’s father atop the shape already present. The transparent seal wavered and dissolved, loud clicks emanating from the handles as the arcane lock disengaged.
Celaena gasped. “Why did you–”
“That was a simple seal — the fastening may have been magical, but the doors could have been broken down.” Taerelle steeled herself. “Given that the spirit hasn’t entered, the abjurations on the windows are beyond its power to breach. Where is the unlatched window?”
Drawing in a centring breath, Celaena moved aside. “On the left of the foyer as you enter. Will you latch it?”
Taerelle inclined her head. “…So long as the alarm isn’t wrong, and the spirit is still outside, that seems a wise first move… let’s see…”
Yet, from the way the senior apprentice lingered where previously she had acted so decisively, Saphienne realised: she was frightened.
With a irreverent smile that couldn’t conceal the fondness she felt, Saphienne’s tutor turned back to her. “Be good, prodigy.”
Then Taerelle threw wide the doors and leapt into the room beyond, long legs swiftly carrying her out of view.
Craning to see, Saphienne beheld a spiral staircase rising at the far wall, flanked by two tall windows, steps descending either side to unknown levels below. In the middle of the floor, strikingly arranged to catch the lamplight, a mannequin was dressed in dark grey robes — a sealed letter pinned to its breast.
Tarelle reappeared from the left, stopping beside the robes. “I’ve secured–”
Something to the right caught her eye, and she conjured as she spun, glittering red gathering on the senior apprentice’s lips to be spat with a single word, a word that rolled from her tongue with venom and gathering momentum, her image contorted by the lens made by the concentrating magic before the spell thundered outward, forced the air aside–
Only for Taerelle to desperately hurl herself backward, with a cry that expressed her miscalculation: “Oh fu–”
What seemed like another bolt of pure force came right back toward her, deflecting off her ward as she fell on the floor — and slamming the mannequin into the opposite wall, where it exploded into shards of wood and shreds of tattered cloth.
Saphienne’s tutor lay unmoving.
Iolas ran for her. “Go! I’ll hold–”
And then Taerelle snorted with laughter.
He stumbled to a halt on the threshold. “…Taerelle?”
“Holy shit!” She sat upright, shivering in the aftermath. “Holy fucking shit! Good gods damn: I nearly killed myself! What a fucking tragic excuse for a wiz–”
She abruptly fell silent.
Regaining her footing along with her composure, Taerelle folded her arms. “…Saphienne, come here.”
Heart racing, goosebumps all over her body, Saphienne shuffled forward, her breath so shallow that she started to feel faint.
Her tutor pointed to a window on the right. “Do you know her?”
Saphienne looked…
…At the petrified girl who sat astride the tree limb beyond the enchanted glass, knuckles pallid where she gripped a bouquet of sunflowers and white roses, her splendid festival dress ridden up above her bruised legs to show her short leggings, fearfully clutching the marigolds about her waist until she saw Saphienne, whereupon her greenish eyes were lit with nervous happiness.
There was no resisting the exhaustion that made Saphienne collapse to the floor.
Somewhere beyond the stars that crowded Saphienne’s vision, Celaena entered her father’s old sanctum. “…Laelansa?! What did you do to my robes?!”
* * *
When her shock wore off, Taerelle blushed crimson as she informed the outraged girl that, unfortunately, it had been her spell that caused the mayhem, having rebounded from the ward that reinforced the window; on edge and off-guard when Laelansa had waved, she’d cast her spell reflexively.
…Conjurations of pure force that collided with similar spells contested one another, she clarified, and the greater magnitude always prevailed, causing the weaker to reverse direction and increase its potency to the sum of both forces.
…This fact was – to her abject humiliation – taught in warning to junior apprentices.
Overwhelmed, Celaena’s ensuing tantrum was legendary.
She barred Laelansa from entry, and called her everything but a child of the gods; she cursed at Taerelle with several profanities that Saphienne hadn’t heard before, and told the senior apprentice to go fuck herself in graphic detail; she flicked two fingers on both hands at Iolas when he tried to calm her down; she declared that she was ‘telling father’ about everything that had happened; and when Faylar and Laewyn peered around the corner, she stormed by them while announcing she was going to eat the last of the chocolate.
Laewyn chose a poor reply. “Um, you already ate–”
Celaena bellowed back harsh words — to the effect that she already knew.
Meanwhile, Taerelle quietly murmured to Iolas, “Will she really tell her father?”
“Not a chance.” He was embarrassed on her behalf. “She just had the shit scared out of her — this is how she is when she’s really upset in front of people. She doesn’t mean a single word she’s saying.” Iolas shrugged. “She’s normally much nicer than this. I don’t think she’d be this way if she hadn’t started the day by seeing–”
“I follow…” Taerelle crouched beside Saphienne. “…Prodigy? Are you well?”
Saphienne was breathing in gasps. “I thought– I thought you were–”
“Briefly, so did I.” Taerelle rubbed her back. “You acquitted yourself well. As difficult as this is, remember: a wizard is obliged to reconsider her undertakings in light of new evidence. We were never in danger.”
“But– but you–”
“Emerged from my own foolishness unscathed; deep breaths.” She slid her hand up and under Saphienne’s hair to massage where neck met skull, her firm touch together with her lowering voice grounding the girl. “I’m safe, Saphienne… and you’re much, much sweeter than you let on.”
Saphienne clutched her knees against herself, too defeated to blush.
Lifting her chin, Taerelle smiled. “…Would you like to speak with your friend? She seems very eager to console you.”
Laelansa was pressed up against the glass, worried gaze trained on Saphienne while she patiently waited.
Taerelle helped Saphienne to her feet, then to the window, unlatching it before she walked over to Iolas and Thessa. “A home like this must have a Stone of Making Whole — do either of you know where to find it?”
Tossing the chair aside, Iolas ignored its clatter as he threw up his arms and wheeled about. “Sure! Either in Celaena’s study or in the laundry room with the Rod of Cleansing. She’s always forgetting where she leaves her enchantments…”
Once the young adults had left, Saphienne moved the pane aside.
* * *
“Saphienne! I’m really sorry! I didn’t think–”
“Laelansa…” Saphienne sagged against the windowsill. “…What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you!”
Saphienne’s ears drooped, her eyelids heavy with withering scepticism.
Laelansa flushed, but plunged on regardless. “I didn’t know where to find you, so I asked Ruddles, and she asked Spire – Gaelyn’s friend – and Spire told Ruddles that you were staying with Celaena. I got you these…” She held up her bouquet. “…Only, I didn’t think to ask Ruddles where Celaena lived, and by the time I’d thought to she was off walking with someone, and I had to track down your priest – Tolduin – to get general directions. But, on the way here, I ran into Tirisa and Syndelle and Lensa, and they pointed me the wrong way–”
“Gods…” Saphienne marvelled, both at the trouble the girl had gone to and the sheer nastiness of the trio she’d ran into.
“I know! You’d think between the three of them–” She huffed. “Well, anyway: I saw the sign on the door when I got here… I know you don’t want company… but I wanted to give you these, and there were lights on, so I knocked the door. When no one answered–”
“You climbed all the way up here just to give me flowers?”
Laelansa wilted. “…They’re to help you recover. During times of illness, sunflowers convey a heartfelt prayer for strength, resilience, hope, and positivity… while white roses are a prayer for new beginnings and recovery… at least in religious floriography…” She lowered her gift. “…You don’t like them?”
Saphienne stared at the blooms.
“…If you prefer other flowers, I could–”
“I like sunflowers,” she softly said. “I’m very fond of them.”
“Are you sure? What about roses?”
Raising her eyes, Saphienne contemplated the girl; the girl who had caused so much chaos and fear; the girl who had recently saved her life. Laelansa was not without guile, but she was utterly guileless as she awkwardly smiled, helplessly besotted with her where she hung over the drop into warm summer dark.
“…No one’s ever brought me roses before.” Saphienne wasn’t sure how she felt about the prayers, but she appreciated the care that had went into the gesture. She raised her left hand to accept–
A rueful smirk twisted her lips as she remembered her injury.
Laelansa didn’t try to pass them to her. “I know about your hand: Tolduin told me. Ruddles said the spirits are in an uproar over what happened. She wouldn’t tell me why Hyacinth is the only one who’ll heal you, but she said you’re belovèd of the gods.”
Hearing that was no consolation, the end of an ancient phrase echoing in her mind. “‘…Those whom the gods most love, they will one day destroy.’ I do feel like they plan to destroy me…”
The novice wrinkled her nose. “Ruddles taught me that isn’t the only translation — she doesn’t think it’s correct.”
While Saphienne hadn’t been serious, she was interested in languages; she leant on the windowsill with her elbows while she used her right hand to accept the offering, inhaling the sweet and mellow scent of the blossoms. “Go on: what does Ruddles believe?”
“Well,” Laelansa began, turning so that she sat on the window ledge, keeping her ankle hooked around the branch while she held on to the frame with both hands, “she said the first part – ‘those whom the gods most love behold what is just’ – misinterprets the word ‘just,’ which is too simple. It’s an old word that means ‘owed,’ or ‘needed,’ or–”
Now Saphienne was fully engaged. “Faylar told me about an archaic word in the sylvan tongue that’s similar — what is right, or needed, or urged, or obliged, and neither right or wrong, but also both. Hyacinth told me it refers to the affirmation of all that exists.”
“The upholding of the divine order from which the world proceeds,” Laelansa said, approvingly. “So that’s the first error. In the second part – ‘those whom the gods would destroy, They incite to acts of madness and violence’ – there’s three mistranslations. ‘Madness’ can be read as ‘necessary passion that refuses restraint,’ and ‘violence’ is better translated as ‘conflict that ends in sacrifice,’ but it doesn’t necessarily mean bloodshed.”
“You said there were three?”
“The third is also in the final part.” Laelansa gazed out across the nighttime forest. “‘Destroy’ literally translates as ‘burn,’ but that word has deeper symbolism. Forest fires clear away dead brush, and they make room for new plants to grow. ‘Burning’ and ‘making grow anew’ are one and the same, so another translation of ‘destroy’ is ‘reshape,’ ‘remake,’ or ‘resculpt,’ with specific connotations when attributed to the gods.”
When she didn’t elaborate further, Saphienne nudged her with the roots of the flowers. “And those are?”
Laelansa looked back, bashful. “…Please don’t think I’m teasing you. To be remade by the gods implicitly means being remade in their likeness.”
Saphienne grinned. “Know any god with a broken hand that I can thank?”
But Laelansa was devout, and she took the question literally. “No, but there’s meaning in that too. Gods only hold weapons in Their left hand, and the path to war and wrongdoing is referred to as the left-handed path — to be avoided.” Although she no longer smiled, her eyes shone with sincerity. “If the gods love you, then the breaking of your left hand symbolises that you’re not on the left-hand path. I don’t know the will of the gods, but perhaps you’ve already been remade?”
Bitter resentment stirred in Saphienne. “…I’m not as faithful as you. If this is how the gods show they love me, I wish they’d hate me instead.”
“Hate is the mirror of love…” Laelansa was sad. “…They’re reflections of each other. You have to love someone a little to really hate them — the absence of love is just indifference.”
Saphienne recalled how Lensa had sneered. “I don’t agree. Whoever did this, they didn’t love me, and I don’t think there was anything divine in their motivations.”
“The gods are immanent — They are in everything and everyone; even people who reject Them cannot do anything but enact Their will.” Yet the novice exhaled. “…I’m not trying to proselytise to you. You’re not in a good place right now. I just want to make you feel better.”
Strangely, arguing with Laelansa had made Saphienne slightly less unhappy. “Would you like to come in?”
“Celaena said I’m not allowed.”
“She doesn’t mean it.”
“Let her tell me that.” Stubbornness lit her glower. “I’m fine right here… with you.”
Saphienne felt a lump in her throat. “…Laelansa, why do you like me? All I’ve done since we’ve met is humiliate you, make an ass of myself, and made you cry.”
“Because…” Laelansa grew hot, her cheeks and ears on fire, but she didn’t look away from Saphienne. “…Because you’re brilliant. You’re like the sun — when you’re shining, nobody can deny you’re there. I’ve never met anything who’s so fiercely alive as you.”
Saphienne blinked.
“And you didn’t humiliate me! You won, and I lost.” She grinned at the memory, until another sapped her cheer. “As for what you did yesterday… your master asked me what you actually said, and I made him tell me the history. He told me that woman you threw wine on had a daughter with a human–”
Saphienne broke out in a cold sweat.
“–And that you were probably friends with her, before she was sent away.” For the first time since they had met, Laelansa showed conflicted doubt. “Ruddles told me that’s part of the ancient ways, and that I’m too young to understand why it was necessary, but…”
Her chest was tight.
“…That has to be a mistranslation of them.” She had decided: that was the only possible explanation. “A really old mistranslation — from before we wrote things down. I won’t believe the gods want to part a child from her mother. They’re kinder than that.”
And then to Saphienne it seemed like the sun was in the window. “Doesn’t…” Saphienne wet her lips. “…Doesn’t that make you an apostate?”
“Never.” Full of the conviction of her faith, Laelansa giggled. “Our Lady of the Proven Merit is my patron goddess, and She tells us that it doesn’t matter if no one else sees what we do: we are called to prove ourselves to the world. If I’m wrong, I’ll be proven wrong, and I’ll repent… but to back down before I’m shown my error is to be unfaithful to Her. I have to contest what I can contest, and trust that She loves my honest efforts, even if I’m misguided.” Her golden brow tilted, her speech becoming dreamlike. “…I believe she loves you, too…”
What could Saphienne say to that?
Laelansa’s eyes had widened. “…I was going to kiss you, yesterday.”
“…I know.” Her belly quivered.
“Did you want me to?”
Mortal terror filled her. “I… I don’t know…”
“Do you want me to?”
Panic rooted her in place; she closed her eyes to shut out the world.
Laelansa leaned through the window–
But Saphienne recoiled with a pitiful moan.
When she came back to herself, Saphienne was hugging herself, the gifted flowers scattered across the floor.
Laelansa remained outside, devastated by the rejection. “…I’m sorry.” The novice slipped her legs back around the branch. “I’ll go.”
* * *
What did she do? Who was this girl, whose story I impart?
Surely you know enough by now to understand: the coin was merely a coin, and what it meant to her could not be stolen.
So too, wherever it then lay, she could turn it.
* * *
Saphienne forced down the trauma that she didn’t comprehend, her rage purer than any flame, more destructive – and transformative – than any truth of the Great Art, for it burned taller and more potent than all her frailties, all her flaws.
She seized Laelansa’s hand and pulled her back through the window, catching her upon her breast and glaring into her startled eyes–
Saphienne kissed Laelansa.
And then Saphienne’s knees gave out, and she toppled over with her, landing in a sprawl of legs and arms on the floor, their teeth knocking together.
Not that Laelansa cared: where she lay atop Saphienne she threw her arms around her, and she kissed her, fumblingly, inexperienced and artless, more wetting her mouth than sharing passionate ardour.
* * *
But nor was Saphienne unmarred.
There was every reason in the world for her to like Laelansa as more than a friend, for her to have with her what Celaena and Laewyn had. Every physical and intellectual reaction told her that she should be intoxicated by her, that she should feel what she had read in the tawdry romances and more lurid literature of the library.
Shouldn’t there be joy?
Saphienne didn’t feel romantic love when she kissed Laelansa; nor did she feel lust.
She only felt fury at herself for not feeling what she ought to feel, what she wanted to feel, what she needed to feel in that moment.
Later, she would tell herself that it didn’t matter — she was what she performed.
End of Chapter 79
Comments
oneirosophis
When I start reading a chapter I never know if it'll make me cry or make me laugh out loud or (as in this case) both.
Claire Hiria Ahuriri-Dunning
I saw it coming that it would be Laelansa XD but the build up was amazing! and omfg did you have to break my heart like that at the end there T_T
