novelraw CHAPTER 123 – Faithful Observance
CHAPTER 123 – Faithful Observance
Summer haze; dry earth’s scent; sweat trickling; trampled grass faded yellow; branches stirring in a gasping wind; drifting clouds and boughs casting shifting shade; motion in stillness.
She crouched in the undergrowth. Her silhouette was indistinct. Her green eyes were bright while shadowed, yet they were unseen.
All this was incidental besides what she focused on:
A roebuck, antlers dark, their burrs close together in youth. He was in rut. He stamped with a forehoof — marking the ground as his. A wiser or larger buck would have claimed territory further from the village.
He was her quarry.
He didn’t yet know.
* * *
Laelansa was only permitted to stay for a month after the solstice festival, and though Saphienne had wanted to appeal to Ruddles to extend their time together, doing so would’ve made no difference.
The novice priest had explained why over breakfast. “Ruddles can’t approve anything alone — she shares responsibility for me.”
Saphienne slid her plate away, folding her arms on the kitchen table. “Who does she share it with?”
“Ruddles decides on my solitary prayers; the priests of the Vale of the White River choose how I’ll study with fellow novices; and for everything outside my novitiate, Wynalia has final say.”
There was little warmth when Laelansa mentioned the new name. “…Wynalia is a priest to Our Lady of the Free Embrace?”
Laelansa nodded. “She agreed to raise me.”
Rising from her chair, Saphienne moved through to her mother’s sitting room, craning up to check that Lynnariel was in the bathroom and that the door was closed before returning to continue. “…My mother was raised the same way, before she was given over to Our Lady of the Basking Serpent.”
“I know.” Laelansa’s smile was faint. “Lynnariel and I talked about that, when we first got to know each other.”
Saphienne remained standing. “Ruddles said that Wynalia accepted you out of religious obligation…”
Fondness glinting in her grey-green gaze, Laelansa leant back to stretch, then sighed as she began gathering in the dishes. “You don’t need to be delicate about asking me, Saphienne; I want to share my life with you.”
Saphienne unfolded her arms, clasping her tingling hand as she bowed. “I didn’t want to press on a wound.”
“I’m not wounded.” Laelansa wasn’t defensive. “Wynalia doesn’t love me, but she’s never mistreated me. She made sure I can look after myself. The only thing we both have in common is that we’re religious…” The novice hesitated as she stood. “…Well, that might not be entirely true any more…”
Intrigued, Saphienne walked with her to the sink. “Something changed?”
Laelansa canted her head as she set the plates on the counter. “I keep forgetting that you were never taught about the gods; you don’t know the doctrine of Our Lady of the Free Embrace.”
“I could guess… her priests obviously care for orphans.”
Amusement was writ in her girlfriend’s eyes. “That isn’t the primary way they serve the woodlands.”
“Of course not — I’m taking the usual religious duties for granted.”
“As am I.” Laelansa settled back against the counter. “If I told you that Celaena’s mother is a priest to Our Lady of the Free Embrace, would that help?”
Saphienne stared. “…They have children with people who don’t have a partner?”
“Yes, but again, that isn’t the primary way… or at least, having children isn’t…”
Saphienne blinked. “Oh! That’s why you’re so comfortable with sex.”
Laelansa giggled as she hugged her. “You make it sound like I practiced! But yes, Wynalia was always open about what her devotion entailed, and when I was old enough to understand she told me everything I wanted to know about the physical act.”
Picturing the inquisitive girl asking exhaustive questions about sexual relations made Saphienne smirk. “…That must have taken a while…”
Laelansa chided her girlfriend as she withdrew. “Don’t jest — she was always very patient with me.”
“So you’re not close to her, but you don’t dislike her?”
There, the novice paused. “…I care about her. I think I would have loved her, if she’d been warmer. Yet there aren’t many priests of Our Lady of the Free Embrace devout enough to foster children; from her perspective, once I’m independent she’ll be moving on to tend to another child.”
Lynnariel suddenly didn’t seem so awful a mother… but was that merely because she was a mother? Saphienne considered whether being raised by a priest like Wynalia instead of Lynnariel would’ve left her better adjusted.
Her girlfriend narrowed her eyes. “You’re feeling sorry for me.”
“I’m not.” Saphienne only realised she’d lied after she’d spoken. “Or, not just that; I’m wondering who I’d be, if I’d been raised like you were.”
“Feeling sorry for yourself, then?”
Laelansa was teasing her; she rolled her eyes. “Feeling sorry for all of us. But, does this mean Wynalia would be happy to let you–”
“No.” Laelansa turned away to tip down the enchanted pitcher. “She’s devout, and takes her promises before her goddess seriously. Wynalia won’t let me move on from her care until she’s satisfied that I’m mature enough to be on my own, not unless she’s surrendering me to the supervision of someone who meets with her approval. Ruddles has her trust, but elves have to be raised by elves.”
“Either adoption, or supervision by another priest…” Saphienne nudged Laelansa side. “…Leave the dirty dishes for me; I’ll be quicker.”
Laelansa stopped the flow of water and went to pour more tea. “Adoption isn’t going to happen, and anyway, she’d be much more sceptical of someone who wanted to adopt me now I’m physically mature. What you suggested before is best: she’d be more likely to pass me on to another priest.”
Saphienne said nothing as she moved the dishes to the sink and then manipulated the sigil for Cleansing Touch, instantly cleaning them in a green-red flash that shed flowing dust when she lifted them back out.
“…Do you have someone in mind, Saphienne?”
She’d been thinking about that ever since she’d impulsively made the proposal — and sixteen days later, she at last had a plan. “Yes… but I think the way we approach this is going to have to be a little involved…”
* * *
A hand touched the small of her back, which was bare but for the browns and yellowed greens smeared there. Rather than lift from her skin, those fingertips leisurely trailed up and under the hide that wrapped her torso, until they clasped her shoulder.
Her pulse was quickened by the intimacy.
Laelansa watched with Saphienne. Idly, her fingers massaged her lover’s shoulder, sublimating her excitement and tension in the moment.
Emboldened, Saphienne made to creep closer to the deer–
And was stopped by the strong, possessive grip taking hold of the back of her neck.
Her breath caught; she blinked slowly. Her concentration broke as she contemplated what she felt, having not anticipated her visceral reaction to being commanded.
Then a third silence arrived.
* * *
That she’d been without a mirror had made Saphienne very self-conscious.
“Saphienne? Are you nearly ready?”
Having been obliged to surrender her spellbook, she couldn’t even swap in a Divination spell to take a look at herself. She fussed again with the weight on her brow, declining to reply.
“Please don’t hurry her…” Laelansa came to her defence. “…You know she has an injury; her hand means she needs a little longer.”
Saphienne was actually fully dressed — and would’ve taken umbrage at that remark, were she and Laelansa not trying to make a good impression. “I’m almost done.”
“You’ll have to get over this modesty.” The woman they were there to impress sighed, her exasperation carrying through the screen. “On hunting trips, there’s no slinking off to change in the bushes — no one cares for anything but the hunt.”
“This is her first time wearing it!” Laelansa’s protectiveness carried, too. “And she’s not really an outdoors person…”
That was enough to steel Saphienne. “I am an outdoors person,” she complained as she eased the parchment-like screen aside and stepped into view of the firepit. “I like the outdoors; I even like being rained on; I’m just not used to wearing this–”
Nelathiel was bent over laughing.
Saphienne crossed her painted arms. “What have I done wrong?”
“Nothing! You’re wearing everything the right way.” The priest to Our Lord of the Endless Hunt straightened and grinned. “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone use a ram’s horns before. Where did you even find them?”
She glowered. Just like Nelathiel and Laelansa, every inch of her skin was smeared in summery, earthen hues, over which she wore sandals, a knee-length skirt, and a chest wrap, all made from tanned hides. Her braided hair was hidden under a frayed puma pelt — through which protruded the horns she’d secured to her head. The only difference between the other two women and herself was that they wore pelts from a wolf and a bear, and were both crowned by antlers, Laelansa having opted for the slender spears shed by the roebuck, while Nelathiel sported the full and impressive spikes of a red stag.
…That, and the other two women were noticeably more muscular…
“I,” she declared, tilting her spiralled brow, “am the only one wearing horns.”
Nelathiel paced over to scrutinise her choice. “You’ve taken the expression a little literally… we hunt deer, so antlers count. I’m not sure whether sheep qualify.”
Laelansa gave Saphienne a reassuring smile. “You look good in them!”
“You’re biased,” Nelathiel quipped as she went back to where she’d been waiting, examining implements spread over the furs.
Yet the novice wouldn’t easily concede her girlfriend’s dignity. “Perhaps the spirits can guide us? Should we invoke Ruddles and Holly — ask their opinion?”
Her joke won a tired smile from Nelathiel. “I’m teasing. Any horns are fine. Let’s try not to make this more fraught than it already is…”
Saphienne had caused a commotion when she and Laelansa had attended worship at the shrine to Our Lord of the Endless Hunt: her appearance there had been her first time being seen in public since she’d retreated into seclusion. By the time the rituals were concluded, the congregation had swollen to spill down the steps to the altar, fed by the devout from other shrines who were keen for proximity to the magician’s holiness.
Nelathiel had been pleased – yet intimidated – when Saphienne had declared they wished to go hunting.
“Before we set out…” Nelathiel placed her hands on her hips. “…I have to know why Saphienne’s really here. A novice of Our Lady of the Proven Merit wanting to hunt makes sense to me, but I can’t see you being dragged along just to keep her company.”
The magician smiled charmingly. “Doesn’t Our Lord of the Endless Hunt welcome all who would give chase?”
“You’re not religious at heart. You have a ‘complicated’ relationship with the gods, or so I’ve heard.”
Saphienne’s smile grew sheepish. “Holly shared what I said to her sisters…”
“She believes your personal faith is unimportant when weighed against what the gods will through you,” Nelathiel clarified. “I’m receptive to her interpretation, but that leaves me wondering how They have brought you here to learn again.” She challenged the magician, her countenance even fiercer beneath camouflage than her priestly paint. “Saphienne, what do you pursue?”
What didn’t she? Saphienne closed over the screen behind herself as she approached the fire; she had arrived with a truth prepared. “I’m here for more than one reason. You’re right: I don’t particularly care about learning to hunt, it’s just an excuse for us to spend time getting to know you better.” And to wear horns…
“You don’t need to hunt with me to do that.”
Saphienne uncrossed her arms. “Don’t we? This is important to you.”
Nelathiel reconsidered. “…I told you I find hunting difficult, but I do it anyway; I’m flattered you remember. Why do you want to know me more personally?”
“I might want to ask some questions.”
The priest drew herself up to her full height — more impressive thanks to her elaborate headwear. “Saphienne… forget about how the spirits see you; forget about my faith altogether; I’d like to think you’d know by now that I’m willing to help anyone who–”
“Personal questions.” Saphienne found herself flushing. “Questions about your relationship with Holly… which might not be appropriate to ask…”
Nelathiel’s smile was gradual and knowing. “…I see. This isn’t about me feeling comfortable with sharing.”
Laelansa coughed. “Saphienne has a friend named Hyacinth–”
“I know; every priest in the Eastern Vale knows – thanks to the dragon – but I knew about her before now.” Her gaze softened as she studied Saphienne. “Hyacinth is your guardian spirit. She’s about the same age as you — inasmuch as spirits have ages. The two of you are close.”
“I’m private about certain matters.” Why was Saphienne blushing so furiously?
“Like nudity; and sex.”
…Because even though she was hiding her intentions, she was nevertheless seen.
Satisfied, Nelathiel squatted down on the cave floor. “Hunting parties must hunt together using the same methods: your hand means bows are out. There’s always slings, but I’m terrible with them…”
The priest of Our Lord of the Endless Hunt instead slung what could be mistaken for a bundle of sticks over her broad shoulder, then rose with purpose.
“…How’s your throwing arm?”
* * *
Nelathiel placed the javelins on the ground as she joined them in the bush, soundlessly and unhurriedly drawing one to pass across to Laelansa before she then armed the closer woman.
The wood was reassuringly solid in Saphienne’s functional hand. She glanced from its sharpened tip to the deer who had wandered near, his ears flicking as he grazed.
Readying her own, Nelathiel communicated with gestures. Three fingers she presented and then pointed to herself: she would throw third, after the junior hunters. One finger she held out to them in question.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Laelansa was keen to test herself. She held out one finger in request.
Saphienne inclined her head.
Satisfied, the three shifted onto the balls of their feet, hefting their javelins.
* * *
Unexpectedly, Saphienne had proved capable at stealth. Whether or not this was because subterfuge came easily to her gave her pause, but she pushed the worry aside to absorb the lessons Nelathiel imparted as the trio made their way north from the village.
“Keep low. Never move suddenly.”
Furs threaded with fresh greenery, Saphienne and Laelansa crept ahead.
“Smooth motion doesn’t draw the eye. Be aware of the wind. Try to time your movements to just after a gust begins: you’ll blend in better with the waving of the grass and leaves. Think of yourself like a predator…”
Like a dragon.
“…That’s very good, Saphienne. Laelansa: see how her head leads her body?”
Not long afterward Saphienne began to crawl rather than crouch, only mildly impeded by her unresponsive hand. She felt the urge to climb impossibly high, thereby to view the forest from above and spy easy quarry…
“You can stop for now.” Nelathiel bid them rise, adjusting the straps that held the bundled javelins snuggly against her back. “You’re both better than I was. You need practice, but I think we’d be wasting daylight if we kept on at this. Do either of you know how to track?”
Laelansa was excited. “I do! I learned to follow animals.”
Saphienne responded with playful scepticism. “…All animals, or just cats?”
She stuck her tongue out. “I started with cats, but I didn’t stop there. I can’t follow people very well, but anything with paws or hooves isn’t hard.”
Nelathiel laughed. “Alright, little wolf, let’s put your nose to the test. You take the lead: find us some recent tracks to follow. Any will do while we practice.”
Laelansa slunk ahead, and Nelathiel hung back, giving the novice distance.
“Religious or not, Saphienne, you’re enjoying yourself.”
Caught off guard by the question, Saphienne snorted. “…I’m having more fun that I thought I would; I imagined I’d be outpaced.”
“If this turns into an actual hunt,” Nelathiel cautioned as they strolled along, “then you will be. How far do you think you can run before tiring?”
She reflected on her poor fitness. “A few miles. I don’t exercise as much as I should.”
The priest amiably patted her shoulder. “Don’t be dispirited if it happens; Laelansa is unusually athletic for a beginner. Does she wrestle?”
Saphienne blinked. “I’ve never asked. I expect so.”
“Her physique suggests she runs, swims, climbs, and wrestles.”
Prompted by Nelathiel, Saphienne stared at her girlfriend, taking in the definition in her limbs, her torso, the confidence in her stride as she searched the forest floor. The view of Laelansa in ritual hunting garb was riling in a way she would’ve never imagined…
“At a glance,” she hazarded, burying her physical interest beneath the cool detachment of intellectual observation, “Laelansa appears less muscular than you are.”
“That’s because she is!” Nelathiel grinned. “I wrestle, lift heavy weights, and go for jogs most mornings. I’m better suited to ambush and relentless pursuit.”
Saphienne contemplated the pelt cladding Nelathiel. “Like a bear?”
The priest shook her head. “They’re quicker than they seem. I’m wearing this out of pride — the bear was the most difficult of my hunts.”
“When you say difficult, do you mean the most dangerous?”
“No.” She indicated the fur Saphienne had chosen. “Your friend there was much more dangerous — she was stalking me by the end. Both had to be dealt with before they hurt someone; the cat had broken teeth that forced her to try easier prey, while the bear did the same because he was old and tired.”
Saphienne sympathised. “How sad…”
“A little. But animals that lose their friendliness toward us pose a threat to children, and I’d rather cull them than risk a child’s life.” She shrugged. “Like I told you before: our lives matter more, so long as we forgo causing unavoidable suffering. To let them continue in pain that couldn’t be cured would have been crueller.”
“So you only hunt predators that cause trouble?”
“Me personally? Yes.” Nelathiel slid a hand under her black fur to scratch her ear. “But I don’t hunt very often at all. I’m not that skilled. There are far more dangerous quarries than bears and cougars, and they need to be killed whenever they find their way into the woodlands. They’re too challenging for me.”
Saphienne recalled her studies. “Roaming aberrations?”
“Gods, no! Those are for wardens and wizards. I was referring to drakes.”
She frowned.
Nelathiel misinterpreted her expression. “I wasn’t making a reference to your–”
“I know you weren’t.” She pushed down her disquiet. “Are drakes particularly dangerous to hunt?”
“Wyverns, too; though it depends on their parentage. Those born from large foragers? I’m told they’re not too much more fearsome than most predators. When a wolf or puma or bear gives birth to a drake, forget it — they’re too aggressive to hunt ritually.”
“Master Vestaele has a pet drake.”
Nelathiel chuckled. “I’ve seen her out with him! Small drakes and wyverns can be captured and tamed, if someone qualified to keep them wants a pet. Most are just culled.”
Of course; the woodlands would never let dragons or their kin roam free. “Even when they’re not causing trouble?”
“They always do. Other animals reject them; their presence disrupts the natural harmony; they’re territorial, and they outcompete–”
Ahead, Laelansa had stopped to kneel down.
“…I’ll tell you the rest later. Let’s see what she’s found…”
* * *
A snagged twig snapped.
The roebuck was moving before Laelansa’s javelin left her hand, and Saphienne hesitated long enough before throwing that neither she nor Nelathiel had a chance of hitting their target. All three shafts clattered to the ground behind the deer, which bounded away with a shrill bark of warning to all beasts — hunters had come!
“Damn! Unlucky Laelan–”
Saphienne didn’t stop to listen. She ran after the roebuck, compelled by instinct, snatching up one of the javelins as she sprang from the bush.
“Saphienne! You won’t catch–”
Yet she wasn’t the elf Nelathiel believed, the dragon within her roused in chase, her teeth shining beneath a piercing gaze that stuck fast to those receding haunches, her long legs leaping over obstacles only seconds after they were mantled.
She knew Laelansa wouldn’t be far behind.
On they ran, blind to the distance travelled, she wild with exhilaration, the roebuck wild with terror. He was nimble and quick and never looked back, but he was forced to navigate, while his pursuer needed only do as he had done; were they in open terrain he would have rapidly left her behind. Perhaps a human would have tripped, but she was agile, at one with the woods, winding sinuous after her prey–
Until he stumbled and fell.
She was on him in–
Hurtling toward the hidden edge that the deer had plunged over, she spun to reduce her momentum, digging the javelin into the dirt to abate her slide. She righted herself with a grunt, peered over her shoulder, turned as she heard the clatter of hooves on stone.
Below her the buck had toppled into a deep basin, once a pool worn by countless seasons of rain, now ran dry in summer. He darted back and forth at the far side — trying to leap out, yet failing and falling, crying frantically.
Her attention strayed to the slope near where she stood. He could escape, were he brave enough to pass by her…
He ceased moving. His wide eye studied her, mouth open as he panted, his nostrils flaring with fear.
Saphienne sank down heavily, perspiring as she caught her breath, sliding the javelin across her sitting lap.
Laelansa approached; she slowed as she saw Saphienne. “You trapped him!”
“He trapped himself.” Her voice was low: she didn’t want to panic him.
Her girlfriend crouched. “Are you going to throw?”
The deer was at her mercy.
“…No.” She tossed the javelin to the side as she decided. “He would have gotten away from me, if he hadn’t fallen in.”
“He chose to run here.”
She slowly shook her head. “He wasn’t choosing. He was reacting. If he were older, and knew the land, he wouldn’t have gone this way… I’ve only caught up with him because he’s young.” Saphienne turned to Laelansa. “I don’t want to kill him. This wasn’t fair.”
“He was unlucky here, but he was lucky with the noise we made. Doesn’t that balance out? Isn’t that fair?”
“Luck isn’t fair: people are fair. We choose how we respond to circumstances,” she sighed, tilting her head toward the deer. “We didn’t catch him by surprise, and I didn’t catch him through skill. I won’t kill him. We’re not desperate for his fur, or his bones, or to eat.”
Laelansa seemed ready to argue… but then she smiled, and set down the javelin that Saphienne hadn’t noticed she was again holding. “You didn’t prove your merit.”
Bizarrely, she remembered the warden who’d walked her back from the Shrine of Our Lady of the Balanced Scales; her tone grew self-recriminating. “Or maybe I’m just kind.”
“Gentlehearted,” Laelansa corrected her.
Then the novice shifted to survey the scene. “…Nelathiel is slower, but she can track. We better help him now.”
“Help him?”
Laelansa backed away from the edge, untying the leather cords that held her pelt in place, then slipping both wolfskin and antlers from her head, revealing her bunched up, bright hair and the long points of her ears. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”
Watching her, Saphienne felt tenderness and affection as Laelansa leapt down into the basin and cooed to the buck. He swung his curving points back and forth menacingly at first, stamping the ground as though to challenge her, but her soothing lilt, together with the sight of her ears, soon brought him back to calm. She lowered down a short distance away and held out her hands, waiting as he warily pondered the horned hunter nearby…
Animals of the woodlands trusted the elves, however, and he came forward to lick the salt from her palms.
Laelansa kept herself between the deer and Saphienne, moving alongside to guide him by his horns toward the path out. She didn’t rush him. Once they’d risen from the slope she shooed him away. “Go on! Grow bigger and stronger, and be more careful.”
He was confused. His eye lingered on the horned woman.
Then he caught a new, more threatening scent, and bolted.
“Why,” asked Nelathiel as she dropped her javelin to the ground beside Saphienne, “is that buck not dead or bleeding?”
Their plan to impress the priest was going well. “I didn’t catch him. I didn’t want to–”
“You could have held him for me; I’d have stopped his heart.”
Saphienne tilted back to meet her scrutiny. “I chose mercy.”
“Mercy?” Nelathiel was distinctly displeased. “Saphienne, someone or something else will take his life. Delaying the inevitable isn’t a mercy — at least we would have made his death quick, and we’d have let nothing we took from him go to waste.”
Reclaiming her pelt and horns, Laelansa interjected. “It wasn’t a valid hunt.”
Nelathiel studied the novice; her mottled blue gaze was testing. “How so?”
“He was too young. This is probably his first year fully grown, and he wasn’t able to give us his best. Saphienne didn’t catch him because she was a good hunter, but because he was inexperienced prey.” She bowed. “Doesn’t Our Lord demand a difficult chase over an easy one? We hadn’t earned the right to him. The buck will be someone else’s quarry.”
They stared each other down.
“…Is that why, Saphienne?”
Tired, she pulled herself to her feet. “Partly. I won’t argue theology with you over his life. It didn’t feel fair — we were reasonably matched, but the circumstances were unfavourable.”
Nelathiel’s teeth were bright against her painted face. “You’re right that he was too young — I wouldn’t have stalked him myself. I thought he was a match for you.”
Conceding that the hunt was finished, the priest unslung the stowed javelins and untied her pelt and horns, lifting the headdress of her ritual garb away.
“This was to be the last lesson of the day: know what you pursue, and why you’re pursuing it. We don’t hunt does or fawns unless we’re starving, and we don’t ritually hunt anything unless there’s a chance we might fail. The gods will that we eat meat to survive, but They also will that we know the suffering that entails. They judge us for what we do, how we do it, and why.”
Nelathiel beckoned Laelansa and Saphienne. “Come on: back to the shrine. You both did well. If Our Lord isn’t pleased by this, then I don’t know Him.”
* * *
But while the rite was concluded, Nelathiel wasn’t done.
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” she offered as they rambled south, “why don’t you tell me what you want with me, Laelansa? Don’t look surprised — Saphienne said you both wanted to know me better.”
Saphienne laughed. “I warned you: she’s good at reading people.”
Faintly blushing, the novice priest chose honesty. “We need to ask you for a favour… a very big favour. We weren’t going to ask today.”
“Girls…” Nelathiel smiled in exasperation. “…If it avoids Saphienne attending the shrine every day until you work up the courage? I’ll listen now.”
Mischief stirred in Saphienne. “A priest, wanting to turn away a worshipper?”
“You might be sanctified by Our Lord’s grace, but He cares nothing for empty gestures.”
Laelansa strode ahead and turned to bow. “Nelathiel; esteemed servant to Our Lord of the Endless Hunt. By the grace of the gods, I am in the care of Our Lady of the Free Embrace, and the priest who watches over me lives in the Vale of the White River. I would like to move to the Eastern Vale–”
“Right.” Nelathiel had stopped walking, and she exhaled as she grasped what the younger women wanted. “You think you’re mature enough to live on your own, and you need a priest here who’s willing to keep an eye on you.”
“Not on my own.” Laelansa glanced meaningfully at Saphienne.
Swallowing, Saphienne joined her, and bowed. “We’ve been a couple over distance for five years, and we’re good with each other. Laelansa has also been helping my mother–”
“Enough; stop bowing.” Nelathiel was uncomfortable. “You don’t need to justify your relationship to me, and I don’t need reasons to approve. I only have one question for you.”
Awkwardly, they rose.
The priest dropped the pelt and antlers she’d held under her arm, folding both as she stepped up to Saphienne and Laelansa. “What will you do if it doesn’t work out between you? What will you do if your relationship ends?”
Laelansa didn’t think. “It won’t; there’s nothing Saphienne could do that would make me leave her.”
That scared Saphienne… but, to her shame, it didn’t only scare her. “I don’t think that’s the point, is it? You want to know whether we’re mature enough to part ways on good terms, and whether Laelansa would still want to live in the Eastern Vale. We are…”
Meeting her gaze, Laelansa nodded. “…And I would. I don’t have friends in the Vale of the White River; who I was when I was little hangs over me. I want to live in a village where people see me for who I’ve become.”
Nelathiel rubbed her neck. “…They might not see you at all, with how everyone’s treating Saphienne. Are you comfortable being ‘Saphienne’s girlfriend’ everywhere you go?”
How her eyes shone! “I am. I have faith in her, and in the gods.” She faced the priest who might accept her. “And if we were to stop being together, that perspective would change with time, wouldn’t it?”
Her assessor was thoughtful. “…I’ll sleep on it.”
* * *
One of the faithful was still at the shrine when they returned, sitting on the steps clothed in the black robes of a senior apprentice wizard. She rose and bowed deeply to Saphienne, but didn’t hail them as they descended into the cave where they’d left their belongings.
Nelathiel was candid. “…That’s unnerving.”
Saphienne had to concur. “Moreso, for me.”
Her girlfriend squeezed her arm. “Do you know her?”
“Not personally.” Saphienne reflected on the woman, unused to seeing her without her companion bloomkith. “She used to be my fellow apprentice, but we were never introduced. She spent the past few years going wildling. Her name’s Rophana.”
Nelathiel inhaled. “That’s Rophana! Holly knows her through Woundwort.”
Laelansa chuckled at the name. “‘Woundwort?’ That’s an odd name.”
“She wants to be a healer. So does Rophana, from what Holly said.”
As they arrived at the smouldering fire, Saphienne frowned. “She’s devout. Why not simply become a priest?”
“Perhaps she will,” Nelathiel speculated, beginning to undress. “There are wizards and sorcerers who’re also priests. Tolduin’s a sorcerer, but he devotes his time to Our Lady of the Basking Serpent.”
Distracted by an ominous premonition, Saphienne realised she was staring at Nelathiel’s bare back, and hurriedly went through the screen to where her robes had been left with the puppets. As she cast a Transmutation spell to clean her skin she told herself she was being superstitious: Rophana wasn’t Tolduin. The apprentice was probably being respectful toward Saphienne – a master wizard – by not approaching until invited.
Perhaps Rophana had sensed she’d overstepped, for she was gone when they later emerged.
* * *
“Do you think she’ll agree?”
Saphienne shrugged, walking hand-in-hand with Laelansa back to the village. “If I were to guess, she’s going to talk to Holly, and then she’ll invoke Ruddles, and compare what she thinks about you to what Mother Marigold advises.”
“What does your intuition say?”
She leaned in to kiss Laelansa’s cheek. “Yes. She wants people to be hap–”
Squealing, Laelansa threw her arms around Saphienne and lifted her from the ground, hugging her as she spun around.
“S-stop!” Saphienne stammered. “Gods, you’re too–”
Laelansa interrupted her with a kiss — searing in victory.
Then she was set down, weak within as Laelansa linked arms and carried on toward Lynnariel’s house.
“I like Nelathiel.” Laelansa sounded dreamy. “She’s the kind of priest I want to be. She isn’t dogmatic — she trusts the gods care more about people than prayers.”
Flustered, Saphienne murmured her agreement. “…You impressed her…”
“We impressed her.” She beamed. “Standing up for each other was the right approach; I meant everything I said.”
“…Even about my horns?”
She giggled. “You were pretty in them! You suit horns. Not just your personality — they framed your face well.”
“I liked you in those furs.”
Laelansa heard her longing, and her lips turned up at the corner. “…Was that because I wasn’t wearing underwear? That’s what I was thinking about you, every time I saw you in that skirt.”
Saphienne’s flush was instant and intense. She came to a standstill, ensnared by the memory of the stronger woman wordlessly asserting her control, noticing that the feeling of Laelansa as a fellow, more potent predator was just as compelling as the fantasy of her being vulnerable, won, and claimed.
Laelansa undermined the mood. “You don’t need to worry! Nothing was visible to–”
She pressed a finger to her lips.
“Laelansa,” Saphienne breathed, “if you’d like to take me back to our house, and do whatever you like to me, I’d be very receptive.”
Astonishment gave way to desire. “…I thought you liked–”
“Please.”
And the novice needed no further encouragement, slipping her arm around Saphienne’s shoulders as she changed direction. “I like hearing you needy. We should go hunting again…”
* * *
Ah, but what happened then is not a tale to be told in the daytime.
* * *
In the afterglow, as they bathed together in the bathroom, Saphienne sank back against Laelansa and let her hair be played with, her eyes lidded as she stared at the surface of the water, fixed on the illusory scales and talons they reflected from her feet.
There was too much, now. The signs were too many.
She was mad.
“You seem happy,” Laelansa noted as she kissed her ear.
Saphienne let her eyelids drift closed. “I am. I am happy. And that frightens me.”
Stalwart arms encircled her. “You don’t have to be scared… I’m here. I’m going to come back soon, and we won’t be parted again.”
But what if they were? What if Saphienne’s madness was too much?
“I love you. You’re safe. Just let yourself be happy.”
She did, then.
Yet her happiness was tempered, not by their forthcoming separation, but by what she chose for herself in that moment. Even with Nelathiel in agreement, Laelansa would be gone for several months while Wynalia was persuaded — and that was time Saphienne could use, must use to make ready.
She’d played; then fantasised; then questioned; and now she was seriously contemplating the frightful possibility. The realer it had become, the less Saphienne had let herself think about it… but she’d felt it more and more.
Madness — it had to be madness.
Only, what if it wasn’t? What if Parthenos was right, and she was sane at last?
What if she was a dragon?
She owed it to Laelansa to be certain…
…No. Not to anyone else.
Saphienne, whether elf or dragon, owed certainty to herself.
End of Chapter 123