CHAPTER 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.”

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…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.