CHAPTER 85 – Absent Resolutions

With her plan confirmed, there was nothing for Saphienne to do but wait for the right moment to make her move. That meant giving her adversaries time to relax, which in turn meant that they must see her often enough to feel reassured that she wasn’t a threat; they would worry about her, if she kept her distance.

Happily, Laelansa gave her the perfect excuse to be seen out and about, and the two of them went for increasingly long walks together throughout the village. Ruddles had found a priest from the Vale of the White River who would be leaving for home at the end of the week, and who was happy for the novice to come along, giving them six more days together before they were parted.

Every day, they stopped by the teahouse for drinks at the same time. At first – like on their first visit together – they would sit with whichever of the girls were present, and Saphienne took pains to be sociable with them… provided that their leader was absent. When Laelansa noticed that Saphienne was subdued around Lensa, her girlfriend began suggesting they sit elsewhere, leading to them curling up together on a couch near the railing on the second floor.

Saphienne liked that: being in sight but out of reach helped convince Lensa that she was unnerved.

Not everything about their visits to the teahouse went smoothly, however.

On the fourth day, Alinar climbed up the stairs with refills for other patrons; he paused when he saw Saphienne and Laelansa, and came over to them when he was finished decanting tea. “…Saphienne.”

He’d been short with her since the festival. “Alinar?”

Crossing his arms, his now-empty pot hanging from a finger, he ignored Laelansa as he studied the apprentice wizard. “…You know, Phelorna is a friend of mine.”

That explained a lot. Saphienne sat up, laying a hand on Laelansa to hush her as she composed herself to answer him. “I know she’s well-liked. I’m sure there’s very good reasons to be her friend.” She met his gaze with fierce calm. “I respect loyalty to the people we care for; her daughter was my best friend. Still is, if she’s alive.”

His eyes widened, and his countenance lost a little of its hostility. He wasn’t quick to forgive, however. “You called her some nasty things.”

“The only thing I called her was a monster.” She put no venom into the word. “I told her to go fuck herself, and that she deserved to go into the ground and rot. Anything else is a fabrication.”

“Because she spilled a drink on you?”

“No,” she corrected him, “she didn’t spill anything on me. She knocked over some glasses, but they were empty. We hadn’t spoken since before her daughter was taken away, but she tried to talk to me like we were friends — said she hadn’t seen me in some time. The way she phrased it, she sounded like she was going to mention her daughter, and I told Phelorna not to say– not to say my best friend’s name.”

“That’s hardly an excuse to–”

“She didn’t know who I was referring to.” Saphienne’s hand clenched in her lap. “I lost my temper at that. I shouldn’t have. But even if you dislike me for it, I won’t apologise for how I feel about her.”

Alinar unfolded his arms. “…She tries not to think about her.”

“Good for Phelorna.”

“It’s not like she wanted–”

“Alinar,” Saphienne interrupted, “if we talk about this, I’m going to lose my temper again, and I don’t want to. You won’t convince me that Phelorna didn’t have other choices; I’m not going to feel sympathy for her. I’m sorry this has to come between us.”

He sighed, heavily. “Kylantha was a sweet girl. I can see you were very close.”

She said no more, only waited for his judgement.

Instead, Alinar peered over the railing. “…Lensa shared the gossip. She said she was right there when it happened.”

That revelation made Laelansa inhale, and her skin flushed red with anger as she stood, her voice low but furious. “She’s lying! I was sitting beside Saphienne. So were Faylar and Laewyn — ask them, if you don’t believe me!”

Reading her sincerity, Alinar raised a hand. “Calm yourself — I believe you. From the argument I saw, it’s clear there’s no love lost between Saphienne and Lensa… I just didn’t expect her to exaggerate like that.”

This placed Saphienne in a very awkward position, needing to both acknowledge their acrimony and diffuse any potential confrontation. She decided to look away, putting frailty into her response. “…Lensa isn’t as nice as she pretends. But I don’t want to have any more fights, not since…”

Laelansa sat down to hug her.

And Alinar reconsidered involving himself in teenage drama. “Maybe she misremembered. I won’t say anything.” He gestured to Saphienne and Laelansa’s cups. “Do either of you want refills?”

She nodded, and he went off to fetch her more tea.

Yet Laelansa was still smouldering. “So that’s why you’re quiet around her… what an awful person.”

“She’s a lot worse than you realise…” Saphienne pulled her girlfriend closer, whispering into her ear. “…But don’t want to talk about it, not yet. Can you trust me to look after myself, and act like we’re all friends? Until I say otherwise?”

The request was challenging for Laelansa. “I don’t like being dishonest with people.”

“Sometimes,” Saphienne said, wrestling with her guilt, “it’s the least worst option. I don’t want any confrontation… not in the time I have left, before you go.”

That gave Laelansa a good reason, and she relented, kissing Saphienne’s cheek. “You’re right. You’ve had enough happen. Why let her spoil things for us?”

Saphienne quietly promised she’d tell her the whole story, eventually.

 

* * *

 

Far more enjoyable were their other excursions, including a long-postponed visit to the gallery adjacent to the crafting hall: Iolas had mentioned that Thessa’s art was temporarily exhibited there.

The gallery was two stories tall, the ground floor built so that its space could be reconfigured using movable screens, the upper floor airy and bright thanks to the skylights that formed the ceiling. Thessa’s watercolours were in one of hallways upstairs, and Saphienne and Laelansa arrived at the last possible moment to view them — the artist taking down her work when they strolled along.

“Cutting it fine,” Thessa teased them. “Or are priests like wizards? Do you both arrive exactly when you intend, and not a moment before?”

Saphienne scoffed. “Iolas has been working on his imitation of Almon, I see.”

“He may have performed a little.”

Laelansa was too busy studying the paintings to banter. “…These are beautiful…”

“There’s better work here,” Thessa protested. “I very nearly didn’t get a spot.”

“That would have been tragic,” the novice murmured, utterly entranced by the fading pastels and delicate figures. “I don’t know much about art, but I really like the sentiments these show. Is this one Iolas?”

A fuzzy figured reclined under the shade of a tree, ankles crossed, his posture very much like how Iolas chose to lie on the ground; he was depicted with the vibrant colours of summer, while his surroundings were in autumnal shades.

“I might have sketched him,” Thessa conceded. “Most of these are based on still life studies from the past few months. That doesn’t mean the subjects in them are the people I sketched.”

Saphienne added, “They’re just inspiration. She sketched me too.”

Her admission amused Laelansa. “Did it become a painting? Which one?”

Thessa crouched to lift the frame she’d just taken from the wall, holding it up. “This one was Saphienne and Iolas together, up by the lake.”

Scrutinising the watercolours, Saphienne’s breath caught.

Thessa had captured the experience of the lake perfectly, which was to say that most of the lake’s surface wasn’t painted at all, the white of the paper forming the reflection of the equally clear and boundless sky where the water touched the horizon. In truth, the lake was not so vast, but it felt that way, and the canvas conveyed a measure of the tranquillity to be found in its contemplation. The water turned green-blue where it neared the meandering shoreline, waterlilies and other plants crowding around the island that occupied the right side of the painting–

Where two elven women were sat, curled together in the unambiguous, romantic embrace of lovers in repose. They were depicted with soft golds and pinks, colouring the grass around them where the paint had bled. Two swans floated a little distance away, their necks intertwined.

“I love it,” Laelansa whispered.

Saphienne squinted. “…Are those waves in her hair, or just how the paint soaked?”

Thessa gave her a bashful smile. “Would you believe me if I said it was a happy accident? Don’t worry, she doesn’t look too much like you.”

Sceptical, Saphienne glanced to where Laelansa was grinning in delight as she absorbed every detail. “…So the gods willed it, then.”

Giggles accompanied Laelansa shoving her. “Maybe they did! This is exquisite. I think it’s wonderful.”

Thessa beamed. “Gaeleath liked it too,” she shared. “They said it was the best work I was showing, and that they couldn’t have equalled it with any sculpture — which was a lie, but a very kind one. They really liked the setting.”

“It’s a lovely spot,” Saphienne agreed. “The view from there is worth getting your feet wet wading out.”

Laelansa spun to her in excitement. “Can we go? Today? Tomorrow’s the last day before I leave, and I’ll be too sad to appreciate it.”

A little worried she would be exhausted by the trek, Saphienne hesitated–

“Saphienne,” Thessa tutted, “don’t even think about saying no. A gorgeous girl with romantic intentions wants to go somewhere secluded — say yes!”

Despite herself, Saphienne laughed. “…We’ll need to take our time getting there. I’m still not quite recovered.”

Laelansa grabbed her hand. “Let’s set out now!”

 

* * *

 

So it was that they bid Thessa farewell and hiked all the way up to the north of the Eastern Vale, strolling through the balmy summer afternoon as the wind stirred playfully around them. Several times they stopped to rest, but Saphienne wasn’t as tired as she feared, and didn’t regret leaving Hyacinth with Celaena. When they made it to the shoreline Laelansa took off her shoes and ran along the beach, splashing in the water, giggling happily and throwing her arms about Saphienne’s waist when she caught up.

The summer sun had warmed the lake, and after they crossed to the island their feet dried in little time. In Saphienne’s absence the swan’s eggs had hatched, the nest abandoned, but she saw the family further along the island, the six cygnets thriving, their pale grey down midway through shedding to reveal the first glimpses of their juvenile feathers. Soon enough the cob wandered over to investigate, but Laelansa knelt and offered her hand while cooing to him, and he responded with a perfunctory hiss and half-hearted peck at her bruises before settling down, satisfied that the young elves were no threat to his family.

“Didn’t that hurt?” Saphienne asked as they sat together, staring out over the faintly golden clouds reflected on the surface.

Laelansa brushed the welt on her arm. “Pain doesn’t bother me; there’s a difference between pain and suffering. He was just making sure I was peaceful. If it wasn’t for their young, he might have let me pet him.”

“You like animals?”

“I like the wilds.” She leaned her head against Saphienne’s, not minding that their ears brushed. “The wilds are a mirror to the gods… but, it’s also just good to go out into them. One day, when I’m old enough, I’m going to go wildling for a year or two.”

Saphienne let herself relax, drinking in the serenity. “What is going wildling, anyway? I know it’s travelling the woodlands, and that spirits are involved, but I never found a definition in the library.”

“Wilds-walking? It wouldn’t be commonly mentioned.” Laelansa turned and kissed Saphienne’s ear, then whispered into it. “Anything to do with spirits would be in the restricted section. Ruddles explained going wildling as–”

Saphienne had blinked, and interrupted as she turned. “Restricted section? You mean the section for children above the age of fourteen?”

“No?” Laelansa smiled in confusion. “Doesn’t your library have a restricted collection? Where they keep all the books that need close supervision?”

Months of observations crashed together in Saphienne’s head, and she swore aloud as she worked out what she’d missed. “…Filaurel, you cunning little bitch.”

“The woman who came to see you?”

Saphienne shoved that memory down with a forced laugh. “She’s the librarian for our village — Faylar is apprenticed to her, and she mentored me after I was old enough to begin searching for my chosen art. She knows me well enough to keep the restricted collection a secret, because I’m absolutely going to try to find it and read whatever I can, now that I know it exists.”

Laelansa smiled in glee. “I can see that! But if it’s like the floor in our village, it’ll be warded against anyone too young to enter. I’ve never even found the entrance.”

“Gross perceptual veil?” Saphienne couldn’t think of any other explanation. “I have a way around that… assuming we do have one, but it fits. Gods, Thessa knows about it — she talked about the upstairs books being tame!”

“Sounds like you’ll be busy, after I’m gone.” Laelansa refused to dwell on the future, and cuddled close again. “Anyway… going wildling is when an elf leaves behind all physical possessions and walks with a spirit through the wilderness, clothed only in the green, living in tune with the rhythms of the forest. It’s an ancient rite, one that anyone can undertake, though spirit and elf must trust each other completely.”

Her thoughts about the library faded away as she imagined it, seeing herself with Hyacinth, clothed in her blooms. “Would you go with Ruddles?”

“No,” Laelansa said. “Ruddles walks with me to teach me, but wilds-walking is meant to be about discovery. I’ll need to find a spirit-friend who is closer to my age, who doesn’t have much experience with being embodied.” She was silent for a long moment. “…It can be a very intimate experience…”

Saphienne caught enough of the implication to blush. “So many years away, then.”

“Yes.” She squeezed Saphienne’s arm. “Some go in groups…”

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Anxiety stirred; Saphienne swallowed. “…Can we talk about this when we’re older?”

A trace of disappointment was in Laelansa’s breath. “If you like. I was just talking — I’m not trying to push you. I could wait a hundred years, for you.”

Her fear dwindled away. “I’m sorry… I don’t know why I’m–”

Laelansa pressed a finger to her lips, turning her to stare into a smiling gaze. “Everyone should be afraid of something. You like kissing me, so that’s– Saphienne?”

Remorse had shut her eyes, and she struggled for composure.

“…I need to confess something,” Saphienne managed, disengaging from the novice. “When you kiss me, it affects me, but I don’t… you make me feel things, but I don’t feel those things for you, and I don’t understand what–”

Yet Laelansa rolled her eyes and took hold of Saphienne’s ears, and she interrupted the confession with a kiss that ran care and lust together more readily than even the fluid hues of Thessa’s paints.

They both gasped when Laelansa drew away. “…You could have fooled me, Saphienne.”

Saphienne’s blush burned hotter, and she fought to steady herself as her lobes were massaged. “…I want your company, but I don’t yearn for you–”

Laelansa kissed her girlfriend again, briefly, and what she did with her tongue made Saphienne’s ears flutter.

“You,” she asserted when she finished, “think too much.”

And Saphienne burst out laughing.

For perhaps an hour they kissed, and talked, and held each other, Laelansa assuring Saphienne that as long as she liked her, and enjoyed their time together, then however she was on the inside was allowed to be confused and messy. Her own feelings for Saphienne weren’t simple, and Laelansa was nervous that she was pushing too much of her hopes onto the apprentice wizard, letting herself get carried away.

Saphienne kissed her, after that, and quite demandingly.

They agreed that they were young, and foolish, and that they might feel differently after they separated — and promised each other that would be fine, as long as they both swore to be gentle with their rejections. Yet neither of them believed that, and Laelansa’s expression betrayed how devastated she would be.

That was when Saphienne realised how much she was going to miss Laelansa, and the feeling mingled with other, older heartaches, and though she tried to resist, she cried inconsolably as she leaned into the summer-blonde hair of the girl who tried to soothe her. Futile though it was, she did her best to explain, unable to articulate that her tears weren’t wholly for the future — that they belonged also to another.

“We’ll write to each other,” Laelansa vowed. “Every week. And I’ll come back to visit as soon as I can.”

As the golden hours of evening descended on the lake, they lay together and kissed, languid and emotionally spent, until the younger girl drew away with a shiver. Declaring to Saphienne that she was going for a swim, she began to strip.

Frightened, curious, Saphienne turned away, too conflicted to look, though knowing that Laelansa wouldn’t care.

Then a splash, and she watched Laelansa’s silhouette recede into the water, outlined by the late glow. When her girlfriend resurfaced, the two laughed, Saphienne sad that her hand was broken, part of her wishing she had the nerve to follow along. She excused herself when Laelansa reemerged, leaving her to sunbathe dry and redress before they went back down to the village.

Was she happy? Was she joyful? Saphienne couldn’t tell.

Yet she felt alive, that day. There was enough in that to make her content.

 

* * *

 

On the day Laelansa was to leave, the novice took Saphienne into the garden and sat with her to invoke Ruddles.

Content to sit under the repositioned maple tree, Saphienne searched for subtler changes that signalled spiritual possession. Apart from her red-tinged yellow gaze, Laelansa’s breathing slowed, and her posture became impeccable as she sat cross-legged, her presence radiating self-assuredness that she ordinarily lacked. If Saphienne felt safer with Hyacinth, her girlfriend was bolstered by Ruddles–

“Saphienne,” Laelansa spoke, biting her lip, “would you like to speak with Ruddles? She wants to commune with you before we go — and she swears there won’t be a repeat of what happened last time.”

Smirking to cover her mild disquiet, Saphienne acquiesced. “As long as she’s sure…” She reached for the marigold with which Laelansa had invoked.

“Thou needest not touch bloom or bud,” Ruddles declared, offering her hand, “these fingers fair sufficeth.”