Vassal

by Sterling D'Este

  Delyth stopped herself from saying more. She wasn’t sure when the last time she had spoken this much was, and she felt like if she kept talking, she would ramble on until she gave herself away.

  “No! I don’t want you to go!” Alphonse gasped, yanking her hand away from Delyth and wrapping her arms about herself, tears starting to drip onto her cheeks.“I cried and cried and cried. I cried all night. I couldn’t sleep without you.”

  There was a thick rope tied round Delyth’s ribs, pulling them open. She felt exposed. A few tears beaded and fell from her eyes. She wanted to be comforted, to tug Alphonse close until she stopped crying.

  Only, she didn’t want to scare the girl away.

  Had she meant that she couldn’t sleep without the priestess? Maybe Alphonse still had some trust in her.

  Delyth opened her arms in a silent invitation. “Just promise you won’t leave me again.”

  Alphonse didn’t hesitate as she threw herself into Delyth’s embrace. She slipped her arms about the priestess’s waist and buried her face in the thicket of black hair, nose brushing against the crook of Delyth’s neck. Her face was damp, still shedding tears.

  “I’m sorry!” she stammered, the words muffled against Delyth’s braids. “I promise!”

  Alphonse was sobbing again, her breath coming in shuddering gasps, but something within Delyth had relaxed the moment the healer had hugged her close. Nothing could be quite so bad with the warm press of Alphonse’s form against her.

  She settled the smaller woman more comfortably in her arms, pulling her into her lap so that she might cradle Alphonse against her shoulder. She came easily, eagerly even. As though she wanted to be held, to be comforted.

  “Hush,” Delyth murmured, a nonsense sound meant more to be reassuring than anything else. “I’ve got you. Everything is going to be alright.”

  The healer made no answer, but that was fine. Her grip around Delyth only tightened, and the warrior traced slow circles in her back with an open palm, the damp on her own cheeks drying in the warm air.

  It was only gradually that Delyth became aware of the brush of air against her collarbone, feather-light and uneven with tears. She shivered slightly, despite the heat of the tent. Alphonse’s body was a coal against hers.

  Delyth took a deep, shuddering breath, her hand pausing in its gentle motion. It was impossible to deny, to herself, at least, that she had feelings for the little healer, but she might keep it to herself still. Keep from putting Alphonse in an awkward position should she not feel the same.

  “Delyth?” Alphonse asked, pulling back slightly as though worried by the warrior’s sudden stillness. Her cheeks were still wet, but her eyes were wide and bright, and her lips no longer trembled.

  The warrior breathed in again, her chest swelling shakily, and before she could think better of it, before she could stop herself, she leaned in and pressed her lips to Alphonse’s cheek.

  The healer went still, and for a moment, Delyth despaired. It had felt like a small thing, but it was clearly unwanted.

  Delyth straightened again, opening her mouth to speak, only to find Alphonse’s gaze upon her, pupils round and dark, lips slightly parted. There was more color in her face than there had been in some time.

  The corners of Delyth’s mouth twitched up slightly, hesitantly, some new hope growing wild in her chest. Too big even to be constrained by a ribbed cage. Alphonse had stopped crying.

  She leaned in close again, fingers brushing aside a lock of hair, and pressed a kiss on the healer’s other cheek.

  Then, Delyth stopped, her mouth hovering above Alphonse’s skin.

  She should stop, pull away. Alphonse was no longer crying. Their relationship had been repaired. She should not push any farther.

  Only, in the end, she didn’t have to.

  Alphonse turned, slow and uncertain, to press her mouth to Delyth’s.

  The halfbreed stilled, her breath hitching, and Alphonse pulled away, leaving just the memory of wet velvet on Delyth’s skin. Her face was open, vulnerable, her brows just starting to come together in worry. ‘Have I done something wrong?’ they seemed to ask when of course, she hadn’t.

  “I—” Alphonse started, but Delyth brushed tawny hair from pink skin and cupped Alphonse’s jaw with a rough palm, reaching with her thumb to trace its pad across the delicate skin of beautifully bowed lips.

  Then, she leaned down to kiss the healer again.

  ❀

  Alphonse felt her heart stutter to a stop. She hadn’t seen this coming. Not at all. And it felt so wonderful to be held close and safe. With Delyth’s mouth against her own and her arms tight around her. As soon as the warrior broke the second kiss, Alphonse was unable to hold back her incredulous giggle.

  “Why did you do that?” she wanted to know, surprised and pleased and flattered all at once. She had been kissed before, of course. But never had it made butterflies flutter through her stomach. Never had it made her feel as if the very sun itself was rising in her heart—a gentle glow.

  Delyth’s eyes widened, though from surprise or anxiety, it wasn’t clear. “Did you not want me to? You kissed me, so I thought—”

  With a broad smile illuminating her face, Alphonse pulled Delyth closer, cutting off her words for another kiss. She liked kissing Delyth. It made her feel less alone. It made her feel braver. If that was possible. Tentatively, Alphonse let her hand travel to the back of Delyth’s neck, her fingers gliding through dark locks.

  She pulled away finally, hesitant both to end the kiss and to tell Delyth the truth. “I’ve never kissed anyone like this before,” Alphonse admitted. “I didn’t think you’d kiss me back.” She blushed but managed to hold Delyth’s gaze.

  “I have,” Delyth said, a smile lingering over her lips, “but I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now.”

  “Oh,” she murmured uselessly, her mind wheeling at that admission. “So—It’s alright that I kissed you like that?” Alphonse suddenly felt shy, blushing even more as she peered up at Delyth.

  The warrior’s smile widened, her cheeks tinged pink as well. “Yes. Very alright. If it's fine with you too.”

  “It is,” Alphonse replied hastily. It was so alright with her. But a thought tickled at the back of her mind. What if Delyth had someone in her clan who would mind? After all, Delyth was kind and brave and so breathtakingly beautiful. “Would anyone else be upset if we kissed again?”

  “No,” Delyth said, a laugh rumbling up from deep within her belly. “There’s no one to make any objections to my kissing whoever I like. Though I suppose… Henri…”

  The mention of Henri made Alphonse hesitate. He was her betrothed. But she hadn’t seen him in years and years. Not since they were children. They didn’t know each other, not like she and Delyth.

  And Henri was so far away. Back in Ingola where no Goddess would ever infect an innocent girl and take her soul hostage. Back where things were black and white and simple. Here in the Wildlands, everything was a challenge, grey and tangled.

  But Delyth made those challenges easier. Lightened Alphonse’s burdens. Made her days and nights better.

  Besides… Some part of Alphonse was starting to wonder if she’d ever be rid of Enyo. The future life she was supposed to have on her family’s farm in Ingola was so distant now it hardly felt real.

  Delyth was real. And in front of her. And kissing her so tenderly. Alphonse shook her head. Henri didn’t matter now. Maybe he never had. “Do you think me terrible for wanting to kiss you? Even with Henri?”

  “Gods, no,” Delyth said in a rush of breath. “I think you should kiss who you want. And I’m happy that you want to kiss me.” This last was accompanied by a shy smile, surprising on the warrior’s sharp features.

  “Oh.” That silly word came out again. It was a relief to hear that Delyth didn’t think less of her because of Henri. That she was happy to be kissed by the healer. Alphonse’s cheeks were warming, and she felt as if steam might be coming from her ears. “So, i
f I kissed you again later… you wouldn’t mind?” Her stomach churned at the thought and her knees felt rather weak. It was good that Delyth had ahold of her. Alphonse swallowed hard.

  The priestess laughed, and instead of answering, she kissed Alphonse again.

  When they broke apart, they were both breathless, Delyth smiling down at her as though Alphonse was something priceless rather than the weak creature she was. “We should probably get some sleep,” she said, and even her low voice was gentle.

  Alphonse nodded and settled back into her pallet, listening to the sounds of Delyth doing the same, even in the limited room of the tent, there seemed to be too much space between them after holding each other so close. Her hand fumbled out of the blankets and reached behind her, feeling for Delyth’s hand. Finding it, she gave it a squeeze, then hesitantly she tugged, hoping Delyth would lay beside her, arm draped over Alphonse as she had the nights before the healer's terrible betrayal. The warrior moved to curl up against her without hesitation.

  Alphonse didn’t know what this was. Friendship? It seemed like something more.

  And something more seemed complicated and dangerous with Enyo, with the temple, with the secrets she still held.

  All Alphonse knew was that her heart fluttered like bird wings when Delyth had touched her and… and that couldn’t be wrong.

  Could it?

  Chapter XVI

  Seventh Moon, New Moon: Thloegr

  The next morning, Alphonse woke to a very new sensation. Both hopeful and embarrassed, she watched Delyth sleep for a minute before realizing it was strange to do so.

  She dressed hastily, gaze hesitating for a long moment on her veil. The sheer fabric was silken beneath her fingertips, inviting, but Alphonse just shook her head and hurried from the tent, leaving it folded neatly among her things.

  Being the first to emerge, Alphonse enjoyed the sunrise privately and set about making breakfast. Somehow, this day seemed to inspire so much more potential. It would be better than the last few. It simply had to.

  While the porridge bubbled away in the cooking pot, she wandered around their campsite and found a bush with fresh berries. They would be an excellent addition to breakfast. Alphonse picked many, filling her skirt with the little purple spheres until the pale fabric was splotchy from berry juice. Her eyes wandered to the blooms peeking between clusters of fruit, and her mind wandered to Delyth…

  How her lips had felt, crushed against Alphonse’s own, how warm her hands had been against Alphonse’s skin, how her heart had hammered against Alphonse’s touch…

  The berry she had been plucking burst in her fingers, and the healer jumped. She had squeezed it too hard.

  Embarrassed, she licked her fingertips clean and set the fruit she had already collected aside. Though she built up the fire, spiced and stirred the porridge, and boiled water for ‘wake up’ tea, her gaze kept flickering towards those blooming bushes…

  They were very pretty flowers of white and the palest of pinks…

  Impulsively, Alphonse left breakfast to bubble and went to admire the blooms. She bent towards them, breathing in… Pleasant and airy… Not an overly heady smell.

  Alphonse picked one, cupping it in her hand, admiring how the soft rays of light from the rising sun painted its pale petals gold…

  ⥣ ⥣ ⥣

  * * *

  Delyth woke alone, the sun higher in the sky than usual. Her shoulders were loose, her posture relaxed. She felt as though she had slept well.

  Alphonse had left the tent, but Delyth found the little pile of flowers before she had time to worry, a pretty spread of delicate pink and white against the dark furs they slept in. She smiled warmly and picked up a single pale flower, raising it to her face to breathe in its light aroma. It was incongruous against the dark color of her hair, but she tucked it behind her ear anyway, a little indication that she had liked Alphonse’s shy gift.

  When Delyth first stepped from her tent, it looked as though Alphonse was the only other already awake, but Etienne left his tent almost immediately after. The warrior could have sighed in disappointment, but instead, she just schooled her expression into something more neutral.

  On the other side of the little clearing, Etienne made his way to sit beside the fire Alphonse had built. He still looked sleepy, hair mussed and eyes half-closed, but he pulled out his journal and scribbled a few lines anyway.

  Delyth made her own way over and smiled at Alphonse. “Good morning,” she said while behind them, Tristan stirred in his tent.

  Perhaps it was the heat of the cooking fire, but one look at Delyth had Alphonse blushing. She smiled sweetly, her gaze tracing the lines of Delyth’s face and settling on the pale flower in her hair. “Good morning. You look like Esha in spring.”

  Delyth looked down at Alphonse’s gentle face and felt the stir of something light and fluttering behind her ribs. She wasn’t poetic by nature but found herself searching for something to say to capture the loveliness of wan, morning sunlight on tawny curls.

  Before the right words arranged themselves on her tongue, Tristan butted in, having left his tent. “Yeah,” he said, growling with sleep and foul mood, “if Esha was a bear who’s mum had fucked a bat.”

  Etienne responded before Delyth could, words sharp. “Could you at least pretend to be civilized?”

  Tristan sneered in return. “Only cowards hide their meaning behind frilly words.”

  Delyth had rarely seen the rogue in so fine a temper, and she looked between the two men with something like surprise. What had they said after she and Alphonse had left the night before?

  And why did they have to bring it up now? The morning had started so well.

  ⚄

  Cursed Realms, this was too easy. A few simple words and the mouse was silent, her head turned down away from her precious halfbreed as she ladled out breakfast. She handed him his bowl demurely, and Tristan snatched it quickly enough that some of the bland slop splashed out onto the ground. “Took you long enough,” he growled, and that was all it took.

  A blink of an eye and Enyo was snarling back.

  “You wouldn’t know how to fuck a bear if you tried Tristan,” she retorted. He’d almost forgotten the earlier insult, but Enyo didn’t seem to care that so much time had passed.

  Was she… defending the halfbreed? Besides, he’d never said anything about him fucking a bear.

  “You do look nice.” The compliment seemed to make both Enyo and Delyth feel uncomfortable, but neither of them could have come close to the shock on Tristan’s face. Since when did Enyo care about her recalcitrant priestess?

  “I have decided,” Enyo began, “that we do not run enough. I shall run the rest of today’s journey.”

  Delyth shrugged, her eyes on the Goddess. “Then, we run.”

  Unsurprisingly, Enyo took off with abandon. She didn’t care about pacing herself or making sure the others could keep up with her. Of course not, all she cared for was the pure, hedonistic thrill of it all—the feeling of the earth and her body.

  He had half a mind to just keep walking. Let the conceited bitch wear herself out. He wasn’t going to bother, but her wild, joyous cry awoke something in him that had been sleeping for far too long.

  He could run like that. There was no way the boy or the halfbreed could. She was too fast.

  Delyth was several lengths ahead of him and already falling behind Enyo. Figured. She wasn’t exactly built for speed. When Tristan passed her, it was with a malicious grin. He could keep up with Enyo. The priestess couldn’t.

  It was only five or ten minutes later when her shadow passed over them. Tristan gritted his teeth and kept on down the hill, watching Enyo gaze at the stream that ran alongside them.

  ❂

  Enyo galloped down the hill with no care and no fear of falling. Her feet could never fail her!

  By the time she reached the bottom of the hill, it had been nearly forty minutes of running. She had outstripped her companions, though she had no
idea by how much.

  Given the priestess's annoying propensity to find Enyo, the Goddess assumed she didn’t have time to spare, but Delyth had not yet turned in her lazy circles above them. She wouldn’t see Enyo disappear into the undergrowth.

  Breaking away from the beaten road and trotting through the tall grasses at the bank of the stream, she knelt to scoop up handfuls of crisp water into her mouth.

  The stream was bubbling and singing gleefully up at her, and Enyo smiled down at it. She could feel deep,deep within the earth, the source of the water. It traveled through rock and gravel, pushing up, up, up until it broke the ground and spilled out, creating this waterway.

  How industrious. How clever it was, cutting a swath through the harsh mountains, defying those behemoths that stood the test of time and time again.

  Instantly she loved this stream. Knew it’s very core.

  Enyo trailed her fingers through its glittering waters, inviting that coolness into her sweat beaded body.

  Swim with me! Swim with me! Play with me!

  How could she say no?

  She was unlacing the front of the plain pale blue dress and kicking off the boots on her feet immediately.

  “Fancy a swim?”

  She turned halfway to spy, not the meddling priestess, but Tristan instead. Would he run away, whimpering in fear as he had in the fire? Or chide her for the swim and nudity? Try to convince her not?

  Enyo bared her teeth at him like a smile.

  “Are you going to try and stop me?” Her tone made it clear that she thought the idea was laughable. Him. Stopping her!

  Tristan put a hand on his chest in mock astonishment. “Me? Keep a Goddess from her bath? I wouldn’t dare.”

  He continued his lazy stroll forward, hands in his pockets and his crooked grin somewhere between genuine and derisive. He flicked his hair out of his face with a casual motion and eyed Enyo with obvious pleasure.