Never Enough

by Wendy T Lyoness

  “You shouldn’t.” Hope scooted closer to Venviel and bumped into her mask. “You don’t know me like you once did.”

  “I never knew you…”

  “But you remembered my name, Venviel.”

  Silence reigned in the tunnels. Overbearing, deafening silence which would swallow her whole. Hope almost thought she heard spiders spin their webs around them. She could hear Venviel breathe and liked to imagine that the breeze against her skin was the elf’s exhalation. She couldn’t think of another source underground.

  “Of all names, why would you guess that name? You must’ve met hundreds of elves.”

  “I want it to be you.” Hope clenched her eyes shut. “I need it to be. I feared you all died because of…”

  “Because of you.” Venviel tightened the knots around her wrists, lifted her out of the boat, and slung her over her shoulder.

  “Because of me.” She could beg Venviel for forgiveness, for failing her and her parents, but she doubted she would receive it if the once wealthy woman now lived in damp, chilly tunnels under Lho Allanar.

  “Why did you do it? Why betray us?”

  “I…” Hope didn’t have an excuse. At the time, she’d not been aware she’d betrayed anyone, but she should have known Keerla wouldn’t trust her with the Amiciers. The high priestess had viewed her as a joke from the beginning. “I didn’t think I did. I believed I did everything in my power to prevent that outcome.”

  “You can’t…” Venviel trailed off, as she always seemed to do whenever Hope expected an insult. They rarely came from Venviel. She’d called her mesmerizing and stunning. No one had ever complimented Hope before and meant it. She doubted it would happen again.

  Venviel carried her through a narrow tunnel where light floated midair as wild, uncontrollable sparks. Her shoulder dug into Hope’s stomach, which wasn’t the most comfortable, but she got used to it.

  “I’m sorry for what happened,” Hope said. “Your parents showed me great kindness, I never forgot that. If you are who I think you are, I want you to know I wish we could’ve enjoyed more time together.”

  Venviel opened a door, set Hope down in a gloomy, barren room, and dropped the mask on a shelf. Old burn scars covered the skin under her left eye, but otherwise, she looked the same. Elves aged slower than trees.

  “I should kill you.” Venviel trembled.

  “I won’t blame you, if you do.” Hope donned what she prayed resembled a courageous smile. “I’m sure some god somewhere would call it your right, even if my goddess would punish you for filling your heart with hatred.”

  “No.” Venviel snorted. “She wouldn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She encouraged me to jump your bones.”

  They were too alone, too close, for such a peculiar statement. Hope doubted Venviel had spoken with the goddess in person, but it might have been a dream. She couldn’t claim Venviel was mistaken though. The goddess of love would indeed encourage love wherever she believed it could blossom.

  “I guess you’d have to decide whether to commit to the deviant act or not first.” Hope resisted her restraints by making an apathetic attempt to free her wrists. “I won’t judge.”

  “You once promised you wouldn’t lie to me,” Venviel said. “If I untie you, will you stay until I give you permission to leave? Will you tell the temple about my hideout?”

  “I’ll wait for your permission.” Hope swallowed, paused. “I won’t tell the temple, but I might tell the high priestess. You should have blindfolded me.”

  Venviel grabbed her roughly, spun her around, and undid the ropes. “I don’t believe you’ll never lie to me, but I guess you’ll prove how trustworthy you are given time.”

  “I’ll disappoint.” Hope nursed her wrists while Venviel untied her legs. “I have a knack for that, it seems.”

  “You haven’t disappointed me.” Venviel finished with the ropes. “I never expected more from you than what I got in the end.”

  The soft-spoken words impaled her. They may not have gotten along great, years ago, but she’d wanted to think Venviel hadn’t expected betrayal from her. Although, it explained why she had behaved like she had when they’d been alone.

  “If it’d been up to me, I would never have left your library.” Hope faced Venviel. She needed her to hear the sincerity in her voice.

  “I’m sure Corym and Thalia would have allowed you stay, permanently, if you’d told them the truth as readily as you tell it to me today.” Venviel scowled and rubbed the corner of her eye with a thumb. “They might have outlived you.”

  “I’m sorry…” Hope longed to hug Venviel, if only to console her. “Why did you bring me here, really? To kill me? To get a confession?”

  “You came after me.” Venviel crossed her arms, stared into a corner of the room. “I guess I am playing with the idea of killing you, but it seems inadequate when you’re so fucking apologetic and remorseful. You ought to suffer, as I did.”

  Hope thought she’d suffered long enough on her own, in solitude, through harassment and insults, but she wasn’t about to tell Venviel that. It wouldn’t suffice, not for her.

  “Want to break my heart?”

  “How would that count as revenge?”

  “If you heal my scars, treat me like an equal to elves for the first time in my life, and make me believe we’re meant to be together…” Hope ought to bite her tongue off, lest it give Venviel ideas for how to break her, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. “You would have a greater height from which to drop me, so to say. You could ruin my heart, my soul, forever. I’d let you.”

  “Why would you let anyone do that to you, Hope?” Venviel grabbed her by her shoulders and glared into her. “You’re…”

  “I’m what, Venviel?” Hope smiled, leaned forward, and met the elf’s pretty gaze. Her training reminded her that this was a fantastic moment to stab Venviel, the unsuspecting enemy, and leave her to bleed out. “Am I something to you? Am I someone of worth?”

  Venviel averted her gaze, grimaced. “Perhaps.”

  “I think I’d have panicked if you’d told me that when I was a maid. Today, I… I haven’t fainted yet.”

  “You’ve matured. I saw it when—“

  “Oh, you saw it?” Hope rested a hand on Venviel’s chest. “My appearance gave it away, not my title, coat, or bearing?”

  “What are you doing?” Venviel glanced down at Hope’s fingers on top of her shirt.

  “I wish I could tell you.”

  “You read my mother’s books, didn’t you? Surely, they…” Venviel scratched her neck. “They would’ve given you ideas.”

  She’d gotten ideas from Blood Rose, she couldn’t deny that, but she hadn’t thought she’d ever get a chance to try them in reality. No one could love a monster. No one. Yet in this moment she practically hugged Venviel, since the elf’s hands still rested on her shoulders.

  “Do you want to hug?”

  “I don’t think that’s how the story goes.” Venviel chuckled nervously.

  Hope took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. She knew the stories, how they went, and what often happened. The couple kissed, it was always nerve-racking for the instigator. Why couldn’t Orchid Brave have been someone else than Venviel? How had she ended up in this mess? She’d been given a straightforward mission for once.

  “Should I kiss you?”

  “They don’t ask, do they…?”

  Hope worried Venviel goaded her into embarrassing herself, by refusing tenderness if she didn’t offer it correctly, yet it wasn’t like they had an audience. She wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of anyone else than the goddess.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And they definitely don’t apologize, since—“

  Hope pushed Venviel up against the wall, pressed their bodies together, and kissed the elf to silence her. She’d accepted that she would go through life without finding someone who could love her, so even a single kiss tasted divine. She would
have welcomed a knife between her ribs, to ease Venviel’s need for revenge, since the kiss couldn’t last. She would have died satisfied.

  “This is wrong…” Venviel murmured against her lips, yet laid her arms around Hope’s hips.

  “You want to be right?”

  “You do, or you wouldn’t be an inquisitor.”

  “I would’ve starved to death without the temple.” Hope tugged on Venviel’s shirt, unbuttoned the top buttons. “My personal wishes were worthless.”

  “Make a wish, ask me, I’ll fulfill it. Before I take revenge.”

  “My final wish?” Hope grinned into Venviel’s sweet lips. “To share your bed. I’ve nowhere to go at this hour.”

  Joy

  Venviel had memorized the exact location of ten knives, three swords, two axes, and a bow in her room, yet she didn’t go for any of them. Hope kissed her. If she’d thought nothing would alleviate her grief, the inquisitor demonstrated how wrong she’d been.

  “You can stay,” Venviel said. “But I’m not jumping your bones.”

  Hope giggled, then out of nowhere her giggles transformed into sobs, and she broke their kiss to reside between Venviel’s arms. They hugged, breathed against each other. Venviel figured they may as well share a heartbeat.

  She’d had numerous lovers over the last five years, but she’d not felt close to them. Hope may have brought about her misfortune, but it only made it easier for Venviel to think they shared common ground. None of her recent romantic endeavours had known her true identity. None had cared. They’d wanted her alter ego, Orchid Brave.

  “Why aren’t you repulsed?” Hope whispered. Her twin tails thumped the stone floor underneath them.

  “We don’t all share the same outlook.” Venviel stroked Hope’s back. “Or the same tastes. Guess I just see an anomaly that intrigues me.”

  “You think I’m odd?”

  “Almost solely on the outside.”

  Hope snorted. Fresh tears stained her lavender cheeks. Venviel allowed herself to linger in Hope’s eyes where dream and reality collided. When she died, she would like Hope to be there to ease her passing. She could drift peacefully into the abyss with the inquisitor by her side. She’d forget everything if she could gaze into her soul.

  “I mourned you, Venviel. I’m glad it was in vain though, since I barely got a chance to befriend you.”

  “We can’t be friends. We’ve skipped that stage, whether you’d like to admit it or not.”

  Hope nodded, stepped away, and put distance between them. “You’re right. Keerla asked me to treat you like an enemy of society.”

  “Is it a society you wish to belong to, or a society that hasn’t given you a choice?”

  “You know the answer.”

  Venviel sighed. She didn’t trust Hope, especially not after she’d become an inquisitor. She’d fantasized about having Hope in this room, but in those fantasies, Hope had never been free to move around and inspect the shelves and the single bed. No, Hope had been a beaten, bloody excuse for a woman chained in the corner.

  Unfettered rage had given rise to those fantasies. Revenge had birthed hatred. Furore had loved to teach her what a sinner she was, but maybe the temple wasn’t wrong. Maybe they simply enforced their rules with the most insane methods.

  She couldn’t tell where it left the two of them. Was she supposed to treat Hope like a friend? Should she forgive her? Or could she take Hope up on her twisted offer and break her heart? The suggestion had its appeal. She wouldn’t have to kill someone who might be innocent.

  Hope sat on her bed, patted the worn blankets, and smiled to herself. Her tails swished back and forth. They would have to sleep in each other’s arms, if neither offered to sleep on the floor, if Hope had been serious about staying the night.

  Venviel ran her fingers along her own arms and shivered. She did desire Hope. Maybe she had done so longer than she’d like to admit, but it was particularly obvious after their kiss. She regretted how they’d stopped.

  “You’re free to leave in the morning,” Venviel said. She might have to relocate deeper into the tunnels, where Furore wouldn’t discover her, but she didn’t fear what dwelt in the depths as much as she feared the temple. “Should I… sleep on the floor?”

  “What? No.” Hope shook her head. “I can sleep on the floor, since your bed is rather… small.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The twin tails danced across the blankets. Venviel approached Hope and sat down next to her. She craved another kiss. An unquenchable thirst begged her to live up to her alter ego. Be brave, be brave.

  “I don’t…” Hope said. “I want to sleep wrapped in you. I’m sick of sleeping on hard surfaces, on benches, alone.”

  The tips of her tails jumped into Venviel’s lap, so she grabbed them and caressed them with her fingers. A noticeable quiver ran through Hope’s lithe frame.

  “Nothing sexual,” Venviel said. “I’ve heard about inquisitor tricks.”

  Hope nodded and slid her arms out of her coat, her tails escaped Venviel’s grasp. “Some of the disciples used to sleep huddled together, on the coldest nights. I never had anyone to try it with.”

  “You won’t freeze with me.” Venviel took Hope’s coat, folded it into a neat pile, and threw it on the floor.

  Hope giggled. Venviel pounced on her, kissed welcoming lips, and pushed the blankets to the side for the both of them. She heard no complaints. Hope pulled on her shirt, for a bit, before Venviel grabbed her hands to prevent either of them from going too far, too soon.

  “We’ll sleep.” Venviel dragged the blankets over them. She didn’t have to undress. And if Hope undressed, she didn’t want to consider what might happen. The inquisitor should keep her undershirt on.

  “And kiss?” Hope pecked her on the nose, stroked her neck. The twin tails wrapped themselves around Venviel’s legs.

  “It’s impossible to resist now we’ve begun, isn’t it?”

  Fate

  “They’re awfully dull, aren’t they? Furore?”

  “I suppose,” Furore said, carved lines into the dark wooden table with her jagged glass dagger, and glanced at Fate.

  The goddess of luck and destiny looked like a satyr crafted out of solid gold with the ears of a deer, a squished nose, and a sharp chin. She poked the crystal ball she’d placed in the middle of the table, and waited for Venviel or Hope inside of it to react, but of course, they didn’t. They couldn’t hear Fate. The crystal ball depicted a reflection of the mortal world.

  “You promised they’d be fun, but they’re boring.” Fate observed Furore with doe-eyes. “They forgave each other so fast. No drama.”

  “They haven’t forgiven each other, not yet, and Thalia and Corym died because you demanded it.” Furore scratched herself behind her horns with the tip of the dagger. “What more do you require?”

  “Drama.” Fate steepled her gold fingers, stared at the couple in the crystal ball. “I have thousands of little ways to sow discord. Thousands. They shan’t reunite and fall in love.”

  “I’m obligated to object.” Furore yawned. “I have a list, and I did write their names on it. If you haven’t forgotten, dear, I am the goddess of love.”

  “Dear?” Fate sat frozen in contemplation. She may as well have turned into a statue. “Fine, they’ll love, but not fast.”

  “It’s been five years…”

  “We are eternal. Five years, blink of an eye.” Fate blinked to emphasize her point.

  “How about you whisper in the high priestess’ ear, like you do, and I do my best to convince the fools that I have their best interests at heart?” Furore chuckled. She’d gotten somewhat sick of love-struck idiots, over the decades, but Fate brought a certain light back into her corrupt soul. “We’ll screw them together.”

  “No.” Fate disappeared and reappeared straddling Furore’s lap. She weighed less than the gold of her body would suggest. “You give your temple, your Keerla, new rules, and I screw you. No affairs with mortal
s. Detestable gods who do that.”

  “I shouldn’t change the rules again,” Furore said but groaned when Fate pressed her butt down on her groin and shoved her golden chest in her face. “Drama, you say?”

  “Mm.” Fate nodded.

  “I’ll consider new rules.”

  Prayer

  Hope left Venviel early in the morning, since she knew she’d become someone else if she stayed. They parted by the canal, while the sun crawled across the horizon, and she realized she would not visit the tunnels Venviel had stayed in again. Venviel did not trust her, despite what her actions might suggest. She fully believed she would run to the temple and sell her out.

  As an inquisitor, Hope had a duty to fulfill, but as a woman, she had a heart, compassion, feelings. She could tell Keerla everything, or she could defy the goddess and help Venviel. Other inquisitors might have viewed it as an easy choice. But Hope had no idea what to do. Her mind fluttered like a butterfly between different choices, different roses.

  She’d failed Corym and Thalia, so she ought to do everything in her power to protect Venviel, right? She shouldn’t disappoint the woman who’d given her her first kiss. On the other hand, Venviel could protect herself. And if Hope failed to provide substantial evidence for Keerla, she would be expelled from serving in the temple. Sooner or later, she would be on her own and wouldn’t survive long.

  No one respected her without the temple, no one feared her without the coat of an inquisitor, and no one thought of her as their equal. The poor treated her like the source of their troubles. The rich didn’t think twice about her, unless she pestered them.

  Hope couldn’t rely on Venviel either, if she was expelled. Truth be told, she didn’t trust the elf any more than Venviel trusted her. If they relied on each other, they might rise together, or they might fall victim to Keerla’s ruthless methods. It was for the best if they never met again. They would both be protected that way.

  Hope walked the empty streets, unsure of how to use the intel she’d gathered about the Orchid Brave, and headed for the center of Lho Allanar. The buildings along the streets in this quarter may be as old as the palace. Their high marble walls and small, square windows reminded her of the kind of defensive outposts Syvis described in her books. She didn’t see many elves outside, but they could be watching her from the safety of their homes. They may even report her for suspicious behaviour, if they were in good standing with the temple.