by L-J Baker
Rye tried to ignore the words. She could do nothing about them. That was Mr. Summerbank’s job. The only thing she could do to help herself was concentrate on her breathing, hold onto the railing, and wrestle her fear down where it would not overwhelm her into stupid action. She had to stay calm. Sweat dripped on her lap with the effort. The words beat against her.
“A convicted murderess,” the sylph lawyer said, “also wanted on charges of kidnapping a minor.”
Rye could imagine herself standing, turning, pushing past the guard and bursting out the door.
“It would be unconscionable to send my client back to a life of slavery,” Mr. Summerbank said.
“With all due respect to my learned colleague,” the sylph lawyer said, “his language is more emotive than accurate. The term bond servant is used to describe an individual who has been taken in by a temple and provided with not only the necessities of life, but also counselling. We’re talking about troubled individuals who have no other place to go. In an act of charity and caring, the temples take in these people and attempt to give them a sense of purpose through the development of a richer spiritual life and practical work schemes. This is not slavery, Your Sagacity, it is a generous act of compassion and rehabilitation.”
That slick bastard was twisting and warping everything. She wanted to hit him hard. Make him hurt. Feel a little bit of her pain. The priestess looked past him to Rye. Rye could almost hear the crack of the whip.
When the sylph lawyer started to summarise the reasons why Rye should be sent back to Fairyland, he vilified her as a violent recidivist criminal whom no decent society would want to let loose amongst law-abiding, tax-paying citizens.
Rye’s arm muscles ached with the continued effort of gripping the railing.
“Kidnapped a minor,” the sylph said.
Rye squeezed her eyes shut.
“Murdered her own mother,” he said.
Rye gritted her teeth.
“Fled to evade justice,” he said.
She had scooped up Holly and run for her life, despite knowing what they’d do if they caught her. A dozen years would not lessen that. They were not going through all this trouble to get her back to be lenient. They were going to kill her. Rye’s body tensed beyond her control. She had to take two turns to get out to the parking lot. Her thinking slowed and narrowed. She stood up.
“Rye!” Flora called.
Rye’s head snapped around. She saw Holly and Flora sitting together behind a railing that divided off the back third of the room. Rye took a ragged breath. Holly was here, but she was going to be safe from anything these bastards wanted to do to her.
“Ms. Woods, you must resume your seat.”
Rye blinked at Mr. Summerbank and sucked in a deep breath. She was in court.
“Ms. Woods,” Mr. Summerbank said.
“Um. Sorry.”
“There are to be no interruptions from the gallery,” the adjudicator said. “Any further disturbances will result in the removal of the offending parties.”
Rye sat down and ran her hand through her hair. Holly had heard it all. All that stuff about what a terrible person Rye was and what she’d done to their mother. When Rye turned a fearful look on Holly, her gaze snagged on Flora. She looked pale and sad, just like last time in the gallery when Rye had said nothing and let her walk away.
Mr. Summerbank resumed talking, trying to chip away at the lies the sylph had said about Rye. Not all of it was lies. That was the problem.
Rye looked at the adjudicator. Well-groomed and powerful, that woman was going to decide Rye’s fate. She read little hope in that granitic expression. She turned back to Flora. This was probably the last time they would see each other. She flicked her gaze to the priestess. One way or another, they were going to kill her when they got her back. Rye knew it without a shadow of a doubt.
“Does your client have nothing to say, Mr. Summerbank?” the adjudicator said.
Flora looked tense and on the brink of tears as she watched Rye. The time had passed when Rye could have gone to throw herself at Flora’s feet. What an absolute idiot she’d been.
“Your Sagacity,” Mr. Summerbank said, “Ms. Woods has expressed the wish not to –”
“They’re going to torture me to death,” Rye said.
“Ms. Woods? Do you wish to make a statement to this hearing?” the adjudicator said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Rye said. “If you send me back, they’re going to kill me by beating and whipping me.”
Rye glanced briefly at the priestess before returning her stare to Flora with Holly beside her. “Because I’m gay.”
Flora bit her lip.
“My client would be liable to suffer persecution because of her sexual orientation.” Mr. Summerbank grabbed a sheaf of papers that Vervain held up for him.
“I’m gay.” Rye felt strangely calm as she returned Flora’s stare. “They didn’t cure me. It didn’t work. In fact, I’m worse than I ever was. I’ve never loved any woman like I do now. So, when I go back, they’re going to try to save me by scourging this evil from me.”
“Might I submit this evidence,” Mr. Summerbank said, “gathered by creditable international humanitarian organizations detailing the abuse of –”
“After they made me watch them scourging Chastity,” Rye said to Flora, “I ran away from the temple. But they caught me and took me back. They said they would beat the evil out of me. Maybe it was in the blood that runs from the cuts. I was never sure how it worked. But they didn’t do it. Not at first.”
Rye could feel the panic hovering again, pressing, fed by the memories. She kept her attention fixed on Flora, her calm in the centre of the storm.
“They had to punish me for running away first,” Rye said. “They tied me to a table with rope around my wrists and ankles. I couldn’t move. Two priestesses grabbed my wings and pulled them open. This other priestess brought in a club. A big, heavy, rounded wooden club. I thought she was going to hit me with it. But they didn’t. They put it under the top section of my wing support and pressed down either side until my wing support snapped. Then they moved the club down to the next section.”
Flora put her hand over her mouth.
“They broke every section,” Rye said. “I screamed a lot. And wanted to faint. But I didn’t. Not until they cut me loose and carried me out. But they weren’t finished with me. You see, they made sure that the broken sections of my wings didn’t set straight. They’re bent and weak. My wings won’t support my weight. It’s so I could never use my wings in another escape attempt. But when I did run, I used my legs. And that worked fine.”
“Are you saying, Ms. Woods,” the adjudicator asked, “that you fear this form of physical torture should you be returned to Fairyland?”
“No, ma’am,” Rye said. “It’ll probably be much worse.”
“Your Sagacity!” The sylph stood. “This is all highly emotive and unsubstantiated.”
Rye glanced at the frowning priestess before returning her attention to Flora.
“When I’d healed,” Rye said, “I was fit to be cured of liking women. Because that was evil. An offence against the gods. I was never sure why. It felt right to me. Nothing has ever felt more right than loving the most wonderful woman in Infinity.”
Flora looked like she shed a tear.
“But the priestesses didn’t see it that way,” Rye said. “Their duty was to save me. So they tied me standing up between two posts at the front of the temple. They read these prayers and got everyone chanting a song while they whipped me. Praying for me, you see. While the whip cut into my back to force the evil out. It wasn’t an ordinary whip. Not one long thong. This had six or seven short strands. About this long. They cut through my wing membranes. I could feel blood running down my legs. And saw it on my feet.”
Rye could see tears running down Flora’s cheeks.
“I pretended that it worked,” Rye said. “Lied. I had to. Because I couldn’t go through it all again. I was to
o scared and hurt too much. I didn’t think I could take it again. So, I told them that I saw how terrible it was, what I’d done with Chastity in the robing room. And how I was perverting the gods’ creation by denying my womanhood and not having children. I said everything they wanted to hear.”
Rye stared at the priestess. “When I could walk, they took me to a men’s compound.”
The memories surged again and pushed her closer to panic. Rye gripped the railing and fixed her gaze back on Flora.
“They put me in a room,” Rye said, “like they do girls who have just got their wings. To wait for a man. Or men. I was cured, you see, so I was ready to breed and fulfil my purpose in creation. Only I didn’t want to. Not at all. But I knew if I ran, they’d make me suffer again. And if I refused, they’d know I wasn’t cured. And they’d scourge me again.”
Rye swallowed with difficulty.
“This guy came in. A big guy. Really big. I suppose they picked him specially, so that I couldn’t hurt him. Like I did those others. He –”
Rye scowled and blinked back tears. “He – Shit.”
Flora had a hand over her face still and the other on the railing in front of her as if reaching out to Rye.
“Ms. Woods?” Mr. Summerbank said.
“I had no choice,” Rye said. “I had to let him. I couldn’t stand the whip again. I was too scared. It hurt so much. I thought they’d kill me if they did it again.”
Rye lowered her head and clamped her hand over her face in a vain effort to stop the tears.
“Your Sagacity,” the sylph lawyer said. “This uncorroborated fabrication can hardly be admissible as evidence.”
“I ran away over the hills,” Rye said. “I wanted to take my chances with all the evil people than stay there. They’ll punish me again for that, like they did before when I tried to run. And I’m still gay. In fact, I know that I’m never going to be cured of that. Even if they don’t hang me for mother or running away, they’ll kill me trying to save me. Because it won’t work. No matter what they do or how many times they whip me.”
Rye blinked through the tears to see Flora.
“I love you,” Rye said. “No one is ever going to beat that out of me. You’re in me. Always will be. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rye stepped into the cell. The guard thunked the door shut behind her. She dropped onto the side of the cot. Mr. Summerbank said she had another three or four days in here to wait the adjudicator’s decision.
After Rye had finished her statement to the hearing, Mr. Summerbank had excitedly offered a pile of papers for submission. The Fairyland lawyer had put in a lot of objections. Rye hadn’t paid much attention to the legal arguments. Flora had looked so upset. When they took Rye out of the hearing room, Flora had stood and blown her a kiss. With the manacle on one wrist and her other arm in a cast and sling, Rye couldn’t blow one back.
Well, she’d sealed her fate now. The priestesses weren’t going to let that confession slip by unnoticed. Rye knew she was going to suffer for it, but it had been her last chance to get Flora to understand. Rye could not let the opportunity pass her by like she had last time. She owed Flora that much. She owed it to herself. That would not be another regret she carried to her last breath.
Holly now knew about her and Flora, but that would hardly have registered as a surprise after hearing that Rye had killed their mother. What would Holly think of her for that? Would the kid hate her? Rye couldn’t even explain herself, because she couldn’t remember.
Rye had come so close to another bout of self-destruction when her panic slipped beyond her control. That Fairyland lawyer had characterised her as violent, uneducated, troubled, and below average intelligence. Perhaps he was right. She couldn’t control herself properly. It might be a mental problem. Would she be able to get it fixed so that she would never again have to worry about blacking-out and hurting herself or anyone else? Those therapists could work wonders, couldn’t they? However much she might hate the thought of raking over her past with a complete stranger, she had done harder things, hadn’t she? And they hadn’t killed her. Admitting that she was a head-case to get it sorted out wouldn’t be nearly as bad as continuing on as she was and possibly killing someone else. She needed to get herself straightened out. Not that she was likely to get access to any counselling in Fairyland. Perhaps they’d try to beat that out of her, too.
Rye stood up to pace.
She should have known that Flora would attend the hearing. Flora had been with her every step of the way, if unseen and at several paces removed. Absent but not forgotten. Apart but still tethered. If they did end up sending Rye back to Fairyland, there was no one better to look after Holly. Perhaps Flora might be able to persuade Holly that Rye was not the evil person the Fairyland lawyer painted her as.
Rye had missed lunch being out at the hearing, so she was surprised when she heard someone at the door. It couldn’t be dinner time already?
The lock whirred. The door swung open.
“Out you come, Woods,” the guard said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Visitor. Your lawyer.”
Rye frowned as she stepped out and fell in behind the guard. It had only been a matter of hours since the hearing. Surely he had not heard the result yet? Or had the Fairyland government’s case proved so devastating that the adjudicator had needed no time to make up her mind?
Rye waited as the guard pressed her palm to the lock on the interview room door. She braced herself for the bad news. She hadn’t expected this decision to go in her favour, had she? Not after that blow about her mother’s murder. They’d got her there. And even if Mr. Summerbank defeated the extradition, Rye still had an armload of serious criminal charges to face. After she did any jail time she earned for assaulting that policeman, her conviction would ensure a speedy deportation the moment she was released. Fairyland was going to get her back anyway.
The guard swung the door open and nodded at Rye to go in. Rye stepped into the room and stopped. Mr. Summerbank stood near the far end of the table. Instead of young Mr. Vervain, the person beside him was Flora.
The door thunked shut behind Rye. Flora started around the table. Rye jolted into motion. She met Flora halfway and awkwardly pulled her into a tight one-armed embrace. Flora’s arms looped around Rye’s neck. Warm. Nice smelling. Flora. Love. An aching, broken part of Rye healed.
“Oh, Elm,” Flora said.
Rye hugged Flora as if she might meld them into one, as if she never wanted to let go ever again. She wished she didn’t have one arm in a sling. She wanted to feel Flora with all of herself. Flora embraced her just as hard. Rye could feel Flora’s breath, and kiss, on the side of her neck. Rye closed her eyes so that the whole of Infinity became her and Flora with no prison walls around them.
“I love you,” Rye said.
“I know. I heard. Oh, Rye, don’t leave me. Not again.”
Rye reluctantly opened her eyes. She lifted a hand to the side of Flora’s head to get Flora to look at her. Flora’s eyes looked liquid bright.
“The only thing I wanted was a chance to talk to you,” Rye said. “I love Holly. I’d like you to tell her that for me. But Holly will grow up and would’ve left me to live her own life. You should have been my present and future. I’ve had a lot of time to think about things. Calmly. With no distractions. Babe, I was wrong. I was an idiot. I should’ve tried harder to make things work. I should’ve put my stupid pride aside. I should’ve let you help me. I should’ve –”
Flora put her fingers on Rye’s mouth. “It wasn’t just your fault. We both made mistakes.”
Rye kissed Flora’s fingers and gently pulled them down. “I left you. It was my stupid decision. I was wrong. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I should have looked harder for a way to make it work. There usually is one. But I ran out on you and hurt you. I’ll always regret that. I’m sorry. I hope… I hope you’ll be able to forgive me one day. You se
e –”
“Rye –”
“I know that I’d never be able to give you everything. Or even much. Not like… not like I would if I were rich. And –”
“Rye!”
“And I’m just me. Not a rich and famous person. Not someone your parents and friends would approve of. But –”
“Rye.” Flora put her hands on either side of Rye’s face. “There are only two of us in this relationship. Not all those others! If I love you and want to be with you, why do you care about anyone else?”
“Not rich or famous or much of anything,” Rye continued doggedly. “But the richest, most famous, fanciest, most successful woman in the world couldn’t love you more than I do.”
Flora smiled even as tears leaked from her eyes. “Oh, you adorable wooden-head! That is what is important to me. Worth more than anything. It’s what no one else has ever given me. That is what I need. That is what has been missing from my life, what I’ve been looking for.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes!” Flora clutched the back of Rye’s neck as if she might shake her. “All that other stuff: money, other people’s opinions, how different we are in lots of ways. We can work through it. Together. I’m sure of it. I know it. We can do it. If we want to. You and me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” Flora said. “Oh, yes. Because we’ve got what’s important. We love each other. You could work a hundred jobs for a hundred years, but you wouldn’t earn enough to buy me that. No one could. But you give it to me.”
Rye reached up to gently wipe one of Flora’s tears away from near the side of her mouth. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
“You do. That’s my point, lover. But I think we seriously need to work on your self-esteem. Like working out what you would really like to be doing. If you want to start a catering business. Get yourself the education you want. Maybe when you start feeling better about yourself, you’ll stop putting yourself down with these illogical comparisons you obsess about.”
Rye frowned.
“This is not me trying to buy you,” Flora said quickly. “If you wanted to stay a builder’s labourer for the rest of your life, I would love you. But I’d like you to love yourself, too. You hate your job – jobs. But you love cooking. You’re the only person I’ve ever heard hum in a kitchen. And you’re fantastic at it. And, for reasons that elude me utterly, you get a bounce out of making omelettes! Didn’t you feel a sense of satisfaction at cooking for my dinner party? And Letty’s?”