[ Asterion] Book One, Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rydal was brought to Alexandria’s chambers. Of the four of them, they were the most composed. They walked in as though there was never any doubt of their eventual freedom and the last fifteen days had been but an excuse to rest. Luna pulled them into her arms, holding them tight. Rydal waved over their shoulder at Finley. When Luna explained what Alexandria had done for them, Rydal knelt before Alexandria, took her hand, and pressed their forehead to the back of it.

“Are you being quite serious now, Sir?” Alexandria said. “I won’t take you into my service if you’re going to be so proper about it.”

Looking up, Rydal said, “Nah. Just always wanted to do that.”

Rydal hopped to their feet and sat by Luna on the settee. The pair of them instinctively pressed close to one another, arms entangled. Finley, opposite them, sat tucked against the arm of the chair, keeping a good distance between herself and Alexandria.

“Now we must ascertain how you travelled five-hundred miles in what appears to be an instant,” Alexandria said. “Have you had much luck with that these past weeks, Luna?”

“I haven’t. Rydal doesn’t even remember leaving Sunspire, let alone coming back here,” Luna said.

Finley wanted to contribute to the conversation, but her mind was stuck between two places. There the four of them sat around the low coffee table, as though it were the evening the crystals in Alexandria’s chamber had betrayed her; as though Sine was nothing but a thought, a distant destination the future might hold.

Yet each time her thoughts wandered, the skeletal crystal summoned itself in her mind. Tired as she was, she felt the bones shift in the dark.

“I can only conclude there is some magic behind this, and I dislike the thought of any magic that Luna has not mastered,” Alexandria said. “That horrid skeleton in the crystal likely has a lot to answer for.”

Both Luna and Rydal leant forward. Rydal had forgotten that too, then.

“At the moment, we are working under the assumption that it is akin to Thisia’s Beast, in that it provides the crystals with their outlandish power. It is what it sounds like, in all honesty: a skeleton within the largest crystal I have ever seen. I most certainly won’t be telling my dear cousin or aunt about this. Can you imagine panic that would ensue? They’d claim we had a responsibility to protect Sine, considering our impeccable track record of containing our own Beast,” Alexandria explained.

Each time she spoke of the Beast, Finley felt an uncomfortable jot between her ribs. Surely it was exhaustion catching up with her. Not once in Sine had she felt the flush of shame, of guilt, when Alexandria spoke of the labyrinth.

“What kind?” Rydal asked.

“Pardon?”

“What kind of skeleton?”

“Oh. As I said, a truly horrid thing. Some manner of quadruped, likely feline in nature. Although it does have wings, which complicates the identification process.”

Rydal leant back, nodding to theirself. They were content, having no more questions worth asking.

“Wait. Wait, wait. You’re telling me there’s a flying cat skeleton in the Sinite mines? And you think that it brought Rydal here, somehow?” Luna asked, not so easily satisfied.

“It’s difficult to say. The creature may well have been flightless, judging by the wing-to-body ratio,” Alexandria hummed.

“Lexi.”

“Fine, fine. But I really am quite exhausted, you realise. Do I think it possible that a skeleton in a crystal magicked Rydal five-hundred miles across the continent and into the labyrinth? Do I think there some innate connection between our labyrinth and the Sinite mines? Not especially. But do I think it possible that a shadowy Beast lurks beneath us, growing ever larger, only contained by the ritual of severing its head from its body each decade, that it might grow small and weak, though not dead? Yes, but only because I’ve been told as much my entire life,” Alexandria said. “I am not certain where I was going with that.”

“We aren’t going to get anywhere like this. You really do need to sleep, Lexi. Do you want me to stay with you?” Luna offered.

“No, no. Take Rydal to your chambers, which I suspect are now their chambers, and entertain yourselves. I’ll be meeting with Briar tomorrow morning to discuss our time in Sine and have plans in the afternoon. Do come by to bother me in the evening, won’t you, providing you can extract yourselves from one another,” Alexandria said.

Luna did not try very hard not to grin. Finley hugged Luna and Rydal tightly as they left, having few words to offer and not needing them. Luna kissed her cheek, promising to catch up with her soon, and Rydal gave a lazy salute as though this was their daily routine.

Finley closed the doors. She stared at the lock but did not dare draw it.

Already on her feet, Alexandria said, “Oh, Finley. You’re dismissed. I shall not be leaving my chambers for the rest of the day, or seeing another soul until I have the privilege and delight of being woken up by Rosa. You may leave.”

Finley’s fingers hovered over the handle.

“What if I don’t want to go?” she heard herself ask.

A pause. Alexandria, fully facing her now, said, “Oh?”

Finley shook her head. Stupid. She hadn’t been back in Thisia for a handful of hours and she was the one who had promised everything could go back to normal.

“It’s just that, well, I won’t get any rest if I leave. There’s no chance I can sneak back to my chamber and I’ll stand out even more if I dim all the lights. Everyone will want to talk to me, everyone will have a hundred questions, especially Rosa, so what if I—”

Finley gestured vaguely with both hands.

“What if you sleep here?” Alexandria suggested.

“On the settee,” Finley clarified. “It won’t bother you, will it?”

“Not so long as you’re comfortable.”

“Right. Okay. So I’ll just…”

“Indeed,” Alexandria agreed.

They both stood motionless, staring at each other for five, ten seconds, each more dangerous than the last.

Finally, Alexandria said, “Sleep well, then,” and marched to her chamber.

It took a considerable time for Finley to do anything but stand fixed on the spot, staring at nothing, thinking nothing. She glanced between the three settees as though any of them held the possibility of discomfort, stepped out of her boots, and laid on the settee before the empty hearth.

It was ridiculous. She wouldn’t fall asleep, not there, not without a blanket. It was a warm day, true, and the cushions were offensively soft and plush, but she could not close her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, all too aware that Alexandria was in her chamber, changing for bed. She didn’t have to worry about a lack of blankets.

Finley imagined herself rising, crossing the room, and standing before the bedchamber door. It wasn’t locked. She could lift a fist and knock, could show herself in, and she wouldn’t be refused. And all she wanted was to sleep, it really was. She imagined her own hesitance, imagined herself stood outside Alexandria’s chamber door, only for Alexandria to open it from within.

More than once, she convinced herself she was going to get up.

When she awoke, the sky had not darkened, but the light had shifted dramatically in the room. Finley groaned, rested but groggy, and the sound of writing brought her surroundings into focus.

She pushed herself up on an elbow. The blanket draped over her slipped from her shoulders, and she saw Alexandria over the back of the settee, sat at her writing desk as though they’d never left Sunspire.

“What’s the time?” Finley mumbled.

Without looking up, Alexandria said, “It’s just gone five. Will you be leaving any time soon? I should like these letters delivered post-haste.”

Finley dragged herself over to the desk. Alexandria took her time melting the wax for her seal, stamping it, and letting it dry. Finley paced the room, stopping to fold the blanket that had been draped over her, and placed it carefully on the arm of the settee. She took the letters, most of them addressed to businesses in Sunspire, and said her goodbyes. Alexandria hummed, not looking up from her work.

Finley headed through the palace, wanting to get downstairs as quickly as possible. She saw more of Sine’s differences for being back in Sunspire. In Waterdeep, the servants had not ducked out of the way of any courtier strolling through the corridors, had not bowed their heads and avoided eye contact. If not a greeting, the king had a smile for all the servants who crossed his path, and everyone took up as much space as they needed.

Finley handed the letters to a bored looking messenger. He read over the directions, checked the seals, and headed off with a nod.

Downstairs, where the corridors were narrow and the walls bare, Finley grew more comfortable with the palace. The last unpleasant dregs of her nap left her and she braced herself for the reception she’d meet in the servants’ hall.

Yda, still on duty to judge by her apron, rushed across the room, caught Finley in a hug, and lift her off the ground.

“Finley Yael!” Yda exclaimed. “God knows it’s been boring without you here.”

Finley squeezed her around the shoulders. Everyone had a warm greeting to offer, a genuinely curious inquiry to pass her way, and even Ocari poked their head out of their office to welcome her back. Finley sat down with a drink, finally feeling she was home, and found she wanted to talk about Sine. She wanted these people to know the truth of it, wanted them to know it was so much more than Thisia had ever made it out to be.

When Yda’s work was done for the day, they headed into Sunspire to see Willow’s mother. Yda’s parents happened to be over for a late dinner, and Finley told the same stories of Sine over and over. She couldn’t remember the last time she had hugged so many people in one day, but was touched by how much Heather had truly missed her.

Finley wasn’t a mere reminder of her daughter, a link to what no longer was. Heather cared for her because of who she was, and Finley blamed the exhaustion her nap had barely touched for the tears in her eyes.

Finley and Yda returned arm in arm to the palace, wandering the grounds in the dark. Without discussing it, the pair of them drifted towards the servants’ graveyard tucked around the rear of the palace. Many of those who worked for the palace gave their whole lives to it, and supposedly, this was how the palace honoured them.

Finley avoided the graveyard when she could, only going when Yda wanted the company. She did not like the reminder of the funeral, of that warm, spring day when everyone but her wept before the casket, hands clasping her shoulders as though her entire body was not numb. She did not like to think of the body in the earth, buried, alone; she did not like to think of Willow’s body without its soul. It did not make sense that the two could be so cleanly divided.

Willow was not beneath the stone that bore her name. Willow was everywhere, or she was nowhere.

But Yda kept a respectful distance from the temple, and Yda worked so hard maintaining the grave.

Finley sat before in the soft grass with Yda, surroundings dimly lit by a distant palace window.

“I’ve told so many people about Sine today, but she’s the only one I really want to tell,” Finley said, hugging her knees to her chest. “But if she was still alive and all this was going on, I think—I think she would’ve found a way to come. She would’ve convinced the princess that her horse would be miserable without her, and that she needed to tag along to look after him.”

Laughing, Yda put an arm around her and said, “She did always get her own way, didn’t she?”

“But the funny thing is, the one thing I want to tell her most, the part she’d be really interested in, never would’ve happened if Willow was there,” Finley said.

“Yeah? What’s that, Fin?” Yda asked.

There was no point in pretending she didn’t want to share this with Yda, no use in feigning reluctance. It would come out, sooner or later, and Finley needed to say it out loud.

“I slept with someone,” she murmured, a little ashamed.

Not ashamed of the act, of what she’d done, but that she’d been the one to do it. Years had gone by and she’d truly thought it a relic of her past, unwanted, unlooked for.

A brief pause followed, enough for Finley to fear Yda’s reaction, her judgement.

“Finley! You never!” Yda said, leaning closer and ruffling her hair. “Forget all that other stuff, all the crystals and politics. You should’ve led with that.”

Finley leant against her, saying, “You don’t think it’s bad?”

“Bad? I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. There were times I thought you’d never get out of bed again, never stop crying, but now you’re—you’re finally living your life again, y’know? I proud of that, silly as it sounds. Yeah, it’s just sex, but also, wow. Do you think it was bad?”

“No,” Finley said, screwing her eyes shut. “It was really, really nice.”

Laughing, Yda rubbed her back.

“Well? Who was she?” Yda asked. “Seduced a Sinite, did you? Bet you used all your wiles, stealing hearts with the tale of how you went from a lowly gardener to the foil of the princess herself, all while saving their prince’s life.”

“Shut up,” Finley said, nudging her side. “It’s weird. I thought I was done with all that, I’d hardly thought about it, but now it’s like all these new parts of my body and brain are lighting up. But I want to feel bad about it. I’m trying really, really hard to feel guilty, but I know Willow wouldn’t care. Or she would, but only because she’d want to hear all about it.”

“Mm. All she wanted was for you to keep living your life, to be happy. She was something else, wasn’t she? Back when we were kids, she’d sneak over to my house to give me her dessert, for no reason other than she thought I’d enjoy it more than her. More than once I watched her give a stranger the shirt off her back,” Yda said. “Now you’re me getting all emotional. Funny, isn’t it? The world can change, you can be happy all over again, but you don’t suddenly miss someone any less. There’s room for just about every feeling in this world of ours, and they can all happen at once.”

Finley hummed her agreement. Willow Rhodes, the stone read. Dead at forty-five. Finley would be that age one day, then older, and Willow wouldn’t have aged a day. Her memory would be no less vivid, no matter the paths her life took. The grief her death brought made that love immortal, timeless.

Finley could not lose Willow again, no matter what she did.

“Let’s get ourselves to bed,” Yda said, getting to her feet and helping Finley up. “Else we’re wear ourselves out weeping and fall asleep in the grass.”

Finley headed back into the palace. She truly had missed her own bed.

Halfway down the corridor, she caught sight of Luna leaving Ocari’s office. For a split-second, Finley feared something had gone wrong, that her bed was further from her than ever, but Luna’s smile banished the mere thought of fear.

Finley couldn’t explain how Rydal had got to Sunspire, but she couldn’t have been happier for Luna.

“Fin! I was just telling Ocari everything that happened when Lexi got back,” Luna said. “They were such a help when Rydal first, well, appeared here, and they’ve let me cry on their shoulder more than once. I still can’t believe it!”

“Alex meant what she said. She really would do anything for you,” Finley said.

Luna’s mouth quirked at the corner. She blinked a half dozen times, but whatever thought had crossed her mind soon fled. She squeezed Finley’s hands, ordered her to get to bed, and left with a flurry of light, brightening the further she got from Finley.

“Never a dull moment with you, huh,” Yda said, dragging Finley back to their room.

And though she was exhausted, though her bed welcomed her back to that small, windowless room with all the comfort it could muster, Finley stayed up for hours, talking about Sine and Willow in equal measures with Yda.

*

Luna took the stairs two at a time. As impossible as it was that anything could tear her from Rydal, now as free as she was, she could not get to Alexandria’s chamber quickly enough. The guards, under strict orders not to let anyone into the princess’ chambers without her foil present, barely stirred at their posts. They nodded Luna through, knowing she would always be the exception.

“Lexi. What happened between you and Finley?” Luna demanded the moment the doors closed behind her.

Alexandria, knees tucked under her as she read on the settee, did not look up from her book.

“We parted on perfectly reasonable terms this afternoon. If Finley is upset, I’m afraid I cannot take credit for it,” Alexandria said.

“What did you do to Finley?” Luna tried.

The slightest pause from Alexandria.

“Only what she asked me to,” Alexandria said, turning the page.

Alexandria had always been blunt but Luna hadn’t expected her victory to be that easy. She crossed the room and rounded the settee so Alexandria was forced to look at her, if only in her peripheral vision.

“Then it’s true?” Luna asked. “You really slept with her?”

“Not today, no.”

“Oh—!” Delightfully frustrated, Luna dropped onto the settee beside Alexandria and leant against her side. “You know what I mean. I know you do.”

“Do I?”

Luna jabbed Alexandria’s side. Prepared for the assault, Alexandria shuffled away.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t dying to talk about it, Lexi. But this really isn’t like you. You’ve always made a point of not involving yourself with servants.”

Looking up from her book, Alexandria raised her brow.

“I don’t count,” Luna protested. “I was more… prisoner, really. At the time.”

“I don’t think that paints me in a better light. Still, there is no accounting for what teenagers will do, when left to their own devices,” Alexandria said, snapping her book shut. “My standards were not so particular, back then: you were my age, not related to me, and you were a woman. What more did I need?”

Luna laughed, shoving Alexandria’s shoulder. The awkward, exhilarating fumbling Alexandria so fondly made light of had happened half a lifetime ago, and it was as though it had happened to two other people. So much of greater importance had happened between them since that it was nothing but a tender, embarrassing memory to look back on.

“You’ve always been a real charmer, Lexi. But you’re trying to change the subject and you know I won’t leave until I get some real answers from you.”

“Not even with Rydal waiting for you in your own bed? You can’t tell me you had Ocari find them their own chambers,” Alexandria said, dropping her book onto the arm of the settee.

“Changing the subject!” Luna repeated in a sing-song voice. “And if you don’t start answering me, I’ll have no choice but to leap to conclusions and ask Finley for all the details.”

Sighing, Alexandria said, “You truly are a brute, aren’t you? Finley and I had sex. We were in a foreign country and the rules did not seem to matter so very much. What more is there to say?”

Alexandria had swivelled to face Luna, chin propped on her palm, elbow digging into the backrest of the settee. She looked like a woman who very much wanted to say more, wanted to say everything, but it had always been hard work with her.

“I know how you are with your women, Lexi, but you’ve always had more self-control than most people I know. I find it hard to believe that the rules just didn’t matter anymore.”

“Hard, but not impossible.”

Luna mimicked Alexandria’s tried and true method and stared at her until she decided to start being serious.

“Oh, very well. But if I find out you’re using some manner of crystal to get answers out of me I won’t be happy,” Alexandria said. Her eyes darted to the side as she searched for somewhere to start. “I doubt I have an answer interesting enough for you. I expect it did not happen for any singular reason, but—well, Finley became rather argumentative, you see. She stepped out of line, as she always does without realising, and kept interrogating me on my true feelings regarding the potential political marriage.

“Everything I said went in one ear and out the other. She kept saying all these utterly absurd, idiotic things about how I ought to have a true choice in the matter, and really, it was so foolish that it could not be considered anything but romantic.”

Luna bit the inside of her cheek. Too big a smile and she’d scare Alexandria off. Luna could hardly believe that a person who spent all their free time reading as much as Alexandria did, who had developed a penchant for romance novels for a young age, could phrase things that badly, but it had, evidently, worked out for her.

“And so you seduced her because of it?” Luna asked.

“God, no. She seduced me,” Alexandria said, haughty and proud. “Don’t give me that look, either. Is it so unbelievable that someone would put such effort into getting me into bed? It was after the ball, on what was supposed to be our last night in Sine. She followed me into my chamber and made to kiss me. I rejected her, naturally I did. You yourself have already pointed out that she is a servant. That did not deter her. She conjured some nonsense about us being equals, considering she had been invited by name, and stressed that since we were returning to Thisia, we could leave it all behind us. Not a terribly compelling argument in the cold light of day, but she was wearing a rather remarkable suit.”

Alexandria was giving longer answers that were necessary. Alexandria wanted to talk about this, and she hadn’t insulted Finley in almost a dozen sentences.

“It wasn’t long ago that you were pushing me Finley’s way, claiming she was prettyish,” Luna said.

“Don’t be absurd. That was before I truly knew her. She was still suffering the effects of a concussion and acting accordingly stupid at the time,” Alexandria said, breaking her streak. “Not to mention that she has put on considerable weight since then. She is not so horribly gaunt looking; I no longer fear a strong wind will steal her.”

All Luna could do was grin. Nearly twenty years of friendship and she’d never heard Alexandria speak like this about any woman; from anyone else, the comments would be tepid at best, but Alexandria was as close to gushing as Luna had ever known her.

“Well? Did you have fun?”

“Indeed. Finley is a very good girl. Extremely pliant,” Alexandria said.

Luna knew well Alexandria’s inclinations, her weakness for women who were willing to yield and take and take and take, and could not help but laugh.

“And what happens next? Have you talked about it?” Luna paused, furrowed her brow, and said, “Oh. Is it a secret? Should I pretend I don’t know what’s going on with you both?”

Alexandria stared at Luna as though nothing she’d said followed on from their conversation.

“What happens next? Nothing. Finley stated it was a geographically-based situation and promised that things would go back to normal, and I intend to respect that. After all, I am the princess here, no matter what loopholes we attempt to find. I cannot push the matter further.”

Alexandria said it with her chin held high, proud of herself. Luna wanted to tug on her ear until she buckled and told the truth, but that hadn’t worked in over fifteen years. Luna knew Alexandria, knew her better than anyone in any kingdom, on any continent. She knew the sort of novels she read, the novels she dedicated almost every scrap of spare time she had to.  

Luna had borrowed a dozen of them. They were far too saccharine for her tastes.

“Don’t give me that, Lexi. I don’t believe for one moment that you’re going to forget all of this!”

“Perhaps I’m not,” Alexandria agreed. “After all, I only told you what I intend to do. I can’t speak for Finley. If she cannot keep up the ruse, if she accepts that there is no normalcy we can return to, well—that’s up to her, isn’t it? Until then, I shall continue being in a confined space with her each and every day and sharing my most intimate secrets.”

Luna fell against Alexandria’s side, arms wrapped around one of hers.

“That’s your plan? You’re going to act like nothing happened and wait for Finley to fall in love with you?” Luna asked. “Oh my god. You actually like her, don’t you?”

Alexandria sat straighter, pushing Luna back.

“Finley is some manner of… friend of yours, is she not? Don’t slight her so.”

“It’s not the liking Finley part that surprised me! It’s you liking anyone. The last person you actually had feelings for was—oh, Vienna?”

Luna scrunched her nose up, sorry to have stumbled across the memory.

“I liked her as much as anyone could like the woman who left them upon learning they would not be queen, yes,” Alexandria said stiffly. “Which is not something Finley is likely to do. The simple fact is, Luna, that I am so very busy, that I so rarely leave the palace, that I never meet anyone I could like. I am surrounded by sycophants and there are few people willing to be honest with me. But Finley tells me off, did you know that? She actually had the gall to scold me in front of Kiln—she claimed I was being rude! And there is the matter of, well—”

Alexandria cleared her throat. She sat straighter but made a slight movement of her shoulder, gesturing for Luna to come closer. Luna settled against her side, one arm draped around her waist, and Alexandria rested her chin atop her head.

“That birth defect of mine and the pain it causes. Even when crystals were available to me, there were times the pain was unbearable. I felt utterly without control. You were the only one I confided in, not only because you could soothe the pain, but because I trusted you. I trusted you almost from the moment we met. But I was raised knowing that my pain was not only something I oughtn’t complain about, but something I must never let others know of. What is pain but a weakness? Princesses are not riddled with pain of the sort, no; we’re bred better than that,” Alexandria said, voice but a murmur. “Yet Finley noticed of her own accord. I did all I could to repress the pain, to power through and not let it distract me, yet she worked it all out for herself.

“She had the nerve to procure medication for me. She was not afraid to share her suspicions with me and immediately set about teaching me how to take the medication. Did you know that it does not work instantly? Regardless, as though that was enough she—she looks after me. Is that ridiculous to say? She pushes me to take this and that when I am being stubborn, and she brews me bitterwillow tea before I realise I need it.

“And do you know the strangest part of all? I do not feel pathetic when she does it. Perhaps she is simply so unassuming that I do not have space to take offence, or she merely… cares. Beyond the confines of her job.”

Luna stoked her thumb across Alexandria’s knuckles as she spoke. For so long, she had been the only one who could help Alexandria, the only one allowed to. As a child, Alexandria would come to her for help, but she would never say what was wrong. She did not claim she was in pain, or that her back hurt; she simply said that there was an issue and she needed a crystal to deal with it.

Never once had Alexandria mentioned it before her family. Briar had not known Alexandria suffered with a constant, chronic pain, much less the extent of it. Her mother and Alexandria’s father had let Briar believe that her cousin was merely making a fuss, that she was ever determined to have her own way, and in thirty years she had not seen what Finley had so quickly ascertained.

Luna wanted to rush back downstairs, take Finley in her arms, and squeeze her until she understood exactly what it was she had done for Alexandria. But there was the problem: Finley wouldn’t understand it. Finley would think that anyone would’ve noticed what she did, would’ve done what she did, and that was what made it so easy for Alexandria.

Finley learnt about the pain as she got to know Alexandria. The two were inextricable in her mind, and she accepted one as easily as the other.

Luna had never heard Alexandria talk so plainly, so honestly, about all that ailed her. She’d never had that chance before.

“I’m so happy for you, Lexi,” Luna said. “I know how it’s always gone for you. All your women expect you to put in all the effort, to sweep them off their feet, never thinking that maybe you’d like someone to spoil you now and again. You deserve that, you know? You deserve someone who will look out for you, someone who isn’t afraid to talk back to you. It’s a good thing you got her back. You could’ve been here all along while Finley was off in Sine with your aunt, never imagining what could happen.”

Alexandria huffed, shuffling in her seat.

“What are you congratulating me for? Finley and I are as we have always been: princess and servant.”

“Really? Nothing feels different between you both?”

“Well. Did you know that she spent the afternoon sleeping on this very settee?” Alexandria said, looking away. “I dismissed her for the day, claiming I wished to sleep. She suggested that she not leave, that she nap here, lest the servants downstairs bother her. It was a very near-thing, you realise. I practically locked myself in my chamber; I could not stop entertaining the thought of rising from my bed, opening the door between us, and—well. Your imagination has always been active enough.”

Luna pressed her nose to Alexandria’s cheek.

“No one in all the kingdom has willpower as impressive as yours, Lexi.”

Alexandria let out a hmph, choosing to take the comment seriously.

“Wait,” Luna said, sitting up straight. “What about Rada?”

“Rada? Oh, she’s come along rather well.”

Luna scowled. Alexandria tilted her head to the side.

“Lexi. You’re supposed to be marrying Rada, aren’t you? That’s what your whole purpose in going to Sine was, right?”

Still confused, Alexandria said, “Or so I told my aunt and cousin, yes. I think the princess rather amenable to the idea. We never discussed it in so many words, but the implication of my visit was blindingly clear, and we made certain to be seen together in all the right places. She’s a horticulturalist, did you know that? Sine’s grounds are rather impressive. She had a considerable lot in common with Finley, actually. They got on rather well.”

Luna pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d met Rada long ago, before being sent to Sine. Even at thirteen, the princess had been beautiful, tall and dark, and so painfully kind that Luna could scarcely think back on it without aching. Rada had wanted to keep Luna in Waterdeep so very badly, had been too young to understand why her father was bowing to Thisia’s demands, and for a fleeting moment, Luna had believed Rada might save her.

“Lexi. When I said what about Rada?, I didn’t want to know how she’s getting along! We have to assume that you’ll be marrying her in the near future. How does Finley feel about that?” 

“Oh. That. I made it perfectly clear to Finley that my marriage will be political in nature and serve as no real obstacle. I took special care to point out that I could continue my own affairs as I wished,” Alexandria said, brushing the matter off.

“Really? This is Finley we’re talking about, Lexi. She’s not used to this world, to all the arranged marriages and political intrigue. She might not get it. She was going to marry someone she really loved, wasn’t she? Are you sure she’s on the same page as you?” Luna said.

“Finley isn’t an idiot,” Alexandria scoffed.

“Lexi. You need to talk to her.”

“And what am I to say? Hello, Finley. I understand that you stated nothing more would happen between us and I claimed to respect that, but I wanted to let you know that as attractive as the Princess Rada is, I do not quite feel a spark between us. Tremendous respect and the makings of a great alliance, perhaps, but nothing of a romantic nature. That said, I wanted to let you know that I am open to continuing our dalliance as an open secret, should you wish to go back on your word. Something like that?”

“You could talk to her like a normal person,” Luna sighed. She fell back against Alexandria’s side and endured her hair being pet. “I think it’s nice, though. After everything we’ve been through together, this is happening at the same time. I have Rydal, you have Finley…”

“I don’t have Finley. I know Finley. And hadn’t you return to your knight? I didn’t free them from indefinite imprisonment so you could spend your nights bothering me,” Alexandria said.

Rydal was the one thing that could lure Luna away from Alexandria, from the topic at hand. She couldn’t wait to tell Rydal all of this, couldn’t wait to interrogate them; surely they’d noticed something amiss in Sine. Kissing Alexandria’s cheek, Luna obliged, hopping to her feet. She marvelled at her self-control in not pressing Alexandria to speak to Finley again and left with the promise that she’d be back later to get all the details.

Luna hurried back to her room, feet light, and deftly weaved between the piles of crystals in her workshop. She opened her chamber door, not knowing where to start, wanting to share everything Alexandria had told her in one breath, but Rydal was already curled up in her bed, sleeping.

They looked peaceful with their face buried in a pillow, one arm draped over the empty space next to them. To see them sleep was to know it did not matter how they had found theirself in the labyrinth or why; it had brought them there and little else mattered.

Luna kicked off her boots, threw her clothes aside, and climbed into bed. She wrapped her arms around Rydal, buried her face in their mane of hair, and they grumbled in their sleep, shuffling closer and pulling the blankets tight.

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