Canelle eased herself into the covers, searching for warmth in the thick bedding. The evening had set in, and with it came the cold ambient air. 

On her right, Lior’s breath steadied, and Canelle counted each breath, using the slow passing seconds to mentally ready herself to sit up.

“You don’t have to leave, it’s still snowing.” She was facing away from Canelle, curled up against her under the comforter. “Well, unless you snore. If that’s the case, get the hell out of my room.”

With that comment, they fell back into normality. Canelle was grateful for that. Part of her earlier hesitation stemmed from her fear of their relationship changing. Without a doubt, her hesitation ought to have been greater.  She owed her life to the impulsive part of herself and resented it all the same.

She was content working for Liorit, a feeling she surprised herself with. Her previous arrangement was okay, the Vouverns were a good family, but she didn't miss it either. It was a life that consisted of her stalling in the air, waiting, wanting to see the world on the other side of the city walls. 

She hadn’t forgotten Lior’s approach. She had pressured her into the role, in exchange for keeping her secret. The gesture didn’t sit well with her, and she could say with confidence that she would never like her in a romantic sense because of it. Yes, Lior was attractive and at times understanding, but only when it worked for her benefit and that wasn’t attractive. 

In truth, she knew very little about Liorit. She had pieced together an idea of the woman out of the fragmented rumors scattered throughout the palace, and it was not very well put together.

She was empathetic towards the woman, and that was natural. They were both attracted to the wrong gender, and that too would remain unchanged.

Rolling over and slipping her hand underneath her pillow, she thought about the stars that watched over them. Her first night outside of Gaidos, the sky was one she had never seen. The visual was burned into her memory, and knew she wouldn't forget it. To put the feeling into words… a freedom awoke within her.

Not complete freedom, but some freedom. She did have Liorit to thank for that. 

Beside her, Lior’s breathing had shifted into the rhythm of a deep sleep. Canelle, again, counted them, until sleep took her too. When she woke up the next morning, she was alone, and she was cold. 

***

The voyage through Nedues had two additional stops apart from their first, and Canelle spent the night with Liorit for both of them. She learned a lot about reading, and she learned a lot about herself. What she liked, and what she didn’t like. 

She didn’t like that she was always the instigator. But it was fair, Canelle was no one after all. 

She tried not to let it get to her, and once they made it back to civilization she swore to never do it again. Except that was a lie, it happened one last time before they reached the city of Dofev. Liorit must have been unable to swoon whoever she attempted to lure into her room that night.

Her color was different. She had returned from a tavern a little tipsy, like the night of the Bacjov celebration. The woman smelled like liquor and spoke easily. 

Thanks to Canelle’s constant exposure to drunk tourists, she knew Liorit wasn't actually drunk, but she was in livelier spirits.

She should clarify that Lior had never been hostile towards her. The initial aggression in her approach aside, she was sharp in her comments, and had a wavering patience, but she never did or said anything to her employee with malice. She wasn’t warm in any sense of the word, and she didn’t pretend to be. 

They did not have a bad relationship because what they had was not a relationship at all.

That night in particular, the weight of the air around the woman lightened.  Presumably that was the wine’s doing, or perhaps she’d begun to see Canelle as an ally. The squire found it more plausible that a planet was in retrograde and this was the result. 

Their previous encounters ended in a mutual and comfortable silence that lasted until either one of them fell asleep. This time however, they found themselves wide awake, entangled in the linens of Lior’s bed. 

Canelle was engrossed in her mental planning for the next morning. She hoped to find a bookstore to poke her head into if the weather allowed it. Her reading had improved enough that she was itching to attempt to read something on her own. 

Ideally, a children’s book of folktales or local myths. Those stories varied by town or region, and she wanted to compare them to what her grandfather read to her as a child. 

Lior caught her attention. She was also lost in thought.  

“Your hair has gotten longer,” Canelle observed aloud. 

Her employer looked up and touched her fingers to the ends of her hair. “I used to keep it this long when I was younger. I haven’t cut it because of the colder weather, but I’ll probably cut it soon.” 

The younger woman didn’t know what compelled her to add, “It looks nice long.” 

To distract herself from the pending backlash, she ran her fingers through her own hair and focused on a tangle. 

Except there was no retort or sarcastic remark.

“I keep it short when I’m at Gaidos because summers are hot there. Dofev too actually. But I grew up in Zapide, that’s where our estate is, and it’s much colder there, so I kept it long.” She smiled. “There was a girl there, she liked my hair long too. She was quite distraught when I cut it.”

Canelle rested her chin on top of her knees, hugging them closer. Her own hair tickled her skin as it fell around her.

 “She must have been special if you cared about her opinion,” she said.

“Fati.” The red haired woman neither denied nor confirmed Canelle’s statement.

“Fatima?” There weren’t any Fatima's residing at the court as far as she knew, but ‘Fati’ was a common nickname. 

Lior nodded, she stretched back and flopped back against the bed, which Canelle would argue wasn’t the most comfortable for that.

 “Fatima Argos, you’ve probably never heard of the family. They’ve fallen out of favor with the court since.”

Questions crossed her mind that didn't feel right to ask. Did Lior stop seeing her because of that, and what did that mean for Canelle who was the help? 

She didn’t dare press her on her statement, instead she said, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Regardless, Lior read her concern. “That’s not why I stopped seeing her.” She paused, mused over the memory and continued, “She would have surprised you, I think. Her character is different from who I usually see... and maybe she is the reason for that, I don’t know.”

Canelle was beginning to worry that Fati died, and she was not prepared for that. She’d never know where to start. Death had never come for her family or friends. A beloved cat when she was a child, but how did that compare?

“She’s not dead,” she clarified bluntly.

Out of character, she laughed at Canelle’s face of relief before elaborating, “I hope she’s doing alright despite having no desire to see her again. I wish her the best in life, she deserves it.” 

“How was she different then?” 

She took her time finding the right words. 

“She was forward, but she wouldn’t try to seduce you. She wanted to befriend you. Which on its own was fine. What was off-putting, and I didn’t realize—or what I refused to realize, was how much she wanted you to like her. She was a pretty girl hiding her fears behind a veil.”

The servant tried to piece together a picture of Fati in her mind. If she was unlike the other women Lior courted, then was she plain? Unattractive? She said cute, so she couldn’t have been ugly. In truth, Canelle found most girls cute. But the women that she sent to Lior’s rooms she would describe as ‘beautiful’ rather than ‘cute’ if that’s what she meant. 

“Was she insecure?” That would be different, Lior’s type was very confident and self-assured. 

“Very much. I knew she envied me. I was wrong about what it was she envied, and it’s my fault for assuming, I suppose. She didn’t want material items… she wanted to have a voice. But I still think that… her having a voice wouldn’t have made her life better. It would have made her uglier as a person.”

Alarmed, the squire gave up trying to hide her reactions.

Lior sat up closer to her, reaching for her shirt. They were farther south on the continent, so the days were warmer. The evenings still had a bite to them however. 

Pulling the shirt over her head, she added, “I’m not a good person, I know that. I was better than because I tried. I tried to be the perfect daughter for my father, and I thought I was better at it than other people. And in certain things, I was. I picked things up quickly, I was smarter, I was stronger, I had to be.” She looked her dead in the eye then broke the gravity of the room with a wry smile, “I’ll admit I was rather self-involved.”

Her companion suppressed her chuckle. The temptation to point out that Lior was still self-involved was strong. 

“But she wasn’t a good person either. I didn’t see it at first. I would hear stories about the things she would say and take them for rumors. It’s safe to say that we both pretended to be ‘good’ people around each other. 

“Over time, as we got closer she would slide in the occasional comment, backhanded, subtle, but nasty. I would shrug it off as her joking, or I would agree to a degree. And because I would accept it, she would gradually say worse. Until every interaction, every conversation, was filled with her resentment of those around her.”

This conversation was painting a different picture of Lior than the one Canelle had already started on. She didn’t like the colors of this one. It made her sound strangely human. She turned away from Lior and focused on the furniture of the room.

“She said that she loved me. And when we were around others, she would say the same to them, before turning around and telling me otherwise. I realized one day that she could be doing the same to me. Did she actually love me? Or was it another mask? This is where I might have been in the wrong: I grew paranoid, I didn’t trust her, and I acted as so. Her ugly thoughts and snide remarks made her ugly as a person, but my behavior then made me ugly too.”

Her confiding in Canelle felt wrong, and while she had brought up the subject, Lior was expected to shut her down. Canelle had no right to ask these questions and she knew it.  

As a maid, she found trouble by testing boundaries, and clearly she hadn’t learned her lesson. She pressed on, “How so?” Her voice cracked. 

“Having known her for so long, I knew what set her off. What made her insecure, what made her cry. The way I’ve described her makes her sound like a ruthless, manipulative, woman, when she wasn’t. We were only girls. Seventeen. She was small, naive, and cried a lot. So many nights were us sitting under the night sky, listening to her cry about how pathetic—how weak she felt. And I—I would listen and try to shine light on her best qualities. Until I turned on her.” She smiled or winced. “I know, it's hard to picture me comforting anyone.”

“No. It’s not.” Canelle put her head down, pressing her forehead against her knees. “Lior, you’re mean and you can be a jerk. That’s just it though, you aren’t a jerk. I’m sure you’re capable of comforting someone.”

Lior laid back down and turned away from her. Finally remembering herself and remembering who Canelle was. “Don’t get too comfortable with me, Canelle. I’m nice to you now, but I’m still a bad person. I use people. I’m using you after all.”

Her companion closed her eyes, suppressing the urge to sigh audibly. Instead, releasing her breath in a slow, steady and silent stream.