Sabine answered her with action. Her interior life was cluttered with so many words she thought she might burst. There was a war within—a battlefield of fears and desires, nihilism and hope. For once, Sabine wanted to give in to her feelings without having to examine them. The desperation with which Elodie kissed her back implied the queen felt the same.
Sabine reached for the ribbon that held her dressing gown closed. Elodie’s fingers tightly cupped the base of her skull, holding her in place. Sabine began to feel as though if Elodie let go, she would melt down into wax, a puddle at the queen’s feet.
Elodie let out a low moan as Sabine tenderly bit the soft skin of her neck. Her breathing slowed even as her heart raced. A different kind of power thrummed through Sabine. The ability to make someone feel good—feel desired, feel seen—was a magic all its own.
“Is this okay?” The queen’s voice was husky. Sabine shivered even as she nodded. Elodie pressed her down onto the mattress, softer even than the one in her room.
The first time Sabine slept beside Elodie Warnou, she had been terrified lest even their pinky fingers touch. Now, she pulled the queen closer, drew herself into the depths of this winsome, wonderful girl. She would gladly drown in Elodie’s salt, would draw her water into her lungs. A wave of pleasure crashed over her, soaking her to the bone. She gasped as she returned to the surface.
Still working to settle her pulse, she turned her attention to Elodie, whose jaw, even now, was clenched. She wanted to make the girl forget herself, forget the way the world conspired against her, against them. For someone like Elodie, who was always tasked to remember, Sabine wanted to be the one who briefly, exquisitely, made her forget.
“Are you all right?” She made sure that Elodie’s inner feelings agreed with her outward reactions.
Elodie answered with a kiss, pulling her closer, somehow, ever closer. Sabine sank into it. The nearness fueled her and moved her forward. She reveled in the way Elodie’s body moved beneath her fingers. The way Elodie lost herself, found herself, then lost herself again, all because of Sabine.
When at last they were exhausted, their thighs slick, their fingers sore, their lips bruised, they did not speak but merely lay side by side, staring at the shadows that danced across the ceiling.
A twinge of sadness pulsed beside Sabine’s heart. Next to Elodie, Sabine was safe. Here she was seen for exactly who she was: She could speak without words and share more than just her emotions. Yet a heaviness hung in the air, as though there would be something to grieve when the morning dawned. This moment was only evanescently theirs as they lay tangled in the dark.
The longer she stayed between the four posts of the bed, the more certain Sabine was that this restless, tentative thread between them could be severed. Elodie turned to look at her, gray eyes drooping with exhaustion as she brushed a thumb across the New Maiden’s cheek. Sabine interlaced her fingers with Elodie’s and squeezed.
“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you,” the queen mumbled, words lazy and long with exhaustion, “if something was the matter? If you needed my help?”
“Of course,” Sabine whispered guiltily. She would not trouble Elodie with propaganda and threats penned in ink. She could not let the queen know how quickly Sabine had lost the faith of her clergy, how incompetently she peddled the New Maiden’s word. Sabine was so tenuously in power that she could not share her weakness, certainly not with such a successful monarch.
Elodie’s lips curled into a gentle smile. “Good.” She nuzzled her nose into the curve of Sabine’s neck. Her breathing slowed.
Sabine sighed softly, willing her brain to quiet. The lie was worthy. The two of them were owed this sacred moment of peace. The silence would not last, but it ought to be observed. And so Sabine held tight to Elodie, fingers intertwined, as she drifted off to sleep.
12
Sabine was snoring softly when Elodie woke. The New Maiden was curled up on the very edge of the mattress—a girl only used to sharing a bed with a sibling. Her expression was peaceful in slumber, her dark hair swept across the silk pillowcase, her breathing steady. The queen rolled closer, pressing her cheek to the other girl’s bare shoulder, relishing the warmth that radiated from her body. It was a delightful contrast to the crisp, cool sheets beneath the New Maiden’s bare skin.
She remained in bed far longer than she should have, wrapped around Sabine while she slept. It was only when the clock struck six bells that Elodie realized how far behind schedule she had allowed herself to fall. Cleo would come by for tea at any moment. As she hurriedly disentangled herself, the New Maiden sighed sweetly.
“I hoped we might never have to get up,” she said, sounding forlorn. “Yours is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.”
“You’re welcome to it any time,” Elodie said, and despite the flirtatious nature of the comment, she truly meant it. Greeting the day with someone by her side made the unknown feel more manageable. “But right now, I need you to get dressed.”
Sabine grimaced, holding up her dressing gown. “I only brought this.”
Elodie’s eyes went wide. “Absolutely not. You’ll borrow something of mine for the walk back to your rooms. Here.” She offered Sabine the dress she had worn the day before, an unfussy, long-sleeved gown the color of the morning sky. “This will look beautiful with your eyes.”
Sabine struggled with the buttons, but once she had squeezed into the gown it flattered her greatly. The New Maiden gave a small twirl. “Perfect,” Elodie said, stepping into a dress of deep violet. “I could get used to mornings like this.”
Sabine planted a kiss on Elodie’s cheek and smoothed the tail of the queen’s braid. “Me too.”
They had only just settled themselves in the sitting room when Cleo arrived. Her eyes swept across the table—absent a breakfast tray—then snagged on the sleeve of Sabine’s dress. Her lips quirked up with amusement as she recognized the gown. To the queen’s intense relief, Cleo merely greeted Sabine with a bright smile and settled herself on the chair opposite the sofa.
Marguerite bustled in with the breakfast tray and was pouring tea when there came another knock on the door. Elodie stiffened, her good mood souring the moment she was presented a letter with the dread-inducing serpentine seal.
“Not again,” she pleaded, but her prayers were for naught.
“What is it?” True concern painted the New Maiden’s face. Her open expression offered Elodie a safe place to shatter.
But the queen could not bear to speak the truth aloud. Despite Edgar’s threats, she would never be a man’s wife. Would not cower to the whims of an aspiring emperor. The eldest Warnou possessed a mind and a heart and a soul, but all of that was seemingly lost on this boy with vindictive eyes. Elodie would not share this burden with Sabine. Edgar was not worthy of tormenting both of them. Every word devoted to this obsessive, broken boy only served to make him loom larger in her mind. And so the queen held her tongue.
“It’s nothing.” Elodie laughed, her smile pained. “Just another administrative headache I don’t wish to bore you with. In fact,” she said, too brightly, desperate for the New Maiden to leave before those gentle eyes coaxed the truth from her lips, “you probably ought to be going anyway.”
Sabine looked wounded.
“My duties are extraordinarily tedious,” Elodie clarified quickly. “If you don’t take your leave, these contract negotiations will turn you comatose, and then I become the villain who has prevented the New Maiden from doing her good work.”
Sabine’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Fine. But you’re not rid of me forever.”
“Thank goodness for that,” the queen said, squeezing the other girl’s hand gently. Her smile fell the moment Sabine exited the room.
“Why didn’t you tell her?” Cleo frowned, but Elodie was too consumed by the letter’s contents to respond.
I wonder, Elodie Warnou, Edgar had written, what is required of me to earn your confidence? I thought the flood would be enough to turn the tides (pun most certainly intended). But it seems you require more proof of my influence before you agree to take your place by my side.
You told me once, the letter continued, that you had no time for seasoning stews because you were too consumed with strategy. In this way, we are perfectly matched. I have thus taken the necessary steps to show you my tactical mind at play.
The Republics have agreed to pause all imports to Velle, effective immediately. On the enclosed map you will see the alterations made to the transcontinental trade agreements. None will do business with you, for fear of our collective retaliation.
I do not wish for you to starve, my wilted flower. I only wish for you to understand how seriously I value your hand in marriage.
