Chapter 17: Ch. 16 The Long End to a Long Day

Among the last of the day’s light, Sammy and Julie set off. The road loosely followed the coast and was worse off for it, a winding trail that saw little traffic, at times steep and many were the pools of mud. If not for the late hour, Sammy really would have rather walked than ride. She kept an intense focus to compensate. Julie recognised that and stayed vigilant while trusting Sammy’s guidance, following behind.

Through steady progress, they made it as far as Sammy had hoped before dusk turned to night; the river gurgled and spluttered. On the other side, a bumpy slope ran up to a hilltop where a large building was perched.

“There should be somewhere to ford nearby,” Sammy said.

Julie nodded her head.

The two scanned the area for tracks or marks that could guide them. With none presenting themselves and no sign of a bridge before the river met the ocean, they dismounted from their horses and walked upstream. Sammy hoped to find a branch to check the water’s depth; Julie tried to ignore her pessimistic thoughts, but she kept noticing the water seemed high, fast. A stick caught in the currents would catch her eye and, a blink later, would be a stone’s throw downstream. It made her wonder if they’d missed a downpour earlier.

Her thoughts wandering, minutes passed; she noticed another stick in the river and thought nothing of it.

Only, the evening’s silence broke with a gasp.

Julie flinched, Sammy already breaking into a sprint, passing by in a heartbeat. Unquestioning, Julie let go of her horse’s reins, trusting it to stay, and set off downstream after Sammy—trying to at least keep sight as the distance grew, Sammy’s silhouette shrinking.

And Sammy had no time for doubt. Her gaze darted everywhere at once, searching for safe footing while keeping track of that disturbance in the river. Nothing mattered. In all the world, there was only her next stride and the surging river.

The wind whistled, footsteps scraped and squelched, and a clock tick, tick, ticked in her head, rushed her, pushed her to act now. Her frantic gaze never dared look ahead to the dark abyss of the ocean, a last breath stuck in her throat.

And the river dragged that hand back under.

It was as if her heart beat backwards, jerking the blood away from her skin, a chill spreading, numbing, every part of her feeling an intense emptiness. Like anything empty, she yearned to stop. It wasn’t a desire, more fundamental than that, simply natural. Empty things stopped. Empty things… stopped.

But she didn’t. No, she pushed herself forward with reckless abandon, trusting her feet to land true, tore open her riding habit, flinging it aside.

And Julie watched from a distance as Sammy threw herself into the roiling river.

She hadn’t doubted Sammy before and this was no different. She ran on, picking up the discarded clothing while trying not to slow down, keeping track of Sammy’s head as the water tried to swallow her. Stumbling and skidding, she didn’t dare look away; as long as she could see Sammy, everything would be okay, she knew. She didn’t have to think it, she just knew.

Yet her heart still pounded in her chest, legs aching, lungs aflame. When Sammy finally stood up with the water down at her waist, Julie’s next breath came easier.

Only, she saw that Sammy struggled to stay standing.

The world stopped for a moment, just long enough for Julie to feel the fear that rattled her every bone, to hear the quietest voice in the back of her head ask, “How long is a lifetime?”

Then she had to move despite the terror gripping her heart. She had to. None of her training had ever prepared her for quite this, but she knew, she knew that she had to be there for Sammy. She just had to. One step, then another, taking her to the riverbank, one small step at a time.

There, she had to stay standing. Her legs tried to tremble, but she didn’t dare let them, tensing every muscle. And her eyes, prickling—she didn’t dare blink, not when a heartbeat was long enough for the current to sweep away Sammy, to lose Sammy.

Julie could do nothing but stand there, so she did. Rather than pray to any of the gods, in her heart of hearts, she begged Sammy to come back to her… even if that meant letting go of the child in her arms.

Every step Sammy took, the river fought her. It pulled on her underclothes, pushed against her raised leg, trying to twist her, to drag her into its cold embrace. There wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t numb, every heartbeat a pulse of shock. A weariness. Less than emptiness, her body yearned to return to nothingness, to simply curl up, smaller and smaller, until she disappeared. Every step felt like she had to snap her tensing muscles and every step had to be small lest she lose her balance, the distance impossibly vast when she moved so little.

Oh how easy it would have been for her to give up.

Her eyes couldn’t see, clouded with river water and narrowed by the chill seeping into her bones, but she knew there was someone waiting for her at the riverbank. When nothing else could move her, the thought of making her precious jewel cry did.

Step after step, battle after battle, she fought the river. Eventually, she won the war.

Julie kept to her stable position, only reaching out when Sammy came near enough. Gods, Sammy’s hand was cold, and Julie could feel how hard it was for Sammy to squeeze her hand back. With more strength than she thought she had, she pulled Sammy up onto the marshy grass in a heave, falling on her butt with a small squelch.

Once Julie had caught a breath, she scrambled over to Sammy, to brush her hair from her face, cup her cheek, try and look into those eyes that would tell her everything would be okay. All thoughts of the child had left her—barely entered her mind to begin with—until Sammy weakly said, “Dry… h-her.”

In Julie’s heart, she fought between obedience and devotion. However, the answer came to her when she met Sammy’s gaze, a promise in them that everything would be fine.

The doubt didn’t leave Julie, but she knew how to keep moving even when her mind froze. She frantically searched the ground around them for the torn riding habit. In the moment that took her, Sammy carefully lowered the child onto the ground.

Only now did Julie truly see the adrift child: a small girl, around eight years old. Even in the twilight’s shadows could Julie see the numerous bruises, bumps and lumps, skin sickly pale, lips tinged blue. The unnoticeable cuts, before kept clean by the river, began to bloom blood, trickle down in rivers.

It was no surprise to Julie that the girl wasn’t conscious, her heart aching in sympathy.

She put the riding habit over the girl, but had no time for anything else before Sammy placed her hands on the girl’s chest and, with an audible crack, pressed down. Such a sickening sound, a chill ran down Julie’s spine. Water spluttered out the girl’s mouth and dribbled down her cheeks, looking just as grotesque.

Again and again, Sammy pushed in the girl’s chest, but only a little more water came out; Julie had no clue what Sammy was doing if not clearing the girl’s lungs. There wasn’t time to question or doubt, though, so she stood up and whistled for the horses to come.

Only, her whistles brought more than just horses.

“Have you found her?” came a distant shout.

From there, everything became a blur to Julie, too many things happening at once for her strained mind. The girl had spluttered at some point, letting out pained sobs, and people had come down to the other side of the river, guiding them upstream to a bridge.

And Sammy was so cold, shivering.

Julie held Sammy tight even as she was pushed away, but she had to, she had to hold Sammy close, to warm her. It didn’t matter to Julie how cold she herself became, didn’t care that Sammy’s still-damp underclothes made hers wet too. After all, she knew it was worse for Sammy, so she could cope, could share some of the burden.

They ended up in a room at the priory, huddled on the floor in front of a roaring fire, cups with a couple fingers of whiskey in their hands; it burned going down, but Julie barely noticed. Even after the cold had bled away, she leaned against Sammy—pressed against her hard enough that, if Sammy were to suddenly move, Julie would certainly fall over.

But the only move Sammy made was to hold Julie’s hand, squeezing it, and Julie squeezed her hand back.

Darkness had long since fallen outside, yet the hall chattered with footsteps and hushed conversations ebbed and flowed. Since being left in the room—at Sammy’s request—they had only been disturbed once to be told the girl was awake and that it looked like she would make it.

But Julie’s heart still thudded in her chest. Long after her breaths settled, mind calmed down, her heart remained restless.

Silent hours, finally broken by a gentle knock on the door.

“You may enter,” Sammy said, voice level—but Julie could hear it sounded… weak.

The heavy door shuddered open, groaning. Two women in habits—sisters of the priory—entered, one carrying a tray. Without a word, that one placed down the tray in front of them; she looked to be fairly young, Julie thought, maybe in her twenties. The other one looked fairly old, gentle face wrinkled as if from countless smiles.

“A meal for our guests. I do apologise, but we were unable to send out for meat,” said the older one in Sonlettian.

Julie had barely listened, but she’d picked out “meat”, making it all the more clear to her eyes that the food was all grains and vegetables.

Sammy leaned in and whispered a translation. But, once she finished, the sister spoke again—this time in Schtish. “Ah, are our guests from Schtat?”

“We are,” Sammy said.

“Then please allow me to make our guests comfortable,” the sister said, and then repeated her earlier apology in Schtish.

Julie wasn’t exactly surprised or lost, but it had been a long day, the words washing over her.

The sister took her silence and blank face as disappointment. “We will have meat for your breakfast,” she said to Julie, an apologetic smile on her face.

That woke Julie up and she quickly shook her head. “No, it’s fine, really.”

The sister made something of a doubtful expression; she turned to Sammy.

“Please, we need no special accommodation,” Sammy said.

The sister bowed her head. “If that is our guests’ request,” she said, then raised her head once more. “Ah, silly me. I haven’t introduced myself, have I?” she said, her tone light. “I am the prioress, Sister Shastutty, but most of the younger ones call me Sister Tutty. And this is Sister Tomperons.”

As always, Julie left their introductions to Sammy.

“I see,” Sister Tutty said, “and you are travelling together?”

“We are like family,” Sammy said.

Sister Tutty nodded in small but sharp movements, the front of her coif almost slipping down over her eyes. “You wish to share a room, then?” she asked.

“If you would be so kind,” Sammy said.

“It is not a matter of kindness, but of fellowship,” Sister Tutty replied, her smile tugging at the corners of her eyes. “We shall return shortly to guide our guests; pray eat while it’s warm.”

So the two sisters left, Sammy and Julie watching them go before looking at the food on their plates.

But Julie had something she needed to say, burning, prickling in her head. “You didn’t tell her we’re lovers,” she half-said, half-asked.

“Disappointed?” Sammy asked, humour in her voice. Julie didn’t answer, so Sammy continued. “This is a house of the gods, so she would have us sleep in separate rooms… and I would rather not.”

Julie nodded.

“Besides, I told her we are like family and are we not like husband and wife?” Sammy said, then she giggled to herself. “Rather than matrimony, shall we be bound in holy femimony? I dare say sororimony sounds better, but I would not wish for you, nor anyone else, to mistake my feelings as sisterly.”

While Sammy spoke, Julie became increasingly filled with a sense of awkwardness, of emotions that she couldn’t name and yet which threatened to spill out.

Seeing some of that on Julie’s face, Sammy stopped and picked up her cutlery. “My apologies if I went too far.”

But Julie shook her head. “No, it’s not…. I don’t know.”

“To be your lover is enough, I shan’t ask for more,” Sammy said.

“No,” Julie said, soft, yet it stilled Sammy. “I just… don’t know.”

Well, if Julie didn’t know, Sammy knew there was no point dwelling on it.

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After a while, the sisters returned and led them to a small room. By the look of it, it was meant for one person, but another bed (more of a cot, a frame with a thin duvet for a mattress) had been brought in. Sammy thanked them and, in deceptively polite words, sent them out.

Silence, darkness, neither quite perfect, but heavy. Julie couldn’t find the will to speak, couldn’t look at Sammy. It felt unfair. So much had happened. She needed to sleep, she knew, knew that the rest would let her mind sort everything out, let her take a step back. Only, she felt she needed to talk, felt afraid to close her eyes, afraid of what dreams she would have.

Sammy sat on the edge of the one bed and pulled the blanket around her shoulders. Julie followed that small action, then her gaze slowly rose to Sammy’s face. The beautiful face of a true princess. A face that, surely, everyone would love to see… little girls chasing after her carriage, waving, and little boys blushing when she smiled at them, women trying to look like her, men wishing their wives looked more like her.

Julie didn’t know where such strange thoughts came from, but it was surrounded by thorns; any time she tried to stray, memories flickered, of hands deathly cold, skin pale as a corpse.

Meanwhile, Sammy was lost in thoughts of her own. “I should apologise; I did something stupid,” she said.

“W-what?” Julie asked, surprised first by the silence breaking, then again by the words spoken.

Sammy put on an ironic smile as she met Julie’s gaze. “Everything… happened to work out this time. However, it was much more likely that, rather than save Amélie, I simply would have died as well.” She bowed her head, looking down at her lap. “I lost composure and acted on impulse. I am… so sorry for putting you through that.”

Julie felt as if every emotion pulled her heart in a different direction. It hurt, ached in her chest, unlike any pain she’d felt before. To die of heartbreak had always seemed like a figure of speech to her, but, in this moment, she could believe it.

She didn’t know whether to be upset or angry or thankful; she just wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Nothing did. Broken. Then frustration built up, feasting on every other emotion, and finally the first sob broke out, her hands coming up to cover her face.

“Sammy,” she whispered, hoarse.

“I’m here,” Sammy said.

But she wasn’t. Julie moved her hands enough to see and then staggered forward a couple of steps before falling into Sammy’s arms, trusting she would be caught.

“There, there,” Sammy murmured, rubbing Julie’s back.

“I was so scared,” Julie said into Sammy’s shoulder, words muffled, sentence punctuated by another sob.

“I’m sorry.”

Julie clenched her hands, belatedly realising she was digging her nails into Sammy’s back and so forcing them to relax. “I don’t… want you to apologise,” she said.

“What do you want, then? A promise?”

Julie shook her head, smearing tears on Sammy’s shoulder. “I just, I just want to hold you… and cry… for now.”

“Very well,” Sammy said, and she shuffled back, making it more comfortable. “I shan’t mind if I end up wetter than earlier.”

A moment of silence passed, even Julie’s sobs pausing.

“Perhaps not the best time to make a joke,” Sammy quietly said, combing through Julie’s hair to hide her embarrassment.

But Julie laughed, her soft titters a most beautiful sound.

How long passed, neither could tell, could only guess by the heartbeats felt. Eventually, Julie felt she’d cried enough (she didn’t feel she had held Sammy enough, but there was a limit to her indulging), so she pried herself out from Sammy’s comforting embrace and sat beside her.

Without that comfort, Julie’s thoughts began to buzz. In particular, she thought back over what Sammy had said and an icy coldness formed in her chest, the rush of guilt unbearable.

“I’m horrible,” she whispered.

Sammy, controlling her shock at those words, simply rested a hand on Julie’s thigh. Such a small gesture, Julie didn’t notice it.

No, Julie focused on the guilt, and she told Sammy about that prayer she’d made in her heart of hearts. “I prayed that… you would make it… even if you, you had to… let her go.”

“That is entirely natural,” Sammy said in a gentle voice. “The pain you feel now is proof you are far from horrible.”

Julie fought the urge to blindly argue, swallowing the words, listening. Sammy… wouldn’t lie to her; she didn’t believe that, but she wanted to believe that Sammy wouldn’t lie to her about this. “You mean that?”

“I do,” Sammy said, no hesitation, no hint of doubt in her voice.

Julie didn’t feel that the weight had been lifted off her shoulders, but it felt lighter now that Sammy helped her carry it. She didn’t want to dwell, though, so she stood up if only to distract herself for a moment.

“Should we sleep now? I daresay the day has been long enough,” Sammy softly said.

While Julie certainly felt beyond exhausted, there was still that sliver of fear, afraid of what dreams she would have.

Sammy was oblivious to Julie’s thoughts and she said, “You know, at the end of such an eventful day, I wouldn’t mind a kiss goodnight.” To make sure Julie didn’t get the wrong idea, she turned her cheek Julie’s way and closed her eyes.

But when Julie turned around and saw that, for a frightful moment, it looked like Sammy had died. It was a passing shock, more to do with her own thoughts than anything Sammy had done, but it shocked her nonetheless, rocking Julie’s already shaken psyche.

What fell out of her rattled mind was a strange thought: “If Sammy had died, she would have died without having that first kiss she so desperately wanted.”

It was like a pot of ink spilled, colouring every corner of her mind.

Julie took a step so she was right in front of Sammy, then she brought up a hand to cup the cheek Sammy didn’t show her.

For Sammy’s part, she felt an electric thrill at the intimate touch, so gentle, affectionate. She wanted to lean into it, rub her cheek against those rough fingers; her own hands knew well that texture and she yearned for every other part of her body to know it just as well.

Lost in such descending thoughts, she offered no resistance when that gentle touch pushed against her, her head naturally turning.

And Julie kissed her.

Brief, childish in how Julie simply pressed their lips together, no different to how she would kiss Sammy’s cheek. But she kissed Sammy.

Pulling back, her heart raced, each beat pushing a heat through her body. When she opened her eyes a crack, she hoped to see that the warmth had spread to Sammy too.

Instead, she saw a smile that didn’t look entirely happy, dousing her budding desire.

“My precious jewel,” Sammy whispered as she reached up to cup Julie’s cheek.

“Was it no good?” Julie asked, unwilling to meet Sammy’s gaze.

Sammy caressed her cheek in long and gentle strokes. “No, it was lovely,” she said softly. “I just worry… that I may have forced you.”

“You didn’t,” Julie said, the words quiet-yet-firm. “I, when I… thought you could’ve died… I don’t want you to… not kiss.” She paused there, her face scrunching up. “I’m not making any sense.”

To Sammy, that had made perfect sense, further chilling her mood. “That is what I mean. I hoped you would kiss me because you wanted to, not because you felt like you had to.”

Julie felt a spike of frustration; she thought Sammy would understand. However, it only took a second for her to come back to blaming herself for being unclear. It was hard, but she gathered her thoughts, sorted them.

“I do want to kiss you, but, if I think about it, it’s like… it tickles. Or, like, too sweet.”

She met Sammy’s gaze, but saw there was still some doubt.

Feeling desperate, she tried to think of something more to say, only to be bitten by her request, recalling an embarrassing thought she’d had. Before even opening her mouth, a hot blush prickled on her cheeks.

“When you told me you’d treasure my first kiss… I thought how nice it would be to treasure your first kiss too,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Those words hung in the air for a long second. But, despite how embarrassed Julie felt, she wouldn’t let herself look away. She wanted—needed—to convey this to Sammy. For this moment, she couldn’t have any doubts.

“I… want to be your lover,” she said, her voice clear.

And Sammy heard her. “You truly mean that?” she whispered.

Julie nodded.

They gazed into each other’s eyes, then Julie felt a tug, an instinct; she closed her eyes, pursed her lips ever so slightly.

Sammy watched closely. A million thoughts vied for her attention, only to fall silent, swept away by an unconscious realisation: for this moment, she could have no doubts.

In a single, smooth movement, Sammy rose to her feet and slid her hand from Julie’s cheek to the back of her head, then Sammy took a half-step forward, bringing the distance between them to nothing. At no point had Julie so much as flinched or trembled.

So Sammy kissed her.

It was, as far as kisses went, chaste. However, Julie felt the way their lips fitted together so perfectly, felt as if she could feel every bit of Sammy’s lips, and she felt the little movement Sammy did, as if Sammy was trying to pinch her top lip. And those sensations flooded her mind, overwhelmed anything else that might have been trying to get her attention.

In all the world, there was only her and Sammy, and this kiss.

A second, an eternity, then Sammy tried to pull away, but she only made it a finger’s width before Julie fell forwards. Although their lips didn’t once again meet, Julie’s cheek pressed against Sammy’s own. If Sammy had any further thoughts of escaping, Julie then put them to rest, looping her arms around.

Sammy felt like she could feel Julie’s heart thumping. She didn’t quite believe that, more sure that it was her own, but she wanted to believe it, so she did. With her arms wrapped around Julie as well, she quietly listened to every beat of her lover’s heart and tried to have her own beat the same rhythm.

“I, um, don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” Julie whispered, close to Sammy’s ear.

Gods, Sammy had had many daydreams of hearing such words, read similar words in so many of her favourite books, which made it all the more funny how innocent those words were now said, and how they sounded all the sweeter for it.

“Of course,” she murmured.

In her arms, she felt Julie relax—felt all the tension leave those strong muscles. And it felt like… such a privilege. Her thoughts poetic, it seemed to her that Julie had found a place to call home; with how softly her own heart did beat, that finding was mutual.

They slept well that night.

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