Chapter 39: Ch. 38 What a Nice Word is Wife

The day still early after visiting Dremma Cathedral, Sammy had another place to take Julie before seeing her old friend. In fact, there were two places.

Far from the city centre and all the noise that went with it, out where the houses weren’t so tall, some even derelict, there was another church. At least, it had the shape of a church: a hall and a steeple.

However, a church it was not.

A tall fence ran around the property with a gate along the road they followed. Manning the gate were two guards, not dressed up and brandishing swords, but burly men, more like who the boisterous pubs employed to keep some semblance of order.

Some similarity between Sonlettian and Formadgian, Julie picked up that Sammy was asking them to enter. That was as far as she got, though, no clue what the reply was, what the terms Sammy negotiated were—until some money was exchanged, a bit of a giveaway.

So they walked through the gate.

The “church” sat in the middle of a fairly large plot considering they were still inside the city, a good ten strides of trimmed grass around it. Along with how well-maintained the building was, Julie thought this a well-to-do place, probably where rich people came to pray or attend mass or for whatever religious ceremonies people in Formadgo did.

“Are you ready?” Sammy asked.

The tone, that smile—Julie suddenly found herself alert, feeling like she was about to be the butt of some joke. “Yes?” she hesitantly said.

Her instincts were soon proven correct.

They entered the hall to near darkness, another set of doors a step ahead of them through which was a gloom. Julie quickly understood it wasn’t a church, no pews or anywhere to sit, no place for a holy person to stand and preach, no windows to let the light in.

But there was light, a light that shone through a tiny hole in the roof, so bright, spreading out across the floor. A few other people were in the room, certainly well-to-do. Julie spared them a brief look, saw they were staring at the ground, and then lost her breath.

Across the floor was a piece of artwork. Except, it wasn’t. Where a person stood on the edge, the art covered their foot. It then came to Julie that the light itself carried the art in an impossible way.

Before that thought went too far, she realised what the artwork she was staring at showed.

Sammy squeezed Julie’s hand and leaned in, softly whispering, “This is what the man who designed Dremma Cathedral made afterwards. Using stained glass, he created a picture that only shows when lit. It is so beautifully and precisely made that, as the seconds go by and the sun moves, the picture subtly changes, creating an illusion of motion, of life, the depicted figures breathing, blinking, sweating.”

What Sammy didn’t comment on was the content of the “picture”: a dozen figures in various states of ecstasy. To be precise, thirteen.

Now, it wasn’t that Julie hadn’t seen nude art before. The Royal Palace had some in places that were more for adults than children—the library, study, and parlour room to name a few. But those images were rather tame, showing no more than a bare breast at most—nothing so vulgar.

“Loosely translating his commentary, he said that, if we are made in the image of the gods, then our behaviours and desires are a reflection of them—a dull reflection. He was also influenced by some of the more… illicit texts from the time before the Catastrophe. There is no official title for this piece, but a translation of what he called it is: The Peephole to the Gods’ Chamber.”

Julie couldn’t help but stare. Not just because it was a truly breathtaking piece of art, as full of colour as the day it was made, not faded nor tarnished with age. Everyone else present was looking at it too, so it would have been stranger for her to not look.

Still, her gaze wandered, noticed the others present. For such a sight, she could have imagined it would all be old men with gross smirks, maybe a group of young men elbowing each other and joking.

Reality surprised her. The man who seemed to be in charge was a middle-aged priest, a pleasant smile on his face, bible in hand. Currently, he was speaking in animated whispers with a group of priestesses or apprentices. There was an older married couple too, the woman just as invested as her husband, both apparently admiring the sight as they would any other artwork. A lone woman stood at the edge, sketching, another few aspiring artists scattered nearby.

“Despite how vulgar it is, many see immense religious significance in it. After all, he received visions from the gods, so did he not see the gods themselves? Well, he never claimed he had. That hasn’t stopped our current imagery of them from being rooted in this very artwork. And that means that artists who want to portray the gods will try to come here to see what it is they should be copying.”

That all made sense to Julie, the figures shown ones she had seen many times before. But also, looking at it more, her first impression softened.

What made it so vulgar wasn’t what was shown. After all, they were all clothed. No, it was their expressions and positions, overflowing with emotion. Vivid. It didn’t feel like looking at a painting, but at a moment captured. Except even that wasn’t enough. The sunlight subtly waxed and waned, giving the image a heartbeat, and maybe it was all in her head, but, like Sammy had said, she felt like the figures were ever so slowly breathing, sweat crawling down, eyes blinking.

As if she truly was looking through a peephole into the gods’ chamber.

Sammy gave her a while to experience the art before next speaking, and it was a sobering question. “Would you count how many gods and goddesses there are?”

Pulled out of her thoughts, Julie complied without asking why. So she counted six gods and seven goddesses and went to say that, only to stop herself, frowning. She counted again and got the same result.

Expecting this confusion, Sammy squeezed Julie’s hand and asked, “What is it?”

“There’s… seven goddesses,” Julie whispered.

“Lilith,” Sammy replied.

That once-unfamiliar name shocked Julie. Knowing the others, her gaze was drawn to the goddess she didn’t know. Lilith was beside Liliana. That was what Julie noticed first. Not just that, they were holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes, legs entwined.

“What kind of relationship do you think they have?” Sammy asked, a gentle whisper.

“Lovers,” Julie replied.

Sammy smiled. “Congratulations, you can see a truth countless others have averted their eyes from.”

Confused by that, Julie asked, “What?”

After a titter, Sammy said, “Any book you read, any knowledgeable person you ask will say that the seventh woman represents us as Liliana’s children. However, especially now that I have seen it in person, I have no doubt this is Lilith and that he saw her bound to Liliana too.”

Julie had no answer to that. At least, not one she wanted to share. Now that her attention was drawn to those two, to their intimacy, she felt her heart pound. A month or two ago, what would she have seen? People struggled to imagine what they didn’t know, but she had learned that two women could be intimate, could see those two so entwined as nothing else.

Not only that, but people could imagine what they knew and Julie could imagine herself and Sammy in such an embrace. Heart still pounding, she began to feel uncomfortably hot, a growing urge to fidget, breaths erratic.

That scared her. She tried to ignore it, hoping it would pass, but eventually had to tug on Sammy’s hand. “I think I’m ill,” she mumbled.

Sammy looked at Julie, full of concern, yet what she saw paused her concern for the time being. “Let us see if some fresh air helps,” she whispered, squeezing Julie’s hand.

Julie squeezed back.

So they went outside, a touch of a chill to the wind blowing from the north. With them facing it, the distant clouds were hard to miss, indeed a heavy rain would be coming to the city today. And Julie calmed down, her symptoms subsiding.

“I feel better now—we can go back in,” Julie said.

Sammy didn’t look pleased by those words and she shook her head. “We should make time before the downpour,” she said.

Julie thought that meant going to visit Sammy’s friend. However, Sammy instead led them out of the city; Julie couldn’t see any important families taking such a shabby road. As much as she’d come to trust Sammy, she eventually asked, “Where are we going?”

“There is a chapel upon a crest with a spectacular view,” Sammy said.

Julie accepted that answer without any suspicions.

Although far and up a gentle slope, they were both in good shape, making good time. Some half an hour later, the rolling hills ahead were finally split apart by a spire. Sammy didn’t quite bring them up to the chapel, though, stopping in the shade of some trees by the fence surrounding it.

The incline had left Julie a little breathless. If it hadn’t, the sight certainly would have.

Looking back, the city was so small, a patchwork of roofs, half-hidden by the rise and fall of the slope, sea glittering just beyond it. There was something incredible about knowing how bustling those streets she couldn’t see were.

Sammy gave Julie a while to admire the view before she spoke. “Julie?”

“Yeah?” Julie said.

Sammy squeezed Julie’s hand, then entwined their fingers. “I apologise for being too forward in recent days,” she said, her voice gentle, so very gentle.

At first surprised, then confused, Julie pouted to herself, mind coming up blank. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, now that I think back on it, I feel like I didn’t give you the chance with the reading of the book. And today, I showed you such a sight. Regardless of what I think, you should decide which things are suitable for you and which are not,” Sammy said.

Julie thought over that. But, in the end, she still didn’t understand. “If I asked you to stop, would you?”

“Of course, right away,” Sammy said.

Julie leaned over, resting her head on Sammy’s shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re worried about, but I didn’t ask you to stop, did I?”

“It is just that—”

Before Sammy got any further, she was suddenly toppled over, Julie pushing. They both fell into a very uncomfortable position, Sammy on the hard ground, Julie on Sammy’s hip, the bone digging into her side. For a moment, they just lay there like that, then the giggling started. It carried on for nearly a minute, the odd jolt of pain Julie felt setting her off again whenever she’d nearly settled.

Once they did stop, Julie said, “Don’t treat me like I’m some princess that has to be coddled.”

Sammy certainly appreciated the irony of that statement. However, that humour didn’t last, drowned in the darkness of her guilt. “I do not mean for it to come off like that,” she said.

“You told me to tell you if I ever want you to stop. So please, listen to me when I don’t,” Julie said, a pleading whisper.

It was quite possibly the most seductive line Sammy had ever heard, setting her passionate imagination alight. However, she reigned it in for the moment, adjusted her position so that Julie was lying across her stomach instead, her back on the floor. Like this, they were almost hugging. It also let Sammy rather easily run her hand through Julie’s hair.

“I love you, Sammy. I don’t really know if I’m queer or what, but I want to be more intimate with you, just, just a little more every time. I really do,” Julie said.

Sammy smiled. “What are you saying beneath the gods’ house?” she asked.

Julie’s face scrunched up and she flicked Sammy’s leg, not that much of it got through the thick skirt.

“I love you too,” Sammy said and, with that, they fell into silence.

Their expressions faded, minds emptied, for a good while simply lost in the moment, Sammy idly combing through Julie’s hair, at times massaging the scalp. But such times were always fleeting, minds the sort of things that never stayed empty for long.

“You know, back in Hopschtat, I told Mary a lie,” Sammy said.

“About us heading north?” Julie asked.

In a soft voice, Sammy said, “The chapel that bears witness to all vows isn’t in northern Formadgo.”

Having spent a lot of time with Sammy, Julie quickly understood. And Sammy knew that, only pausing for a moment before she continued.

“Do you want to be my wife?”

A heartbeat, two—

“I do.”

So many doubts, big and small, were washed away by that answer, Sammy’s smile blooming. Euphoric. Her heart pumped the joy to every extremity, her entire body tingling with joy. Drawn to Julie’s lips, she sat up, bent over, and Julie turned to meet her, their kiss surely quite the sight if anyone was watching.

When their chaste-but-far-from-short kiss ended, Julie spoke. “Do we, um, have to bring a witness and rings and… what flower was it….”

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Sammy almost laughed, this side of Julie almost nostalgic from their days back at the Royal Palace. “No one will recognise our marriage just because we proclaim it in this chapel, and I have no respect for the gods to ask them to witness it,” Sammy said.

“Oh. Then…” Julie said, her confusion palpable.

“Do you want to wear your wedding dress and we can write vows and have a priest or priestess as witness?” Sammy asked.

Julie brought up her hands, rubbing her face, this entire thing much more complicated than she was expecting. “How else d’you get married?” she asked.

“Well, we both say we are, so we are,” Sammy said.

Silence….

Then Julie said, “What?”

Sammy giggled, twirling some of Julie’s hair around her finger. “We are lovers because we both agree we are lovers. If we want to be married, can it not be the same? Can we not make the same commitment to each other wherever we are? And why would we need witnesses when we are the only people who can truly witness our commitment?”

As always, Julie found herself thoroughly convinced by the outlandish things Sammy said. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” Sammy asked.

“Let’s be married,” Julie said.

“Right here?”

Julie frowned at that tone. “You’re the one who said it,” she said, grumbling.

Sammy laughed. “I did, I just wanted to make sure you won’t regret being married in such a place. That is, on the dirt in everyday clothes,” she said.

“As long as it’s you, I won’t ever regret it,” Julie said.

Sammy had to blink a few times, the tears she’d tried to keep back wetting her eyes. Really, for all her years of experience, she couldn’t compete with the natural charm Julie had.

“Then, with you as my witness, let my actions be my vows, that through them you shall feel loved and safe and respected, until our souls be cleansed,” Sammy said.

Julie smiled, her lips trembling and eyes wet. “I, um, I don’t know what to say,” she said.

“That is fine. I shall let your actions be your vows,” Sammy said.

So Julie let her actions speak and sat up to kiss Sammy again. A kiss, so sweet.

When their lips broke apart, Sammy whispered in a somewhat deep voice, “Wife.”

Julie giggled, that word sending a tingle through her body. “Wife,” she said back, a warm word, a soft word, a word that meant so many things to so many people, that now meant something special to her and Sammy.

Mind turning, Sammy said, “I am my wife’s wife.” After a pause, she came up with another one. “I shall have to speak with my wife first.” Then another. “My wife sends her regards.”

Julie giggled some more at each one. Not because it was funny, though. Well, it should have been strange listening to a woman talk about her wife, but it wasn’t, not from Sammy. Maybe that was because Julie had heard Sammy talk about such unusual things for so long, maybe because she herself was the wife in question. Whatever the reason, she didn’t laugh because it sounded silly, not at all.

The reason why Julie giggled was that she was happy. She liked hearing Sammy say those two words, liked being called Sammy’s wife. A simple joy.

Hoping that Sammy liked it too, Julie said, “I love my wife.”

Going by Sammy’s smile, Julie thought Sammy liked it too.

As much fun as they were having, the uncomfortable ground and growing chill soon saw them walking back down to the city, this time aided by the slope.

First of all, they had lunch, both rather hungry after the exercise, midday a bit behind them. Then they checked on their horses. Their last stop was the inn they were staying at—to collect their luggage.

From there, they wandered, Sammy asking for directions a few times. Even though she was still told where to go, she got some strange looks back; Julie understood why when they neared.

As busy and bustling as the city had been, they passed into a… well-to-do district. The houses here weren’t a mismatch of styles and sizes and materials, all neat, similar to the townhouses of Hopschtat, narrow and tall, no sign of peeling paint or faded colours—not that there was much colour, mostly mottled white walls and pitch black accents. Not just that, the people around were clearly servants, dressed in similar uniforms, walking with that bit of speed of someone who always had more work to do than hours in the day.

Oh the two of them must have looked so out of place, Julie thought. The servants certainly looked at them, lovers of gossip even when busy.

When they reached the place, nothing about it stood out, but the family name they were looking for was elegantly written above the house number. It still took a while to get inside, though. One couldn’t simply knock on a door unannounced.

No, they had to go downstairs to the entrance for servants, knock, wait, address the scullery maid, wait for the butler to come, wait for the butler to check with the mistress, then head back upstairs to enter through the main doorway.

“They like to complicate matters in the cities, otherwise they would be dreadfully bored all day,” Sammy said lightly. Julie offered a polite chuckle.

The entrance hall certainly had its mark of wealth, polished wood floor, intricate rug embroidered with vivid colours, fresh flowers on the table, electric chandelier casting a warm light, the artwork’s frame ornately engraved. That elegance carried on through to the sitting room where the butler led them, the sofas upholstered in a rich red velvet, detailed with golden patterns, tea set a translucent porcelain, gold bands around the cups’ rims and plates’ edges.

Which all couldn’t compare to the even more ornate and emphatic luxuries of the king’s palace in the premier industrialising nation—Julie wasn’t impressed.

Once the butler showed them in, he left, leaving them with two other people. One was a maid, standing to the side of the room. The other was no doubt Sammy’s friend. Julie wasn’t the best at guessing ages, but thought this friend was a few years older than them. She also thought this friend looked more like the noble ladies back in Schtat than a native of Formadgo.

Though Julie was content to idly stand around while Sammy spoke to her friend, there was just one problem, which was that Julie understood exactly what Sammy said.

“Allow me to first introduce my wife, Princess Julianne.”

The maid didn’t react since she didn’t speak Schtish. The friend didn’t react because she did she speak Schtish. Oh she heard every word, yet her mind couldn’t make sense of it, eventually giving up.

“Well, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma’am,” she said, smiling at Julie. “I am Lady Jeelyo. That is, Jee-lyo—I know it can be tricky for natives of Schtat to say.”

Wide-eyed, politely smiling, Julie weakly said, “And yours, My Lady.”

Sammy spoke with Lady Jeelyo for a bit longer, the latter curious what brought the Schtish Princess so far north, but Sammy and Julie were soon enough led to their room. A footman had brought their packs in, a maid now asking if they needed anything, then silence, silence atop the pitter-patter of a drizzle.

The room was rather similar to the hotel back in Hopschtat, fancy bed accompanied by a small table for dining and a sofa for relaxing and a filled bookcase. In unspoken agreement, they moved the chairs over to the window, sitting close together, hands joined.

However, silence could only last so long. “I’m a princess,” Julie said, not quite a question, tone not exactly confident either.

“Well, I should have introduced you as princess consort, but I dislike that phrasing. To me, we are now one and either both princesses or neither. I would have no privilege not also afforded to you.”

Julie lowered her head, a small smile on her lips. “I see.”

Falling in and out of little conversations, they passed the rainy afternoon in each other’s company. When it came to evening, Sammy entertained Lady Jeelyo after dinner, treating her and Julie to some piano pieces, reminiscent of their time in Dworfen.

Really, their morning had been so emotional that Julie found the calm comforting. It gave her room to think. Their busy days didn’t often leave her that room, so she made the most of it.

And Sammy left Julie to it, noticing the quiet, recognising it wasn’t a bad quiet. There certainly had been times Julie was quiet due to being overwhelmed or uncomfortable, but her wife—oh how she loved to think of Julie as that—lacked the tension of someone under duress.

It had been a busy day.

Their bedroom coming with a bathroom, Sammy excused herself to bathe before it grew too late. A rare chance to relax and indulge. In particular, the hot water helped soothe the tenderness she felt—no doubt her monthly would arrive on time the next day. When she thought about that, there was something else she needed to tend to, memories of Julie flickering across her mind, of that awfully flushed face, misty eyes, merging with the echoes of Julie saying, “I love my wife.”

Only for Sammy to be jerked out of her thoughts by a sharp knock on the door. “Yes?” she called out, voice a touch husky.

“Um, if you want… you don’t have to get dressed,” Julie said.

Despite being muffled by the door, Sammy heard every word perfectly, yet still she said, “Pardon?”

Ears so sharply tuned, Sammy heard Julie sigh. “Never mind.”

But Sammy did mind, her thoughts fixated on that while she finished her bath, dressing in just underwear and a towel afterwards. Coming to the door, she couldn’t help but smile a wry smile as she considered how Julie would react.

In the bedroom, Julie sat by the window, still buried deep in embarrassment, when the door clicked. On instinct, she looked over.

And she couldn’t look away.

Sammy revelled in that stare, her every long stride making the towel ride higher up her leg, giving Julie the briefest glimpses of her thighs.

“What did you say before?” Sammy asked.

It was not a voice Julie could resist, the tone so coy, lacking threat and yet demanding an answer. But to answer, Julie had to think, and to think, she had to look away. Gods, that was hard. Julie had seen Sammy’s bare back so many times, those beautiful shoulders, but she wasn’t used to seeing those legs.

As enthralling as the sight had been, Julie was quickly sobered by her stumbling thoughts that she tried to voice. “It’s… I thought how you, you liked the ro’can, and peeing outside, and maybe… you wanted to… not… wear clothes. When, um, when it’s just us.”

Although a thoroughly amusing answer, Sammy didn’t laugh. “Do you want to see?” she asked, a whisper mingling with the drum of the rain.

“If you want me to,” Julie whispered back.

“I am asking if you want to.”

That question was one Julie couldn’t bring herself to answer in words, but she eventually raised her head, meeting Sammy’s gaze.

An understanding between them, Sammy reached up and undid her towel. For a moment, Julie felt like her heart had stopped, painful when it had been pounding so hard the moment before. This was different to the ro’can, she knew. This wasn’t part of something normal. This was a moment of intimacy, intimacy between lovers, between wives.

So when Julie noticed Sammy still had underwear on, she almost broke into laughter. It felt unfair that she had again steeled herself for something big, only for Sammy to take a modest step with her, yet she wasn’t unhappy with Sammy about it.

This was the Sammy that Julie loved.

“How do I look?” Sammy asked, a hint of humour to her voice.

Julie loved that too, loved that Sammy was trying to make her laugh to sweep away any ill feelings. After being together for so long, Julie knew, knew most of Sammy’s little tricks. So she played along.

“Like my wife,” Julie said.

Wasn’t that just the right answer, Sammy breaking into a broad smile, eyes twinkling with mirth. A smile that asked to be kissed, Julie happy to oblige.

It was not exactly what people would call a wedding night, but, to Sammy and Julie, it was a night they would never forget. Their first night as wife and wife, their first night of many.

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