Celaena didn’t understand the whole of what Saphienne was doing, but she was intelligent enough to discern that she was being asked to pass on concerns to her father without revealing that she’d been prompted. She might have guessed that her friend wanted her father to ensure that the investigation wasn’t hostile, and that the stakes were significant enough to matter to the High Masters, but she lacked the intrigue to go any further.

  This suited Saphienne. Were Illimun or Lenitha to take umbrage, Celaena wouldn’t be perceived to have done wrong.

  However, she doubted either magician would be offended. By sending her message through the apprentice, Saphienne was establishing several different narratives, all of which were plausible yet unconfirmable.

  The first story was superficial. Saphienne – worried about being harshly interrogated, afraid she would disappoint the High Master who’d taken an interest in her – had shared her anxieties with a close friend, one who was passingly familiar with the Luminary Vale but didn’t participate in its politics. Celaena, well-intentioned, had broken their confidence to seek reassurance from her father that Saphienne needn’t fret.

  The second story was more involved, and built upon the first. Saphienne had acted deliberately when she confided in Celaena, intending that the apprentice reach out to her father to ensure the review wouldn’t be unfairly arduous, declining to approach him directly so as to avoid the appearance of impropriety.

  The third story went deeper still, and was for Illimun. Saphienne was warning him that High Master Lenitha had somehow been involved in the dragon coming to the Eastern Vale, and so the questioning needed to tread lightly to avoid causing embarrassment to the Luminary Vale. By extension, she was giving him the opportunity to gain favour with his superior by bringing Lenitha’s attention to an unforeseen problem.

  The fourth story was a threat, and was directed at the High Master. Saphienne knew that she could credibly blame Lenitha if she was found culpable of any wrongdoing, and she was making clear that she was willing to do so if pressed. Perhaps Illimun would identify this subtext, but if he did, his chance to improve his standing would only be increased by that comprehension.

  Crucially, the final story softened those that came before. Saphienne could plausibly deny anything after the first interpretation, and Illimun and Lenitha would know that. She was giving them pretext to pretend that she hadn’t threatened anyone with anything — and thereby signalling that she didn’t want to fight, but that she could defend herself. Moreover, implicit in the third story was an overture for peaceful collaboration, recognising that they were on the same side. Didn’t all elven magicians share in the reputation of the institution to which they ultimately belonged?

  Had Saphienne not been confident she was favoured by Illimun, held the trust of his daughter, and that his collaboration with the High Master went beyond what was strictly obliged by his role, she would have been taking a risk. Instead, she was satisfied with her gambit as she returned downstairs with Celaena.

  Yet she found herself unable to enjoy the remainder of her visit. Her mind was on the next step she was to take, and on determining when to move. The earlier she spoke to Vestaele, the better she could prepare herself for the interview… yet the more time her interviewers would have to consider whatever the sorcerer passed back to them.

  Timing was everything. She’d dissuaded Celaena from writing to her father early–

  “Saphienne? Are you with us?”

  Brought back to the sitting room by gentle laughter, she smiled at Laewyn. “Sorry; I’m easily distracted at the moment.”

  Perched atop the back of the couch behind Saphienne, Thessa patted her shoulder. “Don’t let her bother you — she simply doesn’t understand the thoughts that weigh heavy upon the heroic brow.”

  Athidyn, Mathileyn, Celaena, and especially Laewyn all groaned; Laelansa giggled where she sat on the other side of the apprentice tailor.

  Saphienne tilted her head back against the cushions, staring up at Thessa. She was torn between playing along and mischievously asking how the artist understood such thoughts…

  She settled on sincerity. “What’s been distracting you?”

  Thessa briefly hesitated, then doubled down. “Why, only the same contemplation of selfless duty that surely–”

  “Woe befall me!” Laewyn gave a dramatic moan, slumping against Saphienne. “‘Tis my hand that armed this vexsome foe.”

  “She’s right,” Celaena smirked from the floor in front them. “Laewyn spent a day quoting from plays to tease Thessa about being a hero, and now we’re being collectively punished.”

  Laelansa clasped her hands to her chest, gleeful as she joined in. “The gods Themselves surely will that you be punished, to have sent such a great hero to enact Their vengeance–”

  “Don’t give anyone any more ideas,” Saphienne muttered.

  Athidyn snorted into his teacup.

  This won a mock bow from Laelansa. “Alack, I have been chastised by Their anointed! Contrite, I confess my error–”

  “That does it.” Saphienne stood haughtily and extended her hand to Thessa. “Come, fellow champion of the elves! Let us quit the presence of these irreverent fools, and rove forth in search of company befitting our tremendous stature.”

  Laewyn had perked up. “Where are you going?”

  “To the garden?” she proposed.

  Thessa faltered – proving that Saphienne had judged her rightly – then slid off the couch and resolutely came around to take her hand. “Lead on.”

  They strode out to faux applause from Laelansa and Mathileyn.

  *   *   *

  “How are you, Thessa?”

  Peering down into the tranquil pond amid the secluded garden nook, Thessa didn’t immediately respond. Her gaze followed the carp that swam in expectant, demanding circles near the surface, her arms folding protectively around herself.

  “I feel like a fraud.”

  This was unsurprising to Saphienne, who made no comment as she stood beside Thessa to study the fish. Her silhouette was taller than her friend’s where they were both reflected in the pond.

  Thessa exhaled as she stepped back and paced on, head bowed. “I just happened to be there while you were being a hero, and now people are treating me like I’m special.”

  Frowning, Saphienne followed. “What you did was–”

  “When I was little,” Thessa interrupted, “before I learned to draw, I traced an illustration and showed it to my mother as though it was my own work…” Her laugh at herself was unkind. “…And she believed me! She made such a fuss; and the longer it went on, the more awful I felt for having lied. All I’d done was shown her a poor copy of artwork by someone more talented than me.”

  Letting her talk, Saphienne moved ahead, sitting on the rickety bench Athidyn had built as she waited for his daughter to finish with her self-recriminations.

  Thessa wasn’t rushing. “I feel like an imitation. Everything I did at the lake… everything I’ve been feeling since then… it’s all just traced from you.”

  No resentment was in the statement, only dejection.

  Recognising the same hollowness as had – until recently – consumed her desires and stolen the colour from her life, Saphienne crossed her legs, supported her elbow with her knee, and propped her chin upon her hand. “You feel like everyone wants you to be someone other than yourself… did you become a painter to please your mother?”

  Her question perplexed Thessa. “Maybe… who can say? I never told her that I’d traced the picture.”

  “But you do love painting?”

  Downcast, Thessa nevertheless nodded.

  Mild sarcasm seeped into Saphienne’s voice. “I feel similarly about magic… so I suppose that’s another way you’re copying me…”

  “You can’t cheat at casting spells.”

  “You weren’t cheating with your tracing.” Her smile broadened. “How old were you? I’d wager you were far too young to have managed whatever you’d traced, and that Mathileyn knew what you’d done.”

  Thessa looked up. “…You think she was encouraging me?”

  “Possibly; I can’t say for sure. Depending on your age at the time, I’m unconvinced you knew you were cheating when you traced the picture. Perhaps you only felt bad afterward, when you understood it wasn’t the same as drawing your own, then persuaded yourself that you’d intended to deceive. Filaurel once told me that we convince ourselves we’re more deliberate than we really are, and it seems to me that memory is a story we tell to ourselves to convince ourselves about who we are.”

  Absorbing this, Thessa could only shrug.

  Saphienne patted the space next to herself as she leant back. “I want to ask you another question, but I’m worried you’ll think I’m terribly conceited…”

  Her friend drew closer, but remained standing. “Gaeleath says all successful artists are conceited.”

  She grinned. “So we are; then I hope I’m not too self-absorbed.” Her grin nervously faded into a plea for honest rapport. “Thessa… did you save the children for my sake?”

  Dumbfounded, the painter stared at the sculptor.

  Saphienne was patient.

  “…How did you know?”

  “I didn’t consider it at the time,” she admitted. “I saw you crawl away from the tree… but you went back for them. I never stopped to wonder what prompted that — not until you called yourself an imitation of me.”

  Thessa was thoroughly unnerved. “…You’re reading my mind…”

  The suggestion made Saphienne hiss in amusement. “So I was right! You are intimidated by my magic.” She crossed her arms in mock confrontation. “Do you really think I’d dare divine your thoughts, Thessa? Gods alone know the trauma I’d be risking — you’ve slept with Taerelle.”

  At last, Thessa chuckled. “You don’t seem upset about that anymore.”

  “I’m not.” Saphienne blushed as self-awareness caught up with her. “My problem was never really about the two of you; I was just struggling with my anxieties.”

  “Anxieties?” The painter raised an eyebrow. “Not the crush you had on Taerelle?”

  Blazing scarlet, the bench beneath her creaking as she turned away, Saphienne buried her face in the crook of her arm. “…I was fourteen…”

  Thessa laughed and crouched down at her feet. “Taerelle found it hilarious.”

  “I don’t–” Saphienne took a breath, fanning herself as she sought serenity in the clouds gliding across the sky. “I don’t feel that way about her anymore. I was impressionable: she accidentally made an impression. She’d been working at the forge with her robes down, and I’d never seen anyone who looked that way before.”

  The dreamy longing in Thessa’s gaze was nostalgic. “Swinging her hammer with those strong arms of hers, hot and sweaty–”

  “Thessa!”

  “You’re right…” She ascended to sit with Saphienne. “…I am frightened by magic. I was scared of Taerelle when we started talking; I’m a little scared of her even now, but in a fun way.”

  Saphienne’s ears were still burning years later. “I’m well aware.”

  They lapsed into amicable silence amid the balmy afternoon.

  Thessa broke the peaceful pause as she reached for Saphienne’s hand. “…I thought you were going to die.”

  Endeared, Saphienne enjoyed the irony as she squeezed back. “Me too.”

  “I didn’t want your death to– to be–”

  Saphienne shifted her hold to the back of Thessa’s neck, massaging there to soothe the artist as she fought for composure.

  Which was too effective — Thessa went rigid, then caught her wrist and lifted her hand away. “Thank you, Saphienne, but you don’t want to do that.”

  Saphienne blinked. “…I learned it from Taerelle…”

  “Different associations.” Thessa failed to smother a nervous giggle. “She used to do that when we were lying in bed; and it doesn’t help that you look a little like her when you wear your hair in a long braid, or that you copy her mannerisms when you’re being imposing.”

  Resigned to embarrassment, Saphienne managed a weak laugh. “See? We’re all just copies of each other, all the way down.”

  “I’m still not a hero.”

  “How appropriate: neither am I.”

  Thessa squinted at her. “You’re the only one who thinks that — and don’t you tell me it’s the same way for me.”

  Saphienne shook her head. “You were at the meeting: I tried to tell the consensus that the dragon didn’t come here to kill anyone. I don’t think she would have killed someone, not unless she’d been forced to.”

  “Did you know that when you challenged– um, her?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Laelansa asked the same thing. But that isn’t the point…”

  Sceptical, Thessa puzzled over Saphienne. “Then, what is?”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  She could no more admit she’d been suicidal to Thessa than to Laelansa, and so betrayed nothing else.

  Eventually, the painter relented. “…You just don’t want to be a hero. You’re uncomfortable with being treated like everyone is treating you.”

  “Said one branch of the tree to another.”

  “I just want to paint!” Thessa cried out, pleading. “I just want to paint, and drink wine, and sleep with people I shouldn’t, and annoy Iolas and Celaena in the way a big sister should. I don’t want people looking at me like I’m–”

  “Holy?”

  Thessa heard the derision. “Are you sure you aren’t? Not even a little?”

  Saphienne’s sigh was long and low. “What I am is a mess. I feel like I’m running across thin ice in spring — like if I stop to catch my bearings I’ll fall into the river and drown. I’m scared for the people I love, that I can’t save them, that I’ll fail them like–”

  She shut her eyes.

  Thessa gripped her arm. “Saphienne?”

  Gritting her teeth, she willed her tears not to spill out.

  “You don’t need to save anyone.”

  Didn’t she? Deep down, hadn’t that been what she’d really wanted to do?

  Hadn’t she been too cowardly to scry, let alone try?

  Hadn’t Kylantha always been screaming for her help?

  “The dragon’s gone,” Thessa promised. “You said she’s not coming back.”

  Saphienne whispered without opening her eyes. “I wish she’d come sooner… I wish I’d known before…”

  “Known what?”

  And calm streamed over her like falling rain.

  “…I’m not sure.” Saphienne was lying to herself; she ignored that she lied, her gaze steadying where she faced Thessa. “But whatever it is, I’m certain the gods have nothing to do with it. They had nothing to do with what I did, either — I had my own reasons, and what drove me wasn’t heroic.”

  Indulging her, Thessa shifted closer. “Then what are we supposed to do? I’m no hero, yet everyone sees me that way. I can’t be myself. You have it worse, and you’re smarter than me, so tell me: what should we do?”

  Therein lay a question Saphienne couldn’t answer, not for the pair of them.

  But she could see a way out for Thessa, and she absently folded her legs beside herself and leant on her arm as she began outlining the path forward. “Well, if one of us has to be–”

  With an abrupt crack – and their shared cry of alarm – the worn bench Saphienne and Thessa sat on finally gave way, snapped in half under too much weight, sent them sprawling to the ground together.

  Dazed from their collision, Saphienne and Thessa were slow to assess the aftermath… yet they both reacted in the same way.

  “Fuck.”

  Then they laughed until they were breathless, and helped each other up.

  *   *   *

  Athidyn was dismayed that he hadn’t been present to see his woodwork fail — and Mathileyn scolded him for allowing its disrepair to harm his daughter, Thessa sporting a bruise upon her forehead. Fortunately, Laelansa invoked Ruddles, who was entertained by the story as she healed the injury.

  After, Saphienne quietly offered to mend the bench with magic.

  Athidyn was aghast. “Surely you jest? I’ve been waiting centuries! Now the day’s here at last, and you’d deny me the chance to make another one? How cruel of you! Surely the gods do not will–”

  That was when Saphienne loudly announced she and her girlfriend had overstayed, thanked Mathileyn and Celaena and Thessa – but not Athidyn – for their hospitality, and insisted that she and Laelansa really ought to be on their way.

  On cue, as she stalked for the exit, Iolas promptly returned home with provisions, delighted to be greeted at the door by Saphienne.

  Once the laughter had faded, and he was no longer bemused as to why his arrival was so hilarious, Saphienne and Laelansa agreed to stay for another hour. As they later departed, they were urged to call by again soon.

  *   *   *

  “I might have revealed something to Laewyn and Celaena that I didn’t mean to…”

  Lounging beside Laelansa while they read together in her mother’s sitting room, Saphienne noted her page number then closed her book. She scrutinised her girlfriend with foreboding, her intuition confirmed when the woman she loved duly flushed. “…You told them we’re having sex?”

  Laelansa started to speak, then reconsidered.

  “…You thought they already knew?”

  “Well, when I met him on the beach before the dragon–”

  “You told Faylar?”

  Laelansa shook her head. “He already knew! He asked how I was, and if our night together had been memorable. He said you told him we were going to be–”

  Saphienne had deflated as she listened. “I didn’t. Not directly.”

  “I thought if he knew then so did Laewyn, and if she knew then–”

  “Laelansa,” Saphienne inquired, weary as she stared over at her lover, “if you thought they already knew about our intimacy, then what else did you let slip to them? What could you have shared, that you’re worried I’ll be upset about?”

  The novice drew her legs up to her chest and covered her face. “…Promise me that you won’t be?”

  Rousing herself, Saphienne warily checked her mother wasn’t watching from overhead, then pushed down Laelansa’s knees and climbed sideways onto her lap. “I can’t promise that I won’t be upset – not when I don’t know what you said to them – but I’ll forgive you in advance if you’ll kiss me.”

  Reassured, Laelansa slid her arms around Saphienne; their embrace was less heated than its duration might have implied, yet the affection that shone between them was constant and deepening.

  “…Better.” Saphienne smiled. “Go on, then.”

  “While you and Thessa were in the garden, Athidyn went back through to his desk,” Laelansa recounted, “and Mathileyn went up to their room to find some embroidery she wanted to show Laewyn. She was gone for a while.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “I’m setting the scene!” Laelansa stuck her tongue out. “Celaena said you seemed much more at ease with yourself, and Laewyn said we were closer than we used to be, and I agreed…” She blushed. “…I said that I felt closer to you than I’d ever imagined, and I was grateful to Hyacinth for helping you.”

  Saphienne canted her head. “Celaena asked what you meant.”

  “I tried to be tactful! I said that Hyacinth had joined us on the night of the solstice.”

  Wincing, she pictured the glance of confusion between Celaena and Laewyn. “…Celaena noted that we didn’t walk with spirits alongside everyone else, and then Laewyn asked what Hyacinth joined us for?”

  Laelansa was mortified by the memory. “I didn’t answer.”

  Saphienne grinned in affectionate exasperation. “That’s the most obvious answer you could have given them… I suppose Laewyn was very excited, and then asked you questions?”

  “They both were.” She buried her face in Saphienne’s shoulder. “They hadn’t done anything like that during the solstice.”

  Surprised, Saphienne hummed. “…I thought they would have. Or at least, Laewyn and Faylar would have. I saw him taking off his shirt…”

  Laelansa didn’t need to preserve their privacy from Saphienne. “They went swimming, then ran off into the woods and sang and danced, then they ended up talking all night. Laewyn said she felt so loved by the end.”

  Squeezing the novice, Saphienne kissed her brow. “That’s sweet; I’m glad for them.”

  “…Telling them what we did with Hyacinth isn’t what I’m confessing.”

  Saphienne was wry as she rubbed the back of her neck. “Let’s see… Laewyn wanted to know how it feels to have sex while walking with a spirit, and you said you didn’t know, which is probably when Celaena gasped–”

  “She laughed.” Her voice was became muffled as she pressed in more firmly. “Then she asked me if Hyacinth was good in bed — and I didn’t realise she was joking.”

  Wilting, Saphienne clung to her as well. “…You took her literally, didn’t you? You explained that it wasn’t just Hyacinth, and knowing you, I suppose you were defensive about my prowess.”

  Laelansa managed to pry herself up. “Laewyn asked if you were both good.”

  There was no need to question how the novice had replied–

  No, actually, there was. “…Laelansa, how much detail did you end up–”

  “Not too much!” She’d shared almost everything. “But Laewyn started laughing, and said she thought wizards always wanted to be on top, and then Celaena said Laewyn was just lazy, and I thought she was implying you were …”

  As Laelansa plunged on through a fuller account than Saphienne desired, horror unfolded behind the magician’s widening eyes.

  “… So they know what we’re like together in the bedroom.” Laelansa forced an unconvincing grin. “Sorry.”

  “I’m not sure what’s more disturbing,” Saphienne murmured. “Laewyn having enough arrows to skewer me for the next thousand years? Or finding out that she and Celaena are just like Thessa and Taerelle?”

  Laelansa was puzzled. “But, they aren’t.”

  “I’m talking about in–”

  “I know, but Laewyn didn’t say anything about being tied up.”

  Saphienne blinked. “…You’ve talked with Thessa about sex.”

  “Taerelle.” Laelansa bit her lip. “Years ago. She explained all the things that Ruddles glossed over. I mostly wanted advice on how to make you feel comfortable with trying, and she’s experienced and knows you well, so I thought–”

  “Why,” Saphienne wondered aloud, “are so many of my friends like this?”

  “Interested in girls? Ruddles told me that birds of a feather–”

  “–Flock together, I know: that wasn’t what I meant.”

  Yet it did partially explain why she’d ultimately found companionship with Celaena and Taerelle, despite fraught first meetings with both. And might that not also be the case for the rest of her friendships? Even Iolas – whom she was increasingly sure was only interested in women – had grown up with an older sister who was an artist, and who…

  Saphienne’s lips twitched; mirth stirred as she sat with the unfolding insight.

  “My darling Laelansa,” she inquired as she draped her arms around her shoulders, “you remember when you joked that my mother was responsible for my interest in you? You have me wondering whether there might not be some truth behind that.”

  Laelansa pondered. “…I’ve read about this — inclination by nature, versus cultivation by nurture. What gives a person their preferences in life? I don’t just mean romantically.”

  “Do you have an opinion?”

  She smiled. “We are as the gods will us to be… but I don’t know how They shape us, and I don’t know if we can ever understand.”

  “‘To cease understanding at what should be understood is a high attainment,’” Saphienne quoted. “‘Those who cannot accomplish it will be broken upon the lathe of heaven.’ Nelathiel shared that with me. I’ve never agreed.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Laelansa giggled. “So what’s your view, Saphienne? What makes us who we are? Does my sculptor think it’s the wood we’re grown from, or the tools we’re shaped by?”

  Saphienne’s levity diminished. “…I don’t know. I’ve wanted to know that for years, but I never did wholly settle it. For a while I thought it was about how we perform ourselves, and the acknowledgement we receive for that performance, but there are truths in the world that demand to be recognised no matter what we wish them to be. And I wrestle with that,” she said, feeling unexpected passion, “because it’s not as simple as the factual versus constructed meaning. We can’t be sure about anything…” She thought then of Almon’s illusory familiar, Peacock. “…I don’t know whether we can even trust we exist, since we might just be what someone else dreams us to be.”

  “The gods?”

  “They might well be our dream.” Mindful of the faith of her girlfriend, Saphienne was privately more convinced than she expressed. “But even if they are… isn’t there a meaning behind dreams? What the gods represent might be truer than them, or us.”

  Mystified, in the religious sense, Laelansa hung on her words. “Love? Devotion?”

  “And justice, and perpetual freedom to choose, and all the rest.” Her fire was within her chest, ablaze in her veins. “Nowhere can you prove these things exist, or force them to emerge from the– to simply appear… but to say they’re merely fantasies isn’t true at all. No,” she asserted, “justice exists in the world because we exist in the world. However misguided our understanding, almost all of us are born with faculties that yearn to be nurtured, and when allowed to grow unimpeded they become the basis of justice. Yet justice isn’t found inside…”

  “…Inside us?”

  “Justice is within no single one of us, but shared between all of us. We are born with the potential to be just, and that potential must be nourished, but justice does not dwell in the heart of the just. Those who would be just must make justice together.” Her stare shone with conviction. “To deny that truths like justice are real because they can only arise from everyone together – or because they fail to arise in certain times and places – is an error. Nor is it correct to say that shared belief is what conveys reality on them.”

  “Then what does?”

  Saphienne wavered. “…I…”

  Laelansa gazed up into her face as though she were a flower being fed by the sun.

  “…I don’t know.” Saphienne beheld the falsehood in what she’d said. “Or, I feel like I do know, but I can’t quite say it to myself. It’s bound up within my magical praxis…”

  “I’ve never quite understood what that means.”

  “A magical praxis is the summation of the magician.” She smiled, awry. “…That isn’t much of an explanation. A magical praxis distils the relationship of the magician to magic, the artist to art, and the individual to the world. Everyone has one. Wizards and sorcerers have to uncover and embrace theirs in order to cast spells.”

  The novice tried to follow. “And yours explains what makes things real?”

  “Somehow.” She let her eyes drift closed. “I am what I make of the world; the world is what it makes of me.”

  “…That reminds me of faith. ‘We uphold that which upholds us.’ Is it meant to be cyclical?”

  Saphienne grinned at the metaphor which came to mind. “Two halves of the same coin… but there are no halves in nature…”

  Laelansa huffed. “So your answer is both? That it’s neither nature nor nurture, fact nor faith, but both? That’s the explanation?”

  Meeting Laelansa’s gaze, Saphienne struggled to articulate why what she proposed was insufficient. “Yes, but no. No, but yes. They aren’t separate things; they’re reflections of each other; they’re interdependent with each other. Yet they’re also in contention with each other, and the tension between the two halves of the same indivisible thing is what causes everything to unfold.”

  This mollified the initiate, who grew thoughtful. “…The gods are immanent, yet they’re distinct from the world… it’s hard to make sense of what you’re saying, but I don’t think you’re wrong.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  They laughed together, and Laelansa leaned up to kiss her.

  Saphienne needed a moment to collect her wits when they were done. “…What were we talking about?”

  “Celaena and Laewyn, and sex, and why your friends are all alike, and whether your mother made you the way you are, and what makes a person who they are, and–”

  “So nothing much at all.”

  Laelansa gave a contented sigh as she pulled her beloved against herself. “Whatever you like. I’d listen to you talk about anything and everything, Saphienne.”

  *   *   *

  Lynnariel had been passing the afternoon with her fascinator. Saphienne wished she could take the enchantment away from her, and rid the house of wine, but Laelansa had argued that too much change at once would be detrimental, especially since normality being upended lay at the heart of her illness.

  Encouragingly to Saphienne, her mother was appropriately dressed for venturing into the village when she came down to meet them, and didn’t reach for a bottle from under the stairs despite clear fright. “…Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  Projecting absolute certainty and relaxation she didn’t possess, Saphienne hugged Lynnariel before she replied. “You’ll be fine. We’re both going to be with you, and I’ll cast a spell to conceal us before we go out. No one will be able to see us, and if it’s too much, we can come right back.”

  She wished her touch was enough to stop her mother’s trembling.

  Laelansa held Lynnariel’s right hand as Saphienne wielded her veiling sigil, and once the fascination was ready to be draped about them Saphienne took the left.

  Her mother was dubious as it settled in place. “I don’t notice any difference…”

  “You don’t need to trust me: you’ve experienced my being veiled from you.”

  Lynnariel blinked. “Have I? When?”

  “Earlier today, when Laelansa and I arrived back?” Saphienne thought carefully. “And the day everyone was here to clean, when I came up to your bedroom?”

  “I saw you.”

  She assessed her mother. “…You might have pierced my fascinations…”

  Laelansa chuckled as she adjusted a shawl she’d been gifted by Mathileyn. “I can’t! Saphienne was right in front of me, and I couldn’t see or feel her. The only way I can see through the spell is by holding hands before she casts it.”

  Saphienne wasn’t so quick to dismiss her conjecture. “I’m resistant to involuntary Fascination spells, and Tolduin said Lynnariel is resistant as well — which has to be true, or your fear could be easily suppressed.”

  Lynnariel stared at her shoes. “I tried the bracelets Tolduin gave me… but they never worked for long. He said anything more drastic would be too dangerous.”

  Observing her own impaired hand, Saphienne was grateful for that mercy. “He’s not wrong — changing the physical structure of the brain isn’t safe. What I’ve read about advanced Transmutation makes clear that fine alterations risk causing lasting–”

  “Saphienne?” Laelansa held the handle to the front door as she smiled. “How about you tell us on the way to your house?”

  Shivering, Lynnariel braced herself with a mantra. “I used to go out; nothing went wrong; nothing went wrong when I used to go out…”

  Both women clasped her hands tight as they eased her onto the doorstep.

  Saphienne spoke quietly. “I’m here with you, mother. You’re safe.”

  Lynnariel needed to be held upright as she ventured into the grove.

  Until her nerve failed, and she pulled away, wild with terror as she scrambled back into the house, only stopping to breathe when she collapsed clutching the doorway from the sitting room to the kitchen.

  Unruffled, Laelansa slipped off the shawl as she came back inside. “That’s enough for today! Five paces is our starting point. Well done, Lynnariel.”

  Where she lingered a little way outside, fighting down her disappointment, Saphienne admired the sunny disposition that came so effortlessly to her girlfriend.

  And yet…

  Lynnariel was better than she had been. For the first time in as long as her daughter could remember, she was drinking less, and spending less time with the fascinator. If Saphienne could have steadfast patience in pursuit of the Great Art – no matter how bleak her prospects had once seemed – then she could find the same in herself for the minor victories of recovery.

  Five steps. Tomorrow, six.

  Whether slow or rapid, she would that there be progress in all things.

  End of Chapter 118

  Can't wait to see where this goes?

  Chapter 119 releases Wednesday the 4th of March 2026.

  Thanks for reading!