jayestory1N

ASHE

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Chapter Fourteen

Later, reflecting on the night of the celebrations, Betany admitted to herself that she hadn’t expected Calliope to present a real obstacle in her own intended seduction of Ashe. She had – she admitted to herself – foolishly assumed that the river spirit would be about the same age as Sam. But of course Calliope was not. She was of an age to fall in love and she gave every indication that she’d fallen as hard as could be. Betany was not herself cruel, but it was fun to watch how Calliope had bridled when Betany had joined them. After due consideration, Betany decided that it was for the best that Ashe was not to be easily won over: Betany didn’t like easy conquests, though she would have been prepared to make an exception in Ashe’s case, should Ashe have proved to need no winning over. It looked as if some more work was called for. Hard work and perhaps a little manipulation. Yes. Ashe would be a good ally, and might prove a good lover too, should that come about. Betany had not the slightest doubt. She had seen the dazed look that settled in Ashe’s eyes from time to time. Ashe was in the process of shaking off a spell of some sort. Calliope’s spell? Probably. Who else? Betany grinned: she knew a spell or two herself. And how to serve them up.

“Of course,” Arkana seemed to be merely thinking out loud. “if one had access to someone else’s thoughts, it could be very dangerous. But imagine how much you might be able to do if that person had already been badly hurt. It would be like binding up someone’s wounds, to ease the damage done by other people.” Calliope watched her, thinking. “Then no matter who else was involved, one would essentially be the only one they were thinking of. But it’s a dangerous thing to want to play with someone’s secret thoughts.”

Alexis felt within her the beginnings of anger. She had no idea where the anger came from, or what purpose it served, but the sensation was good. The sensation was a thousand miles from the ennui that had been threatening to overwhelm her. The anger made the blood flow more quickly, and the injury to her back was beginning to hurt again, but she needed that jab of a spur to wake her up. The dream about being under water was definitely the worst she’d ever had. She’d felt real fear, and she didn’t want to die scared. Indeed, she didn’t want to die at all. Well, not soon.

Ruth sat in the hospital ward, pretending to roll bandages while her real work was in watching Alexis from a distance. Since Calypso’s arrival and Ashe’s departure (lose one, win one on Ruth’s list of desirable actions), she had hardly seen Laure at all. She had heard about Alexis, of course, and if she hadn’t already believed that Calypso had had a sexual relationship with her captain, the constant visits – at all hours of day or night – would have convinced her. Calypso frightened Ruth. Calypso marched about the palace making new rules, placing new servants in all quarters as if dealing out playing cards. Ruth wondered if she and Laure would ever renew their friendship. She felt inside herself a real resentment of the two Mercians.

In theory, if not in practice, Ruth was assisting the Elders. In truth, given the option, even if they had wanted help, none of the Elders would have chosen Ruth’s insinuating brand of support. Ruth needed a reason to be in the hospital and she thought she looked sufficiently convincing, winding bandages or mixing herbs. However, on Calypso’s most recent visits to her captain, Ruth had felt herself to be under scrutiny. Ruth missed the attention Laure had once bestowed upon her. It hurt her feelings that she was not asked to help arrange the funeral rites. It irritated her that she had missed the chance of watching Ashe pack up her few belongings before being banished from Lascar for ever. There was some pleasure still to be extracted from the knowledge that she had been the one to summon Ashe to Laure’s room, on the day of Ashe’s dismissal. Lying in her bed at night, Ruth re-ran the modified memory so that she was present when Ashe was humiliated and banished. It was a nice memory. A satisfying memory.

At a time when rumours were flying about the palace and city like the swallows that were only just returning to their Lascan nests, Ruth was worried. She had heard – who hadn’t? – that in some regions the news of a pact between Mercia and Lammor had not gone down well. Mercia of course had a rather bloodstained history, and the last empress had been positively infamous, but Ruth resented the implied slur on Lammor, and its former princess, now its queen. She resented Calypso and she was wary of Alexis. To Ruth it seemed that Laure had gone three steps forward and half a dozen in the opposite direction. Ruth had a small following of her own within the palace, and it was not hard for her to gather information. With each day that passed, Ruth tested out the resolve and intention of another – Lammoran only - palace servant. Ruth wasn’t as sure as Calypso that Lammor would go willingly into a war.

Of course, there were huge risks: Ruth realised that. If Calypso noticed what Ruth was doing, she wouldn’t be best pleased. But Laure would speak up for her; Ruth was sure of that. After all, had she and Laure not grown up together? Just, Laure would have said. And had they not been close friends? Laure would definitely have denied that one. They had shared experiences, trips beyond the city walls and hidden dreams. Laure had found Ruth a useful confidante, and had shared with her some of her secrets. But not the important ones, not the I’ve-just-fucked-the-new-ruler-of-Mercia-and-fancy-replacing-Ashe-with-her variety. Perhaps Laure had thought that Ruth might have an aneurysm over that one… Perhaps she simply knew that Ruth, in common with most of the Lammorans, would have been a little taken aback by that news.

But what was she to do with her knowledge of how many Lammoran servants resented Calypso’s immediate occupation of the palace? And what was she to do about the fact that Mercians now shared – or some said, held – every palace post? Ruth had decided to extend her information-gathering exercise to include the city of Lascar. Ruth was well-born, and was not without influence, so obtaining the information was possible, if difficult. What Ruth did not know was that her own position too had been undermined by Calypso’s arrival. Ruth had found it easy enough to undermine Ashe: it would never have occurred to her to consider herself in an equally vulnerable situation.

Calypso regarded Ruth as if from a great distance away. It was an exercise similar to watching ants construct a vast city that one could annihilate with a single foot-fall. She thought about having Ruth murdered: one quick flick of the knife, a blossoming of red and then – thank the gods! – a blessed silence. Calypso would never again have anyone taken to the dungeons. After all, look what happened last time. It would have been nice to see Ruth languishing in chains, but she appreciated that Ruth was part of old Lammor. The woman might irritate Calypso, but she did have a small political sway, that must not be ignored.

With Alexis still out of the picture, Calypso felt oddly lonely. She was finding her visits to Alexis frustrating. Alexis was hanging on, if you really wanted an image to conjure with. Calypso needed Alexis to hang on. To hang on and perhaps one day claw her way back up. There were things she had planned that she needed Alexis for. That morning she marched into the hospital ward, strode past the ever-fucking-present Ruth, and headed straight for the Elders. Ruth watched her go, and wondered at the subject of discussion. One of the Elders was literally backing away from Calypso, and the others looked shocked and almost… frightened. Ruth’s ears were out on stalks but even so she missed the salient details.

Perhaps it was just as well: Calypso had just introduced the subject of blood transfusions. She stood facing the Elders, her tone and expression one of simple force. This was not a matter for debate. It was an order. Blood would be provided for Alexis, whether Alexis agreed or not. It would be not, Calypso knew. With this last consideration in mind she had ordered that Alexis must first be drugged deeply enough that she would not even know what was going on. It would not – of course – be necessary to bleed Lammor dry. Lascar maybe. Lammor, never.

Calypso saw Ruth in a far corner of the room. She knew about Ruth’s predations into the world of the anti-Mercians. She knew too that Ruth had once fancied her chances with the new queen. The only good thing to be said for Ruth was that she had despised Ashe. But even that would not be enough to save her. She had proved herself to be unreliable, but she might still serve a purpose.

Calypso called out, “Ruth? Can you please spare me a moment of your time?” A moment of your time. Oh, yes.

Calypso had made up her mind. Whether Alexis was in agreement or not, a new and radical treatment would commence that day, or Calypso would know the reason why. Was all that quite clear? The Elders nodded. It was entirely clear to them: do what Calypso said or die. Quite clear.

Calliope had been happily looting the supplies room at Caer Arianrhod. They had, all of Ashe’s party, been given leave to wander and enjoy the palace. She had never been inside a palace before, and the supplies room too was a new experience. How strange to see the medical and magical supplies arranged in their jars and cases in orderly fashion. Calliope was intrigued, and grateful that the human form she had borrowed when she and Sam left the water had been capable of reading and writing.

Now she sat before the fire in the room she had been given, and regarded the ingredients before her. The room was warm and comfortable and the burning wood smelled sweetly of apples and lime. Candles burned their sconces, illuminating the fine trappings of the bed and the walls. Someone had put in a lot of work on the design of the palace: no corner had been left untouched. The bed wore an intricately decorated cover of gold thread and green-stemmed purple convolvulus. The wooden shutters wore silver bolts. The floor was covered in fine carpets. Nothing had been left undone. Calliope wondered if everything was as it was because of Betany.

How could she have failed to have seen at once the intention in Betany’s mind? Betany wanted Ashe. It hadn’t taken Calliope very long to see that Ashe was pleasantly flattered by Betany’s interest in her. And why in the name of all that was sacred and not, had Arkana seen fit to tell Calliope creation stories? Oh, yes, the story had been interesting enough, but what was the point of telling her it if the ending had been left wide open? I’ll tell you another time. Or not. Oh, fuck it. Calliope wasn’t sure what the term meant, but it was one of Ashe’s favourite exclamations and one that seemed to fit nearly every occasion. You’ve just been bitten by a karg or had an arrow fired toward you, or you’ve dived into ice-cold water, fuck it. Yes. Calliope tried to force some sense of lightness into her mood, but it wasn’t possible. Ashe was up there, in the great hall, with that… woman.

Laure was sitting in the palace office, where every document relating to Lammoran history and political endeavour was stored. She looked at the documents that Leanna had most recently been examining, and tried to remember if the two of them had discussed the situation or not. Something was wrong with her: the papers dissolved before her eyes and it was not until she’d blinked the endless tears away that she was able to see them whole again. There were papers to be examined concerning recent payments for grain and wine. There were… Laure’s attention wandered and she became aware of someone shouting. She got up, stumbling a little, and made her way to the doorway. Someone was coming toward her… Ruth. But why was there blood everywhere? Ruth was clasping her left arm with her right hand. The marble floor wore a trail of crimson.

“My blood!” Ruth’s face was dreadful and her voice sounded like the croak of a raven. “She took my blood. They took my blood. She’s a monster. They’re monsters both.”

Laure just stared at her. A loud clatter of footsteps echoed as Calypso and two of her soldiers reached them. Calypso nodded toward Ruth, and the soldiers went toward her. But Ruth dodged them, fear making her deft. She came toward Laure, nearly choking in her desperation to get the words out. “She’s a monster!” She slid on her own blood and landed at Laure’s feet.

“Come on,” said Calypso, almost idly, but with unmistakable iron in her manner. “Come along, Ruth. I thought you wanted to help us. There’s really no need for all this drama. You two…” The two soldiers moved forward again, this time capturing Ruth without difficulty.

“How is Ruth helping you?” One of the Elders arrived and began dabbing at Ruth’s arm. With the soldiers holding her still, now that Ruth was holding her own injured arm steady, the flow of blood was slowing. “Why is she helping you? What were you doing to her? What is going on?”

Calypso said, casually, “A transfusion is all. Gods! That’s all. Nothing radical. It’s the only thing that can help Alexis, and I knew that Ruth would be only too happy to prove her allegiance to us.” The look that Ruth threw at Calypso suggested that the remark might be open to misinterpretation. “Anyway, it’s over now. However,” looking back at the scarlet drops that marked the course of Ruth’s path, “it does seem a bit stupid to waste so much blood when you know how badly it’s needed.”

Laure said, “Ruth? You agreed to help them?” Ruth, still held in place, looked like a frightened rabbit, but a rabbit with claws and teeth still.

“I didn’t know what they wanted to do to me! It was awful. It was monstrous. And it hurt!” Her face was clown-like in shock and anguish.

Laure stared at Calypso. “A transfusion? I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen it done.”

“Come back to the hospital ward, Laure, the next time Alexis gets a new supply, and you can see it done.” Calypso’s tone was light and easy but a worrying light shone in her eyes. “The gods know, it’s not as if I wanted Ruth to give up all her blood.”

“No,” said the nervous Elder, suddenly gaining a little confidence. “Just a percentage of her blood.”

“Ruth, are you going to be alright?” Laure found that despite herself she was shrinking away from Ruth’s rolling eyes and her frantic clawing touch. “Look, the blood’s stopped now. You must stay calm. If you run about like this, the blood will just run faster. You should lie down for a while.”

“What good advice.” Calypso smiled approvingly. She grinned at Ruth. “You hear that? Your queen has repeated what I myself said to you.” Her grin became vulpine. “All this running around… it hasn’t done you any good.” She looked at Ruth and the dual meaning of the words struck the hapless woman just as sharply as the broad needle had dug into the thick veins at her elbow.

The two soldiers had momentarily loosened their hold on Ruth, who took the opportunity to throw herself to the ground at Laure’s feet. Ruth was sobbing, choking, terrified and furious all at once. Her hands, hot and damp with sweat and blood, marked Laure’s flesh and clothes wherever they touched her, and the coppery scent of blood made the queen shudder. But Laure only swallowed hard and tried to be kind. “Ruth, it’s alright. No-one means you any harm.” She looked up Calypso, who was standing there with a strange expression in her eyes. “Do they?” she asked.

“Harm? No, no harm in the world.” Calypso reached down to Ruth and grabbed one of the slippery hands. She hauled Ruth to her feet and shoved her toward the soldiers. “Try to maintain a grip this time, will you?” She watched as Ruth struggled. “A little blood goes a long way,” she said, reflectively. “A pity to waste it.”

Laure watched as they led Ruth off, as the Elder trotted alongside the soldiers. Calypso saw them to the end of the corridor and then returned to Laure.

“It’s no big deal,” she said. “It’s something our doctors have been doing for some time. Alexis just needs a little bit of Ruth… so to speak.”

“It’s a bad spell, whatever kind of spell it was. This way we get to redress the unequal balance. Ruth’s blood buys Alexis a little more time.” Laure tried not to look at the blood that marked Calypso’s shirt, her face and hands. There was even blood on the fine leather of Calypso’s boots.

At last Laure said, “With this… transfusion of yours… How much time will it buy Alexis?” It hurt Laure every time she spoke the word and through some desire to stick needles into her own eyes, she kept using it.

“A day or two?!” Laure was horrified. “That’s… That’s nothing, Calypso You put Ruth through all that just to buy Alexis a day?”

“And what happens when Alexis has bled away this… contribution from Ruth?” Calypso looked at Laure without interest.

“It’s a big city, Laure. Alexis could hang on for… For a good long time. Long enough for us to win the war that’s coming. Once we’ve taken slaves from that, we can do daily transfusions without the need for Lammoran intervention.”

Calypso stopped. Her breathing, which had been erratic and uneven , came under her control again. She raked back her hair and straightened her clothes, casually wiping her bloody hands on her shirt. When she looked into Laure’s face again, it seemed that they had both of them taken a step away from rationality. If there was a seed of madness burning in Calypso’s stare, it was mirrored by Laure’s expression. Laure looked at the blood on the ground, heard Ruth’s cries echoing around the palace. She looked down at her own hands, that had touched Ruth and been marked by blood and sweat.

Calypso put out her own hands and cupped them around Laure’s. Her touch was deft and insinuating. “There,” she said, as the stickiness of blood pressed between their separate skins. “Now we’re really kin. Now nothing but death will separate us.” And she laughed. Then she bent forward and kissed Laure lightly on the cheek: a light and easy embrace, not from a lover, but a sister, or a friend.

Laure put her hand up to her cheek, where the memory of that kiss remained, like a shadow on her skin. “By slow and steady stages, Calypso, you and I are destroying everything my mother worked for. Soon there won’t be anything left.” She paced a little, then turned and looked Calypso straight in the face. “You know, I did think about killing myself, because then at least I wouldn’t have to watch the steady destruction of everything I’ve ever valued. But then I remember that I have a responsibility to my people. Although, of course, they’re no longer entirely my people. So I get back to thinking about killing myself… and then I see you. And then I know that it wouldn’t really matter if I did, because sooner or later I know that you’ll be the death of me.” Calypso shrugged her shoulders.

“Laure, you’re wrong. I need you.” Her tone was eager, almost lulling. “ I need Alexis, too, of course, but I really need you: you’re still here because you’re my partner in crime, my raison d’etre. You’re all things to me. Without you I would never have gotten started, and with you I will finish it. You’re my lover, my friend, my lust-packed dream. You can’t kill yourself; I need you far too much.” She grinned.

“You are crazy, aren’t you,” said Laure. The truth was beginning to register. “I mean, you really are insane. The usual barriers that keep us from extremes don’t exist in you. You know - ” she ran to a halt as Calypso’s hand, clutching her by the throat, cut off her oxygen supply. She clutched fiercely at Calypso’s wrists, but it was no good. When Calypso let her go, Laure dropped to her knees, coughing.

“My lover, my friend,” Calypso repeated. Then she bent down to look in Laure’s eyes. “You are my friend, aren’t you Laure? I mean… If you aren’t my friend, then I’d have to kill you.” Laure looked into Calypso’s eyes and saw nothing there but ice. Cold, black ice. Then Calypso walked briskly away. Laure stumbled to her feet and stood up, watching her go. For a moment it felt as if the floor was uneven, unsteady. It felt as if the foundations of Lascar were trembling, as if faced by some major catastrophe. A vase, positioned in an alcove, shivered, and dropped to the ground, where it shattered into a myriad of pieces. Laure put her hand up to her mouth.

Ashe was leaning back against one of the cool pillars, listening to the chatter all around. A wave of fatigue had just washed over her. It had been a very long day, beginning at one extreme, ending at another. Had it really been just that morning that she’d given up and ground to a halt? The image returned to her and it embarrassed Ashe. There had been no concrete reason for her collapse and she disliked what she perceived in herself as weakness. Gods! First ennui and then exhaustion. Ashe blinked, rubbed her eyes and was about to buckle at the knees when Calliope came up to her, smiling, kind. “Ashe,” she said, and her voice was gentle and light. “Stop struggling. You’re dead on your feet. Come with me.”

She took Ashe’s hand almost casually, and led her out of the room. She got Ashe into the corridor and along to the room that had been assigned to Calliope’s use. They would be safer there, she thought, than in Ashe’s own room. She’d seen enough to guess that Betany’s room wasn’t so very far away from Ashe’s own. I wonder who juggled that little number. She shut the door behind them.

She had the drink all ready. She helped Ashe to a chair by the fireside and put the cup into her hands. The potion smelled light and clean and inviting. Ashe inhaled the scent and smiled. Calliope wanted to kiss her. Instead she stood back and watched Ashe, giving her another almost polite smile. “This will help you sleep without dreams, and it’ll save you from a headache tomorrow,” she said. Ashe smiled.

“You shouldn’t worry about me, Calliope.” Ashe loved the name, liked to hear it spoken. It delighted Calliope as much to hear it. “Honestly, I haven’t had so much to drink.” A very small protest, and hardly necessary. “But any risk of a headache I can do without, yes.” She held the cup to her lips. Calliope looked toward the door. Ashe tasted the potion, liked its flavour and easily drank it down. As Ashe moved to return the cup to Calliope, Betany pushed open the door and stepped inside the room.

Betany looked inquiringly at Calliope. She saw the look of anger and satisfaction on the water spirit’s face. She saw the cup that Ashe had drunk from. She smiled. Ashe found her legs to be unsteady. She said, “You’ll have to forgive me. I must just - ” and sat down on one of the chairs a little harder than she had intended to.

“Some party,” Betany said, coming closer. “I have you two to thank for giving me reason to have a party. It’s been too long since the last. This one has been quite a success, I think. Gowdie’s unconscious somewhere.” She looked at Calliope. “Sam’s with her, I think. Probably unconscious, too.” She grinned at them both. “It’s been a wonderful night. You two have done me good.” She meant it, too.

Calliope thought suddenly, the realisation clear and calm: she’s nice. I like her. Gods help me, I want to hate her and I can’t. She really is nice. She felt again the sensation of new tears. She thought: I don’t want to lose Ashe to her. Ashe leant back in her chair, her eyes shut. Betany said, “Ashe?” and got only the slightest murmur in response. She looked toward Calliope again, and Calliope said,

“It’s just a version of the potion I gave to her before. She’s just tired. She’ll wake again in a moment.”

“You love Ashe and I find myself falling for her. Oh, Calliope, what shall we do about it? How much more time do you have before you have to return to the river?”

Ashe said, quietly. “Do I get to have a say in all this?” She was clearly awake. She had clearly heard what had just passed between the other two. “Or have you made up your minds?”

Her tone was even and almost casual. Calliope put a hand up to cover her eyes. Betany said, as much to save Calliope’s feelings as Ashe’s, “It’s not a cold-blooded thing, Ashe. You know that much, surely. You must know that there’s no need for anger. We both rather like you, is all. Calliope’s been smitten since she first saw you. For my own part, I liked what I heard about you from the information my envoys sent back to me. And then we met in my dream… Well, that decided me. Sorry to admit it, but I’ve been counting the hours to your arrival.”

Calliope said, “Ashe? Is that true? When I fell asleep by the river that night… When you came back with the wooden cup… Had you been with Betany in her dream?”

“In her dream? I wouldn’t go too far with that one, Calliope. After all, Calypso was in it, too, and I don’t think either Betany or I would want to spend the night with her.” Ashe shook herself. She looked at the empty cup on the table and then at Calliope. Calliope looked away. Ashe said, “Headache cures?” She turned to Betany. “And…?”

“Oh, no potions for me. Not this time, at least. I’m afraid that I was going to try falling back on tried and tested methods. You know, like coming along here with the intention of seducing you. I thought I’d try a little candlelight, wine and all that stuff… Gods forgive me: I’m an old romantic at heart.” She grinned at Ashe. “Sorry,” she said. “I think I’ll just get out of here and leave you two to fight. My bad…”

“No.” Ashe reached out to Betany. Calliope turned away. “No.” She reached out to Calliope, too. Calliope slowly turned back, staring at Ashe. “I like you both,” she said. “Calliope? I’ve liked you from the first moment I woke up and found you beside me. Alright? And you…” pulling Betany toward her, “You’re just trouble, and I know it. But you’re kindly trouble. And if I have any say in this, let me say this: I like you both very much. And I want you both to stay here with me tonight. Is that allowed?” She let go of them both and walked to the broad wooden bed, throwing back the gold and purple flowers to reveal the soft blankets and softer sheets beneath them. “It’s such a nice bed,” she said, smiling. “Far too nice a bed to use just for sleeping in. Betany? Would you be good enough to lock the door?”

Ashe took off her jacket and threw it over a bedside chair. Then she walked back to where the other two stood, silent and unmoving. Ashe reached out to Calliope and put her hand beneath the water spirit’s chin, tilting her face so that she could kiss her. Ashe tasted sweet wine, berries, and something else that was as full and fresh as the finest rain water. Calliope shut her eyes and closed her senses to everything else but Ashe’s touch. She almost forgot to breathe.

Ashe closed her eyes and drank it in. Then she let Calliope free, but took her right hand in her own left before she turned to Betany. “May I?”

They smiled at one another, like lovers of long-standing. Betany put her free hand into the soft hair at the nape of Ashe’s neck and pulled her in tight while they kissed. Betany tasted of the same red wine, but of honey, too, and spices. She smiled as they kissed, and Ashe felt the shape of the smile. Ashe smelled the perfume of warm saffron rising from Betany’s skin. Her other hand reached out to pull Calliope closer. From somewhere outside music trickled into the room. Calliope reached out and slid her fingers into the broad leather belt that was wrapped around Ashe’s waist and felt the shimmer of strong stomach muscles beneath her hand. Betany began to unlace the ties of Ashe’s shirt. She pulled herself closer to Ashe, as the second kiss broke and Ashe turned again to kiss Calliope. Betany kept her hand in Ashe’s hair and somehow the three of them joined in one slowly turning embrace, Ashe’s arms around them both.

Calliope lay back on the bed, and Ashe bent over her, kissing her from mouth to stomach, only stopping there when Betany joined them. The potion Ashe had drunk seemed not to have worked as it was meant to, for Ashe’s mind was as clear as water. The affection she felt for both Betany and Calliope threatened to overwhelm her, and she worked to overcome a desire to move too quickly. This was not like the times with Laure: this was no power struggle, and it was a million miles from compromise. Ashe had spent the greater part of the evening trying to deny the attraction she felt toward both of them, before she simply gave in, and did what felt right. Calliope thought that it felt as though all three of them were flowing together beneath the surface of the water, with the shared embraces like the current against their skins.

Betany was a happy hedonist. It took no great debate nor any kind of sacrifice to persuade her to join Ashe and Calliope. At the back of her mind she remembered being grateful to Ashe for remembering that the door needed locking. She felt the strength in Ashe’s body and the pliant curves that embraced her. She lost her own clothes happily along the way, and managed – at last! – to loosen the last tie and remove Ashe’s leather shirt. Calliope had helped her with that last task, only breaking away to concentrate on undoing Ashe’s belt and removing the rest of her clothes. She saw – without shock, almost without surprise – the strange patterning of scars that Ashe wore all over her body, the scars showing as so much lighter than Ashe’s own warm skin. She looked up at one point from the contemplation to see that the scars were a wonder to Calliope, too. Ashe, she understood, seemed not to notice them.

Ashe was so happy she was dizzy with it. Something deep inside her mind had known that this choice was open for her, if she could only for a little while clear her memory of the princess, and the world that had been, and the embraces that had never been very kind. The sex that Ashe remembered from her days with Laure had sometimes – in the beginning, at least – been pleasurable, but faced with Calliope’s desperate and passionate intensity and Betany’s entirely open desire, the old memories went up in smoke. Ashe kissed Calliope until it seemed that one or both of them would not re-emerge. She felt the warmth of Calliope’s flesh against her own, shifted to kiss Betany, feeling Betany’s warm hands reaching inside her, feeling Calliope’s tongue brushing over her throat, her mouth, her nipples. Then Betany was undoing the long plait of hair that she swept across them both, over and over again, Ashe exclaiming at the softness of it, and Calliope pushing her face into it, like a cat seeking to have its cheekbones stroked. Ashe maintained for the rest of her life the sensation of Betany pressing herself against her back and stroking her with warm, confident fingertips while Calliope went on kissing her, running her tongue over Ashe’s lips, while Ashe put her hands around Calliope and held her as tightly as she could.

At some quiet and happy point, Ashe lost all track of where she was and gave herself up to silent acceptance. The three of them sprawled in a bizarre and comfortable embrace, the fine sheets long-since lost, the blankets thrown loosely across them. At last they had between them burned up all the energy in the room. Ashe settled into sleep with Calliope already dreaming, tucked in beside her, her cheek against the warm skin above Ashe’s heart. Betany lay on her side, curled in against Ashe’s right side, Ashe’s arm beneath her head, pillowing her.

For just a little time, Ashe deliberately held back from sleep. It wasn’t just that she wanted to prolong the sensations of the night, much as she did. It was as if the two potions she had been given had cancelled one another out, leaving Ashe clear-headed and knowing – for once – exactly what she wanted. She knew that if she had to choose again how to spend the night, she would never change a single thing. The knowledge of her mattering to Calliope and Betany had invested Ashe with something she could not label or dissect, something that went as deep as her heart.

Not for the first time, but for the clearest time, Ashe had an idea of what lay ahead for them all. It was as well that Calliope and Betany were both asleep. It saved them from watching Ashe cry. They were silent tears, and they weren’t unhappy: Ashe would happily have accepted dying then. She closed her eyes against the cool touch of tears, and slept easily, without dreams and without moving, almost entirely content.

During the long night that followed, Ruth went woke from a nightmare in which a madwoman drained away every drop of her blood. The force of her horror woke Laure. She was alone in her bed. She flinched, hid her head under the bedclothes and did not come out again.

Alexis woke up howling. Ashe’s happiness was like a knife slipping into the old wound. She’d tried to keep back the feelings but the pain was just too much: it came bubbling up through her body. Calypso, startled into wakefulness in the chair beside Alexis’s bed, her neck and back aching, her heart pounding, wished Ashe dead a thousand times over.

The shutters were still half-open and the moon shone across the room. Everything was clear or in hard shadow. The sky was studded with stars. Ashe woke once during the night, aware that there was a smile on her face.

Moonlight silvered the room. Calliope woke and breathed in the scent of Ashe’s sleeping body. She felt forgiving of Betany and loving toward Ashe. She closed her eyes again. This new-found happiness could not last – soon she would have to return to the river – but who cared? The rest could wait. She slept.