Terrisa yanked up another flameshroom and tossed it in her basket. “So you really don’t find it odd that our mothers spend so much time teaching us combat skills?”

Her identical twin brother scratched the scars under his pectoral muscles, deep pink crescents against his dark skin. “No? They’re just odd. All lesbians are odd.”

“Hey!” Sorrel called. She threw a flameshroom at the back of Horax’s head, but he ducked out of the way and grinned at Terrisa.

“Sorry!” Terrisa said, but to Sorrel, not her brother. “He saw it coming in my eyes.”

Sorrel laughed and tucked her grassy hair behind her ear. “Thought-speech will always be my undoing.” She shook her head at Horax. “It’s really not fair, you know. Twins have the strongest possible thought-speech connection, and you’re always using it against me.”

Horax made a rude gesture at Sorrel, but his grin showed it was meant in jest.

The three shroom harvesters worked, kneeling, in the dim but adequate lighting of ancient crystalline glowshrooms, long since petrified to the cave walls. Bright red flameshrooms grew in abundance here and gave off a faint heat, causing the cave system to have a constant humidity. Terrisa wore her long dreadlocks pulled back, tied with two locks that started behind her gracefully pointed ears. Her well-worn yellow dress complimented her dark skin and showed off her tummy rolls. Sorrel wore a cutoff wrap shirt that left her belly visible—no bellybutton, just knots and whorls on her oaky wooden skin. The grass on her head was just beginning to grow back green for spring, and a few cherry blossoms dotted her head. Horax wore only sturdy work trousers, leaving his newly flat chest much in evidence and his tummy spilling over his old leather belt. He’d been keeping his textured hair cropped short for years.

Sorrel stood and hefted her basket of flameshrooms. “I’m going to take these in and go help my mother with dinner.”

Terrisa tipped her face up for a kiss, and Sorrel obliged. “See you tonight?” Terrisa asked. When Sorrel nodded, Terrisa smiled. “Love you. Miss you.”

Sorrel kissed her again. “Love you. Miss you.” She turned to Horax. “You really should stop scratching.”

Horax pulled his hand away from his chest. “I wasn’t!”

“I understand, really,” Sorrel said. “After my surgery I was unbelievably itchy, but it was in a far more delicate spot.” Her barklike cheeks flushed a light green as sap rushed into them. “I don’t know why I’m telling you that.”

Horax snorted. “Oh, please. You’ve been dating my sister for years, I think it’s acceptable for us to share embarrassing stories.” He looked down at the shrooms at his knees and wiped sweat off the back of his neck. “And...anyway, I like talking to you about this. Mama transitioned just after we were born, and twenty-four years is a long time to forget about what it was like in the moment. And Mum and Terrisa don’t get it.”

Terrisa said nothing, just watching her brother. She heard Sorrel sniff and looked up. Pure spring water leaked out of her dark brown eyes.

“Oh, Horax,” she said. “You’re so sweet!”

Horax’s pointed ears twitched, and he cringed. “Fuck! Don’t cry!”

Terrisa giggled and kissed Sorrel’s hand. “She’s happy, you dolt. This is a nice moment.”

Horax muttered something unintelligible and picked at a flameshroom in front of him. The women laughed. Sorrel stroked Terrisa’s cheek for a moment, smiling, then comported herself out of the cave.

“How does she always fill her basket so much quicker than us?” Horax asked, eyeing his half-full basket.

“I think, as a wood nymph, she just has an affinity with growing things,” Terrisa said. “She’s very in touch with nature.”

“Half-nymph,” Horax said. “And we’re elves! Aren’t we supposed to...affinity...with nature too?”

Terrisa’s full lips spread into a grin. “Sure, if you weren’t constantly thinking about what poor man you’re going to bed next.”

Horax stuffed a raw flameshroom in his mouth and spoke around it while he chewed. “Men are a part of nature, you know. So I think about men just the right amount.” He swallowed the spicy fungus and plucked a few more for his basket. “So, truly,” he said. “You think it’s odd for us to know combat skills?”

Terrisa just nodded. The twins continued plucking flameshrooms in the faint blue light of the petrified glowshrooms.

“Don’t you think,” Horax said after a few minutes. “That they’re just passing responsibilities on to us? You’re an ace archer--you take care of all the hunting now, so Mama doesn’t have to.”

“But why has Mum taught you swordplay?” Terrisa asked. “She has you practicing for hours a week now. For what? To fight little old Mrs. Rammelmire at market days?”

Horax huffed a sigh and sat back on his bare feet to regard her. “Get to the point. You clearly have a theory.”

Terrisa took her time rooting up a particularly large flameshroom. “I realized a few days ago,” she said. “That they didn’t really start teaching us until you told them you were a boy.”

Horax shrugged. “Yeah, but we were seventeen then. We weren’t really old enough before.”

“I’m not so sure,” Terrisa said. “Traditional elvish families used to start training their children as young as seven or eight.” She tossed a stray lock over her shoulder and sat up straight to look at her brother. “So here’s what I think. I think we’re the prophesied Deyspring Twins.”

Horax stared at her for several moments, unblinking, and they shared a moment of thought-speech. Terrisa sensed Horax probing her mind to see if she really meant what she said, but she could also sense a rising tide of mirth bubbling up from his stomach. As she expected, he burst out laughing.

“Really?” he said, his thick body wracked by his uproarious guffaws. “The Deyspring Twins! Us! Terrisa, we’re not even of the House of Deyspring. We don’t have a House. We’re shroom farmers!” He rolled into the dirt, trying to breathe through his laughter, and tears began squeezing from his closed lids.

Terrisa crossed her chunky arms over her chest and glared at her brother. It took a full minute for his laughter to subside into wheezing gasps.

“Are you done?” she said.

Horax sat back up and brushed dirt from his side and tears from his cheeks. “Sorry, sorry. Look, Terrisa, we live a privileged life. Our mothers have the shroom caves to cultivate, they’re held in high regard by the rest of Mycoton. You and I will inherit the farm. We’re happy, we’re healthy. That’s good. We don’t need to go looking for adventure.”

“You say that,” Terrisa said. “But you still practice swordplay with Mum.”

Horax grinned. “That’s because guys think it’s hot when they see me handling a sword.”

Terrisa groaned and got up with her basket. “I’m going to gather more fireshrooms over there and away from you. It’s punishment for laughing at me and being gross.”

Her brother just laughed and waved her on.

Terrisa smoothed down the front of her good dress. A sunny yellow, with the outlines of daisies embroidered in delicate black thread along the scooping collar. She’d done them herself--probably the only good embroidery work she’d ever done, much to Mama’s dismay. Even Horax did better embroidery, and he was very vocal about his hatred for fiber arts.

“How should I sit?” she asked.

Sorrel smiled around the edge of her canvas, stretched tight over a frame of thin wood. “You brought your bow?”

Terrisa nodded and gestured to her sturdy longbow leaning against the wall beside Sorrel’s window. Like most of the dwellings in the village of Mycoton, Sorrel’s house was cut into the petrified stem of an ancient and enormous greatshroom. Her thick windowsill, intricately carved by both Sorrel and her mother, contained a burning anti-insect candle, fragranced with the oil of citrus. Since the petrified cap of the greatshroom overhung the stem, there was no need to close the painted shutters except in the event of the most terrible of storms. Sorrel had designed and painted the shutters herself—they looked like delicate double flower petals, but truly were made of wrought ironshroom and painted in the soft pastels of the cherry blooms that grew on Sorrel and her mother’s heads each spring.

Sorrel tapped her brush against her chin. “Well, how long can you hold it drawn back?”

Terrisa grinned. “For about as long as I can hold you up while I get you off.”

Sorrel’s cheeks blushed a sappy green. “Then I won’t make you hold the pose that long, so you have strength left to do that later.”

Loosening her string slightly on her bow, Terrisa hefted it. Taller than her, it formed an arc as the bicep hardened beneath her deceptively soft-looking right arm, drawing the string back to her cheek. She tucked the knuckle of her thumb into the divot behind the lobe of her right ear. Terrisa and Sorrel drew in a breath at the same time—Terrisa to settle herself into the pose, and Sorrel in awe.

“You’re so beautiful,” the half-nymph whispered, staring at her girlfriend.

Terrisa’s heart warmed with affection. She smiled softly. “So are you.”

Sorrel tucked a stray, grassy hair behind her ear. “But look at you. A warrior. You have such poise…” Her expression seemed to glaze over, and she dipped her brush into some paint and began to make strokes on the canvas. Her voice dropped to a murmur. “Perfect body...look at your legs...your back, supple, strong.” Her eyes focused again, and she spoke at a regular tone. “How do you keep your breast from getting caught in the string when you let go?”

Terrisa wrinkled her nose. “Sometimes I don’t. I’ve gotten some amazing bruises. I’ve tried using Horax’s old chest binders to flatten them out, but they’re really hard to move in. I’m really impressed he practiced his swordplay in them for the past several years.”

“You need armor,” Sorrel said. She painted out the arc of the longbow with a single stroke and nodded to herself. “You said you think your mothers are training you for real combat.”

Terrisa took another deep breath. “Horax doesn’t think so.”

“Horax likes to be contrary,” Sorrel said. “He’s also sometimes not the brightest. I’m asking you.”

Terrisa partially lowered the longbow, rolled her shoulder, then resumed the pose. “I think we might be the Deyspring Twins.”

Sorrel tapped her brush against her chin again, but this time, it had paint on it. She didn’t seem to notice the splotch. “The what?”

“It’s that old Elvish legend,” Terrisa said. “From the time of the Dethroning. You don’t know it?”

“Even if I did,” Sorrel said. “I’d forget all about it, looking into your eyes.”

Terrisa hesitated a moment, then ran up to Sorrel and kissed her lips. Sorrel tried to protest about breaking the pose, but quickly melted into the kiss. They traded tongues and unintelligible mumbles, Terrisa holding her longbow, Sorrel her brush. When they parted, Sorrel giggled and picked up a cloth to wipe paint off Terrisa’s chin. Terrisa smiled wryly and took the cloth to wipe off Sorrel’s chin too. They pressed their foreheads together and giggled.

“You wanted to paint me,” Terrisa said. “But we’re distracted.”

Sorrel laughed and pushed Terrisa away. “You have to go back to posing! I need to finish this painting before your birthday!”

Terrisa laughed and returned to her spot by the window, pulling her bow back again as she did. She winked at Sorrel. “We’ll have time later.”

Sorrel dipped her brush in more paint and returned to her work. “So the story from the Dethroning,” she said. “What’s that about?”

Terrisa hooked the knuckle of her thumb into the divot under her earlobe again and exhaled. “So. Long ago, several centuries in fact, the city of Celesdine was called by another name--the Mythalos Citadel. The citadel was an island of light and prosperity, ruled for generations by the wise queens of four high houses.”

A grin spread over Sorrel’s face. “They were probably hot.”

Terrisa giggled and almost dropped her draw. “Sorrel! --yes, probably. They were pretty universally beloved, anyway.” She hesitated before continuing, seeing the thoughtful look on Sorrel’s face as she applied paint to her canvas.

After a moment, the nymph said. “Do you think any of the queens were transgender? Like me?”

Terrisa smiled. “I think so. After centuries of matriarchal rule, probably some of them were trans. But, you know, one man was angry that their island was so prosperous.”

“Probably a lot of men were angry about it,” Sorrel said.

Terrisa laughed and lowered her bow. “Probably!” She chortled for a few moments before drawing her longbow back again. “Anyway--this man unleashed demons from the pits of the Rotting Lands to fight at his side and unseat the queens.”

Sorrel scrunched up her woody nose and made some harsh marks on the canvas. “I do remember this part. He succeeded.”

“Yes. He did take over Celesdine,” Terrisa said. “The queens’ daughter and a few members of the other three high houses escaped the slaughter that day though. And as they fled the citadel, the princess’ senior advisor, Dame Deyspring, turned and cursed the lord’s ambition. She said the royal family would return.”

Terrisa looked over and realized Sorrel was nibbling the handle of her brush, staring at her. Terrisa lowered her longbow and faced her girlfriend.

“Dame Deyspring said that the citadel wouldn’t stay in the lord’s possession forever. Someday, her twin descendents, a brave man and woman, would escort the royal family back to the citadel, and it would become a place of beauty once again.”

Sorrel took her brush handle out of her mouth. “You sound like your Mum when you tell stories.”

Terrisa tugged on one of her dreadlocks. “Really? I think I have a lot more practice ahead of me to get as good as she is.”

“You’ll get there,” Sorrel said. “You can practice on me anytime.”

Terrisa blew her girlfriend a kiss and drew back her bow again. “I think Horax and I are the Deyspring Twins because of what Mama and Mum have been teaching us ever since Horax came out.”

Sorrel eyed her work and glanced up at Terrisa, then back at her canvas. “How can you be sure? You’re not part of the House of Deyspring. Or...any house, really.”

“Not that we know of,” Terrisa said. “But what if my mothers have just kept it a secret from us? What if we really are descendents of Dame Deyspring? And until Horax came out as transgender, Mama and Mum thought we were twin girls. The prophecy was for a twin man and woman, right?”

“You think the prophecy has room for transgender men?” Sorrel asked, glancing up from her canvas.

“I don’t see any other reason for them to train Horax and me in archery and swordplay,” Teresa said. “I think, at the very least, Mum and Mama may believe we’re the Deyspring Twins. And last year they had us learning the table manners of the old royal court, too. How would they even know about that if they aren’t of a high House?”

Sorrel chuckled. “When was the last time Horax used table manners?”

Terrisa threw back her head and laughed. “He hates it! Our mothers insisted it was important.”

Sorrel dabbed paint on her canvas for several moments before speaking. “And they didn’t start teaching you anything until Horax came out as a man?”

Terrisa shook her head. “No, nothing. We were just learning shroom farming techniques and regular chores up until we were seventeen. Just after they hired you as a farmhand.”

Sorrel winked at her girlfriend. “That was a fun summer.”

“Shush shush,” Teresa said. “This is about my future, not my awkward teenage summer trying to make love in the mushroom caves.”

Sorrel giggled and returned to her painting. “What will you do if you do find out you’re the Deyspring Twins?”

Terrisa blinked a few times. “What do you mean?”

Sorrel looked up. “Well...if you really are the twins of legend...won’t you have to go to Celesdine? Defeat the ruling lord? Bring Mythalos back?”

Terrisa lowered her bow slowly. “Oh...well...yes, I suppose so.”

Sorrel folded her hands in her lap, with her paintbrush threaded between her fingers. A drop of paint landed on her thumb. “Can I come with you?”

Terrisa leaned her bow against the window and went to Sorrel. She placed both hands on Sorrel’s shoulders and looked her in the eye.

“Of course. We go together--always.”

Sorrel smiled and stood up. Just a few inches taller than Terrisa, she looked down at her with affection in her eyes.

“Good.” She pressed her forehead to Terrisa’s forehead. “Together--always.”

Terrisa took a deep breath and let it out, closing her eyes to enjoy the moment. “I don’t know, Sorrel. Maybe Horax is right, and I shouldn’t go looking for adventure. I do have a good life. I have you, and Horax, and Mum and Mama. Mythalos, Celesdine--that’s none of my concern.”

Sorrel stayed silent, and after several moments Terrisa opened her eyes. Her girlfriend’s eyes were downcast, and the flowers in her grassy hair drooped.

“Sorrel?” Terrisa said, concerned. She took Sorrel’s hand. “What is it?”

“My parents first met in Celesdine,” Sorrel said. “But they left before I was born and came to Mycoton. And for a long time after Father died, Mother wouldn’t say anything about Celesdine at all, or their life before Mycoton.”

Terrisa held onto Sorrel’s hand, but guided her to the messy bed heaped with knitted wool blankets. They sat down side by side. Sorrel took a deep breath.

“Now that Mother is starting to...forget. Regress. Sometimes she thinks she’s back in Celesdine. She doesn’t remember who I am.”

“I’m sorry,” Terrisa said, squeezing Sorrel’s hand.

The half-nymph shook her head. “No, that’s not the worst of it. In fact...being forgotten is only a little worse than her remembering she has a child, but not remembering that that child is a woman.”

Terrisa raised both her eyebrows. “So what is the worst?”

“Her stories about Celesdine.” Sorrel shuddered and held Terrisa’s hand tightly. “They’re...they’re awful, Terrisa. Sickness and poverty plagued the lower parts of the citadel, where Mother and Father lived. There was never any food.” Sorrel shook her head. “I see why they left. I try to ask her more about Father, but...she always seems to forget.”

Terrisa looped a dreadlock around one finger and tugged at it gently. “I’m sorry. That’s awful.” She swallowed before going on. “But...but that doesn’t sound right. Celesdine is known for its wealth and prosperity. King Dorr is beloved by the people. Everyone knows that.”

“No,” Sorrel said. “I think that’s just what everyone is told. When was the last time you talked to anyone from Celesdine except excisemen here to collect taxes?”

Terrisa gave a wry grin. “True, but why are they always excisemen? Never any women.”

Sorrel laughed and shook Terrisa playfully by the shoulders. “Terrisa! That’s not what’s important here!” She lowered herself down on the bed and propped her elbows up behind her. “I’m just thinking--if Mother’s memories are true, the regular people in Celesdine may be suffering. And maybe the House of Deyspring can stop that.”

“You think I can,” Terrisa said, crawling over Sorrel, their stomachs pressed together, then their breasts. Warmth spread down Terrisa’s back under her yellow dress. “I’m a warrior, you know.”

Sorrel smiled up at her. “I’ve heard that,” she said. She buried her face in Terrisa’s neck. “I’d like to see you shoot a demon.”

Terrisa nibbled at Sorrel’s ear. Despite its woody appearance, her ear was still supple cartilage and cool skin, warmer near the fleshy lobe. Sorrel made a noise in her throat somewhere between a growl and a purr.

“I’d shoot a hundred demons,” Terrisa said. “If it was to save you.”

The elf snaked her fingertips into the knot holding Sorrel’s wrap shirt closed, and twisted the knot free. Sorrel’s lips pressed into her neck, and she felt Sorrel’s tongue against her skin. Terrisa pulled the wrap shirt away and tossed it to the floor, freeing Sorrel’s growing breasts. The nymph’s breath quickened, and Terrisa admired her breasts as they rose and fell. She straddled Sorrel, her knees pressed into Sorrel’s hips, and sat up to peel off her dress and pull it over her. Before she’d even freed her head, she felt Sorrel’s hands on her breasts and giggled. She pulled her dress off and tossed her head to pull her dreadlocks out of the fabric. She grinned down at Sorrel, and the nymph laughed.

“You didn’t even wear underwear underneath!” Sorrel said.

“I knew I wouldn’t have it on for long,” Terrisa said. She looped her fingertips over the waistline of Sorrel’s trousers and bit her lip. “And I don’t think you’ll have these on for much longer.”

Sorrel stretched out her arms luxuriously and folded her hands behind her head. Terrisa leaned down and kissed her, softly at first, then deeper as she unbuttoned Sorrel’s trousers. Sorrel’s fingers traced their way down Terrisa’s back rolls, leaving sensual pulses as they went.

“Sorrel…” Terrisa mumbled. She felt the inside of her thighs growing wet. “What do you want tonight?”

Sorrel lifted her head and reached for a jar on her bedside table. Terrisa grinned and took it from her. It contained a clear, gel-like substance for lubrication. She got up, naked, and yanked Sorrel’s trousers off. The half-nymph squealed and grabbed the side of her bed to keep herself from sliding with her trousers. She leaned on her elbow and looked Terrisa up and down. The elf tossed her locks over her shoulder and did a twirl to show off her body, its dark stretch marks against dark skin, thick thighs and arms.

“Like what you see?” the elf asked.

Sorrel peeled off her own underwear and flung it aside. “I love what I see. I always have.”

Terrisa looked Sorrel over now. Unlike the grass and flowers growing from her head, she had hair elsewhere on her body--eyebrows, some on her arms, prickles growing from her legs where she’d gone a few days without shaving, and the all-important thick curls hiding her secrets between her thighs. She didn’t keep the secret long. She stretched one leg up and out, and bent it to the side invitingly.

Terrisa leaped back on the bed and kissed her girlfriend hungrily.