When Julie woke up in the night, it was all very strange. First of all, she didn’t know why she woke up, not until she realised she needed to pee, which was very strange because she always went before going to bed. Second of all, she was still wearing her dayclothes, which she only did when they were camping. Third of all, she was so close to Sammy that every breath tickled.

So very slowly, the evening before came back to her.

A flush spread across her face and neck, ears hearing the echoes of their kisses—such weird sounds—heart thumping in her chest. Her hand came up to touch her lips, a gentle ache starting now she remembered. How different kisses could be.

It hadn’t been the soft and light kisses they usually did, instead something almost… desperate. Julie couldn’t exactly remember what she had been thinking, but she knew she’d felt like she needed to be closer to Sammy.

Before Julie could think any more of their passionate kissing, her bladder reminded her why she’d woken up. That calmed her down. Careful, she pried herself away from Sammy, only to then have Sammy reach out, holding her still.

“I need to pee,” Julie mumbled.

Julie wasn’t sure if Sammy had heard her (or was awake enough to understand), but the grip on her clothes soon relaxed.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Away from the warmth of the bed, Julie’s murky mind cooled off and, after relieving herself, she changed into her nightwear. As carefully as she’d left, she tried to slip back into the bed. However, once she stopped shuffling, Sammy clung to her again.

Julie was ready to laugh at how pointless her carefulness had been, but Sammy stilled her with a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Love you,” Sammy mumbled, her eyes closed.

For a long few seconds, Julie just stared at the outline of Sammy in the near darkness. Her heart pounded in her chest, but it was different, different to the times before. Different to whenever she’d worked her body hard, different to whenever Sammy had flirted with her.

The more Julie thought about it, she realised her heart wasn’t really pounding, but singing. It was like it wanted her to listen to it, which made her start thinking about wanting to listen to Sammy’s. She wanted to know if Sammy’s heart beat like hers, if it beat quick when they kissed, slow when they stared into each other’s eyes. She wanted to know if their hearts could sing in harmony.

With that last thought, Julie remembered it was late and she was probably half-dreaming already; falling asleep was pretty easy when she was with Sammy.

So she took a last look at Sammy’s silhouette before closing her eyes, mumbling, “Love you.”

Those two words Sammy had so patiently and desperately been waiting to hear went unheard by both of them.

Come morning, the world continued on as it was wont to do and, after breakfast, they carried on their journey. The horses kept a good pace, roads broad and paved, weather pleasant.

With the mountain range on their left, Sammy spent most of the time looking out to the right. It was an especially sweet sight this time of year, newborn cattle bleating in the fields, tottering around. The fields were also showing the start of spring. To the Schtish, seasons just changed how much rain there was, but, this far north, Sammy could really see the cycle. All these shades of green she had only known from paintings before now.

By evening, some clouds had come in and brought with them an on-off drizzle. Sammy talked at length about “mountain weather”, Julie dutifully listening despite, well, not understanding any of it. Julie didn’t have to understand anything to know Sammy had a beautiful voice.

A nice change of pace after the last few days, they stopped in a village at a small inn that had a homely feel to it. A married couple ran it, with their son managing the stable and his wife the cooking, their young children pottering around the place. Sammy found herself very popular with the girls who wanted to know if she was a princess, while the boy seemed to scowl at Julie from across the room. When his mother brought out the food, she laughed and said to Julie that he must have a crush on her, which Sammy translated with such a broad smirk that it pinched her eyes. Fortunately for Julie, it was hard to tell she was blushing with her tanned skin.

After dinner, they retired to their room, bringing a candle for light; Julie insisted on carrying it. Inside their room, Sammy enjoyed the flickering light, or rather she enjoyed how Julie’s face looked when bathed in it. Not only did it emphasise the warmth of Julie’s skin, but it sparkled in her eyes and made her hair glow.

And the little glass gem on her hair clip glowed too.

Julie could tell where Sammy was looking, without thinking brought up her hand, touching the hair clip. No sooner had she than Sammy strode forward and drew Julie into a kiss, an embrace, her hands running through Julie’s hair, slowly deepening their kiss until, like last night, their lips entwined, breaths mingled.

It was quick, yet Julie didn’t hate it. The only problem was that her legs started to weaken—something that hadn’t been a problem before since they’d been lying on the bed. So she tore herself away from the kiss, but held Sammy tighter, burying her face into Sammy’s shoulder.

“Was that too much?” Sammy cautiously asked.

Julie softly shook her head. “I’m a bit tired,” she mumbled, completely oblivious to the real cause.

Sammy hesitated over taking Julie at her word. However, whether she did or didn’t, the outcome was the same. Shuffling, Sammy led them to the bed and sat down. “Since we have almost finished your book, do you think I am like Nora?” she quietly asked.

An unexpected question, it took Julie a while to think it over and come up with an answer. “Not really.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Sammy whispered.

Julie fought the urge to fidget, uncomfortable with this much thinking—not exactly something she was taught to do. Even back at the garrison, she’d hardly ever been the one talking.

“Nora… always had someone,” Julie said.

“And I haven’t?” Sammy asked with genuine curiosity.

Julie wrung her hands, face scrunched up. “It’s, like, when there’s no one, you cling to anything. But you always stood so tall.”

Listening closely, Sammy noticed how each “you” was different, that the first was in fact an “I”. And it saddened her to think that Julie might only love her because no one else had been there for Julie to cling to.

Sammy pushed through it, though, fixating on the other part Julie said. “Indeed, I always thought my arrogance the main difference. There has never been a drop of doubt in my mind,” she said, lying as naturally as she smiled.

Julie was relieved she’d gotten the answer “right”. After a few moments of silence, she asked, “Does this count as being intimate?”

Chuckling, Sammy gave Julie a squeeze. “Of course.”

“That’s good,” Julie said.

Regardless of what thoughts were thought, the world carried on. They washed and changed into nightclothes and spent some time cuddling in bed. Sammy was too preoccupied to make the small talk she usually liked to make, but Julie didn’t notice, content to simply be close to the woman she loved.

When they put out the candle and said their goodnights, though, Sammy followed her whispered, “I love you,” with a gentle kiss on Julie’s forehead.

As always, Julie felt such a pleasant warmth from it. “Me too.”

So another evening came to an end, soon giving way to another morning.

Although the drizzling had carried on through the night, the carriageway was well-built, still safe to travel along. At least, most of it was. The morning went by without issue, just that, when they were preparing to leave town after lunch, a small caravan of traders came back, talking of a landslide.

“Can we go around?” Julie asked.

Sammy pursed her lips. “I would prefer to stay on this road, knowing it will take us where we need to go,” she said. “The rain was not particularly heavy, so a day should be enough time for it all to settle.”

“Okay.”

Unfortunately, with the caravan coming back, Sammy and Julie found the inns and stables rather full. They managed to book a place for their horses after some searching, then carried on looking for a place to stay. A fairly busy town, no one paid them that much attention.

Well, almost no one.

“Excuse me!”

Sammy almost didn’t stop, so much noise all around them, but the young lady made it rather obvious when she hobbled in front of them. Only, the next second, she hobbled back to a nearby doorway, picking up a crutch from the steps there.

Although Sammy wasn’t sure what this was about, she wasn’t going to make the young lady walk over again with a bad leg, so she tugged Julie over, whispering, “I think she wishes to speak to us.”

It was a loud whisper with all the noise around and the young lady caught it, a spark of joy coming to her. “Speak you Shtish?”

Sammy smiled, but, with her eyes narrowed, it made her look rather concerned. “Do you speak Schtish?”

“Yes! But I don’t have the chance to practise much,” she said.

That coming out better, it settled Sammy’s doubts and, thinking it over, she understood the mistake, Sonlettian questions often “backwards”. “Indeed, this is quite far for traders to come,” she said.

The young lady eagerly nodded, some of her fringe coming loose and falling over her face. In a flash, she tucked it back, brimming with excitement. “Please tell me, are you lovers?” she asked, eyelashes fluttering.

“What a queer question to ask,” Sammy replied, her polite smile saying nothing.

While the young lady was focused on Sammy, she would have found an easy answer in Julie’s shy expression. However, since she was focused on Sammy, she carried on speaking. “I don’t know… quee-er? But I saw you, euh, tu-nay the hands? And you walk very close.”

Sammy chuckled, covering her mouth. This young lady had a rather cute way of speaking. “Yes, we hold hands and walk closely.”

Before anything else could be said, there was a rather sharply shouted, “Élise!”

Élise winced and shuffled around. Speaking in Sonlettian, she said, “Yes, mama?”

The woman through the doorway looked rather young for her age, which she made up for with the expression of someone who had spent a lifetime worrying. Coming up to the door, she put a hand on Élise’s shoulder and stepped in front, a subtle position that, to Sammy, spoke a lot of the relationship between the mother and daughter.

“I apologise if my daughter has interrupted your business. Please, carry on.”

Élise went to say something, but only managed to get out, “Mama!” before her mother shushed her.

Sammy waited a moment to see if Élise would contest any more, only then speaking herself. “We were having an amicable chat,” she said, her Sonlettian as natural as ever.

That seemed to relax Élise’s mother, a small weight off her shoulders. “Well, have a good day,” she said.

However, Élise wasn’t so eager to see them off. “Those bags—have you no place to stay?” she asked.

Sammy looked down at their packs, mulling over what to say. In the end, she simply chose to say, “Indeed we do not.”

Even before Élise said anything, her mother sighed. “Please, mama, we have Josh’s old room.”

Sammy’s smile showed a certain pity and it seemed that Élise’s mother noticed that, but subtly shook her head. “We do have a spare room if you do not mind sharing.”

“That won’t be a problem at all,” Sammy replied.

Élise’s mother invited them inside and introduced herself as Louise—a popular name in Sonlettier—before showing them to the room. An old town, the houses were wide rather than tall, this one two storeys and an attic (where they kept, for example, spare linen). The room itself had a single bed, but plenty of space on the floor; Louise plopped the extra duvet on the bed, saying, “I’m afraid this is the best we can do.”

Sammy, having no intention of either her or Julie sleeping on the floor, said, “We would already be grateful for the least you can do, so please do not guilt us with the best you can do.”

Louise laughed at that, a bit hoarse. “A tongue so sweet has surely tasted much nectar.”

Sammy’s eyes widened ever so slightly, a moment passing before she caught herself. “Thank you.”

To that, Louise shook her head, wearing an exasperated smile. “We will eat when my husband returns, which should be by sunset. Is stew and bread acceptable?”

“I would prefer the sauce with pasta, but we are happy to try something new,” Sammy replied with a mischievous smile.

(When Sammy later translated this for Julie, she had to explain it was a rather funny pun, the word for stew in Sonlettian sounding like the name of a Formadgian pasta sauce.)

While Louise was nonplussed by the joke, Élise in the hallway let out a snort, reminding everyone of her presence—particularly her mother. “Make yourselves at home,” she told Sammy, then turned to Élise and shooed her down the hallway, closing the door on the way. The whispers were too muffled for Sammy to make out what was being said, but Louise sounded stern-but-not-angry.

Once those died down, Sammy asked Julie how much she’d understood, Julie awkwardly admitting not much. Sammy brought up her hand and cupped Julie’s cheek, softly stroking with her thumb. “It’s fine. Most of the noble daughters brought up with foreign maids and weekly tutoring would be lost here, difficult enough to understand someone even when one speaks the same language.”

Well, Julie wasn’t particularly philosophical, but she knew that was true enough.

So Sammy recited the discussion as best she could remember, which was pretty accurate. While she spoke, she looked through her pack for suitable clothes to wear, a riding habit needlessly cumbersome when not travelling. Poor Julie, so focused on listening, didn’t notice Sammy was changing until the habit slipped down, her eyes drawn to what the chemise and bodice underneath didn’t conceal.

Oh Sammy relished that blush when Julie suddenly turned away, but only for a moment.

“My apologies, I thought my intentions were clear,” Sammy said.

Mumbling, Julie said, “No, it’s my fault.”

Sammy thought, hesitated, before finally giving in. “You know, this is little different from what I wear to bed.”

“Really?” Julie asked—and Sammy heard that hint of curiosity.

“Truly,” Sammy said. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “Would you like to see?”

Julie’s heart pounded in her chest, pulse loud in her ears. She wanted to. She knew she wanted to, the glimpse she’d seen constantly coming to mind. But she couldn’t, couldn’t speak, couldn’t nod, swallowed by a shyness that wouldn’t even let her look Sammy’s way.

Sammy waited a while for Julie to give an answer. With none coming, though, she read Julie’s aversion, or rather she misread it. Turning around, she pulled her habit back up. “I am sorry,” she said, a soft whisper that barely crossed the room.

Not so much hearing the words as the tone, it was like a chill down Julie’s back that pulled her out of her head. “No, no, don’t be,” she said, not entirely sure what she was saying.

It took Sammy a long moment to believe that. To be sure, she thought of another question to ask. “Would you like to see one day?”

A small change, yet it made such a difference to Julie. One day, not today: “Yes.”

Sammy smiled, her hand clutching the front of her habit relaxing. “I would like to see you one day too.”

Just like that, Julie’s heart throbbed once more, almost painful at first. Slowly, though, she felt a kind of giddiness growing inside her, her mouth pulling itself into a smile. Then came a wave of self-consciousness, crossing her arms tightly and lowering her head. However, the smile wouldn’t go away.

As if Sammy knew why, she said, “You are so beautiful to me.”

Julie’s smile deepened and eyes glistened, a sputtery laugh slipping out. It was such a Sammy thing to say. Indeed, Julie could hardly disagree with what Sammy found beautiful—that was Sammy’s opinion even if Julie thought otherwise.

Knock knock.

“One moment,” Sammy smoothly replied in Sonlettian. And she used that moment to button up her habit, then pulled Julie into a hug, leaving a kiss on her forehead. With that done, Sammy walked to the door and opened it. “Hello again,” she said, switching to Schtish.

Oh Élise beamed. “Can we talk some more?” she asked.

Sammy looked back at Julie and, seeing a calm expression, answered, “Of course.”

Élise’s face scrunched up in a smile, then she shuffled in with her crutch under one arm and a book under the other. Once at the bed, she plopped down, frame creaking. “Please, please—are you lovers?”

“We are,” Sammy said. To reinforce this, she held Julie’s hand, entwining their fingers.

Élise followed that small display, letting out a content sigh. But, a second later, her mania returned and she was flicking through her book—an old thing, tatty, the pages unevenly filled and often the sentences not even straight.

“You are… a purple lady? A giver of violets?” Élise asked, reciting the Schtish words from the book with a heavy touch of her Sonlettian accent.

Sammy’s smile strained. “I am afraid I do not know those terms,” she said.

Élise’s brow wrinkled, but she turned around the book, pointing at a spot. “In ’Opshtat, women wear violets.”

Poor pronunciation of Hopschtat aside, Sammy read the part, rather surprised by what it said. “Curious,” she mumbled. Looking up at Élise, she asked, “What book is this?”

“This is my mammy’s diary,” Élise said.

Sammy hesitated, then asked, “That is, your grandmother’s?”

“Yes. She was born in Shtat, but moved to Sonlettier when she was young. We talked a lot, but she die-ed last year and in her… dead letter, she said I should have this.”

Sammy nodded along, many thoughts coming to mind as she listened. “If I may ask, how old are you?” Élise frowned, so Sammy said in Sonlettian, “Your age?”

“Oh, I am fifteen. No, fourteen?” Élise said in Schtish, a bit unsure.

Sammy patiently asked again in Sonlettier, Élise answering fifteen as of last month. That still surprised Sammy, Élise appearing rather grown up, but her childishness certainly matched that age. A funny thing to Sammy, so little difference between their ages.

“May I see it?” Sammy asked next, gesturing at the diary.

Élise certainly showed some reluctance, but did carefully hand it over.

Sammy was a quick reader. The writer had been a teenager at the start, almost fourteen. She had a friend called Lottie, but Lottie was always so early that the writer called her Tôttie. And the writer loved Tôttie. It would have been easy for someone else to read the entries and see it as nothing more than friendship, the flowery tone put down to how girls were taught to write. However, Sammy saw a reflection of herself in the prose, neither praise nor envy but adoration in how the writer described Tôttie. To Sammy, the writer had known she loved Tôttie in a romantic sense. Especially when Sammy skipped ahead to the last entries, it was clear to her that the writer hadn’t simply been curious how it would feel to kiss Tôttie, but had desired it.

“Thank you,” Sammy softly said, handing back the diary.

Élise clutched it to her chest, a sigh slipping out. “It is beautiful, yes?” she asked, pride in her voice.

“Yes,” Sammy replied with a smile.

“Mammy taught me Shtish and told me many stories of Tôttie,” Élise said, shuffling about as if incapable of sitting still. “They were children friends and wanted to run away together, but mammy… bad health. She always wanted to find Tôttie again.”

Although Sammy sympathised with what Élise said, she disagreed. But she wouldn’t have expected Élise to understand the last entry, the infamous phrase written in an old language: “For what purpose the gods have made me, it is surely to suffer.”

So much to think about, Sammy asked, “Could we have some time alone?”

Élise eagerly nodded, a giddiness to her smile. “Are you going to… kiss?” she whispered.

“Perhaps,” Sammy said with a mysterious smile.

Sammy made no move to help Élise up, but Julie did, a bit awkward with how Élise clutched the book. Once on her feet, she shuffled out and Julie closed the door behind her.

There was then a silence, not particularly heavy, but it kept Julie from speaking for nearly a minute before the question became too much to keep in. “Was she talking about Sister Tutty?”

“It might be so,” Sammy said.

Julie stepped closer and asked, “Then… they were lovers?”

Sammy smiled, but it was apologetic. “It does not seem so.”

That left Julie rather confused and it showed, Sammy chuckling.

Reaching out, Sammy cupped Julie’s cheek, then leaned in for a brief kiss. “We cannot know, but if you would like to hear my interpretation….”

Julie nodded.

“I think that Élise’s grandmother did love Sister Tutty romantically, but realised that Tutty did not love her in the same way. That much I believe to be true. After that, though, I can only speculate. The truth is that she never visited Tutty, nor wrote her any letters. My guess is that… she came to hate herself for who she was, especially because she couldn’t let go of her feelings for Tutty.”

Having said that, Sammy shook her head.

“Better I not speak for the dead.”

Julie took that to heart, asking no more questions even as her mind filled up with them. Instead, they ended up cuddling on the bed, Sammy feeling almost brittle in Julie’s arms, her breaths soft and sometimes shaky. Julie didn’t ask, Sammy didn’t tell.

In such a comfortable position, it was inevitable that Julie drifted off, awoken by a knock at dusk. “My husband should be home soon, if you are ready for dinner.”

It took Julie a moment to recognise Louise’s voice, another moment to realise that it was so hard to make sense of what she’d heard because it had been in Sonlettian, but she picked up on “dinner”. Thinking it time already, she rushed to untangle herself from Sammy.

However, Sammy rather didn’t want to let go, her now-tight grip impossible for Julie to break. “We will listen for his arrival,” she loudly said to Louise.

There was no reply but for the muffled sound of footsteps.

After a few more seconds, Julie gave up her struggles and Sammy stroked her head. “We are still waiting for the father.”

“Oh,” Julie mumbled.

Louise knowing the routine well, it was only a short wait before the downstairs door opened, a shout of, “Papa!” from Élise. So Sammy and Julie finally got up and fixed their ruffled clothes. The riding habit was a bit cumbersome for a meal, but Sammy didn’t want to keep anyone waiting and so didn’t change.

The meal was a quiet affair. Élise’s father—Simon—only asked a couple of questions after their introductions, neither Élise nor Louise speaking unless spoken to. A traditional household, it seemed to Sammy. But once it finished, Simon and Élise tidied up and started washing, Élise’s excited voice leaking through from the kitchen.

Louise stared at the doorway with a smile, then turned her attention to Sammy. An apologetic look came to her. “I’m sorry if Élise offended you at all,” she said softly. “She used to be such a sweet girl, but ever since her grandmother died and she read that book… she just has the strangest thoughts in her head.”

Sammy nodded along. “That is, your husband’s mother?” she asked.

“Yes. She was in poor health since I knew her, so I would take Élise to keep her company and Élise just adored her. It’s funny, Élise hurt her leg a couple of months ago, but she refuses to see a healer because her mammy never did. She says, ‘This is who I am.’”

Louise finished with a laugh, but it fell flat.

“Sorry, I am rambling now,” Louise said. “It has been… stressful.”

Sammy didn’t comment on that, instead moving the conversation onto what meals Louise often cooked, asking what was in season. That kept Louise talking until the other two finished washing up, at which point Sammy excused herself and Julie.

The sun had set, little of its light lingering, but there were lamps out on the street and the moon shone bright (no sign of the moonlet or cremoon this night). Sammy lit the candle with divine fire, an easy task after all her practice. It looked to her like the perfect atmosphere for dancing.

Alas, that would have to wait.

A knock rang out, followed by Élise asking, “May I come in?”

“One moment,” Sammy said. Gathering her thoughts, she quickly explained to Julie what Louise had told her earlier, only then saying, “You may enter.”

With a creak, the door eased open enough for Élise to shuffle in. “My mama wants to know if you needed anything for the morning,” she said, speaking Sonlettian.

“A bucket of water and two cloths,” Sammy said in Sonlettian as well.

Élise nodded, but didn’t move, every second growing more fidgety.

Sammy held back her laugh and asked, “Oh, is there something else?”

Élise stilled.

Although Sammy was sure that, given enough time, Élise would speak her mind, Sammy felt like this wasn’t the time to indulge a child. “Say, would you rather know a beautiful lie or the harsh truth?”

It was such an unexpected question that Élise had no answer even after a minute had passed.

That was fine, though. Sammy took a few steps forward so she was in front of Élise, lowered herself a bit so they were face to face, and then waited for Élise to meet her gaze. “As I see it, reality has no emotions—it simply is. And it is up to us to try and understand it, not ignore it. Does that make sense?”

Sammy held Élise’s gaze until Élise finally nodded.

Smiling, Sammy straightened up. “You should see a healer.”

Élise’s face scrunched up, pouting. “What if… they change who I am?” she quietly asked.

“They can only heal that which is broken or those who are sick, and I promise”—Sammy held Élise’s hands and squeezed them—“you are neither.”

With that, Sammy let go and turned to Julie. Although Sammy showed nothing, her heart was pounding, barely keeping herself from trembling.

“Do you mean that?” Élise whispered.

“I do,” Sammy said, clear and convincing, no doubt to be heard.

Élise stood there for a few more seconds before shuffling out. Still, Sammy didn’t relax until she heard the door close. In an instant, her strength went, staggering forwards. Julie caught her quickly, holding her up.

“Sammy?” she asked, so full of concern.

Sammy forced an unconvincing smile. “Isn’t it funny… how unsure I am now? I found it so easy to encourage Pam, but here I am, falling apart over this.”

Julie didn’t think it was particularly funny, but kept that to herself. “It’s okay.”

Sammy stiffened up for a moment, then let out a shuddery breath. “Ah, so that’s why,” she mumbled.

Though Julie wanted to ask, Sammy seemed to settle down and find her strength and that was all Julie really wanted. Eventually, Sammy asked to dance and so they did until the night grew late. Then they changed into their nightwear, snuggled up in the bed—a very tight fit—and went to sleep.

Well, Sammy went to sleep. Julie wasn’t as tired because of her earlier nap, so she watched over Sammy, full of complicated thoughts and simple emotions.

And when she finally felt drowsy, she kissed Sammy’s forehead, whispering, “G’night.”