14. THEY NEVER CAME BACK #3
Gwen shuffled her steps, then hurried towards the water.
‘Shut up, it’s not like we got to choose our clothes.
I suppose I’m lucky I’m not in the outfit from that sign.
’ Her bathing costume was a ruffled pink and lavender set of shorts and a sleeveless tunic.
Practically naked, by any standards. She was suddenly, brutally aware of her exposed arms, and the vicious scar from dragonsfire that twisted down her forearm.
She clutched at it, self-conscious, though it was too long for her to entirely cover with her palm.
‘No, I mean … wow.’ Jane was still staring at her, particularly her arms and shoulders, gaze gone somewhat puzzled and speculative. ‘I didn’t know you were so … ripped.’
‘Back off, Jane,’ came Isobelle’s voice, prim and stern, as she emerged from a changing room. ‘Besides, you don’t like girls.’ Isobelle took Gwen’s hand and led her towards the pool.
‘Maybe I do,’ replied Jane cheerfully. ‘Maybe Gwen’s turned me.’
Hilde made a scolding noise with her tongue. ‘Knock it off, Jane. Gwen is far too modest for you to tease her so.’
At that point, Gwen stepped into the water, and altogether lost track of the conversation. She’d had no idea how much tension was in every fibre of her body until it all came undone at once – she felt as though she were simply melting into the hot water, her body buoyed by the mineral salts.
This is worth an entire fortnight of ‘Lady Dragonslayer’ publicity stunts, she decided. Though I’m still making them take that damn sign down.
When she came back to herself, Isobelle was joggling her elbow. Gwen opened her eyes. Dusk was beginning to gather, and one of the hot springs staff had brought platters of snacks and pitchers of cold drinks, chilled by the snow and ice from the nearby mountains.
Hilde and Jane had gone off to explore the other pools, and had discovered one inside a cave, where they were currently trying to sing slightly off-key harmonies with each other and their own echoes.
Sylvie was reclining motionless, eyes closed and arms spread along the rim of the pool, pretending she couldn’t hear the atrocious music echoing from the cave.
And Isobelle was there before her, holding out a glass of iced punch with beads of condensation gathering at her fingertips. When Gwen blinked at her, she laughed, reached out, and pressed the cup into Gwen’s hand.
‘I think it’s safe to say the Lady Dragonslayer approves this hot spring,’ Isobelle murmured. ‘Let’s go explore. The girls will call us when Gargery comes back from his errands.’
Gwen wanted to protest at the thought of getting out of the water, but beyond Isobelle the sky had flooded with colour, crimson and copper and inky violet, and Isobelle’s face was flushed with the heat, and suddenly Gwen found her legs quite willing to cooperate.
Clutching their cold glasses, they snuck off up the winding path towards the more secluded pools.
Eventually they came to the last pool on the path, at the very top of this section of cliffs.
The swollen red orb of the setting sun hung a finger’s width above the sea to the west, setting fire to the spectacularly windswept cloud formations above, more brilliant than any artist could dream.
Below them, the other pools of the hot springs were arrayed like puddles of paint, capturing the reflected light of the sunset.
Isobelle sighed and slid her arm through Gwen’s, and both of them simply stood, staring. Then Isobelle shivered and, laughing, they took refuge from the winter wind in the water at their feet.
The pool was small, large enough for just three or four people, and only if they were feeling friendly. Isobelle sank down onto a little ledge opposite Gwen, slouching until only her nose was above the surface of the water, so that steam wreathed her face as though she were part dragon herself.
Gwen’s braid was coming loose from the knot she’d tied it into, so she unwound it, wrung it out, and twisted it back up, all too aware of Isobelle watching her.
Her heart had begun to pound the way it always did when she and Isobelle found themselves alone.
She groped for ways to occupy herself – finding a better place to set her cup of punch, plucking a fallen leaf from the surface of the water – but then she had no recourse but to look over at Isobelle.
Who knew what Gwen was doing, because when Gwen gave up and met her eyes, Isobelle was waiting for her with a little smile that Gwen would’ve called smug, had it not been rather more dominated by another emotion altogether.
‘Jane was right,’ Isobelle said. ‘That costume is quite fetching on you.’
‘It feels wrong wearing pink. Like I’m usurping your territory.’ Gwen kept her voice light, though it was difficult with Isobelle’s hair set ablaze by the sunset, each strand gilded a different shade of flame and fuchsia.
‘I don’t mind sharing.’ Isobelle’s voice was warm with laugher. Then she sobered, eyes still intent. ‘Do you mind all this dragon-themed stuff?’
Gwen glanced at her, pulse quickening. Then she shook her head and gazed out over the sunset. ‘It’s nothing like the actual dragon was. It doesn’t bother me.’
Isobelle was silent for a time, before she said in an oddly intent voice, ‘Are you sure?’
A flicker of irritation tensed the muscles along Gwen’s ribcage. ‘I said I was fine … Why?’
Isobelle hesitated and then drew a long, deep breath that warned Gwen she was about to blurt out something she wasn’t going to like.
‘I just … I know you had a nightmare that night, before the sea monster. I know it was a dragon nightmare, but you lied, you told me you were fine, that you didn’t need my help.
I know you’re still …’ She trailed off, making a helpless gesture against the surface of the water.
Gwen’s muscles squeezed even tighter, making her feel as though the water were constricting her lungs.
‘I see. So you think the mere mention of the word “dragon” is going to send me into hysterics?’ Gwen heard the words come without actually involving her decision-making process – they sounded angry.
Isobelle made an exasperated sound. ‘Of course not. Gwen, stop being all distant and listen to me, will you?’
A hand touched hers under the water, and then tugged – without solid ground beneath her feet, Gwen found herself drawn towards Isobelle, their hips bumping together on the submerged bench.
‘You never lied to me about the nightmares before,’ Isobelle said quietly. ‘Why did you, then?’
To her horror, Gwen felt her eyes beginning to burn, her throat tightening, her whole body warning her that she was going to do something horrifically embarrassing. ‘I … I don’t know,’ she mumbled, trying desperately to stave it off.
Isobelle’s fingers interlaced with hers under the water, and their joined hands rested on Gwen’s thigh. ‘How can I help, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?’
Gwen grasped at a passing thread of potential escape, and turned a scowl on Isobelle. ‘What about you? You’ve been acting odd all day – why are you suddenly so obsessed with the idea that the town is under some sort of spell?’
Isobelle stiffened, her eyes widening a little as she drew back. ‘No reason,’ she said quickly, squeezing Gwen’s hand. ‘I just love a good mystery. And don’t change the subject. Why didn’t you let me in when you had that nightmare?’
Gwen bit her lip, but there was no escaping Isobelle here.
Cocooned by the warm water, confronted by those intent blue eyes inches from hers, the flushed lips, the blazing hair …
‘Damn it, this isn’t fair,’ she muttered helplessly, watching with abstracted fascination as she lifted her own hand to trace a droplet of water from Isobelle’s chin.
‘Not even remotely,’ agreed Isobelle stubbornly. ‘Now, talk.’
Gwen swallowed. ‘I … worry,’ she said finally, falteringly.
‘I worry it’s taking me too long to get over it, the dragon.
I worry you think it broke me, that I can’t handle it, that I’m …
I’m a coward, deep down. I worry …’ Gwen’s throat was tightening again, and she only barely got the last words out.
‘I worry there’s an expiration date for your patience. ’
She didn’t look at Isobelle – couldn’t look at Isobelle. The silence seemed to drag on for an eternity, although logically she knew very little time had passed, because the sun hadn’t yet dipped below the line of the sea.
‘Gwen, I’m here.’ Isobelle’s voice was low and intent.
Gwen looked up and found Isobelle’s eyes waiting for hers.
Isobelle leaned towards her, raising their joined hands so she could stroke the back of Gwen’s hand against her own cheek.
‘I was with you then, when you fought the dragon, and I’m with you now. I’m not going anywhere.’
There was a shadow in Isobelle’s eyes that sent up a warning tingle at the back of Gwen’s mind, but the words were those Gwen had so longed to hear that she shoved her worries aside and chose, instead, to reach for Isobelle.
She felt a great shudder somewhere in her chest, a sudden cracking of the coldness that had crystallised around her heart. With a soft sound, she slid her other arm around Isobelle’s waist and pulled her close.
Her lips found Isobelle’s with such quickened desperation that for a moment Gwen worried she’d hurt her – but then Isobelle gave a soft, urgent sound and wound both arms around Gwen’s neck, throwing herself into the proceedings with such enthusiasm that Gwen lost all care for such mundane things as bitten lips or bruised knees.
Isobelle moved onto Gwen’s lap, knees astride her hips, hands on the rim of the sunken pool.
Gwen tipped her face up and caught her lip lightly between her teeth.
Isobelle’s hand slid into Gwen’s wet hair and twisted, clinging.
Gwen felt a heated breath against her temple, and then Isobelle’s mouth against her pulse.