17 Elowen
17 Elowen
“I cannot do another quest,” Elowen said, pacing her bedchambers.
“ Huh? ” Lettice, her heart healer, had answered the surprise conjuration seemingly from her own chambers. She had rollers in her
hair and a treatment mask on her face, and she was outfitted in one of those long floral sleepgowns Elowen’s own mother always
wore. It was barely nightfall, which may have made it odd to others. Not Elowen. She had spent much of her time in the trees
preparing for sleep, so she understood the importance of committing to a long bedtime process.
“Clare has taken it upon himself to volunteer us for a rescue mission,” Elowen continued. “He wants us to find Thessia’s fiancé.”
Lettice grabbed a pair of spectacles and fumbled them onto her face, smudging some of her pink facial oils onto the lenses.
“Sir Hugh is missing ?”
Normally, it would annoy Elowen to explain. Queendom had already gone into mourning. Surely news of Hugh’s kidnapping had
reached the rest of Mythria. If conjurists weren’t already putting renderings of Hugh beside loving portraits of Galwell as
scribes drafted up stories about Thessia’s tragic love life, they would be within the next hour. But nothing about her life
was normal at the moment. She couldn’t remember how to be irritated by Lettice’s ignorance.
Elowen explained the situation, watching as Lettice went from confusion to shock to fascination. Elowen appreciated how forthright her heart healer was with her own emotions. It was a large reason why Elowen continued her appointments. Though she could not magically feel Lettice’s emotions through a conjuration, on a human level, she never sensed that Lettice said one thing with her words while feeling something else. Which was why she appreciated when Lettice validated her feelings, nodding as she told Elowen, “This is a momentous occasion. I’m glad you conjurated me.”
“Sorry for the lack of notice,” Elowen replied. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts, she hadn’t considered whether her
actions were appropriate or not.
“I told you long ago that you were welcome to contact me at any time. I am thrilled you finally took me up on that offer.
And for quite a good reason. Is your... friend with you?”
The last time Elowen and Lettice spoke, Vandra had been there. Elowen didn’t know where Vandra was now. She was confident
Vandra could take care of herself. She had not lost any talent in the ten years since Elowen had seen her in action. If anything,
she’d gotten better at wielding a weapon. She really was the best assassin no longer in the game. Still, Elowen worried. That
was the problem with being around other people again. Not only did you learn their habits—such as Vandra’s inability to eat
a meal that didn’t have something spicy and sweet, or her penchant for petting wild brushwalkers to see if she could get in
some affection without being bitten—you developed concerns for them. It was exactly what Elowen did not want to happen on
this trip. She did not want her heart to expand any further.
“She’s busy,” Elowen said. “It’s been a terrible week. I have suffered countless indignities since leaving home.” For the first time ever, she laid out everything, from the pain of learning why Be atrice had once told her that they weren’t friends to the confusion of the situation with Vandra. “Nothing has gone right. There’s no way I am equipped for a quest. I am meant to be alone in the trees where nothing can harm me.” When Lettice did not immediately respond, Elowen’s familiar defenses went up. “What?” she barked out. “Does my week not sound miserable to you?”
“It does sound difficult,” Lettice confirmed. “I was just thinking about how brave you’ve been.”
Elowen scoffed. “I’m not brave. I’m miserable. You’re confusing me for someone else. Galwell, I suspect.”
“Elowen,” Lettice whispered with undeserved kindness. “I know you grew up in your brother’s shadow. But you are a hero in
your own right. I have no doubt you could do another quest. That’s not to say you should. I just wanted to point out that
you’ve accomplished so much in such a short amount of time. You told me long ago you didn’t think you could live alone forever
in the trees, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave them. Now you have. And it hasn’t been perfect, but it is brave, continuing on as you have.”
“What if I don’t want to be brave?” Elowen asked.
“Well, then, is there anything that would make you not miserable? Maybe you won’t go on a quest. Might you have a little fun,
though? Is there any place on land you’ve truly missed?”
An image flickered to life in Elowen’s mind—the Needle. It was a pub built decades ago by a queer couple who wanted a cozy hangout close to Queendom. The walls were covered with knitwork and other kitschy crafts, and the wooden seats had scribbles all over them, declarations of love written in the heat of the moment. It was the kind of place that felt like a secret, even though by night’s end, it was often packed to the brim. There was just an energy of community and safety there, lovingly cultivated, that made the Needle special. In her younger years, Elowen had enjoyed spending weekends at the long crestoak bar, nursing a drink and people watching, sensing what others felt about their night, sometimes lucky enough to find a woman who wanted the same thing Elowen did. It was always a welcoming, soothing setting, a rare place where Elowen’s heart magic felt like a gift instead of a curse.
“There is one place nearby,” she muttered. “A pub.”
Lettice’s expression brightened. “Perfect! What if you went there and ordered yourself a drink?”
“Just one?” Elowen asked, skeptical.
“That’s it,” Lettice confirmed. “And if it’s not enjoyable, then you can take pride in knowing you attempted to do something
for the fun of it, not because you felt obligated to.”
After some further back and forth, Elowen agreed, if only so she did not have to continue pacing her bedchambers. She was
developing a stitch in her side.
***
When she walked through the Needle’s painted door—still the same lavender shade from ten years ago—Elowen blinked thrice,
confirming this was not another conjuration of the past. Everything was exactly the same, down to Elowen’s usual spot in the
back-right corner, unoccupied as if they’d saved it for her arrival. She took her seat and ordered a sprymint fizzy like old
times. Her heart ached as much as it raced, the war between anxiety and familiarity waging on inside her. It was only one
drink.
She could do one drink.
Since returning to the public, Elowen had come to expect other people staring at her. Not that she’d ever be used to the overwhelming pressure of the attention, but it was at least predictable. They were typically awestruck and a little confused—could it really be the elusive Elowen True? She felt that attention on her now, though in this pub, it was not confusion. It was... something else. Elowen couldn’t decipher it, and it filled her with adrenaline.
“Hey,” a woman called out. When Elowen looked up, the woman waved at her. Elowen glanced around, bewildered. The woman grinned
like Elowen was just who she hoped to see.
Elowen flushed with nerves, heat spreading through her cheeks and down her neck.
“Could I buy you a drink?” the woman asked. A fan of the Four, most likely.
Elowen held up her sprymint fizzy. “Already got one.”
The woman nodded in understanding, though disappointment flashed across her face.
Elowen continued nursing her fizzy. She’d only gotten in two more sips when another woman tapped her on the shoulder. “Anyone
sitting here?” she asked, pointing to the open seat next to Elowen.
“Not that I know of,” Elowen said back. Her hands shook, yet she felt strangely powerful. Perhaps it was like what Galwell
had experienced with his uncanny strength. Elowen had so much raw energy coursing through her, she believed she, too, could
lift up heavy wagons or move giant boulders. “Though there are plenty of open spots all around the pub.” She gestured to all
the places that hadn’t yet been filled.
The woman frowned. “I was hoping for this one.” She put her hands on the stool next to Elowen and leaned forward.
“Would you like me to find you when I’m done, so you can take the seat?” Elowen asked. Perhaps this woman also liked the backs
of rooms, where everything was quieter, more private.
The woman stood up straight, adjusting her top to cover the cleavage that had spilled out when she’d leaned. “That’s all right. I’ll find somewhere else.”
When the second woman walked away, the pubtender came to Elowen’s end of the bar, laughing. Elowen looked down, checking to
make sure she hadn’t gotten mouthpaste on her cloak or forgotten to button her top.
“You’re Elowen True, right?” the pubtender asked, still chuckling. She was older than Elowen, perhaps in her early forties,
and she had a rich, velvety voice.
Sheepish, Elowen nodded. At least this woman had come out and asked it.
“I have to say, the portraits do not do you justice.” The pubtender appraised every visible part of Elowen’s skin, lingering
on her lips before flicking her attention back to Elowen’s eyes.
And suddenly, Elowen understood what she’d been missing. She could now identify the feeling that had permeated the space when
she entered. The women around her were horny. For Elowen.
To cover her gasp, Elowen downed the rest of her sprymint fizzy in one gulp. In her teenage years, she had done better than
most of her peers when it came to dating, though she hated to discuss her flings with others, so no one ever knew it. It became
its own game, figuring out what other girls her age were queer and discreetly pursuing them. Finding an interested party had
always been a subtle thing. Lingering glances. Well-placed compliments. A touch that lasted a few moments longer than it should.
It had all been so long ago that Elowen had not immediately recognized it as happening to her in the present, perhaps because
she’d assumed after she shut herself off from society that she’d become the prickly grump that everyone in Mythria pitied.
The sullen little sister of the greatest hero the realm had ever known.
Her one drink finished, Elowen put down some of the last coins she had to her name.
“Please.” The pubtender pushed the coins back to Elowen. “Drinks for you are on the house here. Permanently.” She winked,
and Elowen, fighting flattery, thought again of Vandra.
Fucking Vandra. If she wasn’t the way she was, so interesting and unique and beautiful, perhaps Elowen would engage with any
of the apparently numerous interested parties in the pub. Alas, there was only one woman who ever seemed to be on Elowen’s
mind.
All the same, Elowen left the Needle with a renewed sense of... Ghosts, was it confidence? She was so unaccustomed to the
feeling that she did not know if she was even correct in labeling it, but she did have a certain lightness to her step. And
the corners of her mouth may have been pulled upward into what others could call a smile. Lettice was right. Elowen was brave. And apparently she was also hot.
To certain people, of course. Queer people. The exact crowd to which she wanted to be desirable. And she was only hot under
the right lighting of course, which was so infrequently achieved. Why people insisted on hanging their brightest magicked
candles from the ceiling instead of opting for softer, lower lights, Elowen did not understand. The Needle knew the importance
of a mood-setting wall sconce, and that had to have been a key contributor to Elowen’s attractiveness in the space.
Being hot did not matter to Elowen in any meaningful way, but it still seemed notable. Hot people always had a misplaced sense
of confidence. Smiling, Elowen jaunted through the mourning Queendom like she’d just been announced as the winner of a hand
magician’s mystery money ticket.
She wondered if this was how Vandra felt all the time. Though Vandra had earned her confidence. She had not only good looks and a beaming personality, she could kill you in a heartbeat.
Elowen returned to her chambers, planning to throw herself onto the bed and have a good long think about being desired by
others. But mostly about Vandra.
The very Vandra who currently lay across Elowen’s sheets, grinning.
“Miss me?” Vandra asked. She was propped on her side in her usual attire, tight-fitting leggings and a magenta corset atop
a flowing black blouse, with shiny laced boots that came up over her knees. When she tossed her hair, long raven curls cascaded
toward the bed, wild and loose.
Elowen did not gasp or scream. She stared. Because she had missed the sight of Vandra’s face. To see her then felt a bit like a reward. For bravery. And hotness, perhaps.
“Yes,” Elowen admitted.
“Really?” Vandra asked, sitting up.
It was so hard to get a real rise out of her. To be the one who made her gasp? It was more than a delight. Elowen nodded.
Whatever Vandra had planned to say, Elowen’s admission derailed it. Vandra grasped for something—words, it seemed. She stumbled
around until she said, “The Fraternal Order was behind the attack.”
Elowen’s mood darkened. They’d defeated the Fraternal Order ten years ago. Their leader was long dead. How could the Order
be back?
“They’ve been rebuilding in the years since Todrick’s death.” Vandra paused, shifting on the bed. “I promised you I’d get
the information...”
“I never doubted you would,” Elowen hurried out, once again admitting to her past dishonesty. Clearing her throat, she attempted formality. “Why did they want to hurt us?”
“I couldn’t get more out of the men that attacked you,” Vandra answered. “They hadn’t been told much about whatever sinister
plans are at play here. They were bottom-of-the-barrel henchmen. Complete losers.”
Both women laughed.
“Sorry,” Elowen whispered, gathering herself.
“For what?” Vandra asked.
“I shouldn’t be laughing. Not after learning this. And how we left things...”
Vandra wiped the smile from her face. “I rushed here to tell you what I’d discovered, worried something may have happened
in my absence, only to find you walking yourself home from the Needle, grinning.” She spoke with none of her usual cheer.
Instead her voice was low, serious. “I thought perhaps someone else had gotten you to smile that way.”
Elowen almost gasped as she picked up on Vandra’s emotions. Vandra was jealous .
“Other women did hit on me at the pub,” Elowen said, watching as Vandra’s muscles tensed with each word. “They wanted me.”
Vandra rose from the bed to meet Elowen in the doorway. “What did you do about that?” she asked, pressing her hand against
the frame and leaning forward.
Elowen put her mouth to Vandra’s ear. “I turned them down,” she whispered.
“Why?” Vandra asked, her jealousy warring with curiosity and desire.
Elowen pulled back. Vandra’s eyes, full of honeyed sweetness, held something even more powerful than desire. She looked at
Elowen with hope.
“Because none of them were you,” Elowen breathed.
And with that, Vandra kissed Elowen. Everything dark floated away, clouds parting for a miraculous light, the kind that glowed
up to the tips of Elowen’s fingers. She knew no self-consciousness or anger. The urgency of their shared touch brought out
the most ravenous side of her. She was lips on lips and hands roaming skin. Touching her, Elowen learned how much Vandra’s
lust was coated in tenderness. Care.
“My darling.” Vandra grasped the back of Elowen’s neck with one hand and her ass with the other, never afraid to apply the
right kind of pressure.
In that moment, it was comical to Elowen that those other women thought they stood a chance. No one could ever compare to
Vandra Ravenfall.
The kisses deepened, slow and lingering, until they were no longer kissing at all. They were pressed into the wall and resting
nose to nose, just breathing.
“Hi,” Elowen whispered.
“Hello there,” Vandra replied. “Been a while.”
“Has it? You feel exactly as I remember.” It no longer scared Elowen to experience it. Perhaps that was the calmness Vandra
emanated, absorbed by Elowen’s magic.
“Are you saying you thought of me while we were apart?” Vandra teased. “All that time, all alone, I crossed your mind?”
“Some days, I thought of little else,” Elowen admitted. Magical powers could not account for the trust Elowen felt. She was
safe in Vandra’s arms, and that safety gave her courage. “I’m going to do the quest,” she decided.
“ Quest? ” Vandra echoed. “Does this have to do with Hugh being missing? I got some conjurations on the matter. I should have known they’d involve you.” Her emotions shifted, a curious sad ness working through the tenderness. She cupped Elowen’s chin. “Don’t tell me you plan to leave tonight.”
“It is indeed a quest to find Hugh. Who better suited than the Three?” Elowen found that while she meant to sound sarcastic,
there was more genuine truth to her words than she’d anticipated. Perhaps it was a result of the courage she’d accumulated
tonight, first at the bar, and now with Vandra’s kiss. She believed herself. And she believed in herself. More than she had in years. “I must go tell Clare at once.”
“Hold on a moment.” Vandra wrapped her hand around Elowen’s arm. She knew that Elowen would feel every bit of her worry, and
through her insistent grip, she seemed to welcome that understanding. “How can I be sure you are safe?”
Elowen sensed the danger of this moment. Not in the literal sense—she still felt quite safe—but the danger of what it would
mean to accept this concern. To let Vandra worry would be to let her have a piece of Elowen’s heart. Elowen could never give
over all of herself, but maybe she could give a little. Maybe there was a way to let Vandra in without getting hurt.
“You’re right,” she said, wrapping her arms around Vandra’s waist. “If only I had a private guard to watch out for me before
I go. One of Thessia’s best.”
Vandra glowed with pleasure. “That settles it.” She headed for the chair beside the bed, where she began unlacing her boots.
“I will rest here, watching you.”
“Perfect,” Elowen said, meaning it. “I will go let Clare know I am joining the quest. And then I will return to my chambers
and sleep comfortably, knowing I am protected.”
Elowen had no idea what awaited her tomorrow, but for one night, she had everything she needed.