Chapter 4: Aftermath

Scene 17

After a night like that, Val slept like the dead. By the time they woke, they felt the cool of evening coming through the window. They’d slept through most of the daylight.

And they were in no hurry to get up. For a time, they just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

The spell lasted until someone knocked on the door. “Valerie?” Zofia’s voice.

That brought them fully into the present. They sat upright, letting the blankets fall to their waist. “Come in.”

Zofia opened the door — then immediately stopped short with surprise when she saw Val. “Oh, I’m sorry. Where is Valerie? I can come back later.”

Val palmed their face. They’d forgotten; sunrise had come and gone. “It’s fine, come in. I’ll just need a few minutes.” They slid from the warm bed and went to their workbench. It would be easier to show than tell.

Yet Zofia, still lingering by the door, put it together just by seeing them assembling the alchemy. “ ... you’re transfigured.”

Liz’s voice cut in from behind her. “We prefer ‘trans’ for short.” She brushed past the princess, through the open doorway. “Sometimes in a compound, like ‘transwoman’ or ‘transman’. Never, ever ‘tranny’. Now come inside, no need to leave the door hanging open.”

Zofia closed the door behind her as she figured out more hints. “We?”

Val shook their head as they put the finishing touches on the potion. “You didn’t have to out yourself, you know.” They downed the potion ... then after a moment, she sighed with relief. It was simplest to wear the shape that Zofia already knew, but it still felt right, too.

Liz flopped to sit on the bed’s corner. She had a flask with her, the tea that Val had shown her how to make each day. Even after just one night and a fresh robe, she looked much better. “If we’re out, we’re out together.” She reached out her free hand to squeeze Valerie’s. “Always.”

Val smiled at her. The two of them against the world. That was familiar. That was right.

But it wasn’t just the two of them in the room. She turned to Zofia. “You wanted to talk about something, Highness?”

Zofia stared studiously at the nearest wall rather than looking at Val. “It can wait if you need time to change.”

Valerie smiled. Her sleep shirt was rather tighter across her chest and hips after that transformation ... but that didn’t mean she had to hurry out of it. It was fun to have Princess Zofia Tourmaline struggling not to stare. “I suspect you wouldn’t even bring it up if it weren’t important.” She sat down and folded her legs, making sure the stance showed just a little more thigh. “Please, don’t delay on my account.”

The princess was very observant. She noticed that bit of thigh even though she tried not to. To steel herself against the horrible embarrassment of Val having legs, she put a hand to her tiara and focused on the stoic seriousness of her quest. “The Owls. I found some unfamiliar references in their letters, I hoped you might recognise them.”

Liz tensed by reflex, but there was fire in her yellow eyes. She set her cup down. “What do you have?”

Zofia set out the sheets of paper on Val’s desk. “Most of these missives are vague. No explicit mention of when or where, no names. Except for this one.” She laid a page on top. “This message talks about the celebrations for ‘Darlinalia’. Do you know who that is?”

Liz scowled and Val clenched her fist. Appropriation on top of everything else? “Not a who,” Val said.

“Not directly, anyway.” Liz crossed to look at the page. “Darleena is one of the old gods — goddess of beauty and pleasure, patron of sex workers. If she knew a bunch of slavers were using her name—”

Val lay a soothing hand on Liz’s back, but turned to Zofia. “Darlinalia is one of her big festivals. It’s...” How to describe it to someone who hadn’t even heard of Darleena before? “It’s a celebration of life, freedom, and joy. A revel that lasts for three nights, the first full moon after the harvest.”

Liz leaned into Val, still scowling. “Of course, they’re probably using the name for some generic, hedonistic orgy.”

“To be fair, Darlinalia is pretty hedonistic,” Val said.

“But it’s not generic,” Liz said, “And it’s definitely not a place for slavers.”

Zofia had stopped listening for a moment, counting in her mind. “The full moon ... that’s in two days.” She’d even memorised the lunar calendar? “And if it’s the kind of... revel you’re describing, they’ll need somewhere both private and sizable.” She nodded. “Thank you. I have enough to start investigating.” She turned to the door.

“Hold it, princess.” Liz stepped after her. “You’re not going anywhere yet. You won’t investigate worth a damn if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Zofia scoffed. “I’m fine. I’m ready. I slept, there’s nothing else—” Her stomach growled loudly enough to interrupt her. She glared down at it like it had spoken out of turn.

Val raised a hand over her mouth, but Liz covered her laughter just with self-control. “I’ve already spoken to room service,” she said. “By now, a bath and breakfast are ready in your room. Leave your clothes in the hamper and our staff will get them cleaned.”

“I have two days until Darlinalia.” Zofia’s tone was desert-dry. “I don’t have time for laundry.”

“Please, princess, we are professionals.” Liz’s eyes twinkled. Getting undressed was a significant part of her business. “Your clothes will be ready for you by the time you’re ready for them, and then you’ll be rested, fed, and ready to hunt down some Owls. Much more ready than if you’d worked through the night, hm?”

Zofia narrowed her eyes at Liz. But eventually, she dipped a slight bow. “Thank you for your hospitality.” Her tone carried the feeling that she was trying to plot some kind of revenge. She turned, her skirt swishing with the movement, and left.

Which left Val alone with Liz. She looked at her, thoughtful. She always knew when Liz was planning something. “You’re going to help her, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” Liz didn’t even look away from the door while she said it.

Val sighed, laying a hand on her arm. “We just got you back from them. And now you want to go and kick the nest?”

“That nest came to me.” Liz’s playful attitude vanished, her expression turning severe. “And they’ll come to me again, Val. They’ll come for me again.” She turned, her yellow eyes locking with Val’s. “I can’t leave that unanswered. For my sake, let alone the princess’, I have to do whatever I can.”

“I know.” Val didn’t like it, but she knew. She took Liz’s hand.

She squeezed it back. “I have to, but you don’t. If you want out, I know plenty of other burglars. I am a fixer, you know.”

“Not a chance.” Val smiled. “You and me against the world. Always.”

Liz smiled back at her, the tension easing from her body. “You, me, and Zofia for this one. Speaking of which. Could you go distract her? I need to reach out to Sigmund, and I don’t want her to rush out the door before I’m done.”

Scene 18

Zofia felt uncomfortably comfortable.

Yes, the bath refreshed her, washing away the remnants of the last day’s fighting. Yes, the light breakfast was refreshing in other ways. But it felt wrong for her to be fed and fresh while her subjects suffered. She should have been working to free them, to save them, as soon as humanly possible. She craved action.

A knock sounded at her door, followed by a voice. “It’s Val.”

Zofia glanced at the mirror. Yes, her tiara was straight; yes, her bathrobe was tied secure and modest. Or as modest as it could be when she was wearing only a robe. Though she blushed at the thought, it wasn’t enough to reject company. “Come in.”

Val was already dressed for the evening in another pair of leather trousers and a billowy, white blouse that fell to her thighs. “Princess,” she greeted. “I trust you’ve been treated well.”

“Unnervingly well.” Zofia gestured to invite Val to the table. “The bath was especially decadent. I swear, it’s big enough for two.”

Val settled into a chair. “It’s meant to be.”

The implication hung in the air for a moment, before settling into place in the form of a blush on Zofia’s cheeks. “ ... ah.” She shook her head, pushing on from the thought. “If anything, this place is treating me too well. I’m not used to having my needs so waited on.”

Val gave her a flat look. “Princess ... you’re a princess. The royal palace is famous for its servants.”

“And I spend very little time in the palace,” Zofia said. There was always so much else to do. “Besides. In the palace, you can at least see who’s serving you. Here, the staff are neither seen nor heard.” She glanced towards the door. “That little window makes me think of a sally port.”

Val laughed, but something in her tone or her eyes kept it from seeming like mockery. “The passthrough windows, you mean? Lady Margaret had them put in after an incident with a gift basket.” She did not elaborate. “You not seeing the staff also means the staff don’t see you. The fewer people who know you’re staying here, the better.”

“Though I shan’t stay long.” Zofia held up the fruit that formed the last of her breakfast. “I’m two bites away from proving Lizabet—”

There was a sound from the sally port, then a knock on the door. Frowning, Zofia went to it. The window on the opposite side had already been closed, and in the boxy little compartment, she found her clothes: clean and dry and fresh.

For a second, Zofia narrowed her eyes, glaring at them. Maybe if she’d eaten more quickly, she could have proven Lizabet wrong. But she picked up the articles and carried them behind the changing screen. “Do you mind?”

Scene 19

“Go ahead.” For good measure, Val turned her back.

The next moments proceeded in silence except for the rustling of fabric. So many others Val knew would still talk while getting changed. For that matter, Liz wouldn’t have even gone behind the screen. But it was like Zofia did her best to pretend that Val wasn’t even present while she was between outfits.

Finally, she stepped out. “Ready.”

Val turned. She finally took a good look at the princess, with no crisis to distract her.