Chapter 6: Meeting Jay

Scene 27 (F/F, flirting)

The next night, Zofia woke up rested, refreshed, and still carrying a yearning that she didn’t know what to do with.

She knew what it was. Yes, she’d felt sexual tension before. She was a princess; she wasn’t dead. But she’d always been able to ignore it in the past. It had never felt quite this... acute before.

Still, it wasn’t enough to interrupt the start of her night. She stretched; she had breakfast, delivered to that sally-port window. Yet, she couldn’t get fully ready just yet. They were waiting for a few things. Self-conscious in her robe, Zofia stepped out to the hallway, and got no answer when she tried knocking on Lizabet’s door.

So next, she went to Valerie and received a groggy “Come in.”

Zofia slipped inside, closing the door behind her. No risk of staff seeing her under-dressed now. “Good morning,” she said despite the fact that the sun was setting. “Do you know where I could find ... Lizabet...?” Her voice trailed off as she processed what was in front of her.

Lizabet herself had sat up in bed beside Valerie, letting the covers spill down to her hips. The garment she wore underneath had narrow straps on her shoulders and a deeply-scooping neckline, but that was only the third-most indecent thing about it. The light red silk hugged tightly to the curves of her heavy breasts, and it was sheer — not to the point of transparency, but to the point of hinting. If Zofia looked closely...

No! No, she should not look closely. She tore her eyes away, staring at the curtained window. “I apologise for the intrusion!” She was speaking too quickly, too loudly. “I was just wondering if ... if...”

Lizabet looked her up and down. “Oh of course, you’ll be needing the new dress.” She slid out from the bed. It was hard to continue looking away: Zofia’s reflexes wanted to keep track of every bit of motion around her. Including Lizabet crossing the room, and including a certain ... soft shaking. “It should be in my window by now.”

She was headed to the door. Dressed like that. And to think Zofia had been self-conscious about her robe. A soft squeak slipped unbidden from her throat.

“Hm?” Lizabet lingered by the doorway, which meant she lingered by Zofia. “Why, Princess, is something the matter?”

What kind of question was that? The amused tone in her voice showed she knew exactly what the matter was. Zofia gestured vaguely towards where she thought Lizabet was, still trying not to look. “Your shift. It’s. Rather thin.” Overcorrection. Now she was speaking too softly and slowly.

Lizabet laughed, bright and cheerful. “This old thing?” She stepped closer. “What’s wrong with it being thin?”

“Liz,” Valerie warned. Zofia didn’t hear her footsteps, but heard the source of her voice move as she left the bed.

Zofia’s face felt like it was on fire. Lizabet was too close for her to easily look away from unless she aimed her gaze directly at the ceiling. One hand went to her tiara, hoping that her status as princess would give her the strength to withstand Lizabet’s incorrigible teasing. “I can see your—” She cut herself off there.

“They’re just breasts, Highness.” Lizabet lowered her voice, her tone softer, more private. “You have them too.” Was she looking at Zofia right then? It made her think of Valerie’s heated gaze, and even without confirming her suspicion, the princess shivered. “Why make such a big deal of seeing them in a thin nightdress? You’ve seen me naked.”

That reminder actually helped Zofia cool slightly. “Circumstances,” she said. “Titillation was the last thing on my mind then.”

“Oh, I see.” Lizabet waited for a beat. “So you’re saying that titillation is much more on your mind now?”

And with that silky tone in her ears, yes, it jumped right back to the forefront. But rather than say that, Zofia just whined and put her face in her hands. With her vision blocked, she couldn’t see Lizabet’s breasts or Valerie’s legs.

“Liz.” Valerie’s tone was firmer. She’d made her way over to the closet.

Lizabet ignored her. “If seeing me in this shift is too much, I could just take it off. I’m afraid I don’t have any other clothes in here, so—” She was cut off by the sound of a soft impact.

Zofia dared to peek up. Valerie had thrown a coat over Lizabet, now draped over her face. “Stop teasing the poor thing,” Valerie said. The ‘rescue’ was less dramatic than when they’d met, but Zofia appreciated it almost as much.

Lizabet huffed and pulled the coat on. Though she didn’t close it all the way, it at least hid her nipples. “You and your nightshirt had your turn yesterday.” She sighed. “ ... but that was much less aggressive. Sorry if I went too far, Zee.”

Zee. That apology felt more genuine, more personal and intimate, than if Lizabet had kept calling her by her titles. Zofia nodded to her. “Accepted.” She could be gracious. It was not at all that part of her had enjoyed it or missed seeing Lizabet wearing so little. Not at all. “My apologies for my intrusion. I didn’t realise that you two...” Rather than finish the sentence, she just blushed.

The two rogues blinked, glancing at each other. Lizabet put it together first and laughed. “No, no, you’re fine. It’s not like you walked in on us having sex, we just kept each other company this time.”

This time. Zofia caught the implication.

Lizabet went to her suite to check her pass-through window. That left Zofia alone with Valerie. Now knowing her as something other than a stranger, Zofia took a real look at Valerie’s untransformed state. There was a slight tan to her skin, matching well with her brown eyes and short brown hair. Her features were more tomboyish than the face Zofia knew, her eyebrows a little less severe. And she was so skinny, her body practically disappeared in that nightshirt she wore.

But however different she looked, she was Valerie. Zofia still felt that presence, still saw the same person behind those different eyes, and it was enough for her heart to beat a little bit faster, just at the thought of being alone with her again. How was she supposed to handle working so closely together if she couldn’t keep this tension in check?

She’d deal with that later. For the moment, she needed to get out before she did something else humiliating. “Do you have the bath oils?” she asked.

Valerie simply, silently, handed over a small clear bottle from her alchemy cabinet.

Zofia held it in both hands. “I’ll get started. Could you...?”

“I’ll bring your clothes to your suite,” Valerie said.

Zofia nodded. Hopefully, a good bath would help her to clear her head.

Once she was back in her suite, she made some arrangements before heading into the bathroom. And she finally let herself think about something she’d noted earlier.

This time. It was as good as explicit confirmation that Valerie and Lizabet were lovers. After what had almost-happened between them the night before, should Zofia have been jealous? She could imagine her aunt’s fury at someone having her royal attention, then daring to look at another woman. But as Zofia let herself feel, she realised jealousy wasn’t what came to her.

She was ... fascinated. Valerie and Lizabet having sex. What would that look like?

Scene 28

Zofia settled into the freshly-drawn bath, letting it submerge her, leaning back until only her face was above the surface. Valerie’s oil added a sweet, strawberry scent, something that would linger with her even after she left. For a minute or so, she just ... soaked, feeling the warmth and buoyancy all around her.

Then she heard the suite’s door open. As she sat up, her ears breached the water in time to hear, “It’s Val.” The alchemist’s voice was lower and more masculine today. “I’m leaving your dress behind the screen.” A second later, there was the sound of the suite door again.

“Wait,” Zofia said. “We should talk.”

“While you’re bathing? Are you sure?”

Zofia had already started blushing. Hearing Valerie’s voice, it felt almost like she was present in the room with her, while she was naked. But with the plan of deception they’d made, this would soon be the least of her worries. She needed to get used to it. “Yes. I have...” She struggled with wording for a moment. “There is much I don’t know, but I don’t want to offend with my questions.”

Valerie laughed. “Ask whatever you want to know, and I’ll assume you mean goodwill by it.”

Zofia smiled softly as she began to scrub herself. “Lizabet didn’t change this morning, the way you do.”

“That’s because of the realignment effect,” Valerie said.

“Realignment?”

“Yes. The realignment effect occurs when you take the same transfiguration repeatedly.” Valerie’s tone suggested that should have been a complete and sufficient explanation.

Zofia stopped her scrubbing to stare at the bathroom door, as if her flat look could reach Valerie despite the layers of privacy that kept her from even seeing her.

Perhaps her flat silence had the same effect, because Valerie soon coughed. “I should start from the beginning.”

Zofia resumed, first rinsing the suds from her arms. “Please do.”

Valerie cleared her throat. “In alchemy, there are two kinds of transformative. A few are ‘cosmetics’, like that oil in your bath — it’ll make your hair glossier, your skin shinier. I added a few crushed cherry blossoms to make you a little pinker, too.”

Zofia drew a lock of her tourmaline hair forward, peering at it. “I think I’m rather pink already.” She set to lathering the water through it.

“That’s the idea. All part of your cover.” She could hear the smile in Valerie’s tone. “Cosmetics are small, specific effects: make your lips redder, change the colour of your hair for an evening. A bath like this will last until ... maybe midday tomorrow, with no side effects afterward.”

“One second.” Zofia dunked herself to rinse her hair, then rose back out, water cascading over her. “Continue.”

“The other kind are transfigurations,” Valerie said. “Those are much bigger. Anyone who takes a transfiguration will get the same end result.”

Zofia tilted her head while her scrubbing continued down her body. “What do you mean? How’s that different from a cosmetic?” She did look a little pinker, she noticed. Just a splash more colour in her usually-pale skin.

“If you and Liz both used a cosmetic to make your lips red, then you would look like yourselves with red lips.” Valerie’s voice was shifting back and forth — she was pacing out in the suite. “But if you and Liz had taken my potion yesterday, it would have made you look exactly like I did. Same build, same grey eyes, even the same pattern of streaks in your hair. You even would have looked the same as each other.”

Zofia’s eyes went wide, considering the implications. “ ... oh.”

“Mhm.” Valerie’s pacing paused. “That’s half of why I prefer to make my potions fresh right before I take them. First, so it can suit my mood at the time. Second, if I kept a stash of them, then if someone managed to slip inside and get one, they could go around with one of my faces.”

“Like Damascus?” Zofia asked.

“Exactly like Damascus.”

Zofia didn’t want to interrupt, but one question pressed on her. “Is it possible to make a transfiguration to look like someone specific? The way they naturally look?”

“Pulling that off is the mark of a master alchemist. They have to get every ingredient exactly right. If I wanted to make a Zofia potion, I’d need to get the right quality of pink tourmalines for your eyes, the right marble for your skin tone, the right colour of flower for your hair, the right amount of them for your hair length. And of course, they say it’s completely impossible if you’re not able to study your subject in exacting detail.” Valerie sounded amused by the exactness.

Zofia picked at something. “You said they have to get the ingredients right.” She checked herself over: nothing more left to scrub, nothing left to rinse. She stepped out of the water and started to towel off.

“Well.” She could practically picture Valerie’s wicked smile. “I’ve found a trick to it.”

It was the kind of knowledge that could be a trade secret at best, or dangerous forbidden techniques at worst. But that tone was eager to share, begging her to ask. “How?”

“Use an ingredient from the subject.” Valerie was practically gushing with pride at her discovery. “Most alchemists don’t even think about it. They don’t want the association with blood magic. But it doesn’t need to be blood. Add a single hair to a basic transfiguration mixture, and you’re done.”

“That’s ... dangerous in the wrong hands.” So Zofia considered it lucky it was in Valerie’s. Now dry, she set the towel aside and steeled her nerves. “I’m coming out.”

It wasn’t as daring a move as it could have been. Zofia had moved the changing screen directly in front of the bathroom door, so she could step out without stepping into view. And laid atop the dresser was a simply-wrapped parcel, her slave dress within. “You haven’t told me about realignment yet.”

“Right, yes, sorry.” The acoustics of Valerie’s voice were different — she’d turned her back even though the screen was in the way. “When a transfiguration potion’s time runs out, a fraction of the effect lingers. If your transfigured form was a foot taller, then you might still be a half-inch taller afterwards. If you leave it alone for a few days, it fades. But if you keep on transfiguring, taking the same form over and over, then it realigns your body’s humours, making you more and more like the potion.”

“Meaning...” Zofia stepped slowly into the dress as she thought. “Lizabet has been taking her potion for so long that she still looks like herself even when one specific dose runs out.”

“Exactly.” Valerie’s tone was warm. “She’s been taking it for years now. She’d have to go without for six months before she’d stop looking like herself.” She paused. “That’s a good way of thinking of it. I wouldn’t have expected someone to understand who wasn’t trans. It’s not something most people get.”

Zofia shrugged. “Some family stories say the first Queen Tourmaline sought beauty beyond her birth, that the face she was born with didn’t feel like hers. She had a great magician give her eyes like gemstones, skin like finest marble, hair like spun carnations.”

“And that’s why the royal family is so beautiful now?”

Zofia flushed. Did her blush feel warmer since the oil’s effect changed her skin tone? “I wasn’t going to put it that way. My point is, it’s adjacent, so it’s not that hard for me to understand.”

“Adjacent?” Valerie laughed. “Story like that sounds like Queen Victria was trans, plain and simple.”

Zofia paused. Some of her father’s most loyal lords would have challenged her to a duel over a suggestion like that. An insult, they would call it. But as she grew to know Valerie and Lizabet better, she found she couldn’t understand anyone who’d consider it an insult.

Speaking of knowing them better. “What about you?”

“Hm?”

But Zofia already had the pieces she needed to put the answer together. “You don’t take the same potion every night. Not just because of alternate identities. It varies based on your ... mood, you said.”

Valerie sighed. “Yeah. I’m ... it’s complicated.”

Zofia smiled softly as she checked over her clothes once more. “You’ve just explained transformative alchemy to me. We are fine with complicated topics. I would like to hear more about you.”

Valerie barked a nervous laugh. “You’ve got me there.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve never found a single look that feels completely like me. It changes day by day. Some nights, it feels right to be lithe and severe. Others, I look almost like Liz’s sister.” She hesitated, tense. “Or her brother.”

Part of Zofia had suspected already, but she was still silent for a moment as she took it in. Until she noticed that Valerie was still silent, waiting for something from her. She flushed. Couldn’t Valerie just tell her what she wanted again? “I’ve been thinking of you all this time as ‘Valerie, the woman’. Is that not correct?”

“It’s... often correct,” Valerie said. “But I’m fluid. Sometimes I think of myself as more of a man. Sometimes I feel like both, or neither, or...” Her voice trailed off.

Zofia was clean, dry, and dressed, almost ready for their gambit. She was out of excuses to delay. So she steadied herself with a deep breath, then stepped out from behind the screen.

Valerie was there, sitting in the lounge, holding a small strip of leather in her lap. She looked different from any other time Zofia had seen her. Taller, broad-shouldered but not bulky, dressed in a finely-tailored black suit. Her hair was all jet-black, short and slicked back; her features were strong and chiselled. There was a nervousness in her amber eyes that Zofia hadn’t seen before.

This was ‘Damascus’, Valerie’s cover identity. But it was still Valerie. Zofia felt she knew the right thing to do, the truthful thing to do, even without being told this time.

She touched Valerie’s well-sculpted cheek, meeting her eyes. “Handsome,” she murmured, her voice for Valerie alone. “You make a handsome man, a beautiful woman, and everything good in between.”

The nervousness melted from her eyes, though she had to blink them rapidly. The tension was there again, and for a moment, Zofia thought Valerie was about to kiss her.

But instead, she let out a held breath and rose to her feet. “Thank you.”

With the height Valerie had gained, Zofia had to look up to still meet her eyes. “You say it changes day by day. How do you feel today?”

“I...” Valerie took a breath, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m still a woman under this, right now. That’s part of what makes Damascus so uncomfortable sometimes. I have to wear this face even when I’m not feeling it.”

“Still Valerie,” Zofia said. “Still a woman.”

She smiled at her, then panned her gaze downward. “How about you? How do you feel?”