CHAPTER 40

Late in the afternoon of the next day, the carriage rolled down the smooth stone streets of Amourot in search of the fleshshaper’s workshop. After Seeker’s unexpected – but entirely welcome – invocation of the wedding rites, she and Lanri had had a very busy night, and the exhaustion clung to Lanri like wet cloth.

Amourot was nice, but strange, Lanri decided as they went along. It had everything she could think of – temples and shrines, shops and restaurants, carpenters and stonemasons. Everything except for things her archeologist’s eye might find interesting.

Everything was so… new. None of the buildings looked any older than the rest, no middens, ruins, or run-down husks, just… buildings. None of the stone used anywhere looked salvaged, and all of the facades looked well maintained and clean. The streets ran in a grid, repetitive and inorganic, and – at least to Lanri – it was almost impossible to make sense of where they were.

Seeker had stopped several times to ask for directions, though, and the people’s answers certainly implied they were getting close. Over the last hour, they’d evolved from getting vague shrugs and gestures in one direction to ever more specific and detailed directions as they went along. The last person they’d asked had gone as far as to say it was just around the corner.

“I’m nervous,” Lanri admitted.

Seeker looked away from the road, and at her. “Nervous, huh? You know how much I like it when you get like that. Need some help?”

Lanri rolled her eyes. “No, not about that,” she said, thinking about the increasingly likely prospect that Mara, Ithella, and Mirabelle would return to Cerene as soon as they were done here in the city. “About the actual procedure. I feel like it’s going to hurt. A lot.”

From horseback, Mirabelle laughed and chimed in, ”I’ve got quite a few herbs that’ll help with that. Smoke and chew the right things in my saddlebags, and I promise you won’t feel a thing for the next week.”

“That’s… very generous, Mirabelle,” said Seeker with a shake of her head. “But we’ll leave that until we hear what the mage says.”

“As you wish, your grace,” Mirabelle said with a smile.

“Well, that should be it,” Seeker said as she slowed the carriage down in front of a building with an engraved metal sign above the front door, and large, opaque windows. The sign had faintly glowing arcane runes engraved into it. Lanri recognized one from watching Faron work. He’d explained it was central to most healing spells, and seeing it here would have filled Lanri with optimism.

Would have, if it weren’t for the fact that the shop’s windows were dark.

“Now, what?” Lanri asked, as Seeker stopped the carriage completely, and dismounted. The place was obviously closed.

“Now, we look at the note they left behind,” she said, and approached the shop’s door. Lanri quickly followed, and indeed there was a small piece of parchment stuck to a cork board that was seemingly mounted on the door for just this purpose. Unlike the shop’s sign, this note was not in the arcane runic script.

Summoned to aid those injured in gasworks accident. Expected back on the twenty-eighth of Sower, or the first of Groer.

“So, back today, or tomorrow,” Lanri mumbled. “Now can I ask now, what?”

Seeker cocked her head as she thought about it. After a few moments, she turned to look at Mara, Ithella, and Mirabelle, who had gathered around them. “Would you three mind finding us lodgings nearby?”

“Of course, your grace,” Ithella agreed. “What of you and Lanri?”

“We’re staying here, in case the fleshcrafter returns today,” Seeker decided, much to Lanri’s surprise. She approached Ithella, and reached into nowhere, retrieving a few golden coins from her purse for the priestess. “Please find us once you’ve secured us a place to rest. For at least three nights, I think.”

Ithella’s expression betrayed the barest hint of confusion at Seeker’s insistence on staying here for a while, but that confusion did not seem to influence her actions much. She took the coins with a nod, and said “as you say,” before climbing onto the carriage’s driver’s bench with Mara.

“Why are you sending them away?” Lanri asked, as Ithella urged the horses into motion, with Mirabelle in tow on her horse, and Maréchale obediently following behind.

Seeker didn’t answer right away, instead remaining unsettlingly silent, with an unpleasant expression on her face.

“Seeker…” Lanri began. “It’s okay if I have to wait a day or two longer, I promise. If I can dance wearing the prosthetic, I can definitely stand to wait a little longer. Let’s just go with them, have a good time at a tavern, and we can check tomorrow.”

Seeker shook her head. “No. I… I got you hurt and uprooted you from your life. I don’t want to wait anymore. I want – I need to fix this for you.”

Lanri let out a sympathetic sigh, and put a hand on Seeker’s arm, squeezing it gently. “You are my life now, Seeker. I know you feel like you need to set what happened with Gorance right, but there’s no rush.”

Seeker smiled, half-heartedly. “I know. I know there’s no rush, Dear. But… Let’s just wait here anyway, okay?”

“Of course,” Lanri said, moving closer, and wrapping her Seeker in a hug as, in the distance, the carriage disappeared from view. She knew it wasn’t likely that the fleshcrafter would bother opening their shop so late in the day, but if waiting here would make Seeker feel better, who was she to argue? “We’ll stay here as long as you say, Seeker.”

________________

Lanri was lost entirely in her own thoughts, wondering what Mara’s plans would entail. The girl seemed so set on joining Ishara’s church, and as far as Lanri knew everyone unanimously agreed it would be good for her. She imagined occasionally checking in on her with Seeker as they traveled and explored the ancient sites and ruins around Remere, learning about what she’d learned, and found the idea intimately appealing.

When she’d first met Seeker, she had imagined they might develop a relationship like that. That she would only see the angel every now and then. How glad she was to have been wrong, and instead been saved from years or even a lifetime wallowing in her grief.

Now her future only held excitement and promise, even if Mara and Ithella wouldn’t be around as much as she’d hoped. She imagined fighting hideous beasts in ancient crypts by Seeker’s side, wand in hand, casting spells on what Seeker couldn’t cut quickly enough with her sword.

“My Dear, don’t wish for mortal peril. That’s a dreadfully bad idea.”

Lanri snapped out of her reverie, and gave Seeker a sheepish smile. “I’m not wishing for mortal peril, Seeker. It’s more… the romance of it.”

“You read entirely too many of those terrible novels,” Seeker teased, and Lanri had to concede the Heartwarden had a point. She’d read several on the road from Cerene, and even now Seeker had the one she was currently reading tucked safely away in that nebulous nowhere.

“You could always buy me better books, then,” Lanri retorted. Seeker having a point didn’t mean she had to concede the whole conversation, after all. “But I’d bet the good books are all slogs to get through.”

“I think you should write a better book someday,” Seeker said. “I can’t be the only one who loves those thoughts of… of yours…” Seeker trailed off, and her eyes widened as she looked at the door leading into the fleshshaper’s store, and before Lanri could do the same, she could feel raw power radiate from within for a second. She came out in goosebumps, and Seeker hastily put a hand on Lanri’s arm, pulling her away from the door.

A few seconds later, the door opened, hitting a bell as it swung to reveal a person who looked so very much like Seeker, and was somehow… familiar to Lanri. Their hair was dark and neck length, and their build was slight and androgynous, but other than that? They looked like Seeker with a tan. They wore a tight top across their chest, and loose shorts, with an exposed belly decorated with a tattooed sigil.

“Mischief,” Seeker said in the divine language with a slight sigh.

“Mischief?” Lanri asked, also speaking in the tongue of the gods. Seeker had mentioned them a few times. “The Heartwarden?”

“The very same,” Mischief purred without looking away from Seeker.

“What is it now?” Seeker asked. “Another assignment? Already?”

Mischief put a hand on their hip, and cocked their head at Seeker. “No, not quite.” Seeker put herself between Lanri and the other Heartwarden, and nudged her back ever so slightly. “Stand still, Heartwarden,” Mischief ordered. It wasn’t a spell, though Seeker obeyed it as if it was. They stepped closer, and Lanri winced a little at how tightly Seeker squeezed her wrist.

“Then why are you here?” Seeker asked.

Mischief smirked. “Oh, you know why, doll. You cast the wedding rites on yourself without consulting the Lady.” They stuck their lip out in a pout, and took another step closer. “She wants to see you both. Now.”

Seeker swallowed, which judging by the way they rolled their eyes, Mischief seemed to find amusing. “Mischief, you can’t–”

They didn’t let Seeker finish. In one swift, elegant motion, they reached out, put a hand on Seeker and Lanri each, and shoved them into nowhere.

For the briefest moment, the waning afternoon sun gave way to perfect blackness, and she truly was nowhere. There was no ground beneath her feet, no sounds or smells around her.

And then she was somewhere. Somewhere almost overwhelmingly bright, and really damn hot. She winced and squeezed her eyes shut, covering them with her hands. “Fuck,” she cursed. What the hell had just happened? Mischief had mentioned seeing the Lady. Did that mean Ishara? Was she… Gods, am I dead?

“You’re not dead, Dear. Being dead is nothing like this,” Seeker assured her, putting a hand on Lanri’s shoulder. “Come on, open your eyes. You’ll get used to it in just a second.”

Reluctantly, Lanri obeyed. She hesitantly opened one eye, peering out at the world around her. She saw white marble pillars and railings trimmed with gold and copper, with lush, immaculate gardens beyond, framed by more of the pillars and railings. Lanri could feel that same power she felt when Seeker used her magic, distantly and faintly. It was pleasant and constant, a continuous thrum that made her feel like she belonged.

In the gardens beyond the railings, immaculate pools and fountains were spread about, decorated with statues of the most beautiful people Lanri had ever seen, nude and perfect.

She practically ran to one of the railings, to where a sun that was bigger and hotter than she’d ever known shone on her. She closed her eyes and smiled up at the sky, drinking it in. The weather had been getting better and better for months now, but as far north as they’d traveled, it was still chilly at times, and would never have been able to get like this.

“You like it?” Seeker asked from behind her. Lanri spun around, looking at the Heartwarden framed by more of the pillars and gardens.

“What is this place?” Lanri asked.

“Gods, there are a lot of ways to answer that,” Seeker said, as she came closer to Lanri, and took off her cardigan in the heat. Lanri realized she was already starting to sweat, and quickly followed her example. Seeker took Lanri’s shed layers, and along with her cardigan, quickly put them nowhere. At the sight, Lanri wondered whether they were now simply somewhere else, here in the same place she was. Whether she could walk there, and just pick them up. “Ishara’s realm. Somewhere as safe as it is dangerous. Home.”

Butterflies seemed to pop into being in Lanri’s belly once Seeker confirmed where they were. Home was right. She’d seen this place in her dreams, could feel that magic. “It’s amazing,” she whispered.

A few seconds later, the other Heartwarden, Mischief, popped out of nowhere. “What was that?” Asked Seeker.

“What was what?" Asked Mischief with a shrug.

“The delay, Mischief. You didn’t follow us right away. Why?”

“Oh, never you mind that,” Mischief said, dismissively. They waved as if to shoo away Seeker’s question, then approached Lanri. “Welcome, Lanri Vattens,” they said. “My Lady has been looking forward to meeting you for the longest time.”

“S–she has?!” Stammered Lanri. Could her goddess truly have wanted to meet her. Seeker had mentioned she had her favor, but she would never in a million years have imagined that that favor was so… personal. “So I can meet her?”

Mischief gave her a knowing smile. “Absolutely,” they said. “Follow me.”

They walked off with a purposeful stride, and Lanri and Seeker both fell in behind. Lanri was beyond excited, beyond any words she could think of, to get this chance. She looked at Seeker, and… her excitement was dampened a little by how worried and distracted she looked.

Are you okay?

Seeker’s head snapped up, and she gave Lanri a nod and a blatantly fake smile. Mischief was about ten paces ahead of them, far enough that Seeker could lean in and whisper, “Kneel and bow when I do, as I do. Speak only when spoken to, be polite, and refer to her as my Lady. Got it?”

Lanri nodded as she tried to figure out why Seeker was so nervous about this. Seeker had guarded her jealously, had forbidden her from entering Lady Ishara’s service to keep her to herself, but… surely the goddess of love and lust would understand that.

As they followed Mischief, they began to encounter other people. Like the statues, they were perfect, and like the people Lanri had met since meeting Seeker, they were diverse. They went about their business around them, strewn about and laughing in the grass in grand picnics, or kissing and exploring each other’s bodies on benches that lined the covered walkways.

Their attire ranged from loose and thin robes similar to the ones worn by the priests back in Cerene, to dresses, outfits very much like Mischief’s, and in the case of one particularly beautiful woman with a Heartwarden’s sigil on her upper arm, nothing at all. Lanri smiled at the sights and sounds of love and laughter all around her, captivated by the sheer rightness of this place.

Ahead, the walkway led to a vast, winged palace of immaculate white stone. A large, temple-style open doorway stood centered in their path, though the walkway also split to wrap around the building, as well as follow the most obvious desire paths between the wings of the palace.

The inside looked a lot like the monastery, with mosaic floors in elaborate patterns, and frescoes painted on the walls depicting beautiful people embracing and kissing. Mischief didn’t loiter or hesitate, to Lanri’s mild disappointment. She could, and very much wanted to spend hours looking at them, studying every detail of the immaculate art.

“We might have time for that later, Dear,” Seeker whispered. “But let’s focus on meeting… our host, first, shall we?”

Lanri nodded, obediently following as they went deeper into the palace, past an atrium which was dominated by a statue of a lithe, naked woman with long, straight hair, and a hand stretched out, in invitation. “Is that her?” Lanri asked, quietly.

Before Seeker could answer, Mischief stopped in front of a double door, and said, “see for yourself,” as they knocked on it. It swung open on its own, revealing a vast space that was a strange mix of bedchamber and throne room. There was a low, long table down the center, leading up to a lavish canopy bed on a raised platform. At the base of that platform, by the end of the long table stood a padded bench, just big enough for the woman on it to sprawl out, with a cup of wine in hand.

“Ishara,” whispered Lanri, before she’d even gotten a good look at her. She didn’t need to. She could feel Ishara was the center of that ever present sense of magic she’d felt since arriving. The woman looked nothing like the statue outside of her hall, but was the spitting image of the statue Lanri had found the dress by. She was short, and beautiful, with skin a little darker than Lanri’s own, and a great flurry of tightly curled dark hair, wearing a light, white dress. She waved them all closer, and took a sip of her wine as she looked down into something with a knowing smile on her face.

Seeker led Lanri closer, slow enough that Mischief could pass them both, and Ishara happily sat a little straighter to let the Heartwarden join her on the bench. They looked down into the same thing that so captivated the goddess, and whispered something into her ear.

As Lanri got closer, she could see the thing had depth to it, like a window. Though it suddenly faded into an opaque, flat sheet of rose gold when Ishara looked away from it, and at Lanri. When their eyes met, Lanri saw her irises faintly glowed the peachy color of Seeker’s spells, and were captivating beyond description. On her chest, her sigil glowed the same color, shown off by the dress’ deep neckline.

For a moment, she and the goddess stared at each other, Ishara’s quizzical gaze freezing her in place. “My, my,” she began, then gestured at Seeker. Lanri looked, and saw she’d dropped to her knees and bowed as low as the table beside her. “Usually, the mortals I grant an audience are more deferential than my Heartwardens, not less.”

Lanri took a deep, ragged breath as Seeker’s orders to bow were shoved back to the forefront of her mind, and she remembered she’d failed to do so. By her side, Seeker looked up in brief confusion, which was replaced by embarrassment. “My Lady, forgive her,” she quickly insisted.

Ishara rolled her eyes, and spoke before Seeker could continue. “No need to panic, beloved,” she assured the Heartwarden. “You were dumbstruck the first time you saw me, too.” She looked away from Seeker, and back at Lanri. “Hello, Lanri Vattens. I’ve so very much been looking forward to meeting you.”

Lanri swallowed, and tried to stop herself from laughing at the statement. It was absurd to her. Ishara, the goddess she held most sacred, had told her she’d been looking forward to meeting her. “T–t–thank you, my Lady.”

Ishara’s smile grew a little bigger. “My Lady, huh?” She asked, repeating the honorific in an exaggerated tone as she got up from her bench, and took a few languid steps towards and eventually around her. “That’s… I think that’s far too formal. After all, even if we’ve never met… I’ve known you since before you were born, and you’ve known me for most of your life. I think you should just call me Ishara.”

“Ishara,” Lanri whispered, reverently. “You… know me?”

“Oh, yes,” Ishara purred. “Since Batal and Juno conceived you. I watched you seduce your Faron, hung on your every word when you spoke your vows… mourned with you, when he died.” Ishara’s expression turned somber for the briefest moment, then continued. “And then I met you again when you found my dress, Lanri. You’ve more than earned the interest I’ve taken in you.”

“Interest?”

Ishara smiled at her. “Of course, Lanri,” she said. “I’ve seldom seen a mortal more devoted to those she loves than you. I can think of so many ways to reward you for your loyalty to my Seeker.”

Ishara wants to reward me.

“Though… that can wait. First, I’d like to show you something,” Ishara said, as she put one of her endlessly soft hands on Lanri’s shoulder and ushered her to her bench. She sank down into the cushions more than she’d expected, and once she was seated, Ishara made a gesture with her hand, then moved to stand behind Lanri. That thrum of power that radiated from her grew ever so slightly stronger for a moment, and Lanri watched as the rose gold surface of the table in front of her resolved into an image again. “Tell me what you see down there,” Ishara purred into her ear.

Lanri looked to Seeker, first. The Heartwarden looked oddly nervous, but nodded her approval. Lanri looked down into the… “What is this?” Lanri asked.

“Every bit as curious as Seeker and Mischief said you were,” Ishara said, voice full of approval. “This is my Augury. But… please, tell me what you see.”

Lanri looked into the Augury, which resolved into a grand ballroom, seen from above as if there was no ceiling. It was busy, full of people in finery, and as Lanri watched, she could swear she heard music, in the back of her mind. The people moved about or clustered in groups, and when Lanri focused on a specific group, their conversation joined the music in her mind’s ear, though Lanri didn’t understand the tongue they spoke.

“A party,” she whispered. The people were all dressed like nobility, with fancy, vibrant fabrics, tailored to flatter their figures without exception. Despite not understanding the words she heard, she could still make out a lot. The people attending were happy, their voices full of excitement and joy, and none of them looked or sounded drunk. The only exceptions Lanri could see were two people that were trying to blend in with separate groups, but kept looking at each other, rather than paying attention to those around them.

“You noticed them quickly,” Ishara said. Lanri watched the pair closely. They were both human, a man and a woman in their early twenties, and their attraction to each other was obvious. The man occasionally risked a glance at her when his group laughed at some joke, while the woman was far more blatant about it, though she looked away and blushed when he looked at her.

“They like each other,” Lanri noted.

“They do,” Ishara agreed. “But they’re not acting on it, not seeking each other out. What do you think I should do about it?”

“What do I think you should do about it?” Lanri asked. She’d heard the words, and made sense of them, but… surely she’d misheard her. Ishara couldn’t be asking her for advice. “I… don’t understand.”

“Oh?” Ishara asked. “I’m only asking you for advice, Lanri. I see two people who like each other, who want each other, yet they’re not acting on their feelings.”

Lanri looked to Seeker, unsure of what to say. The Heartwarden gave her the slightest shake of her head, reminding Lanri of their conversations back in Cerene, that it wasn’t her place to judge. “I… don’t know,” Lanri lied.

“Ah,” Ishara hummed. “Indecision. Such a typical mortal feeling. Torn between the expected outcomes, worried about how what you say and do will influence the future. Let me show you what I was going to do before you came in.” Ishara stepped around the bench again, and sat down on the Augury’s edge, gracefully tucking her long legs under her as she pointed at the woman, then at the man. “Which of these two would you say is the most… obvious about their attraction, Lanri Vattens?”

“The woman?” Lanri answered. Internally, she cringed at how hesitant she sounded, despite the answer being so obvious to her.

“Ishara,” Seeker began. “My Dear is–”

Ishara silenced her without even looking back at her, by raising a single finger. “I know, Seeker. She’s very exhausted after last night. Don’t worry, this won’t take long.”

Seeker swallowed, but nodded. “Yes, my Lady,” she said.

“So, the woman is the one wearing her attraction with the most pride, you say. I agree,” Ishara said with a mischievous smile. “Then that probably means she’s the one who needs the least help to act on it.” Ishara paused and reached into the Augury, until the tip of her well-manicured finger touched the image of the woman. “Introduce yourself to him,” she said.

Lanri gasped as she felt Ishara’s power surge all around her, and within everyone in the room. It felt… It felt amazing. It felt right. Ishara’s smile grew into a grin, and within the Augury, the image of the woman stepped away from her group of friends, and approached the man. That was all it took, it seemed. Because the next time he looked up and saw she was approaching him, he broke away from his group of friends, and they started to talk.

“I happen to think it’s a terrible waste when people want each other, but don’t come together. Don’t you, Lanri?” Ishara asked as she withdrew her hand, and the Augury faded back to a single flat sheet of metal.

Lanri’s gaze snapped away from it, and back to the goddess. “I…”

Ishara’s grin shrank to a more manageable, understanding smile. “My Seeker is right, of course. You’re tired, and need to rest.” Lanri nodded, and Ishara looked to Mischief. “Mischief, my beloved. Take our guest to Seeker’s room.”

Seeker started to protest. “My Lady, I… would prefer to do that myself.”

Ishara smoothly turned away from Lanri, and faced Seeker as she got up from the low table that housed the Augury. “Oh no, Seeker,” she began. “You’ve been gone for months. I’ve been watching through my Augury, and of course, Mischief has told me about it when they spoke to you, but that’s not the same.”

Mischief started to gently but firmly urge Lanri off of the bench, which Seeker seemed unable to stop herself from frowning at. “But–”

Ishara stepped closer to Seeker. “No,” she softly said, as she took one of Seeker’s hands into both of hers? As Mischief led Lanri past, she could see a gentle and understanding expression on the goddess’ face. “Mischief will take her to your room, so you can tell me what’s happened recently. After all, you’ve got a lot to catch me up on, don’t you? Captured by a demon, wrapped up in a Darayite priestess’ personal little war… Even cast the wedding rite on yourself.”

Lanri thought she heard the slightest hint of ice creep into Ishara’s voice when she mentioned the wedding rite, though the expression on her face didn’t reflect it, and so Lanri dismissed it as her having misheard her.

“Of course, My Lady,” Seeker said with a deferent nod. Seeker practically towered over Ishara, Lanri noticed now that she was looking at them side by side, but the goddess practically dripped with the authority she held over Seeker. Lanri hesitated a little, despite Mischief’s urging. As wonderful of a place as this was, she was loath to be separated from Seeker, and would very much prefer to help Seeker explain what happened to Ishara. “Go ahead, Dear. I’ll catch up.”

________________

As Lanri followed Mischief down the corridors of Ishara’s palace, she was treated to more sights, sounds, and wonders. People sprawled about on couches in pairs and trios, lips locked together, and hands roaming under clothing. There was no shame, here. No hesitation to express how people felt about each other, and no aversion to letting others see it. It was odd, to Lanri. Alien to her Remeran sensibilities. But, like the people in the bathhouse’s familiarity with nudity, it was illuminating, and brought a smile to her face.

“I had a feeling you’d like it here,” Mischief said.

Lanri looked at them. “You did?”

They nodded. “Oh, yes. You made yourself right at home in the Cereni monastery, after all. Seeker taught you well.” They paused and looked her up and down as they walked. “It’s a shame you’re not wearing that pretty dress she made for you, dear.”

Dear.

Lanri stopped walking, and looked at Mischief, more closely. The way they’d said that… It clicked in an instant. “The priest,” she said. “That was you! The one who helped me make sense of my feelings!”

They put a hand on their hip, and shot her a grin befitting their name. “Took you long enough,” they said. Now that Lanri knew to look for it, she could see the features of their face that had reminded her of her Faron.

“I’m so sorry!” Lanri managed. “I– If I’d known… you–”

Mischief snickered. “You were high as a kite, Lanri. I don’t blame you.” They started to lead her again, walking, and expecting her to follow. She did. “And I’m indistinct by definition. The deck was stacked against you.”

“Ah,” Lanri said, quietly, as she tried to recall her exact conversation with Mischief, back in Cerene. The dazeweed really did make things fuzzy. They’d talked about missing Faron, she remembered, and there’d been a bit about dreading that Seeker would end up alone again, eventually, which Mischief had responded to favorably.

“She adores you, you know,” Mischief said, as they gestured to a door that Lanri assumed was their destination. As they got closer to it, she did see that it had Seeker’s eye-shaped sigil engraved on it. “You’re all she’s talked about, the last few times I spoke to her.”

“Really?” Asked Lanri as they touched the door, and it opened on its own. Inside, she could see a remarkably cluttered room, with work spaces and desks lining every wall, and a large, lavish bed in the middle.

“Really,” Mischief said with a smile. “Every bit as devoted to you as you are to her. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Lanri stepped into the room, and looked around. She saw Seeker’s sketchbook and her bottle of blue Abanian currant brandy on one surface, her suit of armor, cardigans, and some of Lanri’s clothes on another. “Do you know when Seeker will get here?” Lanri asked, looking back at the doorway.

Mischief shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too long. I’d just make sure I don’t touch anything in here until she gets back. Some of that stuff’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Lanri asked, looking around the room. “What’s so dangerous here?”

No answer came, and when Lanri looked back to Mischief again, the door had closed. She wondered whether she had offended the Heartwarden by not recognizing them after all, or if this was just how they did things normally.

She did her best not to worry about it, and instead took stock of the room. Nearby the suit of armor, a collection of artifacts lay scattered. Two of them, Lanri had never seen before; a steel dagger with Daray’s sigil on it, and a sword that looked very much like Seeker’s, save for the blade being bronze, rather than rose gold.

But all attempts to think about what they might mean to Seeker were drowned out by the chain collar that laid between them.

Dangerous indeed, Lanri thought, as she rubbed her cheek where Seeker had slapped her the last time she’d seen that collar. She could remember that day surprisingly well, considering she’d spent most of it unable to think, or put together two words. She remembered how pleasant it had been to be so numb to what had happened to her.

It didn’t appeal to her now. She’d grown so much since then. Faron being gone still hurt, but she had a future, now. She could already walk again, had her wand back, and had the favor of a god and her Heartwardens. She didn’t want to numb herself to anything.

So, she left the collar be, and instead reached for the clothes Seeker had piled up on one of her tables. Between her cardigans were indeed the clothes Seeker had put nowhere a little while before, but underneath that…

She smiled as she pulled free the dress Seeker had made for her in Cerene, still immaculately white, and smelling faintly of smoke. Before she’d even thought about it, Lanri was kicking off her boots and shimmying out of her pants. She paused for a while once she’d stripped down to her underwear, then, remembering whose domain she was actually in, Lanri shed that as well before putting the dress on. After all, she had wifely duties to her Seeker, now.

She crawled into the large, inviting bed with a smile on her face, more than eager to put it through its paces with her beloved. She smiled and giggled when she sank into the soft, springy mattress.

________________

Lanri smiled when the door opened again, and Seeker walked in. She had a concerned, borderline dismayed expression on her face, but to Lanri’s relief, it lit up when the Heartwarden saw her wearing the dress, and striking her most alluring pose.

“Someone’s gone native,” the Heartwarden said in Lanri’s native tongue, voice laced with mock accusation.

“I’m glad I succeeded,” Lanri said with a giggle, as she beckoned Seeker closer. “I half considered wearing even less than this while waiting.”

Seeker shook her head, and intoned “dévêtez,” as she crawled onto the bed next to Lanri. Lanri shivered in sheer delight at the use of magic, now more potently felt than ever before, and squeezed her eyes shut against the blinding light of Seeker’s spell. She felt a slight tug at the hem of her dress; and she opened her eyes again, to see Seeker now entirely naked. “I think this is the exact right amount of clothes, Dear. After all, unwrapping one’s presents is half of the fun.”

Seeker came closer, stalking like a playful, alluring predator. She pressed her lips to Lanri’s, and took a firm grip on her dress before she tugged it into nowhere. The dress appeared behind Seeker at the same time, falling down onto the top of the pile Lanri had recovered it from.

The hand that had pulled the dress off quickly wandered upwards trailing between Lanri’s breasts until it reached her throat, which it very gently wrapped around, and applied only the slightest bit of pressure to. Lanri gasped, pleasantly surprised at just how quickly Seeker was moving today.

“Not that you’re still yours to give to me, are you?” Seeker asked.

Lanri shook her head, and whispered, “no.”

“No,” agreed Seeker. “You’re mine. Exclusively, irrevocably.” The Heartwarden looked away from Lanri for a moment, glancing at the collar on her desk. “And so, so obedient. You didn’t even touch it, did you?”

Lanri shook her head again.

“Good girl…” Seeker cooed, reaching up with her other hand, and gently stroking Lanri’s cheek before she plucked the brooch from Lanri’s hair, and tossed it aside. Immediately, Seeker’s aura hung thickly in the air. The smell of love itself, viscous and heavy, it made Lanri giggle.

“You’ve… You’re…” Gods, that sweet smell, that smell of sweat and lust and triumph… It made it hard to think. “If I’ve gone… native…”

Seeker’s predatory smile changed ever so slightly, softening just a hint as she nodded. “I am native, Dear. I was made in this place.” Seeker reached down, teasing the folds between Lanri’s legs just enough to extract a needy moan. “I’m just making myself at home.”

________________

Lanri was completely spent, savoring Seeker’s arms wrapped tightly around her from behind, and close to giving in to the fatigue of the day. “That…” She tried, but trailed off, instead playing with a lock of Seeker’s delightful smelling hair. She’d had a fantastic time, and knew Seeker knew that. By Ishara, the entire palace probably did.

Seeker let out a satisfied hum. “It was,” she breathily agreed. “But you are very easy to please.”

Lanri smiled and rolled her eyes. “Am not.”

“Are too,” said Seeker with a snicker. “Are you comfortable?”

“Unbelievably so,” said Lanri, stretching a little to punctuate the point. The bed roll she and Seeker had been sharing while traveling was fine, and the occasional beds at inns they passed had varied from acceptable to great, but this bed here in Seeker’s room? It was fit for a goddess.

“I’ve always liked this bed,” Seeker whispered into her ear.

“Oh?” Lanri asked, rolling over to look at Seeker.

The Heartwarden nodded. “I became who I am in this bed. After Ishara made me, she and Mischief were waiting for me in it.” She reached into nowhere, which made her sketchbook disappear from the table it was on and manifest in her hand. For a few seconds, she leafed through the first few pages, until she came to a picture Lanri recognized.

Two people, seen from behind, sitting on a bed. “Mischief and Ishara,” Lanri realized.

Seeker nodded. “I drew this… Gods, I think I was still younger than you are, even counting my time as a mortal. I spent so much time here in the beginning, sleeping between the lessons they taught me. Sometimes for weeks at a time, apparently.”

“Spending weeks at a time in bed with you doesn’t sound so bad,” Lanri mused before breaking out into a yawn.

“I bet,” Seeker said with a grin. “I’m definitely drawing a picture of you in this bed before we leave.”

“Well, why don’t you do one now?” Lanri asked, putting on a seductive look. “I’ll strike whatever pose you want.”

Seeker cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a fact?” Again, she reached into nowhere, and emerged holding a pencil Lanri suspected wasn’t from within Seeker’s room. When Lanri nodded to indicate that yes, she would pose for whatever picture Seeker wanted of her, Seeker said, “okay, then get on top of the covers, lie down on your side, and prop your head up on one arm.”

“That’s all?” Lanri asked, as she did as asked. “I figured you’d want to do something more… risqué.”

“I hardly think a nude drawing of a woman stained in sweat like you are is chaste, Dear,” Seeker said, as she began the drawing, her eyes flicking back and forth from Lanri’s body, to the sketchbook, and back.

Lanri had to admit that, now that she pictured it, that was already fairly explicit. Especially when she considered how she would have felt about it before meeting Seeker. Back then, she would probably have been horrified by the mere notion of anyone seeing her naked, gods forbid a permanent depiction of her like that. But now? She found she loved Seeker’s eyes tracing over her and scrutinizing her, and was very much looking forward to seeing the finished product.

She supposed taking the bath with Mara, Ithella, and Mirabele had helped her get over herself, in that regard. Seeing all those people, knowing all of those people had seen her. It– Gods, her friends! “Seeker,” she began. “What about the others?”

________________

Mara hung onto Ithella as tightly as she could, as the priestess rode Maréchale for all she was worth, weaving between carriages, horses, and people on the street. Ahead, she could see a plume of awful smoke rising into the sky, and she had the terrible sense it wasn’t a coincidence that it was so close to that mage’s workshop.

The steel of Maréchale’s shoes clattered and scraped against the cobbled streets as she galloped, sliding and skidding to slow down for the corners. As they got closer to the source of the smoke, the streets got louder and busier, and Mara grew increasingly certain she was right to be worried.

When they rounded the final corner, she was proven right. Men and women wearing Adampora military uniforms were evacuating the buildings closest to the workshop, and a handful of mages were busy trying to fight the fire with their magic.

Several of the guards tried to stop Ithella, but she rode right past them, and Maréchale being such a big horse discouraged them from trying to intervene. They both dismounted quickly, with Ithella already reciting spells that seemed to push the flames billowing from the building back.

Mara looked around, desperate to find some sign of Seeker, and especially Lanri. The people that had been saved or escaped from the buildings were all sitting on a bench, wrapped in gray blankets while a priest tended to them. “You,” she said, interrupting what he was saying and spinning him around by his shoulders.

The gold amulet around his neck, shaped like a circle with a line through it, marked him as a priest of Shala. “Hey, I’m trying to–”

“Heartwarden,” Mara cut him off. “Have you seen a Heartwarden, priest?! Really tall woman, red hair, has a stuffy academic with a prosthetic foot following her around like a puppy.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” he said, then looked past her, at Ithella. From the brief flash of resentment in his eyes, Mara took that he didn’t care for Daray’s priests.

“Are you sure?" She asked, as much to draw his attention away from Ithella as to get the information she wanted. “Please, you have no idea how important this is.”

“Child, please,” the priest huffed. “If I’d seen one of their graces, it would not leave room for doubt. Now, if you’ll excuse me, these people need my help.”

“Useless old fool,” huffed Mara as she walked away from him, and to Ithella’s side. Ithella had taught her that unlike a mage, a priest’s power comes from her god, not herself. And Mara assumed that’s why the spells she was casting to push the flames back and down were doing more than the efforts of the fire fighting mages.

Soon, the fire was under control, and Ithella and Mara had, with some help from the late-coming Mirabelle, convinced the guards they’d do well to just accept the help of bystanders rather than interrogate or detain them. They hesitantly walked inside, dreading that they might find bodies there.

There was nothing left. The building was a husk, with naught but char, ash, and half-melted metal fittings inside. One flame proved impossible to douse at first; a copper gas pipe continuously spewing flammable miasma. Ithella elected to just let it burn, rather than letting it pool up and cause an explosion later.

________________

“Do… Do you think they were here?” Mara quietly asked, as they went back outside after searching the ruins well into the night.

“No,” Ithella said, flatly. “If they had been, her grace would still be here now, either waiting for us with Lanri, or…”

“In a bad way,” Mara said, knowingly. She dreaded to imagine what Seeker might do if Lanri had died like that, but took comfort in the fact that her absence was strong evidence it wasn’t so.

Ahead, Mirabelle and the priest of Shala were sharing one of those dazeweed rolls the bovine beastkin liked so much, quietly conversing. She looked away from the man when Ithella cleared her throat, and her expression spoke of a conflict between hope and dread.

“Did you find anything?”

Mara shook her head. “That’s a good thing, though, right? If they’d been caught in that, we would” – halfway through Mara’s sentence, Ithella suddenly pulled Mara back mid step, a fraction of a second before Seeker appeared directly in front of her, looking bedraggled and reeking of sex – “know about it…” Mara finished, quietly.

Seeker took a moment, sniffing the air and looking around as the priest of Shala reached into a pouch, and pulled out a single copper coin he reluctantly handed to Mirabelle. “What the fuck happened here?!” Seeker asked once she’d taken stock of the situation, fixing Mara and the assembled clergy with piercing gazes. “I’ve been gone for six hours, and the whole reason we came here is burned down!”

“Your Grace, we–”

Mara cut Ithella off by throwing herself at Seeker, and wrapping her in a hug despite how she smelled. “We were worried!” She said. “We thought you and Lanri…”

“Oh,” said Seeker, as she returned the hug, the word a soft gasp that betrayed a world of understanding. “Oh, no, Mara. We had no idea about any of this.” After a moment, Seeker broke the hug, and knelt down in front of Mara, fixing her with a reassuring smile. “Lanri is fine, Mara. Safe in bed, asleep until I wake her up.”

Mara nodded, as a wave of relief crashed over her. “Okay. But… Well, where is she? Where were you?”

“Lady Ishara… wanted to talk to us, after my Dear and I had the ceremony last night. She wanted to meet Lanri, and hadn’t spoken to me since before I met Lanri.”

“Lanri got to meet Ishara?” Mara asked. “That’s amazing!”

“She agrees,” Seeker told her, warmly, before she looked at Ithella and her voice took on an entirely harsher aspect. “I suspect I know what happened here, too.”

“Your grace?” Ithella asked with a tilt of her head.

Seeker shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, Ithella. It’s just more for me to think about.”

“Will you and Lanri get back soon?” Mara asked.

“Honestly?” Seeker began, as she looked back at the burned-out husk of a building that had been their destination. “I’m beginning to think it might be a while before Lady Ishara’s curiosity in Lanri will be sated. I don’t know when we’ll be able to get back.”

“We have rooms in the inn for the next five days,” Mirabelle offered. “More if I help that greedy man start a tomato farm on his roof.”

Seeker considered that for a while. “Then… I suggest you make use of it, and wait for us.”