“Of course. Paper crowns. Sturdy things.” Rianaire rubbed at her temples. “Well, shall we go and bathe?”
Inney came and pulled her to her feet. The walk to the bath was a short one, but it still seemed to be more work than Rianaire felt was worth undertaking so soon after waking. She grumbled a few complaints but entered the bath and sat herself on the small stool. Inney came in a moment later, undressed.
“You always stare at me.”
“I stare at most beautiful things.” Rianaire rolled her head back as Inney came near, cloth in hand to wash her. “Some more than others.”
Inney put a hand under her head and pushed it back up so that Rianaire looked at the wall ahead of her. “You are a strange woman.”
“Am I?”
Inney washed her softly, slowly. Rianaire closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the warm cloth across her skin.
“This skin has been a curse the whole of my life. And you look at me as though I am some precious flower. You are the only one who has ever… I cannot understand it.” She paused there, her hands stopping their work. “I do not dislike it.”
Rianaire smiled, though Inney could not see it. A comfortable quiet came over the room. Inney leaned into Rianaire’s back and wrapped dainty arms around her. The sound of the door to the room outside closing pulled Inney away. A pair of moments passed, Inney keeping quietly to her work.
Síocháin came in when she had undressed and stood in the doorway watching them without a word. No, that was not quite right, Rianaire noticed. She watched Inney.
“Inney, I apologize. Might I speak with Rianaire privately?”
Inney put a naked hand to Rianaire’s hand briefly before she stood. “Of course.” Her voice had hardened just the least bit. “I will wait outside.”
Inney left them, passing Síocháin with a tight smile. Rianaire watched it all quietly, curiously.
“Have you finally grown tired of sharing me after all this time, Síocháin? I should have known.” Her voice was playful, doubtful it would be met in kind but hoping.
“You have made the satyr an official member of the court?”
“I have.” Rianaire’s voice cooled, a part of her became sad. “What do you make of it?”
Síocháin stayed at the far end of the room, standing still. Her eyes held so subtle an expression that no other soul would have seen the disgust in them.
“Do you truly wish to hear it?” Her flat voice gave away none of the clues her eyes had. Rianaire nodded. “I hate having that goat so close to you. Her presence in the Bastion will be a disgrace.”
Rianaire sighed deeply, all the weight of the morning returned. The response did not surprise her much. Síocháin likely spoke for the bulk of the elves in the province, if not all of them aside from Rianaire. There was profit in having a hippocamp so willing to help the elves understand their fight all the better. More profit than harm, Rianaire thought.
“Do you not agree?” Síocháin said the words quietly, though in the same tone as always.
“Agreement has nothing to do with my decision, Síocháin. I hold no love for the horsefolk, but there is value in Gadaí’s knowledge and her willingness to help us. If they are not all mindless beasts, then so much the better for us. But without Gadaí, so much the worse.”
“Is it better? What could be for our betterment in consorting with a race who has sought to destroy us every season since the first books were written down? And we invite one to our home while they burn our cousins so many miles away?”
Rianaire turned, facing Síocháin properly for the first time. “Cruelty without reason is a game for despots and monsters. I understand your hate and I do not disagree with your words, but I cannot ignore what Gadaí has shown herself to be simply because of the shape she takes.” She stood, taking a step toward the door and Síocháin. “Tolerate it as best you can. This business will be done in time and she will be off to someplace you can forget exists.”
“And if I cannot? If I beg you to send her away?”
Rianaire felt the icy spike of the division the question demanded. “Will you? Will you beg?”
Síocháin stood quiet, though Rianaire waited for her answer. Rianaire came to her side, meaning to leave. Síocháin looked away.
“I am sorry, love.” Rianaire looked at Síocháin then down at the tile beneath her feet. “I cannot indulge your stubborn pride in this, as much as it pains me. The cost is not one for me to pay.”
“Stubborn pride.” Síocháin kept her eyes away from Rianaire’s. “A fine pair of words from you. Betraying your people to a murderous race of horses so none would ever confuse you for your mother.”
Rianaire’s hand came across Síocháin’s face swiftly, the sound ringing in the bathroom. “There are steps too far, Síocháin. I mind where I put my feet. You may wish to do the same.”
There was nothing to be said after that. Inney waited outside the bath, still naked but her skin pale and white and her mask in place. Rianaire nearly yelled at her for it but caught the words. She quietly moved to get dressed and Inney did the same. They left the room and made down the stairs for the main hall. Inney kept her quiet. The silence did Rianaire no favors. Anger and bitterness were hot in her heart. Síocháin had meant to hurt her and Rianaire did not wish to run from the feelings. If they were what Síocháin wanted her to feel, she would feel them.
“Fires take her,” Rianaire muttered, walking briskly toward the yard. Inney kept herself quiet still. There was nowhere for Rianaire but her own mind and
