Ari sat on the edge of the bed, dropping her head into her hands. “She let Arthur go like we hoped. He’s at rest now, and we’re back in our time and place.”
“Ara.”
“I saw my body. Whatever future where my body lives in her cave, after my death.” Ari looked up, too tired to cry. “I wasn’t old like Arthur. I was… like this. My cheek hadn’t even healed yet.”
“Oh.” Gwen sat down hard next to Ari. “Oh, no.”
“Please don’t tell the others.”
“Of course,” Gwen whispered.
“You don’t seem shocked.”
“I knew there’d be some kind of unforeseen cost, but this is too much.” Gwen turned at her. “It’s not going to happen.”
“You should have seen Nin. She was so damn proud of herself.” Ari dropped Gwen’s Lionelian crown on Kay’s bookshelf, next to the chalice. They looked good together.
“You’re resigned to dying. I can feel it without looking at you.” Gwen’s voice grew bolder, the queen of Lionel returning after all. “You forget that our child has magical time powers. Kairos will come back for us. All grown up and ready to save their parents.”
“That sounds more Merlin’s style. Then again, we did leave Kai in his care.” Ari closed her eyes. “Gwen, I’m going to die before Kai is able to grow up, let alone help us destroy Mercer… or stop Nin from cursing me.”
“You don’t know that.” Gwen’s voice held a warning. She still needed to believe they’d given up Kai for a reason. That they would both live to see their baby again.
Ari reached for something else. Anything. “You know, and I don’t say this lightly, we might be the worst smelling things to ever grace this room.” Gwen looked up at her, expression quirked. “Come on. That shower made Val all kinds of peppy.”
Gwen and Ari peeled layers of Old Earth off of their bodies. Once upon a time, this kind of scene had been foreplay. Now it felt like shedding, a necessary leaving behind. Ari tossed her medieval boots—which could have come with the slogan: all the lacings, none of the arch support—followed by her belt, pants, and soiled shirt. Gwen turned around, moving her hair over her shoulder to reveal her dress’s lacings. Ari untied it, pulling the string free of each slit in the fabric until the entire piece of thick, weathered cotton opened like a set of double doors, showing off Gwen’s entire back. Ari kissed her shoulder.
“No bite?”
“Later.” Ari shrugged the rest of Gwen’s dress off, and Gwen stepped out of the circle of it. Ari didn’t press her with glances or touches or her mountain of aches. She stepped into the shower, turned it on as hot as it would go. Gwen joined her, their bodies close but not quite touching in the steam. Ari washed Gwen’s hair, pulling the knots out of her curls, watching Gwen’s eyes close.
“You’re doing amazingly well for someone who gave birth yesterday.”
“I raided the first aid box.” She smiled. “Zero pain now. Just so… tired.”
“Me, too.”
Next, Gwen washed the grime off Ari’s sore arms, her shoulder muscles, and more. The water drained darkly from the rich soil of a planet that could no longer grow life. When Gwen made it to Ari’s fingers, she kissed each one with an attentiveness that left Ari remembering better times. “What would you say to me right now if you didn’t think you were about to die?”
“Go dancing with me,” Ari said. Gwen laughed. “I saw you dancing once, in Dark Matter on that moon colony.” Ari smirked. “You remember, lady? You totally drugged me and took me back to your spaceship like a caveman.”
“Stop being cute.” She put the soap down and laced their fingers. “I’ll go dancing with you, but not on that ridiculous moon. There’s a platform club on Tanaka with the best starscape.” Gwen’s body was unfurled, faceup, breasts pressing into the space beneath Ari’s.
“Forgot how well we fit together,” Ari marveled.
Gwen leaned the rest of the way, sealing their bodies together in the stream. Her head rested over Ari’s heart. “Really? I didn’t.”
When Gwen left the bathroom, Ari tried to get a comb through the thick, black tangles of her hair. Impossible. She spied Val’s clippers and didn’t think twice as she sheared most of it away. Ari tied a towel around her waist and glanced in the mirror at her work. She looked sharper, new, older. The shave felt good, especially when she ran her hands up the back and through the messy points at the front. The circular scars across her shoulders and back were bleached from being hidden under armor for so long in Camelot. It was a strange dream already. Too unsettled and unsettling to be true.
She stepped out and felt Gwen’s eyes on her. “I did a thing.”
“I like it.” Gwen looked over her own body, wounded. “I’m not the same, Ara.”
“Well, that’s perfect because I’m different.” Ari moved forward, sat next to her, sliding one hand on Gwen’s perfect hip, fingers tracing artistically woven stretch marks.
“I’m serious,” Gwen said gently, and Ari only nodded, the tide of her feelings pulling and cresting, pulling and cresting.
“Yeah, me, too.” Her voice broke until she cleared her throat.
“What I wouldn’t give for something to wear that didn’t once belong to Kay.” Gwen sighed, holding up a shirt with several holes.
“Shall I order us something from Mercer?” Ari joked.
“Not funny. Although the convenience should never be underestimated. This is what I learned from Camelot, where it took a whole month to sew one dress. The real power is in convenience.” Gwen squinted. “I’ve been thinking about how the Mercer boycott failed after the fall of the last Administrator. Unlike Lionel, most planets and settlements can’t afford not to work with Mercer. We need to be prepared beyond defeating them. We need to have a
