The Thorn (wlw)

11 - Island Getaway

Raham—home to shoals of corals, gilded beaches, and contentious politics.

Kabran's city-state was called Rependen. They were not surprised to hear that he was the mayor.

Rependen was one larger island with a collection of smaller islands around it. Their ship maneuvered through the stippling of tiny landmasses, which were stone stakes driven into the ocean; Tall, sheer cliffs jutted out from the water, formed by the ceaseless waves lapping at the rock.

The docks were at a beach, leading inward as a golden road. They rode a carriage pulled by what looked to be broad oxen.

"This way is into the city's heart. We are headed to the mayoral compound. I imagine you will appreciate being on dry land," said Kabran.

"If I may ask," pondered Leonore, staring at trees of palm and a very blue sky. "I had thought Raham beaches were black?"

"Most of them are. Volcanic sand is what you'll find in our sister cities, but Rependen is further away and is yellow."

"No volcano?" said Gabriel.

"No volcano," confirmed the mayor. "Only the mountain."

On cue, they all looked up at the distant looming mountain, a near-perfect cone jutting out of the landscape. Leonore knew they mined that thing hollow, and that the inside looked like a Hierstag warren; Raham's islands were old era landmasses engulfed in world-encompassing floods. It was where they sourced their rocks and metals.

This new country was a change of scenery, and it passed by all too quick for Leonore's liking. Her head hurt from the colors and the sun.

The mayoral estate was surrounded by artificial hills; she assumed they were artificial because they walled the perimeter so perfectly. The building itself was weathered gray and brutal, concrete in construction and temperament—if buildings had personalities, this one was a stoic.

She caught Gabriel staring at it. Leonore said, "Impressed?"

"Rather disappointed at the lack of gold. I thought it was a staple."

They were led inside and given a brief tour of whatever was in their way, on the way to their suite, where they were bid to get comfortable.

There was only one bed; they had both gotten adept at co-sleeping, which came useful as they wanted to sleep their fatigue away. They had plenty of time to rest on the ship, but it was never truly rest for either of their land-acclimated constitutions.

Aqueducts carried fresh running water to their washroom; she beat Gabriel to it and locked herself inside. The bath may have been cold, but it beat the standing water she had to use on the journey.

She bathed, and when she emerged, Leonore was chilly and went to hunker down on the bed. She was glad for the mattress's firmness, rivalling her own at home, and for the thick quilt blanket.

Vaguely, as she watched Gabriel undress and slink into the washroom, Leonore wondered if they gave them this suite and its details in particular, just before drifting off.

Leonore woke to limbs as heavy as lead and a feverish, sweating cold. The first can be explained by the fact that she was swaddled in the blanket, like a fussing baby, and Gabriel holding her from behind—over the quilt, pinning her in place.

"Gabriel," she hissed, regretting the rough rasp of her throat. The knight kept sleeping, so she bucked with all her might.

Leonore was stronger than she looked, and they both nearly fell off the bed. But Gabriel had been dislodged and was now awake.

The knight sat upright on the side of the bed, as bare as Leonore had ever seen her, voice groggy. "What?"

"What happened? I fell asleep and we were embracing." Leonore wrapped the blanket around her, keenly aware of the cold.

"You were shivering and you fidgeted too much for the blanket to stay around you, so I held it together." Gabriel stood and slipped into her trousers; Leonore looked away.

"It's too hot," she said, and the knight stood to open a window.

Leonore averted her eyes; Gabriel had some sort of binding at her chest, but she felt she shouldn't look.

Did she find Gabriel attractive? Yes, strikingly so. Ever since that revelation, when she learned Gabriel was a woman, her eyes had been opened. She now viewed the knight through a lens of interest, despite herself.

Leonore was no maiden; more often than not, her night jaunts in the Queen City had been spent lovergirling, and she was no stranger to the lovely, grittier parts of evening courtship.

This should have been no different, but it really was. In the past, her sweethearts sought her attention, her touch. With Gabriel, she was in the world's most ascetic marriage.

And she made no assumption, and so Leonore didn't know if Gabriel was even interested in women.

Just in time, an attendant came to the door bearing more weather-appropriate clothing and an invitation to dinner. Gabriel slipped into a tunic and opened the door to speak to him. He nodded and left.

Leonore stared at the neatly folded clothes set aside on a table, wrangling her mind and body into shape for a social dinner. She tried to sit up, but her muscles failed her and she flopped uncomfortably back down.

Gabriel snapped into action, pulling her up to lean against the headboard, but she kept slipping to the side so the knight had to prop her up as well.

"Help me stand," she said, smushed against Gabriel's shoulder.

She tried scrambling out of bed, foiled by Gabriel pulling her back down by the hips. Flustered by Gabriel's easy strength and at her own fatigued weakness, Leonore was glad when the other woman stood and walked away.

"No need. I told them you were ill and that we should stay in for a while. Put these on." She tossed the new clothes on Leonore's lap. "Much lighter. You'll feel better."

Leonore was grateful, because her head felt like it was full of water. But she didn't want to get into those clothes as she was. "I'm soaked with sweat. Let me wash."

She threw off the blanket from her legs and regretted it, both from the cold and the twinge in her muscles when she tried to move. Gabriel put it back over her and went to the washroom. Leonore dreaded slightly what was to come, just as Gabriel emerged with a cloth and water.

"I'll wipe you down." Gabriel sat beside her and busied herself with running the cool, damp cloth over her exposed skin, and stared at a spot on the wall when she had to let her hands roam under Leonore's clothes.

Leonore was too tired to have strong feelings about this; she was content to be maneuvered and gently massaged. Gabriel was not good at massaging—her hands were rough and hardened and moved gently enough to tickle—but nonetheless she appreciated the effort.

She was clothed again just in time for the attendant to return with a tray of food, and Leonore spent her first day in Raham sick with fever and fed from a spoon.