Lexa's heartbeat was drumming in her ears. Things had transpired too fast to function in the past twenty minutes—the past hour, really. What had even happened? Lexa stumbled through the events in her mind as she hurried across the grounds toward the distant Black Lake where Durmstrang ship awaited. She was tripping slightly over her dress so she seized the bottom and carried it above her knees as she hurried through the snow and slush, toes frozen even through her boots.
First was the Ball. Clarke was stunning in a dress, and Lexa hated the twist of jealousy at seeing her dance with Octavia, wrapped up in someone else's arms, smiling at someone else—
It was stupid, Lexa knew, but it drove her to downing cup after cup of the spiked punch, because the more she drank, the easier it was to look at Clarke and not feel like the burning inside her was consuming her. She thought it would make it easier to forget that kiss in the tent after the first task, but it didn't work the way she wanted it to. The lights were blurred into stars in her vision, and when they melted together all she could see was the color of Clarke's eyes as their faces drew near. By the time Lexa finally gave in and wandered out of the party to find her, heading toward the entrance hall where Lexa last saw Clarke heading, she was beyond self-control. Talking to her was easy, and Lexa never confided in people. Dancing with her was even easier, and Lexa never danced. Staring into Clarke's eyes in the shadows of the stairwell and letting her pin her against the wall with her hips? That was the easiest yet.
Then was the kiss. That kiss.
More than a kiss. Lexa was still weak-legged and throbbing. The flare of irritation at Indra occurred, which was not a common phenomenon as she was rarely ever annoyed at Indra, who had always looked out for her, but in Lexa's current drunken, shaken state, she let the irritation bubble up. What a fucking cockblocker. Or what was the phrase for a lesbian? She'd heard Raven jokingly say it before to Octavia, Lexa knew she'd heard the word—
The word floated back into Lexa's hazy mind just as she crossed the ramp and the door to the hold opened. "Clitterference!" burst Lexa, relieved she'd remembered, and then she blanched as she took in Indra standing in the doorway.
Indra raised a brow. "I don't want to know," she said brusquely, before seizing Lexa by her arm and yanking her inside.
"What's happened?" asked Lexa in a rush, completely oblivious to the way her words slurred because Indra looked even graver than usual and Lexa just had a gut feeling that something was wrong.
"In the wardroom," said Indra curtly, nodding toward the left and standing aside so Lexa could shuffle past her. "I will wait for Anya."
Lexa lurched her way down the narrow corridor, pitch-black save for the pinprick of light in the distance. It grew brighter as she approached, until finally she stepped into the wardroom, where four men stood near the fire.
"Long time no see, strik heda," came a familiar gentle rumble. Lexa's heart leapt and she blinked in disbelief. The four figures were actually just two, Lincoln and—
"Gustus," breathed Lexa, falling forward into his embrace.
He laughed softly, wrapping her up in his large arms and hugging her tightly. "Not so little anymore," he teased, his eyes twinkling as he pulled back to smile at her. "You've grown two feet in two years."
"I have not," she grumbled, swatting away the hand he held out at her shoulder length to depict her sixteen-year-old height. She tried squinting at him, but then another wavering Gustus appeared beside him. When she swayed, eyes widening, Gustus chuckled.
