The moon looked like a lake of ivory, rippling in the ever-darkening sky. It never seemed to wane, always full and staring down upon Tol Tava. Clouds nervously pushed their way across the moon, seemingly wanting to get out of its way as quickly as possible. The stars twinkled timidly beside their imposing mistress.

"So, you guys have really never seen sunshine?" Zez asked, as she attempted to help the other women with their tent building. These tents were unusual. They were perfectly round, and pulled from a small square of fabric, defining all laws of dimensions and physics.

"Why would we have?" Esphina replied. She blew a stray strand of silver hair out of her face. "It does not exist within Tol Tava."

"Then why are the boys named Dusk and Dawn? If you've never seen dusk or dawn?"

"Legends," Zanya said, straightening the hem of the tent. "Legends and myths and stories, my dear Zez. Esphina, go get the rest of the supplies from the," her words stumbled. "The car."

A moment of tension snagged between all three of the women. They stood in a triangle, staring at one another, each glittering and gleaming with a different kind of apprehension. Well, Zez was mostly just sweating, but one can pretend it was the sheen of intrigue and curiosity. Esphina clutched her staff, her pale fingers tightening over the dry, white flowers.

"Esphina," Zanya said. The softness of her voice was wrapped around a blade, ready to slash. It was all it took for her companion to spin around and head towards the car, parked a few paces away in the clearing they'd discovered.

After the battle of the Bittersweet, they had driven in silence for an awfully long time, until Zanya declared they needed some rest. Zez just nodded, numbly, until they found a patch tucked beneath the trees, where the ground was soft and the air peaceful. Zanya had taken Zez's hands in hers and murmured, "I am sorry you had to see that."

The touch and the apology did not wipe the image of the bloodied animal from Zez's mind, but she could swallow now. She figured that if they were going to keep adventuring through this dangerous land, she better get a stronger gut.

(In actuality, Zez was going to need a stronger gut, will, and constitution.)

"Why are you so bossy?" Zez asked, sitting down on the ground, and dragging her fingers through the tall grass. It tickled the inside of her hand.

"She is a Maiden of my Garden."

Zanya's tone let it be known this was the end of the conversation. She had so many different tones, ranging from doting mother to infuriated warrior, and Zez wondered how complex this woman was. She barely knew anything. But when Zanya sat down in the grass beside her, and their shoulders brushed, everything felt a little less confusing. Or maybe more confusing. Zez didn't know.

"Are you happy?" Zanya asked, suddenly.

"What? Am I happy?"

"Yes," she said. "I know you must be frightened. But I am here to protect you. Does my land make you happy?"

"It's very beautiful," Zez said. "But I'm not sure I'm happy? I mean, we are hunting down a madman."

"I am sorry you were brought here," she said. "But I would like to make the best of this."

Esphina interrupted this lovely moment by dumping a handful of supplies at their feet. She towered above both of them, staff tucked under her arm, and her blue eyes chipped with iciness.

"Here are the supplies," she said.

"Indeed," Zanya gracefully rose to her feet. "Let's eat something and then go to sleep. We will have much progress to make tomorrow, as I want to get into the Ballads as soon as possible."

~

A fire crackled in a pile of blue twigs and white leaves, sending tendrils of smoke up towards the stars. After a full meal of dry bread and some sort of jam, Zez leaned back in the grass and stared up at the sky.

An eight-year old Imogen had been taught the constellations by her father. He used to love his telescope, dragging them out into the country every weekend that summer, flipping through his guidebooks and adjusting lenses and ignoring his bored daughter, until it was time to count the stars and connect them into stories. Orion. Cygnus. Scorpius.

"Cassiopeia," Zez murmured, to herself. "Oh, Cassiopeia."

That had been her favorite one, simply because of the beautiful name. She liked to roll the syllables around on her tongue, to taste their ancient tones. Zez arched slightly, straining to find a constellation that would take her home, but all of the stars were out of order. She couldn't make sense of anything.

"What is she doing?" she heard Esphina ask.

Zanya's face suddenly peered down into hers. Her silver eyebrows were arched nearly to her hairline, looking perplexed.

"I'm stargazing," Zez said. "Have you guys ever done that before?"

"No," Zanya said. "Should we?"

"The Stargazer is the only known-" Esphina began, but stopped as it became apparent no one was listening.

"I don't know any of your constellations," Zez said, as Zanya settled down beside her, so their bodies ran parallel. The tips of their fingers brushed. "Everything is just so different here."

They lay in silence for a moment, just taking in each other's breathing. They heard Esphina make some sound of disappointment, then disappear into her tent. Zez's shoulders relaxed when she heard the flap shut and immediately, Zanya laced their fingers together.

"Dusk told me of the stories you've shared with him," Zanya murmured.

"He told you?"

"Well, in his way," she said. "He was so sad to see you go. I've never seen him latch onto someone like that. Save for perhaps his brother."

Zez almost told Zanya about the stuffed rabbit currently residing in her satchel, but then remembered her promise of secrecy. She kept her mouth shut and let Zanya drowsily talk about her children. How much she already missed them, how she prayed Rhapsody was competent enough to take care of them, how she found herself constantly worrying about their safety. Zez kept squeezing her hand, in reassurance, as this terrifying and beautiful woman's voice began to crack. Her mystical shell began to crumble in the grass, as tears filled her voice, as she became not a mistress or a viper, but merely a woman who loved her children.

"It's okay," Zez said, when the words finally stopped pouring from Zanya. "I mean, you're their mother, it's only natural that you miss them. And that you're worried about them."

Zanya said something in reply, but it was lost in the swirl of Zez's thoughts. Her own mother, coming back to their rented villa, waiting for Zez to return. The Fiat disappearing into the hills. Their panicked, snarky last words about snake poisons and crazy nuns. She blinked away sudden tears, as she remembered her mother's sleek bob, her painted smile, her warm brown eyes and callused hands. Her laugh, not delicate but daring. Her bravery.

"Do you ever miss your own mother?" Zez asked, swallowing.

"Of course," Zanys sniffled. "She was a great woman. But then I left, and by the time I came back after my Viper time, she was gone. Slaughtered in our own home. Everything I did to regain Mordomus was in her name, In the Selstonia name."

"Was it frightening?" Zez suddenly wanted to change the subject. She didn't like the hard edge that had crept into her companion's voice. "Working in a prison? How the hell did you even get that job?"

"Oh, well, that is quite a story," Zanya sat up, shaking bits of grass out of her long hair. "To acquire any position of worth in Tol Tava, you must survive Youngstone. So I snuck in there and fought my way to the title of the Viper's apprentice. And when the old bastard died, I made sure I was prepared to take over and help Rhapsody out."

"Youngstone? Is that some kind of gladiator arena?"

"Gladiator?"

"Like, warriors?" Zez ran a finger up Zanya's arm, clad in soft white fabric. Somehow, there were no grass stains. Perhaps that was the true magic of this place. "Did you have to rise from the ashes? Did you have to overthrow an evil leader? Were two handsome boys fawning over you?"

Zanya laughed. "Pardon?"

"I've just read a lot of books," she said. "I think I'm just describing The Hunger Games."

"There is a book called The Hunger Games?" her delicate nose wrinkled. "It sounds strange."

"Mmm. A little bit."

"I did train," Zanya said. "Youngstone is a fortress, built into the mountains, and if you want to be anyone in Tol Tava, you have to go through there. You can be of any age. You simply must be strong and clever. The Vasser," she sucked in a breath. "And I met there. We won our apprenticeships at the same time. And we grew into that prison together."

"And I thought getting my internship was hard," Zez said. She pushed herself up on her elbows. "You knew the Vasser? Like, as a friend?"

"Mm, Yes," she said. "The Pit of Pirn can do terrible things to a person. When he...he killed his first wife, no one suspected him. All part of his charm. When her sister married him, people thought it was strange, but well, perhaps he was confused and grieving. But then Moniv also turned up dead. And everything exploded from there. These were very bad times."

"So, he was so blood-thirsty, from killing his wives...he ordered Rhapsody to be executed? Didn't Rhapsody have a trial?"

"No trial," Zanya said. "But, yes. The Vasser hated Rhapsody. They taunted one another, playing cat and mouse, never knowing who the real prisoner was. It was all horrible, having to play both sides, while trying to free my poor cousin. And when the Vasser finally ordered his execution, I knew what I had to do."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that," Zez said. "I can't even imagine."

"I didn't completely loath being the Viper," Zanya said. "It was a challenge. But I had never been outside the Garden of Grace, before Rhapsody and I's little adventure, so everything was thrown at me. And I became the cold, bloodthirsty monster you see before you today."

Zez scanned her. A smile playing at her lips. The collar of her top, slightly askew. Three blades of grass hanging from her hair, one stuck to her cheek. Zez brushed the grass from her elegant cheekbone.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I saw the way you took down that Bittersweet thing."

"I'm sorry, again," Zanya held Zez's hand against her cheek. "Forgive me if I am being far too forward, my dear Zez, but I'm a bit unpracticed in these measures."

"These measures?"

"Wooing a woman," she said. One eyebrow lifted. "Am I wooing you? Is this too much for you? You do not have someone back home?"

"No," Zez shook her head. "My last boyfriend was like, a year and a half ago?"

"Boy-"

"I like anyone," she smiled. "Don't fret. And I have no concept of time here, so maybe this isn't actually going so fast?"

A brief moment of hesitation echoed between the two women. Zanya slid her hands to the back of Zez's neck and pulled her in. For someone so mysterious, Zez expected their kisses to be electric yet seductive, but they were just...ordinary kisses. She smiled against the kiss, wondering how even after their long car ride and cat fighting errand, Zanya still managed to smell of sugar and honey.

"I hope this isn't too forward," Zanya murmured, dragging her lips down Zez's jaw. "But would you join me in my tent?"

~

One may be asking, what kind of a love story is this?

These women barely know one another, and yet they are sharing sweet kisses and confessing secrets and climbing into tents together? Some less savory readers may view this in a negative light, to look crossly upon the young women eager to fall into bed. Others may celebrate their whims and their touch freedom.

So, indeed. What sort of love story could this be? Was it love at first sight? No. Soulmates, bound together by some force? Again, no. Then what kind of love story can it be?

Oh, dear reader, the best suggestion one can offer is to let it go.

There is no need to discuss the intimate details of what happened within that tent, under that constant sky of midnight. There is no reason to describe the tangle of limbs, and tugging of hair, marveling at either its darkness or paleness. There is no desire to check in on Esphina and her loneliness, curled tightly up in her own tent.

The time has come to speak of many things. Of blood and bone and loneliness, of sinking far away. Of broken tongues and bitter hearts. A table sat for two, a temple laid for skies, a monster growing hungry.

Hm. Perhaps the time has not yet come.

Down the slope of the hills, past the scattering of villages these women would soon come to know, and twisting into a valley, lay the Ballads. The forest was thick and gnarled, with trees of all shades growing into a thick canopy, where only slivers of the sky could pass through. All the sirens were supposedly dead, their wicked calls silent among the leaves, but other creatures roam and wait.

A child of cinnamon. A gazer of stars.

And most importantly, a Vasser of old.

---

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next time, the ladies find some trouble in a town. Are you enjoying the connects to Alice in Wonderland? They are subtle, but they are there...

Also, I'm sure you saw my announcement about The Flying Thieves series coming off Wattpad. This was a really hard decision to make, but a lot of different reasons went into it, and I hope you understand. It will be still be completely free to read on Tapas. If you want to know more details, I left a long note on my message board, and in ATCF.

Thanks for reading!

-Lev