Chapter Text
“Agape.”
“You know you are not meant to be here.” Despite her brusque words, Agape didn’t seem to be making a great effort to have Heiro removed. Her voice was pitched low and calm, and though Heiro could not see her face, she knew that it would hold its expression; not a stony mask like Attolia’s, so like the statue of the Great Goddess in the new Attolian temple, but a relaxed, open expression more like that of a dancer in a frescos on a villa’s wall.
“Agape.”
“You will be missed.” Agape’s hair was uncovered today, piled intricately on itself in a variation on the elaborate construction the queen of Attolia often wore. An unsubtle gesture of unity, Heiro thought, but then again, these times might call for unsubtlety.
“Lady Agape!”
“If you do not go back soon, your father–”
“You weren’t pestering him about the plays, when he snapped at you.”
Agape turned, then, and Heiro’s body stepped back without her mind’s permission. Pain flashed across Agape’s face before she schooled it again, turning back to the parade route. Heiro thought she would not get an answer, and was about to apologize, when Agape shook her head, still staring forward.
“No. I was not pestering him about the plays.”
Heiro’s body moved without permission again–this time, to take Agape’s hand. This time, it was Agape who flinched, and Heiro who almost pulled back, but Agape tugged her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. Heiro really was much taller; Agape would’ve fit under her chin. They stood there, while the king rode by in his ridiculous costume. They did not laugh.