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“I'm sorry. I should have asked everyone before cooking.”
“Everyone in the whole camp? That's just unthinkable. You are too caring. There was no reason to go this far.”
Palla shook her head in response and emptied the contents of the pot to a bowl she handed to Sonya. “There, it's done. Hope it's edible, but it's very hot.”
Sonya took the dish and sat back, picking at it with the fork she'd been holding. “I'm used to dealing with fire,” she replied, before trying some.
A smile crossed Palla’s lips as she put away the things she'd been using. “I suppose you are.” A short pause punctured by cluttering of the pots and utensils. “You were saying… That I am too caring. But what would be the alternative? To skip dinner?”
Sonya swallowed and raised her eyes from the food. “No one has died from skipping one single meal.”
“I see the way you fight. It's… not so different from mine.”
“Whatever do you mean? I fight with fire and thunder, not lances and flying horses.”
Palla smiled once more. “Oh, that's not what I meant. I meant that you fight while protecting someone. For me, it's my sisters I look after. You… you seem rather concerned about the young cleric. Est’s friend… Genny, correct?”
Sonya kept eating without replying.
“And what I mean to say,” Palla continued, “is that when you're fighting for someone else, well… it certainly helps to have as much energy as possible. So skipping meals is ill advised.” She shrugged. “But I apologize. I didn't mean to lecture you, and I'll leave you to eat in peace.” She stood up and gathered the dishes, turning away with no hesitation, but Sonya stopped her.
“Whitewing.”
“Hmm?”
“It's not bad, the food. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. I'll be sure to inform the others: no mashed potatoes. Enjoy it.”
“Yes… Calla, was it?”
“Palla.”
“Palla.”
It surprised Palla how beautiful her name sounded in Sonya's voice.
**
Palla found Sonya sitting on a fallen tree, with the sun setting behind her haloing her as if in a painting. They had not talked since the dinner incident, and Palla felt a mysterious nervousness as she approached her.
“Celica asked my sisters and I to buy warm clothes to prepare for our journey to Rigel. I bought you this cloak.”
Sonya frowned. “I am well used to the chill of Rigel. There is no need —is this velvet?”
“I… believe so?”
“It’s pretty—I mean… it must have been expensive.”
“The villagers were willing to lower their prices in thanks for our recent deeds in the area. And, well… I thought it would look… I thought it would fit you.” Palla felt her face grow incandescent, though she could not understand why.
“It will.” Sonya took the cloak from Palla’s hands and her eyes lingered on it. “Thank you, Palla.”
“You’re… most welcome. I’m glad you like it.”
Silence followed and Palla knew she was supposed to leave, but she felt herself not wanting to. “Would you mind if I sat with you?”
“If you’d like to.”
She nodded and took a seat on the tree, trying to not get her skirt tangled up. She was decided to not let silence fall, so she spoke. “I’m pleased that you’re still fighting by our side.”
“Why? Most of the others do not seem to appreciate my presence.”
“You are a most talented mage. Anyone would be glad to have you as an ally. Besides, seeing you by our side, I—” She trailed off.
“You?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” I am filled with joy. But why? “I just enjoy fighting on your side.”
“Hmph.” Sonya shrugged. “The sun has set. We had better get back to camp.”
“Oh. Quite right.”
They stood up and Palla noticed how their hands brushed against each other, and she felt a sudden desire to grab Sonya’s arm, to pull her close; but she smothered the feeling and lowered her head, following the other in silence.
But this was a powerful hunger that would eat away at her soul, if left unsupervised.
**
Chores didn’t do themselves; while she hadn’t cooked in a while, this time Palla was in charge of laundry. In fact, she had suggested it herself. It seemed like a good idea to get clean before crossing the border and getting assaulted by the cold.
But despite using every trick in the book she had learnt as the older sister, blood was difficult to wash off, and every time she touched a stain she couldn’t help but wonder whose blood it was, which unnamed soldier or bandit had left their mark as they died. Of course, some belonged to the clothes’ owners, but those tended to surround holes and slashes (that she would like to mend afterwards, if there was enough time for that).
Palla liked scouting and flying and performing feats with her lance. She didn’t like to impale people with it, or to slash throats open. But the bloodshed was the price to pay for peace. And someone had to pay it.
Her hands found a crimson dress and she stared at it. Sonya’s, no doubt. Since she kept to the back of the fight, it was in a good condition. A simple wash would do. But Palla found herself looking away, and in doing so, her eyes met with Sonya’s. A surprised sound left her lips. Sonya chuckled.
“I promise that’s the dress’ original colour.”
Palla blinked a few times. “Pardon?”
“The way you are holding it… One could think I had dyed my clothes with the blood of my enemies.”
She noticed she was grabbing the dress by the tips of her fingers, as if disgusted. An habit picked from dealing with the other clothes. “Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just that everyone else’s clothes are indeed covered in blood. It’s… Quite hard to get rid of.” She set the dress down.
“That’s why I avoid any spurts of blood, myself. I saw that you even had to wash it out of the pegasi last time.”
It had not been pleasant, and neither was doing the laundry. In fact, very little about the war was pleasant. So why did Palla feel something burning inside her, something that made her want to smile and open her arms toward the sun?
Some of that feeling must’ve spread to her face, because Sonya’s eyebrows moved up a fraction. A tiny expression, easy to miss, but she didn’t miss it. It made her chest burn brighter.
“Yes, well… I don’t suppose you have any laundering magic.”
“Not as such.” Sonya let out a short laugh. Palla couldn’t tell if it was real or fake. How much of a mask did Sonya wear? She wanted to crush it. To grab that mask and pull it away and see the real Sonya, her real face, and touch that face and bring it close to hers and—and what? She gulped and forced herself to focus on the present situation.
“Then the old fashioned way it is. Don’t worry. The weather is warm enough that everything will dry swiftly and we’ll be out of these rags soon enough.” Palla tilted her head. “Did you need anything?”
“Oh, I was just checking on my dress. It seems to be in good hands.” It seemed to Palla that Sonya had winked but that wasn’t possible, was it? Just a trick of the light. “I apologize if I scared you. I have been told I move like a cat.”
“I can—I can see that.”
Another chuckle. “I was also on my way to the kitchen. I am to help with dinner this time around.”
Palla nodded. “I look forward to it.”
“Don’t keep very high hopes.” Sonya half turned and waved a hand at her. “But I do know how to cook potatoes.” She turned the rest of the way and walked off, as Palla laughed at the quip.
There was nothing to do but to turn back to her job. Palla scrubbed and scrubbed, and was starting to put some garments up to dry when Catria arrived with her dinner. Hiding her disappointment at not having it delivered by the cook herself, she sat by the campfire with her sisters as she ate. While the bowl’s contents were nothing out of the ordinary, it tasted to her like magic itself was imbued in it. Perhaps it was.
**
The first time they set camp in Rigel, Palla’s head was in a disarray and being with the others dizzied her. So she sat by herself and tried to get a small campfire going, but her hands were numb from the cold and no spark would come out. She didn't notice someone approaching and heard only a commanding voice.
“Step back. I'll handle it.”
She obeyed without thinking and as soon as her hands were out of the way the pile of logs she had put together was set ablaze. Magic. An obvious solution, really.
“Thank you, uh…” She looked up at her benefactor and found Sonya peering at her. “Oh.”
“You're quite welcome. Are you sick? You look terrible.”
Palla smiled at the harsh word and let her eyes wander back to the fire. “Just tired, I think. Though it does get rather windy when I have to scout on my pegasus…”
Without asking, Sonya sat next to her and took a closer look at her. “Here,” she said, starting to tug at her cloak, and Palla thought she was offering it so she opened her mouth to refuse it; but instead Sonya moved closer to her and set the cloak on both of their shoulders.
“Oh.” They were very close. Their arms were touching. Palla lowered her eyes. “Thank you. It… It does fit you well after all.”
“Of course,” Sonya replied and Palla looked up at her and her face was so close she could see the fire reflected on Sonya’s dark eyes; had she ever noticed how dark they were? How they seemed to pull her in and hold her there?
She lay a hand on her chest as if that could steady her accelerated heartbeat. Sonya frowned.
“Chest pain?”
“Oh, no, I—” She was interrupted by Sonya lying a hand on her knee. Her touch burned through Palla’s stockings and she could almost feel tears in her eyes.
But then Sonya's other hand approached her face and time stopped as her nails grazed Palla's cheek; she thought her heart had failed and that was it, that was the end, killed by the lethal touch of a beautiful woman. In slow motion, Sonya's face approached her until their foreheads touched and their breaths mingled—or they would if Palla hadn't been holding hers. She let out a long exhale and a shiver ran down her spine.
“...Sonya?
“Yes.”
Their voices were whispers, barely audible over the cracks of the campfire.
“I think you're my illness.”
“Then we'd best cure that.”
Palla's eyes fluttered shut as their noses touched and Sonya's hand traced over her jaw, pulling her face towards her, until their lips touched, which made Palla shiver yet again; but she wasn't going to pull back so she pressed forward to leave a gentle kiss on Sonya's mouth. But her hunger wasn't satisfied and one kiss turned to many, on each other's lips and cheeks and noses, and they both ended up giggling.
Sonya, giggling. Now that was a sight to behold. Had the mask started to crack?