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UNTITLED ENTRY
It was not until we arrived at our destination that the princess spoke to me again. My rejection of her offer had wounded something in her. I had assumed her pride, but Hect had deigned to tell me, in the longest conversation we’d had since my comments about her necromancer, that what I had said to Coronabeth was akin to the rejection I had suffered from Lieutenant Dyas years earlier.
I told Hect that this was simply untrue.
Camilla said, Judith Deuteros, you’re a blind fool.
I, who have always been aware of my own failings, felt that this accusation was plainly unfounded and false. I shook my head, but the former Sixth had already turned away.
The Edenites’ destination was a planet. On that planet, a city, although I was never permitted to see more of it than the building I was allowed to live in and the small, plain neighbourhood in which it resided. Again, I was placed in proximity to Hect and the princess, but whether by some freedom earned on my end or some request on theirs, we did not share the same spaces we once had. Our rooms were separated by floors now, rather than by flimsy walls. Our interactions grew more infrequent after our arrival. I assumed this was due to their growing belief in the Edenites’ cause, their radicalization finding little purchase on my time-honored tenets, or even maybe that some machinations of the Commander were at play.
I was disarmed of those notions on the eighth day after our arrival.
My body, much to my disappointment, had recovered during our journey to the planet. The Lyctor’s removal of the artificial oesophagus combined with my unwilling connection to the stele had rendered me once again a functional organism. Of course, the thanergetic energy that reached me through the stele was a trickle at best. The simple fact of it was that without that piece of poorly administered plastic rotting inside of me, my body had recovered its normal, organic strength. I was not fully recovered, not yet, but I could walk unassisted, and I breathed a little more freely because of it.
On the eighth day in the Edenite city, I was returning from a solitary walk. By some miracle I was allowed to walk alone, although I wore a security anklet similar to the one Camilla had been forced to wear in the beginning. (It was not lost on me that she was no longer required even that.) I also suspected that I was being watched - observed from the shadows by guards who had strict orders to shoot me as soon as I looked to be trying to flee. None of this bothered me. I maintain my loyalty to the Emperor Undying, to the Cohort around which I’ve built my entire life, but I must confess that sometimes I did just simply want to stretch my legs and walk, aimless.
This particular day, however, I was trying, again, to discern further details on the Edenites’ location. Having learned nothing, yet again, I returned to my room with the intention of falling into a dreamless sleep.
My room was not empty upon my arrival, however. The princess stood, her back against the far wall, her arms crossed in front of her chest. It was a by-product of all our prior interactions that my first instinct was to prepare for an argument.
I entered the room and let the door close behind me. If Coronabeth was at all discomfited by being trapped, she did not show it. She regarded me with a puzzling expression I could not precisely describe. It was not pity nor anger nor the coldness I’d expected. It was something soft, in some capacity, and it reminded me of the open pleading she’d exhibited when she’d offered herself to me. I steeled myself against what I assumed would be a second attempt to convince me to take her.
Instead, to my surprise and, if a bit delayed at first, my extreme horror, the princess said, Camilla told me about Dyas.
My first thought was that this was supremely unlike Camilla. Had I so gravely misjudged her? Or had I simply angered her to the point of betraying me so?
My second thought was that it was imperative for me to hide the mortification that threatened to seep from the very marrow of my bones. I simply stood and let those words wash over me, and I did not deign to reply. Again, if this frustrated the princess, she did not show it.
Where had she learned such stoicism?
The princess continued, saying Camilla told her of my past because she saw it as the only way to prevent the princess from slipping further into what she called ‘a listless, heartbroken stupor’. I did not focus on those words. Again, I said nothing.
She said to me, Camilla told me that you… were interested in Dyas, and when you propositioned her, she rejected you. She told me that you think that was supremely wise of her, in hindsight. A great kindness, you called it.
Hearing Coronabeth Tridentarius talk about my former cavalier was not a pleasant experience. I straightened my spine and clasped my hands behind my back. Before I could form a response, the princess was carrying on. She seemed perfectly content to continue her one-sided conversation.
What she asked me next, however, I was utterly unprepared for.
She said, Is that why you didn’t want me for your cavalier? Did you think you were showing me that same kindness?
I must confess, I thought my tongue had somehow fused to the roof of my mouth, spellbound by my own surprise. How had she known the depth of my emotions - those that I had kept hidden for over ten years. I opened my mouth to tell her ‘no’, but only then did I realize what she was saying.
It was not my emotions she was supposing. She was revealing to me her own.
Still, I could not admit the truth out loud. I said, my voice shaking, The kindness Lieutenant Dyas showed me was to reject my offer of… physical intimacy. I was not aware of a similar offer made from you. You simply asked to be my cavalier. I declined.
At my words, Coronabeth gave an exasperated sigh and pushed her back off the wall. She made no further move closer to me, for which I was glad. I’m still not sure how I might’ve reacted if she had.
Of course I didn’t make that offer, she told me, irritation in her voice. She said, Any proposition of physical intimacy pales in comparison to what I can offer as your cavalier. You would have all of me, Jody. What is a tryst compared to the total possession of all that I am, body, heart, and soul?
I noticed that my mouth was dry. Still, I said, I cannot in good conscience accept a cavalier who would run the risk of becoming a lover.
As soon as the words left me, I longed to pull them back. It was an uncharacteristic slip of my discipline. It was the beginning of the end.
The princess’ lips parted in a silent gasp. She said, And you perceive this risk with me?
Now, in continuing with this account of my confessions - my unheard, unanswered prayers - I have decided to report on the rest of my interaction with the Princess of Ida. I am well aware of the devolution of these reports from intelligence files to diary entries, but at what may be the end of the Empire I have loved all my life, it seems a small transgression in the face of potential annihilation.
My tongue had already betrayed me once but now it was as though it was abandoning me completely. Under an influence that was entirely not my own, I heard myself say, Perceiving this risk would require the belief that it could be reciprocated.
Coronabeth arched an eyebrow, looking at me quizzically. She said, You don’t think I would reciprocate? You don’t think I would throw myself at your feet if you ever showed me the slightest interest?
I couldn’t respond. I found myself thinking of my previous report… I had desired Coronabeth Tridentarius for twelve years. Fruitless years, I had called them. At that moment, I might’ve wondered if God had a sense of humor, the way events were unfolding in front of me, only somehow I wasn’t thinking of God at all.
I must have been silent for too long because the princess did move toward me then. I was frozen, stalk still as she approached. When she reached me, she brought her hand up to my cheek. I could not have moved then even if the Fleet Admiral himself had asked it of me.
Coronabeth said, You really don’t know, do you? You’ve never known.
I said nothing.
She said, Jody, you are the most dedicated person I have ever met. But for God’s sakes, has it made you blind.
Then she kissed me.
As I have already expressed, my hope is that these reports are not discovered until I am long dead. Over a hundred years, if possible. Over five hundred, if I am lucky. With that in mind, I have decided to continue this report. I find myself taking awed pleasure in the idea that if anyone is to read my account of these events, they will know what it was like to be kissed by Coronabeth Tridentarius.
The princess pressed her lips to mine gently. The hand on my cheek remained in place. The other reached up and curled around the back of my neck. The pads of her fingers on my skin were rough, like the texture of the paper we agreed we despised. I did not despise her touch, though. If her fingertips were parchment, her nails were the tip of a quill - sharp enough to etch but not enough to pierce. They scratched along my skin, writing words I would never read.
Then, with Coronabeth’s mouth against mine, I made what was either a terrible mistake or a wonderful decision. Inexperienced in the act of kissing another person, I opened my mouth to breathe.
The princess gasped, feeling my lips parted against hers. Then she took the opportunity to turn something chaste and innocent into something more carnal than any battlefield I have ever experienced. I felt her teeth pull at my bottom lip, followed by the smooth press of her tongue. Her fingers on my neck dug deep into my skin.
As I have said - I had desired Coronabeth for over a decade. With her lips pressed to mine, her breath hot in my mouth, I could no longer pretend indifference. I kissed her in return. One of my hands curled over her hip, reeling her even closer to me, while the other raised and fisted in her perfect, wavy hair.
I tasted her lips. I felt her skin. I thought, for the briefest moment, our hearts might’ve been beating in time. I could certainly feel her, her energy pulsing like shockwaves through my blood.
Shortly thereafter, the princess pulled away. She didn’t step back, however, but rested her forehead against mine. Her breathing was ragged and beautiful.
She was silent. We breathed against each other, speechless. Then she nudged my nose with hers and said, Judith Deuteros, my Captain.
I cannot lie. The implication of ownership sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. I would not be Coronabeth’s necromancer. She could never be my cavalier. But the title of Captain, I had already earned, and to hear it from her lips…. To hear it whispered with a reverence that promised an unfathomable devotion…
I said to her, Say it again.
She huffed a sound of amusement. Her fingers curled affectionately against my neck. My Captain, she murmured.
This time, I did not hesitate to kiss the Princess of Ida. This time, I pressed my lips to hers and let her fire consume me, heart and flesh and soul.