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“Get dressed.”
Coronabeth rolled across the moth-eaten blankets on the bed, flopping onto her back. She groaned dramatically, ignoring the command.
“Something presentable, mind you.”
The elder Princess of Ida splayed one arm across her face. “Why would you do this to me?”
The younger Princess of Ida, standing a short distance away, let out an exasperated sigh. “So that you may finally resolve your myriad-long crush on Captain Deuteros.”
Coronabeth sat up in a rush. “It’s not- it has not been a myriad.” Her voice was petulant, fit for a pouting princess.
Ianthe rolled her eyes. “It’s been long enough. You’ve known her for what, ten years?”
Her elder sister waved a hand noncommittally. "Give or take.”
Ianthe scoffed. “Right. I’m sure you actually have it memorized down to the day, hour, and minute.”
Corona grabbed a pillow from the bed. It was lumpy with age. She lobbed it at her sister. “Oh, fuck off, Ianthe.”
Ianthe caught it in one hand, unperturbed. “So what, I invited the captain up to our rooms. So what, Babs and I are going for a little walk in the meantime. Think of it as an opportunity to catch up on lost time. You weren’t able to invite her to our party this year, seeing as she was on active duty.”
Coronabeth grimaced. “I remember.”
“’Worst party ever’, I think you called it,” Ianthe said offhandedly.
Her sister scowled. “Yes, well, you insisted on inviting that absolute twit, Lyonius. He was practically Babs’ rival for the six months leading up to the party, and then his sworn enemy for six months afterward.”
Ianthe shrugged. “It livened things up.”
“It absolutely did not. They dueled over the honour of cutting the cake.”
The younger princess shrugged and turned away from the bed. “And what an honour it was. Look, while I’m always up for a playful debate, don’t you think you ought to be getting ready?”
Behind her, Corona huffed. “What makes you think she’s even going to show?”
Trying not to sound moody, she failed miserably. Ianthe turned and regarded her calmly over one bony shoulder. “I signed the invitation in your name as a personal request, with all the gilded, flowery words that the Third House possesses. It would be rather rude of her to decline, given all that.”
“You signed in my name!?” Coronabeth shrieked. Ianthe barely had time to make a smooth, if speedy, exit from the bedroom before another object came flying at her head. This time it was a vase. Ianthe’s laugh – Corona thought it more of a witch’s cackle – echoed down the hall as she fled.
With her sister mercifully absent at last (and the vase shattered on the floor near the doorway), Coronabeth flung herself backward onto the bed. She hit the mattress with a thump, dust puffing from the seams of the duvet beneath her back. She sighed.
The rooms of the Canaan House were, in the most generous of terms, dilapidated – a far cry from the chambers she’d grown up in as Heir to the Third House. The House of the Shining Dead, The Mouth of the Emperor: home to the latest gossip and trendiest fashions. Still, despite her upbringing, the shabbiness and neglect of the Canaan House didn’t bother her. The house belonged to God himself. Who was she to criticize? They’d only been there a day or so. Maybe the decor would grow on her.
Casting a quick glance at a patch of mold in the corner of the ceiling, she rather hoped it would not. No, at the moment, the problem she had with her chambers was that it would be virtually impossible to make them in any way presentable for a guest.
Coronabeth scowled at the thought and kicked herself off the bed. She wasn’t nine, arranging tea parties in her parents’ parlour room. She was a grown-ass woman, more or less, and she’d manage just fine. Of course, that confidence wavered a bit once she remembered who she was supposed to be entertaining. Judith Deuteros of the Second House: Cohort Captain, energy transferal necromancer, absolute stunner in a uniform.
Sighing again, although perhaps altogether too wistfully this time, Corona padded across the floor and began searching in the wardrobe for something to wear: something modest. Casual, but alluring. Toeing the line between decent and sexy -
She shook her head, dispelling that line of thought. In the years she’d known the captain, her appearance had never seemed to make the least bit of an impact. Judith was steadfast, hard, and generous with cold shoulders.
And those shoulders.
The princess tsked her tongue as she began laying outfits on the bed. Ianthe – oh, she was going to kill her when she had the chance – had not invited Judith up for a dinner date. It was a casual conversation, a meeting between friends. At least, Coronabeth considered them friends, even if their friendship existed in an orbital state. She hadn’t the slightest idea what Judith Deuteros thought of her, in spite of all the years they’d known each other. But that was just another thought to be pushed to the back of her mind.
Captain Deuteros arrived promptly at whatever-the-fuck time Ianthe had indicated in her invitation. She had not deigned to tell Corona, of course, who was putting the finishing touches on a last-minute up-do when she heard the simple knock at the door. She gave a snarl of frustration before pulling a large clip from her hair. Its absence led to a haphazard shower of pins, evicted from her hair and relegated to the grimy floor of the bathroom. Her curls tumbled wildly down her shoulders, splaying across her chest. Giving herself a once over in the mirror, she decided it would have to do.
“Coming!” she called as she stepped quickly to the door.
The chambers that had been assigned to the Third House were spacious, given the three of them. They consisted of two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small sitting room in the foyer. The second bedroom was redundant, of course. She and Ianthe slept in the same bed with Babs at their feet like a loyal hound. Coronabeth guessed the rooms were probably the largest chambers the Canaan House had to offer. Size did not equate to quality, however, and she was forced to leap over a sunken-in section of the floor as she trotted from the bathroom to the front entryway.
Irritatingly, it left her a tad breathless when she opened the door. Not for lack of fitness, of course – her secret training took care of that – she was simply caught off guard by how quick the meeting had come upon her. It wasn’t like her to be unprepared, but she had to admit that the captain had the uncanny ability to unsettle her.
Corona took a steadying breath before pulling the handle. Opening the thick door revealed a prim and proper Judith Deuteros. One year older than Coronabeth, she was shorter by a full head at least. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and she wore her Cohort uniform. Something twisted in Coronabeth’s gut – something unpleasantly like nerves.
“Hello, Captain” she greeted formally, her voice straining to pitch high despite her efforts to keep it normal.
“Good evening, Crown Princess.”
Typical Jody to be a stickler for formality. Coronabeth made a mental note not to let that nickname slip out loud. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used it. She wasn’t sure Judith even remembered.
It was then she noticed how empty the space next to the captain was. “Lieutenant Dyas isn’t with you?”
Judith quirked an eyebrow, her mouth remaining impassive. “The invitation was for me alone. The wording was... very strict.”
It took considerable effort for Corona not to roll her eyes. “Yes, of course. I just supposed... No matter.”
She wasn’t sure what she supposed. She wasn’t an idiot, though. Judith had practically been fused to Lieutenant Dyas’ hip since they’d become a necro-cav pair roughly five years ago. Most people probably wouldn’t think much of it, except that Coronabeth Tridentarius was not most people, and she liked to think she knew Judith Deuteros rather well.
She figured Judith was absolutely mad for Marta. She kept it well-hidden, only Coronabeth could remember the year Judith had spoken of nothing other than Lieutenant Dyas for the entire duration of Corona and Ianthe’s sixteenth birthday party. It had been a big deal at the time, as it was also the birthday at which Judith had spoken the most. It was unclear to Coronabeth how the lieutenant felt about the captain in return. Marta Dyas seemed somehow even more austere than Jody herself.
“Are you going to invite me in, Tridentarius?”
Corona snapped back to reality. “Absolutely,” she told her, only missing the eighth of a beat.
Retreating from the door, she held it open wide and let the captain walk in.
“Nice digs.”
It was the most casual thing Coronabeth had heard from her in... she wasn’t sure how long. She tried not to gape. “The Second’s quarters aren’t to your liking?”
Judith shrugged. “They are fine. They suit the purpose they were intended for.” After a moment she added, “Marta seems to be allergic to the... dust.”
She enunciated ‘dust’ as though its molecular nature were in question.
“Oh-” Corona clambered for something to say as Judith walked past her and into the room. “That’s... unfortunate.”
Once she was inside and the door closed behind her, Judith took a moment to glance around. The far end of the room held a crumbling mantle with a worn fireplace, its bricks and mortar stained black from years of use then buried under dust from the subsequent years of disuse. Two armchairs sat near the fireplace, upholstered blood red and looking so cozy they demanded suspicion. A hallway to the right led to the bedroom the Third House shared amongst themselves, bathroom included. A hallway to the left led to the spare room.
Satisfied with her surroundings, Judith turned to Coronabeth, her voice nonchalant. “I know it was Ianthe who sent the invitation.”
Corona scrambled. “It’s not- I still wanted to see you-” She fought not to grimace at the plaintive tone in her voice. “Ianthe was merely being...”
“A sister?” Judith offered.
“A sister,” Corona agreed, nodding slightly. “I’m sorry, Captain, I hope I – we – didn’t offend.”
Judith waved a hand. “Regardless of who’s hand wrote the letter, we can still make use of the evening.” Before Coronabeth could reply (or splutter, more like), Judith continued, “What did you make of Teacher’s speech?”
Oh. That kind of use of the evening: strategic.
Corona shrugged. “I didn’t pay much attention.”
Judith narrowed her eyes fractionally. “You will have to try harder than that to convince me. I know how the Third raises its heirs. You are not as vapid as you’d have the others believe, Princess.”
Corona’s hackles raised at the captain’s tone. She was not pretending to be vapid. “Well, forgive me if I don’t feel like talking about Teacher or the trial or Lyctorhood at all. Maybe I want to talk about anything other than those things. For all you know, I want to ask you about Marta.”
If Corona hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t been taught to look for the hidden reactions in others, she might not have noticed the way Judith’s back stiffened slightly at her cavalier’s name. “I am not sure why you’d want to talk about my cavalier,” she said dryly.
Corona softened her expression, hoping to creep under Jody’s defenses. “You seemed... quite taken with her a few years ago. I thought maybe-”
“No.”
“Oh, but I-”
“No,” Judith repeated, more forcefully this time. “If you do not want to talk about Teacher or the trial, and I do not want to talk about Lieutenant Dyas, I’m not sure what else there is to discuss.” She half-turned toward the door.
Corona’s heart seized at the thought of Judith leaving so soon. They had so few opportunities to spend time together, and almost none of those were ever spent truly alone. She resented Ianthe’s comment that her crush had persisted for a myriad, but it had been long enough that she was willing to grovel at the chance for five more minutes in Jody’s private company. “No, I – maybe we could discuss the other houses. You’ve always been fond of gathering intelligence, haven’t you?”
This seemed to pique the captain’s interest. She gave Coronabeth a long, measured stare before she gestured at the armchairs. “Shall we?”
It took considerable effort for the princess not to let out a loud sigh of relief. “Let's.”
Much to Corona’s surprise, the only sign of defiance by the armchairs were the loud creaks they let out as the two women lowered themselves into them. No collapses, no disintegrations. Once they were seated, Coronabeth crossed her legs and placed her hands atop her knee. “So.”
“So.”
Corona’s lips quirked in amusement. “Let’s go in reverse order. Thoughts on the Ninth?”
Judith frowned thoughtfully. “Had we been having this conversation before arriving here, I would not have had much to tell.”
“And now?”
“Now...,” Judith paused for a moment before shaking her head. “They appear disorganized. Unprofessional. Non-cohesive, shall we say.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The Reverend Daughter stalks the halls alone, while her cavalier does what? I have seen her at mealtime, scarfing down food as if it is both her first and last supper. They are never together. They scream of incompetence.”
Harsh words, Coronabeth thought, but not entirely inaccurate. “Maybe it’s a part of their strategy.”
Judith cocked her head to the side, skeptical. “To convince us that they are an ineffectual team that poses no threat?”
“Yes,” Corona nodded. “Only to band together when our backs are turned and we’ve written them off, and win the whole thing outright.”
Judith looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head again. “I think only a Third House heir like yourself could think of that, let alone pull it off, Coronabeth. I don’t think the Ninth is as strategic as you believe.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to doubt the capabilities of our companions,” Corona replied, shrugging slightly. “But if you are right and the Ninth are a witless pair, it would certainly be a waste of that cavalier.”
“How do you mean?”
“I have a feeling she’s much more adept with that sword than you’re ready to give her credit for. Have you seen the room with the pit?”
If Judith was surprised by the change in topic, she didn’t show it. She merely shook her head slightly. “No. Should I?”
“I think it would be a perfect spot for a bit of friendly competition,” Corona explained. “Our cavaliers need to maintain their physical fitness. I’m going to invite them to spar.”
Judith gave the idea thoughtful consideration, her expression of sort of compliment in itself. “I’ll take a look for myself. And I’ll let Lieutenant Dyas know as well.”
Corona waved her hand dismissively. “You do that.”
A long silence fell between them then, although the captain made no move to go. After a few moments, Judith said, “She is a sight with a sword.”
“Hm?”
“Marta,” Judith explained. “She’s the most capable soldier I’ve ever seen. I have no doubt she’ll perform quite well in your matches.”
Hearing Judith praise Lieutenant Dyas made Corona’s skin prickle unpleasantly. She did her best not to take it personally, but jealousy was an ugly beast, rearing its head in her chest. Before she could open her mouth to respond, Judith had continued.
“Watching her fight, it’s like watching a dance. It likely helps that she’s an incredible dancer. The rapier is an extension of her arm, and her body moves like-”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about her,” Coronabeth snapped.
Judith frowned slightly. “I am well aware of the direction you were intending for our earlier conversation, and I had no interest in pursuing it. What I am talking about now is my cavalier’s skill. Her tenacity and grit. Any necromancer should be proud to offer praise to their cavalier.”
Corona shifted in the armchair, placing one hand on the armrest. Her fingers clenched in the material. Nevermind that she was a sight with a sword – no one would ever know it. But the desire to prove it, to show someone else, to show Judith, above all others, how capable she could be... the desire was maddening, and the knowledge that she could never satisfy it, infuriating.
“Of course,” she replied, doing her best to leave the acid out of her voice. Where had this sudden envy and anger sprung from? Where within her was the well from which this corrosion was flowing unhindered?
The captain leaned forward in her seat. “Yet you do not leap at the opportunity to offer your cavalier the same praise.”
“Why should that matter?”
“It’s just interesting,” Judith answered levelly. “I imagine there must be some tension, one cavalier for two necromancers.”
Coronabeth’s voice took on a hard edge. “That’s rather bold of you to assume, Captain.”
“Yet you don’t deny it. And you still haven’t spoken once of your cavalier, despite my praise of my own. Naberius has been present since you and Ianthe were children in the cradle. What has he done to make you hate him so, you won’t even offer him the dignity of a compliment behind his back?”
She didn’t understand, Corona thought. And she never would – never could.
Whether by the rising envy in her chest or the fear that the captain was going to discover her long-held secret, Corona’s restraint snapped. “What is it you want to hear, Captain? Do you want me to tell you that Naberius is the best cavalier in all the Nine Houses? Do you want me to tell you that he is like a dancer? Should I fawn over him and make a fool of myself the way you were so apt to do with Marta all those years ago?”
For one impossibly brief moment, Judith actually looked surprised. Then her expression contorted into one of thinly-veiled rage. “This meeting is over.” She pushed herself out of the chair and gave Corona the barest hint of a nod. “Thank you for the hospitality, Princess, but I think it’s time I return to my cavalier.”
“Captain, wait-” Corona began, already regretting the outburst, but Judith had begun turning stiffly toward the door. Sighing, Corona rose from her chair. What was it she’d thought earlier about Judith’s capacity for cold shoulders? “I’ll walk you out.”
Judith didn’t turn back, but she did stop and wait. When Coronabeth caught up to her, she began walking again. They passed the few steps to the door in silence, marching side by side, stewing in their thoughts. She had gravely offended the captain, of that Corona was sure. Judith Deuteros was one of the only people to ever so easily unhinge her temper, and she hadn’t even really tried. It had bile rising in Corona’s throat. She felt like a fool.
When they came to the door, Judith gave the princess a final look. Her expression was not cold so much as it was distant. Whatever progress between them Corona had been hoping to make had likely only regressed. Before she could apologize, Judith was bidding her farewell.
“Goodnight-”
“Captain, I-”
Judith held up a hand, cutting her off. “Let’s not speak of this again. It was admirable of you – and your sister, I suppose – to invite me here under the guise of cooperation, but we have to be honest with each other. This is a competition, the exact nature of which remains unknown. I think it would be best if we regarded each other as the competitors that we are rather than as allies, as you had hoped.”
Still, Corona tried again, “Judith-”
“Goodnight, Crown Princess.”
With that, Captain Deuteros opened the door and retreated into the hallway, not offering so much as a backward glance at Corona. The door shut softly, propelled by its own inertia, leaving Coronabeth staring at the worn, splintering wood. After a few seconds, she turned and let her back hit the door. She gave a heavy sigh and turned her gaze towards the ceiling.
“Great fucking job, you absolute buffoon,” she muttered.
Giving way to the gravity of her emotions, she sank to the floor, exhausted and embarrassed. She would not seek out Jody’s private company again. Not unless it were absolutely necessary. Not unless the world threatened to end. Until then, she resolved to let things be as they had always been between them – two planets revolving around the same star that, even when passing in conjunction, remained dutifully bound to their orbits, lightyears apart.