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Manuela climbed the last step of the flight of stairs on the way back to her room and felt a twinge in her lower back.
She sighed. Great. Just great. She knew she wasn’t getting any younger, but she really didn’t need to be reminded of that fact at the moment.
She placed her hand on her back and took another deep breath, willing her muscles to relax, willing it to not be a serious strain but rather a momentary discomfort that would be gone with her next step.
Surprisingly, it was. Perhaps it was a good omen for tomorrow, that good fortune was on the horizon.
She walked forward, her feet steady even in the highest of heels, the one glass of what could only be termed as firewater she’d had at her favourite hole in the wall earlier not affecting her in the slightest, which was as much a curse as a blessing.
Maybe a nice stiff drink from her secret stash would be just what she needed to forget.
There had been a man tonight who was interested, in what was depressingly becoming a less and less common occurrence, but his slimy hand on her back and the way his eyes hadn’t been able to tear themselves away from her cleavage had left Manuela only with disgust and a need to leave—alone—as quickly as possible.
She wished she could have ignored the feeling, gone with him, got blackout drunk, and regretted it the next morning, but none of that was possible, not anymore.
She supposed that was what it was like when you were infatuated with someone.
Unfortunately, once again, that person didn’t harbour the same feelings for her, and it had left her feeling empty and alone and depressed.
Her students didn’t help matters, especially with how annoying they’d been lately. The academy was finally up and running again, but if Manuela had to hear “Miss Dominic explained this differently” or “Miss Dominic’s classes are so fun” or “Miss Dominic is so nice” with an unspoken and you aren’t repeating over and over again in her head unceasingly, she’d go insane.
Maybe she already was.
She should be happy that one of the new teachers was fitting in so well, that Annette was so organized that Manuela’s workload had dramatically decreased, that Annette took it upon herself to mediate between Manuela and Hanneman and was surprisingly effective at it.
Annette was bright and cheerful, which Manuela liked. She was youthful, which Manuela was envious of. But most of all she had this air of innocence—of bending down to help a snotty-nosed brat not realizing he only wanted to look down her top, of walking around the classroom and not noticing everyone leaning back in their chairs to take in the view of the bow on her backside—that set Manuela’s teeth on edge.
It would be much easier to deal with her if she meant any of it. Instead it left Manuela feeling like a horrible person for not wanting to be in the other woman’s presence if she could help it.
Still, Manuela knew what her real issue with Annette was.
Everything would be so much easier if Annette didn’t look so much like her mother, the constant reminder of what she’d lost—what she’d never had in the first place—galling.
Manuela pushed open the door to her room.
She needed that drink. Now.
She only had time to wonder why she could actually see the floor for once, usually entirely covered with discarded clothing, before she raised her head and saw the reason.
Josephine.
Josephine, sitting on Manuela’s bed like she belonged there, sewing up a tear on one of Manuela’s favourite dresses, eyes intent on her work as she methodically moved the needle through the fabric, her tongue peeking out from her perfect, kissable, bow-shaped mouth as she concentrated deeply.
This was a dream.
It had to be a dream.
She hadn’t seen Josephine for months.
Manuela drank in the sight of her. The light brown hair swept up in its customary bun, although it was fancier than usual, braids pulling her hair back at the sides. The dress she was wearing was fancier, too, a deep green that Manuela had off-handedly said would suit her, but Josephine had shook her head and demurred saying it was far too vibrant a colour for her. The biggest shock was that the dress was low-cut and Manuela could see the tops of Josephine’s small but perfectly formed breasts, the skin pale and unblemished from years of being covered up modestly.
“Josephine?” Manuela whispered into the air.
Josephine lifted her head sharply, nearly overbalancing and falling off the bed in her eagerness.
“Manuela!” she exclaimed as she put the dress to the side, her voice bright but with a slight tremble betraying her. “You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be.”
Manuela frowned. Was that what Josephine had planned? To appear in her room like some sort of cleaning fairy and be gone before Manuela could return? Did she think sewing and cleaning could make up for leaving without a word?
Manuela sauntered over to her drinks cabinet, taking pride in how Josephine’s eyes followed her every movement, and took out two glasses.
“No good prospects tonight, darling. Drink?” she asked.
“Oh, no. I—I don’t… I’ve learned my lesson. From last time.”
Manuela pursed her lips as she poured her own glass almost to the top and then took a swig from it, closing her eyes in relief as the burning sensation made its way down her throat.
Last time. When Josephine had first visited her daughter’s new home, found said daughter preoccupied with her new teaching position (and her new beau, although Manuela was sure that Josephine didn’t know about that part) and left to explore the town.
Manuela still remembered her first impression of the other woman. The mood had shifted in the drinking establishment when she’d entered, all petite and guileless, and Manuela had called her over not merely to save her from the attentions of the more disreputable patrons, but to also make sure she herself had no competition for the night.
As usual, things didn’t quite work out as Manuela had planned. It turned out that Josephine was an ardent fan of hers, who’d seen her perform in Enbarr once, who had sung Manuela’s songs to her daughter as lullabies.
She’d been so animated, so energetic, that Manuela had slowly found herself being caught up in her enthusiasm. Even when she’d tucked her hair behind her ears nervously and Manuela had finally understood why she seemed so familiar, had finally seen the echo of Annette in her (or rather the echo of her in Annette) and the knowledge that one of her fellow teachers was young enough to have been sung Manuela’s songs as an infant hit her, the revelation didn’t cause as much damage as she would have thought, the lovely company mitigating it.
They’d drunk two whole bottles and were leaning tipsily on each other (Josephine much farther gone than Manuela, naturally) when it happened.
The press of lips was so fleeting, so faint, that Manuela could have almost imagined it.
She knew she hadn’t when Josephine’s already pink from drink complexion turned bright red and stammering apologies flowed out of her beautiful lips, the lips that had been so soft, so tender, far more than Manuela was used to, far more than Manuela thought she deserved.
Manuela had been flattered. It had been so long since she’d been admired so unconditionally, so purely.
She'd thought why not? and had kissed Josephine back.
They’d gone back to Manuela’s room afterwards, giggles and laughter and soft moans echoing through the night, until Manuela had woken up the next morning, blinking awake groggily in the sunlight and reaching for a person who was no longer there.
Once it was clear that Josephine had left Garreg Mach, Manuela’s attempts to gather information from Annette had been met with a wall of stammers and blushes and little to no information.
Manuela surmised that Annette knew and that Josephine had told her about the mistake she’d made.
Manuela had been rebuffed many times before after one night stands, she was used to it. She wasn’t used to how hurt she felt this time, though.
How hurt she still felt all these months later.
She’d thought they’d had something.
She’d clearly been wrong.
“Wouldn’t want to repeat a mistake, would you?” Manuela said to Josephine darkly, taking another swig for good measure.
“What?” Josephine’s eyes were wide with hurt, like she was the aggrieved party.
It was extremely irritating.
“That’s not what I meant! I—I—”
“What did you mean then? Learning your lesson? I wonder what you wouldn’t want to do again?”
There was a fire in the depths of Josephine’s sea blue eyes, an indignant anger that Manuela had never seen before. “I meant that if I was lucky enough for it to happen again, I didn’t want to be drunk this time!”
Manuela’s nearly empty glass clattered onto the top of the cabinet.
Well.
She’d always been too quick to forgive, too desperate to not leap at an opportunity she was presented with.
Manuela moved towards the bed, not sashaying, not tantalizingly, but as swiftly as possible. She sat down next to Josephine, staring at her intently.
“Just for tonight?” she asked, trying to hide how much she wanted a protest to her words.
“Oh.” Josephine looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting around themselves on her lap. “I… I suppose.”
“That’s settled, then,” Manuela said, leaning in to kiss Josephine, hard, bruising.
The first time was littered with hazy, rose-coloured memories and once they were scrubbed over with something more grasping, something rougher, Manuela would finally be free from this unending want, want for something that would never be hers.
“Wait! Wait!” Josephine said breathlessly, pulling away.
“Why?” Manuela asked, mouthing down her neck and delighting in the way Josephine was unravelling for her, her eyelids fluttering shut, her breathing heavy.
“I’m sorry,” Josephine whispered.
Manuela pulled away this time, sitting up abruptly, her jaw clenched.
“I didn’t want it to be like this.”
Manuela nodded because it was all she could manage, every word driving a stake into her heart.
“I—I wanted too much. I usually do.”
Manuela frowned. “Too much?”
Josephine looked at her with a wavering smile. “You’re so beautiful and …charming and… oh, I don’t know! I don’t think any words could do justice to how breathtaking you are. And I’m—I’m me. Silly little me. Why would you—You could do so much better!”
Manuela let out a soft little huff of laughter. “I couldn’t.” Whatever Josephine thought, her life was far less glamorous than the fantasy.
Josephine waved Manuela’s denial away. “Even so, I want too much. I want more with you, more than just a few stolen nights. What was it last time?” She looked straight at Manuela, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, so delicate, so fragile. “Was it out of pity? A need to try something new?”
Manuela couldn’t deny that it had been a bit like that, at least at the start. It had been far more about her than it had been about Josephine, specifically.
But after, after it had been about the other woman—the infectious light and happiness shining in her eyes in the dim candlelight, the slightly mischievous way she’d nipped at Manuela’s skin, the way she’d looked when she’d tensed and then relaxed into a boneless heap when Manuela had tipped her over the edge.
“Sometimes trying something new can lead you to what you most need. What you most desire,” Manuela said.
She kissed Josephine’s tears away gently and then kissed her on the lips again, softer, more intimately, the other woman’s arms embracing her tightly.
Manuela let out a gasp of surprise as she suddenly found herself on her back, the tiny creature on top of her possessing far more strength than she appeared to have.
Manuela’s blood sang as she waited impatiently for Josephine to continue.
“I’m moving back to my hometown,” Josephine said, biting her lip, determination etched into the lines on her porcelain face.
“What?”
They weren’t meant to be talking, they were meant to be doing other, more pleasurable, things.
“It’s time. I don’t want to rely on my brother-in-law’s generosity, and Annette clearly doesn’t need me any more. Did you know that she and that ruffian–?”
Manuela raised an eyebrow, bemused. “Yes. For all his faults, Felix isn’t that bad.”
“Well, he certainly didn’t make a good first impression when I found them in bed together last time I visited.” Josephine chuckled, the vibrations making her thighs jiggle where they were placed around Manuela’s waist.
Manuela grabbed for them, but her hands were swatted away.
“Sorry! I’ll get back to the point. I just really need to say something before we go further." Josephine took a deep breath. “I was hoping you’d join me there.”
Manuela froze. “Join you?”
“Last time, you were talking about how you’re unhappy here, about how education should be about more than fighting, more than only available for those who can pay. Anyway, I inherited my family home. They all— Never mind. It’s large, too large and it definitely needs a thorough cleaning but it could be of use, as a school I mean, if you wanted. It’s in Southern Duval, so it’s ever so pretty, pastoral even, or it will be in a few years when everything is regrown.”
Southern Duval. The last time Manuela had been in that vicinity was at Arianrhod, the surrounding countryside destroyed by the events that day.
There was a lot of work to be done, for the place and for the people who lived there.
And for Manuela there was a life waiting for her, a life with a beautiful woman, a life with a strong purpose. A life that would be fulfilling unlike the emptiness she currently felt at Garreg Mach.
“So does that mean I would be your kept woman?” Manuela asked, smirking up at the angel sitting on top of her.
Josephine leaned down, a matching smile on her face, tendrils of hair escaping her bun and brushing along Manuela’s cheekbones. “Yes, I guess it does.”
Manuela wouldn’t have it any other way.