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"You're in luck," the innkeeper said to Throné and Agnea. "There's one room left. It's kinda small, though."
"Small" was an understatement, Throné thought dispassionately as she and Agnea entered the inn room in question. It was barely larger than a closet - if not for the window, Throné might've thought it was a repurposed closet - and there was little space for their belongings. But most pressing of all…
"There's only one bed," Agnea said obviously.
Throné frowned. She had hoped to catch up with the others in Winterbloom before nightfall, but she'd forgotten how soon the sun set in these lands, and the snow had shown no signs of subsiding. "What a hassle…" she murmured.
Agnea fidgeted beside Throné. "S-Sorry!" she stammered. "If I hadn't stopped to say hello to Gil, we might've—!"
"It's fine," Throné interrupted with a wave of her hand. She hadn't objected to remaining in New Delsta a day longer with Agnea while the others went on ahead. It'd been nice, seeing Agnea dance on that stage again. She bit her lip; that wasn't the first time she'd gone out of her way to be alone with Agnea.
"A-Anyway," Agnea said as she sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off her shoes, "at least we're out of the cold, huh?"
"Mm." Throné made a vague reply as she sat on the opposite side of her bed, and her back brushed against Agnea's as she too began to remove her boots, and tried to ignore how her heart raced with Agnea so near.
And how small this bed was only made her heart race faster.
There was no question that they would share this bed. It was too cold for one of them to sleep on the floor - not that there was any space for that - and even if Throné offered to do so, Agnea would undoubtedly object, so better just to accept than try to argue.
Yet silence fell over the two of them, and neither moved. Winterbloom wasn't just a clue to Castti's past, but also where Father waited for Throné. She touched the collar around her throat; the young woman at her back wanted to make others smile, while she planned to kill her "parents." If Agnea chased a dream, then Throné chased a nightmare of her own making.
She stood and began to remove her clothing so that she could dress for bed. Behind her Agnea let out a squeak of surprise, and the sound of clothes rustling told Throné Agnea too began to remove her dress and put on her sleepwear. Still silence lingered over them, and Throné suppressed the urge to turn around. Yet images of Agnea's body filled her mind, from the gentle brown of Agnea's hair in a long braid to her slender, unbound throat, her ample breasts to the curve of her hips, and the strength of her legs as she danced. Only once did Throné glance over her shoulder at Agnea, catching Agnea's eye, and Agnea blushed and quickly looked away.
In their travels together, Agnea did not look at Throné with pity or fear, but rather something like admiration. Truth be told, it frightened Throné, even as she desired more.
On opposite sides of the room, they folded their day clothes and climbed into bed together. It was barely large enough for one person, let alone two, and thus Agnea's body was pressed close to Throné's, too close. Throné almost jerked back, but managed to stop herself before she tumbled off the edge of the bed. They were both stiff as boards, simply facing one another, and Agnea's eyes dipped lower, ever so slightly, that Throné might've missed it had she not been a thief.
Throné's nightgown was tight, especially around her chest, and she did sometimes notice Agnea sneaking glances at her large breasts. "My eyes are up here, you know," she said lightly, finally breaking the silence.
Agnea's head jerked up, her eyes wide and her blush glowing, but seeing Throné's smirk, she began to laugh, and Throné could not help but laugh too. Agnea's smile was always so lovely, she thought, and for a moment her heart felt lighter.
But too soon the laughter faded, and silence again settled between them. Even in the dim moonlight, Agnea's blue eyes seemed to sparkle, and she was close, too close, close enough not to hurt but to—
No, Throné told herself. She couldn't allow her thoughts to go further, thief though she was.
"Throné," Agnea said suddenly, softly. "Are you all right with this? You've never shared a bed with any of us before…"
"…it's warmer this way," Throné muttered. She'd never shared a bed with another person at all, and with Agnea in bed with her like this, she couldn't hide a dagger under her pillow as she usually did. But did she need to now? Since traveling with Agnea and the others, she slept restfully more often than not.
"Mm, you're right, it is warmer like this." This close, Agnea's warm breath brushed over Throné's skin. She raised her head, and Throné had never seen a more honest gaze. (And a jealous part of her might've said "naïve" instead.) "When we reach Winterbloom, you're going to take that key from your father, no matter what, aren't you?"
"It's just 'Father,'" Throné stressed, though she doubted the difference mattered to Agnea. "But yes, I will take his key, even if I must kill him." There was no point in sugarcoating her goal.
Yet though Agnea fell silent again, she didn't turn her gaze away from Throné's. Instead, she carefully clasped Throné's hand between hers and whispered, "Whatever happens, I'll be there for you."
An image of Agnea dancing on the stage of Gil's tavern flashed in Throné's mind, and her heart skipped a beat. Agnea had the peaceful, happy life Throné had always desired for herself. Throné should've been jealous, or thought Agnea annoying and naïve, and maybe it would've been easier if she had. Father and Mother would've certainly encouraged that jealousy and disdain, as they did among the Blacksnakes. Make others feel your pain, they often said. "You should be frightened of me," she said at last. "I'm a thief. I might hurt you."
"How can I be frightened of someone who would go so far to defend an innocent puppy?"
Throné raised her free hand to Agnea's throat, letting her fingers curl around the vulnerable flesh. So easily could she squeeze and steal Agnea's very breath, and she felt sick to the pit of her stomach. "But that doesn't mean I won't hurt you."
Agnea laid a hand over Throné's hand at her throat, and only for a moment did her pulse quicken against Throné's palm. "And I trust you, Throné. Simple as that."
Throné's breath caught in her own throat, and Agnea smiled so lovingly at her. She was a thief, raised as one since birth, but had there been anything in her life she truly desired? Slowly she released Agnea's throat and instead tucked a strand of brown hair behind Agnea's hair, and Agnea drew closer, putting her arms around Throné for a tight embrace. Agnea was always freely affectionate, sharing such warmth without hesitation. Longing blossomed deep within Throné, and she wrapped her own arms around Agnea, cradling Agnea against her chest.
She had hurt more people than she cared to remember. The rest of the world had good reason not to trust her. But Agnea trusted her. Beautiful, naïve, radiant Agnea trusted her. Father and Mother would call her foolish, that she was too hurt to know how to love another. But she was tired of hurting others, and a spiteful part of her wished to prove Father and Mother wrong.
If Agnea could love her, bloodstained as she was…
Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, and she brushed her lips against Agnea's soft hair. Someday she would be free, free to trust and free to love.