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Abandoned by her lover on the Day of Devotion. Just her luck.
Perhaps that was unfair, since Faye could literally see Silque at the Askran market stalls a few strides away. But Silque was so attentive a partner that Faye rarely had justifiable reasons to feel grouchy or bitter. So she liked to relish those opportunities when they arose.
Seated on the fountain’s edge, she swung her legs idly. The wind was swollen with the scent of chocolate and roses, and the clouds staggered about drunkenly in the cerulean sky. The festival-goers were walking upside-down in the water, reflected through blue glass. There were boisterous groups of friends, trios of bickering siblings, parents walking with their children, and couples of every configuration imaginable.
Faye dipped her fingers in the water. Their smiles rippled and drowned.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was spellcasting. She adored magic - the rush of power, the pulsing of light, the way the runes sparkled in the air. The opulence of it all. And she still treasured the looks on Alm, Gray, and Tobin’s faces when she conjured her first fireball. Kliff had been unimpressed, of course, but nothing impressed him.
And Silque? Faye had never seen her grin so wide.
She had hated that about her from the very beginning: Silque's decorum. Always modest, seldom surprised, never perturbed. Hands forever clasped in prayer, mouth forever turned upward in that insipid little smile. She was a saint. She was a marble statue. She was an illustration in an encyclopedia next to the word “woman”.
How was Faye expected to compete with that?
The answer was, she couldn’t. That truth had been carved into her by a thousand knives. She was too smart to be a farmer, but not smart enough for schooling to be worth it. Too brutish to fit in with the girls, but not tomboyish enough to fit in with the boys. Too fond of pink to have her intelligence respected, but not ladylike enough to be admired. Too hot-tempered, too blunt, too inarticulate, too dense.
Always too much, and never quite enough.
“Faye!”
She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Of course Silque had to interrupt her right as she was getting some proper wallowing done. For a priestess, the woman had the devil’s timing.
That didn’t stop Faye from admiring how Silque’s lily-white dress hugged her curves as she jogged, nor how her fine silk bonnet was sitting adorably askew on her head. She liked Silque best when she was colorful – spots of pink on her cheeks, indigo stripes hemming her skirt, drops of violet upon her fingernails.
“My apologies for keeping you waiting,” said Silque, a hand over her heaving bosom. The other was tucked behind her back. “The crowds were larger than I expected.”
Faye brushed some invisible dirt from her blush-pink skirts. “If you show me what you’re hiding behind your back, I’ll forgive you.”
“Oh?” Silque gave a small chuckle. “This was meant to be a surprise for later. But I should have known I could not hide from your archer's eyes for long.”
“That’s certainly true. You’ve always been a terrible liar.”
“In my defense, a servant of Mila rarely has the opportunity to practice such things.”
“Are you saying you want to start lying to people?” Faye couldn’t help but snicker at the image. “And here I thought you were the only honest priest in Askr.”
Silque just smiled. “Close your eyes.”
“Do you promise not to slip a frog down the back of my dress?”
“I am not Princess Lissa of Ylisse.”
“Even so-”
“Yes, I promise. Indulge me.”
How was Faye expected to compete with that?
She sat up straight, folding her hands in her lap, and allowed her eyes to flutter shut. The festival grounds vanished, and for the first time all day, her vision was clear. Unsullied by flower petals and painted hearts and lovers kissing each other in the sunshine.
Then she felt Silque’s hands touch her hair.
It was only the briefest brush, no more suggestive than a gust of wind. Yet Faye’s weak butterfly of a heart flapped its tattered wings against her ribcage. She bit her lip to silence the cruel words that sprang to her throat. Be still, you fool. When have you ever done me any good? What help were you when Alm got engaged to Celica?
Oh, how she’d wept in Silque’s arms that night.
Oh, how badly Silque must have wanted to wring her stupid neck.
“All right. You may open your eyes now.”
Faye cracked open her lids, and the sunlight flooded back in.
She reached up tentatively, and her fingers brushed satin. Sitting upon her brow was something looping and delicate, already tangling itself in her curls. She felt the tiny prickles of leaves, and she smelled soil.
“A flower crown?” she guessed.
Silque nodded, her hands twisting around one another. “A diadem of violets. I saw it and thought it would be the perfect touch to complement your festival outfit. Is it… to your liking?”
She met Faye’s eyes, and for a moment, Faye could only gaze back. Few people could stare her down like this. Certainly no men. But Silque’s gaze – bluer than the ocean waves, steadier than twilight – pinned her like a javelin through the chest.
She thought of the many, many times Silque had looked into her eyes and delivered a life-saving diagnosis.
The wound isn’t deep, and it shouldn’t scar.
The infection is clearing up.
That Thunder spell only grazed you.
You don’t have to marry a man.
She inhaled the foul, floral-scented air of the Day of Devotion. “You know, Silque, you shouldn’t waste your money like this.”
Silque’s eternal smile faltered. The tiniest of furrows appeared between her perfect eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”
“Why would you ever buy a flower crown when we’re sitting a block away from Askr’s largest meadow?”
“Oh.” Those spots of pink Faye so adored appeared on Silque’s cheeks again. “That is… a fair point.”
“You come with me. I’ll show you to the tallest hill, and I’ll make you as many daisy chains and wildflower crowns as you want. Free of charge.”
“You know how to weave such things? Oh, Faye, your talents never cease to amaze.”
“Don’t get your hopes up too high, now. I was never as good at it as Lady Celica.”
“With respect, I have no interest in Lady Celica,” said Silque softly. “Only you.”
Faye was so surprised her heart nearly forgot to flutter. She tossed her head back and laughed. “Silque! You can’t say that about the queen of Valentia! They’ll have your head!”
Silque’s eyes twinkled. “Then we had best start running before we are arrested for treason, yes?”
Faye shook her head, her smile stubbornly refusing to leave. “You’re nothing but trouble.” She rose from the fountain ledge. Like picking a wildflower, she placed Silque’s hand securely in her palm. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
“My apologies. It seems you bring out the rebel in me.”
“So it’s all my fault? I see. And how would you like me to atone?”
A note of something less than chaste crept into Silque’s voice. “I am sure I will have a few ideas by the time we reach the top.”
Really, how was Faye expected to compete with that?
She took off at a run, pulling Silque behind her. Before long the two were charging down the cobblestones, laughing like children. In all honestly, they were probably terrifying the other festival-goers. If Gray and Tobin and Kliff could see Faye now, they’d assume she was mad. And Mila only knew what Alm would think.
But frankly, when Silque’s hand was in hers, the opinions of men were the furthest thing from Faye’s mind.