Kathyra

I walk downstairs to greet the war sunlight of springtime. It washes over the stone floors, painting everything in shades of gold surely meant to dazzle the eyes of mortal men, to remind us of our aspirations, to inspire us to greater things than the cold world holds.

I never thought I could be here again, I ponder the state of my world, of my heart, the peace and sense of surety I have been given. I thought I could never greet the morning with a smile, without a sense of dread. I never dreamed...that I could be happy.

I wash my face in freezing water, clear the grit from my eyes, and tie my hair back. The movement of my arms causes the wide swath of scar tissue on my right side to pull uncomfortably, and I gasp at the sudden, unexpected onslaught of pain from a wound long healed.

Lithe, tender arms wrap around my waist and comfort infuses me as I feel Giselle's warmth like a palpable force.

"Are you all right, trickster?" She asks, her voice light, airy, and soothing. "You slept rather restlessly."

A tiny crease mars her brow as she looks me over thoroughly, ever the physician of my body and my soul. On instinct, her hand presses against the scar left by Marjolaine's knife and I wince, layering my hand over hers.

"Does it pain you still?" She wonders.

Gentle, I pry her hand from the old injury, raising it to my lips and pressing a kiss against her fingertips. "Three years ago today." I breathe, wondering why this dismal anniversary rings so strongly in my mind, why it resonates with me.

"The best night of my life." Giselle has the grace to look ashamed as she whispers the words. "Not that...not that I take joy from your tragedy, Kathyra. How strange," She shakes her head, "that such grace can be found in the most horrifying of circumstances."

I curl my finger beneath her chin and raise her eyes to mine. "You need not apologize for how you feel, my darling." I tell her. "It is simply..."

"The body remembering." Giselle nods, wrapping her arms around me and resting in my embrace.

I run my fingers through her hair, amazed all over again by its color, its texture, the way it feels against my skin like a kiss. "You have given me much better memories, Giselle." I whisper. "Three years of joy. Three years of hope. Three years of love."

"The gods and their twisted mercy." Giselle sighs, moving away and gazing deep into my eyes, relaxed and content to remain there. "When I found you, half-dead in that alley...I thought..."

"What?" I ask, kind, knowing that this is a secret she has kept for herself, not wanting her to reveal it against her will.

"I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen." The words flee her lips in a rush, and color rushes to her cheeks.

"I remember your voice." I offer, a confession for a confession. "From that night. It held...it held kindness. And surety. I had forgotten those things before you entered my life."

"And still you took so long to trust me." Giselle chides, teasing.

"I found my way." I reach out and take her hand in my own, squeezing it. "I found my way."

"And the student eclipsed the master." She takes my hand between both of hers and examines it, running her fingertip lightly across the lines and calluses etched into my palms. "You have a healer's hands, my trickster. I am given to believe that you always have."

"You saved more than my life that day." I whisper, knowing that we have shared these words before, knowing that we have walked through our memories multitudinous times, but on this day, they mean more. They are needed more.

"No more than you saved mine." Giselle sighs. "How convoluted are the paths of fate on which we find ourselves."

"You are worried about something?" I ask, seeing a concern in her features that has nothing to do with the past.

"When does the floor fall out from beneath us, Kathyra?" She turns to me and there is fear in her eyes. "When does paradise fall beneath the flames?"

"What are you afraid of?" I inquire, wondering at this new face of alarm. "That my former life will find us again?"

"Your former life." She nods. "Mine. How long can we trust Dorothea to blithely ignore us? The institution of the Chantry clinic has done wonders for her reputation, but now...our influx of patients is so great that I know the good works of the Chantry are undermined. How long can we trust your sister to believe you dead...devastating beauty is not often something hidden well."

"Giselle," I step behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, pillowing my chin on her shoulder, "I promise you, I swear, no harm will come to you. Not from Dorothea, not from Marjolaine. We are safe here."

"I never had enemies until that night." Giselle mumbles. "Petty grievances, miniscule grudges...but never an enemy. Then again," She turns and presses her lips against mine in a furious, ferocious kiss, "I never had a lover either."

"Nor had I." I whisper. "But I had many, many enemies. Perhaps I still do. I cannot guarantee that Marjolaine will remain in the dark forever. I cannot guarantee that we will not have to flee from this place and find somewhere else to craft a lie. But I can assure you, dearest, that I will keep you safe."

"I trust you, Kathyra." Giselle reaches out, one hand around my waist, one atop my shoulder. "I always have."

"Then you are a far braver woman than I." I guide her in the first few steps of a tuneless dance.

"Not a smarter one?" She teases.

I pretend to ponder the inquiry before shaking my head. "Most assuredly not." I whisper, catching her lips in a tender kiss that becomes more...

...it becomes a song.