Practical

The characters and places used belong to Tamora Pierce. I'm just meddling. This story contains implied femmeslash – meaning homosexuality. If you have a problem with that, why did you click on the link in the first place? All flames will be edited for grammar, spelling, and idiocy.

Aly never came to bed. Dove hadn't been particularly surprised when her maid was not there to undress her that evening, knowing that she was probably swamped with work down in her study. She had undressed herself and gone to bed thinking that Aly would be up soon – within an hour or two – to sleep as well.

Something had woken her, though she didn't know what it was now. She sat up, holding the thin summer sheet to her chest, and looked around the room.

Aly was not there. Junai slept on her pallet, her breath loud in the still air.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Dove stood, brushing out wrinkles in her nightgown with her palms. There was a rustle from Junai's pallet.

"What are you doing, Lady?"

"Just going to get a drink of water. I'll be right back." Junai nodded, rolled over, and was asleep again in moments.

The hardwood floor was cool under Dove's feet, refreshing in the warm air. She would have to open a window when she returned to her room.

The house was asleep, hallways and workrooms that normally buzzed with activity silent in the darkness. Aly must have fallen asleep at her desk, Dove reasoned. She would appreciate being woken up and moved to her pallet, where she could at least lie down and stretch out.

The door to Aly's office was unlocked. Not wanting to wake her by startling her, Dove turned the handle slowly, and pulled the door open just enough to slip through the gap.

And very nearly stepped on a person – no, people.

Dove blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim candle-light. There was a single candle lit on Aly's desk, nearly burnt out, which guttered in the breeze from the now-open door. The flickering shadows made the whole image in front of her seem more surreal. Nawat lay, his chest pressed against Aly's back, with one arm thrown over her waist. Possessive. There was a blanket over them both, but Dove could see the top of Aly's breasts, and the hint of a pale pink nipple. Both were freckled, just as she had imagined.

Winters in Tanair were chilly. They had spent most of their time indoors, in one of the younger children's play rooms or in the Duchess' sitting room. Even with her family, and many of the servants, in the room and with a fire roaring in the grate, Dove was often cold. She favoured velvet gowns for their warmth.

Aly's fingers were quick at the ties in the back of the dress. It was a silk and velvet one, deep green, and one of Dove's favourites. It had been made by an excellent seamstress to look like it was many layers, when it was really only one, with easy ties in the back. Dove could undo them herself, but Aly insisted upon doing her job as Dove's maid. Dove did not mind.

Warm fingers brushed the back of Dove's shoulder blades, and she squirmed. She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks. The fingers dipped lower, loosening and then removing the laces that held the dress up on Dove's shoulders. When they brushed her lower back, Dove bit her lip to hold in a whimper.

"Arms," Aly murmured, and slid those warm fingers under the shoulders of the gown, pulling gently down, helping Dove slide her arms out of the sleeves. Her breasts just barely brushed Dove's back through her own dress. Aly stepped back, walking to Dove's front. Without even a glance at her face, Aly's fingers were under the sides of the bodice and pulling down. Dove did whimper when searing heat – fingers, only warm fingers – brushed the sides of her breasts, and then down along her waist and hips. If Aly heard, she pretended not to notice. Dove stepped out of the gown, and turned to pull her nightdress on.

When she turned back to Aly, the maid had collected the dress off of the floor, and was neatly draping it over one arm. The ties were thrown over one shoulder, and she was smiling softly at Dove.

"Goodnight, Dove." Aly leaned in, and brushed her lips over Dove's cheek. "Sleep well."

Her cheek burned.

Dove reached up to rub her cheek. She could still feel the warmth of Aly's lips there. And yet it was Nawat whose arms she slept in.

She wasn't sure if she was hurt or upset or just confused. It didn't matter anyway. Aly had all but said that she would be going back to Tortall once Dove was Queen.

She stepped back, and through the door again, closing it. The candle sputtered and blew out in the draft of air. Aly deserved to be happy, Dove told herself as she climbed the stairs to her rooms. She opened the window, relieved for the cool air, and slid back into bed. Besides, Queens did not marry women. It just wasn't practical.