Gift for Elfe.
"What should we do?" Elodea asked, still touching Passiflora's bare breast, as they lay side by side in the quiet twilight of the Floregilium's northern orchard.
"Stay here a little longer." Even when they were half undressed, Passiflora sounded regal.
"And that's enough for you?"
"Oh my love," Passiflora said, cupping Elodea's cheek in her hand. "I have a plan."
Elodea's heart leapt. Of course Passiflora would. She was the brilliant one after all. "Tell me."
"It's quite simple, really. King Alphonse has many vassals." She was proud of her skills having secured a monarch. "Any of them could marry you, and I'll put it out that you are a better poisoner than the abbess thinks – a hidden gem." She grinned. "I'll tell him to come bearing a passion fruit as a token, so you know he comes from me. Any preferences regarding men?"
That plan would work. It was solid, far more solid than her own. And yet… Elodea sat up. "Do you think we'd be happy?"
Passiflora sighed. "As happy as here? No. But our mothers were never again as happy as here, and neither were our mothers' mothers."
"Has that got more to do with the Floregilium or with that, just maybe, having children by the bushel and poisoning people doesn't make a happy life?"
Passiflora pushed herself up on her elbows, her smile less certain now. "I like poisoning people."
"You could still do that freelance." This was extremely dubious. Not only would it be really hard to get the most interesting toxins, but poisoning outside of war was a serious crime. Still, knowledge to harm could be knowledge to heal. They weren't entirely without transferable skills.
"Please tell me you don't mean what I think you're saying."
"Let's run away." Elodea hadn't been sure if she meant it until now. The idea had always had an unreal quality, like a fairy tale. But why shouldn't it be their story?
Passiflora actually sat up. "Have you gone mad?" Not an unreasonable assumption, given their environment, but while Elodea was an uninspired poisoner, she was careful with the substances.
"Does it matter?"
"We'd be poor, we'd be disgraced!"
Elodea reached out and clasped Passiflora's right hand in both of hers. "So what? We'd be together."
The End