I follow Olexandrya up the stairs and down a dark hallway. For some reason, it’s colder up here.
I think about the bedroll. The comfort of being held against Olexandrya’s body. The heat of her skin. Her breath against the top of my head.
I’ve been waiting for this.
Olexandrya walks stiffly, as if her legs are heavier than normal. She’s running her hands through her hair when she comes to a stop in front of a door.
“Are you upset, Olexandrya?” I ask. My breath clouds before me.
Olexandrya shrieks and jumps, slamming herself against the wall.
I stare at her shape in the dark. Her breaths are heavy. I can barely make out her wide eyes.
“Are you alright?”
“No!” she snaps. “You scared me!”
I purse my lips even though she probably can’t see it.
“What sort of hero are you?”
Olexandrya huffs and peels herself off the wall. Her annoyance bubbles in my chest.
“I told you,” she grumbles. “Drya. Just Drya.”
“Sure, master.”
She waves me off and turns to the door. Is she mad at me? Has that mess with the demon boy left her angry? I suppose it would. This is her home.
“What are you doing up here, anyway?” Olexandrya asks. “Why’d you follow me?”
I feel like it’s obvious, but I answer anyway.
“You said you were going to bed.”
She turns her head, watching me.
“So?”
I lean against the wall. I hadn’t expected to be thrown on the spot like this. She didn’t seem to mind sleeping with me last night. Well, it’s still cold. What does she expect me to do? Freeze?
“I’m going to bed,” I say.
“Fine,” Olexandrya says, pushing the door open. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
I follow her into the room, certain my annoyance is plain on my face. Luckily, it’s dark.
I can’t make out much of the room. Dark shapes loom around a big bed.
Olexandrya yanks a blanket out of a drawer and throws it on the floor.
“Beds there,” she says before dropping onto the blanket. She turns, pulling the blanket over her face.
I stand there and stare for a moment before stepping over Olexandrya and sitting on the edge of the bed.
The bed is soft. Not as soft as the one in Wettes, but it’s bigger. It also has a headboard and two posts at the foot.
Faint moonlight spills out beneath curtains on the far wall. But it isn’t enough to light up the room.
“Are you awake?” I ask, peeling the heavy tunic over my head.
Olexandrya’s form shifts, and her face appears.
“Of course, I’m awake.”
“Rakel spoke to me.” I toss the tunic. It lands on the floor. “She told me about humans turning into demons.”
Olexandrya sits up. I can just make out her face.
“I’m surprised you didn’t know. We thought you were one of them for the longest time. A ‘mutant demon.’”
“Is that what you call it?” I tear what’s left of my blouse and toss it as well. The cold settles on my skin. I poke at the place the scar would be under the bandages.
She nods.
“I’ve been a demon my entire life,” I say, slipping out of my trousers and letting them fall. The only things left are the stained bandages on my chest and my torn skirt. “Now… it’s rather cold. Would you get in the bed?”
“You wouldn’t be cold if you’d left all those clothes on,” Olexandrya says.
“They’re rather far away,” I add, shivering. “It’d be a shame to have to collect all of them again.”
“Why are you doing this?” Olexandrya asks. “Are you… trying to seduce me?”
I squint down at her. Why would I try to seduce her? Humans and demons can’t breed. Well, apparently demons might just be some further form of humanity. Maybe humans and demons can breed. Not that I’d want to.
“I’m not interested in sex,” I snap. “I’m interested in having you here to make me comfortable.”
“Comfortable?”
I massage my temples.
“How direct will you make me be?”
Olexandrya gets up, though. She sits next to me on the bed.
“It is quite cold,” she says.
“I’m glad you noticed.”
Nothing happens.
I start rapping my fingers on my knees.
“Well?” I say.
“What?”
“Do what you did last time.”
Olexandrya snorts and lies back. The bed shifts as she lands.
“I’m pissed off,” she says.
I stare ahead for a moment before tilting my head to look at her.
“Lloyd is my cousin,” Olexandrya goes on. “He was… ten when we left. He’s probably fifteen now.”
“Cousin?” I don’t recognize the term. I lean back slowly, laying next to her. My arm brushes against hers as I do. “Was saving his life not enough?”
Olexandrya raises her chin, her throat flexing as she does. I watch her swallow and take a slow breath.
“His life shouldn’t have been at risk in the first place.”
I stare.
“That’s selfish,” I say. “You can’t stop the world from being dangerous. You’re just like Rakel.”
Olexandrya laughs.
“I guess.”
Nothing happens.
She hasn’t taken me into her arms. Should I do something? I don’t want to touch her, I want her to touch me.
What’s different? Was it the fresh wound? Was I more visibly afraid back then? It was definitely colder.
I’d woken up, and she was holding me. Maybe she liked it that I was asleep. If I go to sleep, will she touch me? Will she make me warm?
No. There’s something wrong here.
“Where do you draw the line?” I ask. “Specifically.”
“What?” she asks.
“You can’t blame yourself for every death. Didn’t you hear what I told Rakel? There’s no end to it.”
Olexandrya is up.
“Yes, I can!” she barks. “Rakel isn’t responsible for this world. Rakel is just… a normal person. I’m here to protect everyone. I’m here to stop the demon lord. Every single death that I don’t prevent is a scar on my back!”
I frown.
“Isn’t that excessive?”
“Is it?” She snaps. “Is it really?” She starts to pace. “What am I doing, right now? I’m going to the capital to beg the Queen to let me chase the Demon Lord. He could’ve killed a hundred people by the time I’m kissing her pretty shoes!”
I sit up, watching her.
“That’s exactly what everyone says. There’s nothing you could do. It must’ve been fate. They’re in a better place. I don’t care! I’m responsible!”
I swallow and plant my hands on my knees.
“My master,” I say. “He’s eaten demons and humans alike. Most of the generals eat quite extensively. When my training first started, I was part of a ‘troop.’ There were a dozen of us. We trained together, shared quarters, ate together, bathed together. A unit, you might say.”
Olexandrya doesn’t move. I keep going.
“My master referred to me as the ‘standout.’ The other’s abilities were often compared to my own. They were often beaten for not being able to compete with me. There came a point where I so far exceeded them that my master suggested that I consume them. I refused. I think I was attached to them. I wouldn’t say I liked them, but I didn’t see the point in killing them. My soul was plenty strong as is.”
“He made you do it?” Olexandrya asks, her voice dry.
I shake my head.
“He did it. Quite violently as well. He made sure each one of them suffered; and that I watched. I’m still not sure what he wanted me to learn from it. The only thing I learned was not to get too attached to my fellow demon.” I chuckle.
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“Well? Who’s responsible?”
“Obviously. Your master killed them for no reason!”
I watch her.
“Not him,” I say. “Me. Did I murder them?”
Olexandrya straightens.
“If I hadn’t outperformed them, my master may not have been so willing to cast them aside. Am I not responsible?”
“No. You’re not.”
I aim a finger at her.
“Then, passivity isn’t complicity, and you’re absolved.” I give a small smile. “What you are complicit in is leaving me to freeze. If I freeze to death, I will hold you accountable.”
Olexandrya says nothing. A choked laugh escapes her throat. She crosses the room and pushes me onto the bed.
“Oh,” I say as she pulls up the covers.
“Come on,” she says, slipping inside.
I shuffle over and slip under with her. The sheet is cold beneath me but I can already feel the heat coming off her. I settle my head on the pillow while Olexandrya gets comfortable on her side. She raises an arm, pushing up the blanket.
I stare.
“Come here,” Olexandrya says.
I keep staring.
“Aerida?”
I don’t move. She doesn’t move. She won’t do it. She’s going to make me do it.
“It’s fine,” I say, turning away from her. “This is comfortable enough.”
I settle in as Olexandrya moves closer. Her form presses against my back. I try not to react as her arm comes down on the skin of my side. It’s hot enough to melt my insides.
“Why are you like this?” she asks, drawing me against her. Her breath tickles my scalp. “What do you want from me?”
“You started this,” I reply. “You couldn’t let me die. Remember?” I tilt my head, aware of my horns near her face.
Olexandrya’s arm turns, her hand traveling up my stomach.
I inhale slowly, relaxing against her. I could come apart into her so easily. It terrifies me how easy all of this is.
What threshold did we trip over? When did it happen? How?
The motion of Olexandrya’s hand holds my attention. My skin buzzes beneath her touch.
“How can you speak of your master’s cruelty that way,” Olexandrya says. “Yet you were still willing to die for him.”
“I know what my master is,” I reply. “He's a cruel man. But he is the one who raised me. He saw me. Why wouldn't I be loyal to him?”
I place my hand on hers. A heaviness settles inside me, pulling on my thoughts.
“I am not a kind person,” I say groggily. “My pond is that man's evil. I'm still not sure if I belong there or… anywhere else.”
I think of my home. Who is the girl that lived there? Was she a different person? Is that why the memories are hidden from me?
“I'm beginning to have doubts,” I admit. “Because… I've been seeing things. In my dreams; I see what I think are your memories. I also see memories of my own. Memories I can't place.”
“I've been seeing stuff, too,” Olexandrya says. “I’ve seen your home and your sister. And what I think is your mother.”
Sister? Mother?
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. The harder I try to remember, the further it gets away from me.”
“I know. You’ve told me this.”
“Tell me,” I insist. “What is it you’ve seen?”
“I’ve seen a girl with gold hair. Really gold. Like the metal in liquid form. It’s unnatural.”
“Yes. I’ve seen her.”
“She has horns like yours. That’s why I thought she was your sister.”
I rap my fingers against the back of her hand.
“Could be.” But the heaviness is too much. I can’t keep my eyes open. I breathe slowly, willing to let myself drift.
But something is poking me. I can feel it growing against my back.
“Olexandrya,” I say. “What is that?”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Sorry?” I let go of her hand and turn towards her.
“Hey.” Olexandrya shifts away from me. “What are you doing?”
I push up the blanket, eyeing the tent in her trousers through the dark.
“I forgot about that,” I mumble.
“What do you mean, you forgot? You know… how?”
I prop my head on my hand and meet her eyes. Is it not obvious?
“You changed in front of me,” I say. “Back in Wettes. I saw your thing.”
“It’s not a thing, it’s a cock.” She sits up, planting a hand on the tent.
“I don’t care what you want to call it,: I snap. “Quit poking me with it. How come you have one of those, anyway?”
“I can’t help it,” she says, pushing down on her lap. “You’re all pressed up against me, of course it’ll react.”
I sit up as well, holding her gaze.
“It happened the same day my hair turned white.” Olexandrya lowers her head. “When I hit puberty.”
I blink.
“You’re saying… you’re a demon?”
“I guess.” She runs a hand through her hair. “But that’s all that changed. My hair and my body.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. Rakel had spoken of girls turning into spiders and boys growing tails. But Olexandrya got a cock and white hair. What’s the deal with that?
I have trouble accepting Olexandrya as a demon on its face. I suppose it explains her soul attunement. Could she be like me if she learned how? Has she ever consumed a soul?
“Sure, go on,” Olexandrya grumbles. She curls slightly into herself. “I know how stupid it is. No one else knows. I can’t have lovers. Man, woman? What do you think someone would think if they found out? Huh?”
I shift across the bed. Slowly and deliberately.
“If I help you,” I say almost under my breath. “Will you… hold me again?”
Olexandrya turns to me. Her eyes are wide.
“What do you mean?”
I position myself behind her, resting my chest against her solid back. Then, I reach around her.
“Exactly what I said.” I push her hand aside and press down on the shape in her lap. It’s thick, and it moves under my touch. And it’s hot, just like the rest of her.
“Wait,” Olexandrya mumbles through a heavy breath. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Neither have I,” I admit, patting her waist. I can’t find the hem of her trousers. I realize it’s probably hidden under her tunic. “Help me out here.”
Olexandrya grabs my hand.
“Aerida.”
I stare at her back, my breath held.
“Olexandrya.” Her name escapes with my breath.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot.”
“You want to have sex with me?” My tone is more amused than I’d expect. “Is that why you saved me?”
“No,” her tone is sharp. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“You’re so precautious,” I say. I press myself against her back, resting my forehead against her shoulder blade.
“If I let you do this. You have to understand.”
“I understand,” I say, even though I don’t really get what she’s implying.
“I didn’t save you to ‘have’ you,” she says as her grip loosens. “I saved you because it was right.”
“Was it right?” I let my hand travel down her soft stomach. I’m a bit more hesitant to reach into her lap. How do I go about this? Do I grab it? Twist? Pull?
I settle on the same press I’d done. The flat of my palm against the top of it.
Olexandrya groans, which is good. Now what?
“It was right.” she leans back against me and I catch her arm to keep myself from falling.
I curl my hand around the end, gripping it gently and Olexandrya flinches.
“Be gentle,” she mumbles.
“Some hero,” I reply, flexing my fingers against her. She tenses and the thing moves in my grip. I push, turning it as my hand closes around the shaft.
She makes a choked groan and leans forward. I lean as well, resting my weight against her back.
It’s awkward to grip it through her trousers, but I make do. Up and down. I establish a rhythm and stick with it.
Olexandrya pants and her body trembles. What does her face look like? Am I doing this right?
I don’t really feel anything from it. For a moment, I wondered if I would feel it my own body if I pleasured her. I rest my free hand against her side, balancing myself as I keep it up.
“Is that good?” I ask.
“You’re…” the response is drowned in a slow groan. “I…” she huffs. “Shit.”
I feel a wetness growing under my hand and keep going.
“Wait,” she whines. “Aerida, wait.” She moans, her voice a higher pitch than I’ve ever heard from her.
I grip harder, feeling the shape throb against my hand.
“There,” I say, letting go of the softening shape. “That’s done, right?”
Olexandrya straightens and looks over her shoulder at me. Her mouth hangs open and her eyes are wild. Each breath seems to quake through her.
I back up, folding my legs beside me. I raise the hand to my face and sniff it.
“It’s cold,” I say. “Come on, get under the covers.”
But she just stares at me.
I chew on the inside of my lip, unsure what she expects of me.
“I’m sorry,” Olexandrya says after a moment. She stands and slips out of her trousers. They pool at her feet. I get a glimpse of her cock before she turns away, a trail of white stuff oozes from it. She hobbles to a drawer and produces a rag.
I lie back, staring at my hand. It was easier than I’d expected.
Olexandrya returns to the bed without trousers. She pulls up the covers and slips under.
I join her without waiting and she pulls me against her without hesitation. I don’t question why she felt the need to apologize. I don’t even unpack what we’ve done.
This comfort. This warmth. I let it envelope me. I sink into her without regard for meaning. The world slips away. I close my eyes and I see that girl again.
Gold hair whipping around her head. It glimmers in the night, almost glowing. One of her horns is missing, ending in a jagged stump. The forest behind her is littered with torches. Are they getting closer?
Is this girl really a sister to me?
“It’ll be okay, Rowen,” she says. “As long as I’m here, you’ll be okay.”
Rowen. Me? I’m not Rowen.
Torchlight spills in around us. Figures move around us, like a wall of fire and shadow.
Blood fills my mouth. It tastes sweet.
“It’s okay,” the girl says again. “It doesn’t hurt.”
I wake to daylight in my face. I try to raise a hand to my face, but my arm is pinned under Olexandrya’s arm. Her body is still hot. Everything is hot.
The curtains are thin. Sunlight goes right through them. I squint at them, annoyed.
It’s too hot.
The bandages on my chest are wet with sweat. Olexandrya groans behind me. I shift against her and pink bangs fall in my face.
Faint yelling reverberates from somewhere in the house. Footsteps grow louder, just outside the door.
I push Olexandrya’s arm off me and sit up as the door swings open.
Pepper is there, looking angry.
“What?” She stammers at the sight of us.
“What?” I echo. Then, something stirs in my gut. A smile cracks open on my face. “My master and I are busy,” I say, offering a hand wave. “This ought to be important.”
Pepper chokes on air and laughs. I’d been hoping for a more shocked reaction.
“'Master?'” She leans against the doorframe. “Geez, you’re something, Aerida. Anyway, we’re at the capital.”
“What?”
“The house moves,” Pepper says with a shrug.
I slip out of bed and cross the room. I yank the curtains back, and it’s all there.
Beyond rolling dunes of sand is a vast field of colorful crops. Beyond that are towers. They’re reddish and standing like giants in the distance.
“The house moves,” I mumble.
“Drya!” Pepper snaps, kicking Drya’s form in the corner of my eye. “Get up!”