Dion walks slowly through the streets of Three Rats. He has been walking for hours, hardly noticing the portals, all the way from the First Ring, where Niruí’s lunar barge left him, early in the morning, at his request. He would have returned sooner, had the moon goddess not insisted on setting sail and showing him the wonders of the Insula as seen from above. He had not enjoyed it. None of it.
What a dreadful night… What a waste. Not by Niruí’s fault, quite the contrary. She had proven to be just as charming and welcoming as Dion remembered, showering him in her undivided attention, sharing with him food and drink made to please the most demanding of palates. He had not tasted anything like it since abandoning the First Ring. The lavishness, the exquisite attention to detail, the comfort of Niruí’s barge. Not having to worry about pleasing a larger crowd’s eyes, she had appeared before him dressed just enough to look naked, offering him a night of excess and physical pleasure. She had even put her gorgeous high priestesses at his disposal, inviting them to join in the gathering. She told him she knew of his fame and skill and put him to the test, forcing every little trick, every failproof movement out of him. And he had risen to the challenge, filled the night sky with her moans her pleasure, her cries of ecstasy, her endless pleas for more. He had entertained her and her priestesses, whose sighs and gasps had filled Niruí with wild, animalistic excitement.
They praised him and fed him and filled his cup with Ambrosia, bathed him and with him in moonlight.
But the food had a bitter taste to his lips. The drink left his mouth dry. And he felt soiled rather than clean at the bath, at the way they stroke his body and rubbed against it to tempt him into renewed passion. None of it felt pleasurable. No, all of it had been mechanical, detached, the product of habit and skill, fueled by anger and vengeance. Against love, against women, against…her. Alma had been in his thoughts the whole night, every memory of her, every moment, every word, every touch now sparking regret, now triggering anger, now flooding him with longing, an impulsive desire to go back and be with her.
By the end of the night, he had asked Niruí to dock in the First Ring and let him out there. She had demanded one last thrill for it, whispered an invitation for him to return again next year as her body seized with the first stages of climax. He had waited for her to fall back in bliss and then told her no.
He opens the door to the bar, feeling hollow, feeling guilty. The night spent engaging in seduction, in an empty dance with someone who matters little to him, something he’d once enjoyed but now…now it seems so pointless, was to him more of a torment than a relief. Has he ever even enjoyed, truly enjoyed these single-night affairs? Or were they just a distraction, a mindless pastime to give purpose to his empty hours?
What has he accomplished with going off with Niruí? Nothing. What had felt like revenge when he first grabbed that invitation has not brought him any satisfaction. The whole night, he wanted to be elsewhere, back here, clearing things up with Alma, finding out why she had been delayed. He’d started worrying about her at some point, once the anger subsided. His assumption that she was out with Somrak seems silly now, rushed. Perhaps something has happened. Perhaps he has her all wrong. Can he be sure that what Tulip saw wasn’t a misunderstanding?
How can he justify to her that he wasn’t here, waiting for her to return, for her to join him in a date that he invited her to, in the first place?
He climbs down the stairs to Alma’s room and knocks on her door, not knowing exactly what to expect. Will she be angry? Will she even be in there? He does not even know if she has returned or if she is, like everyone else probably is, at the portal in Little Falls, saying her last goodbyes to Mayumi before the Bunny leaves to the Academy. No one answers his knock and so, just to make sure, he turns the knob and enters. He freezes at what he sees.
On Alma’s bed, Sky is reclining against a pillow, his back against the headboard, his shoeless feet on the mattress. He sits over the covers while Alma lies under them, her head on his lap, her arms around his knees, her eyes closed, apparently asleep. Caught in the act of stroking Alma’s snowy hair away from her face, Sky is looking toward Dion, his face clouded with concern.
Dion is lost for words. Of all the things he could have expected, this loving little scene was surely not one of them. He feels the blood drain away from his face, his stomach grow cold with an icy anger.
“Dion…” Sky whispers as he tries to gently lift Alma’s head and slide out from under it, trying to replace his thigh with a pillow.
Dion swallows and turns to leave, trying to control the rage in his voice. “Don’t bother on my account.”
“Dion wait…” Sky bids him, finally getting up and walking after the magic god. “Come on.”
“I don’t need to wait, I have seen all I needed to see,” Dion hisses even though he stops walking. He shakes his head, wondering how a part of him can still be fighting the evidence and stopping him from darting out the room. “And to think I was actually worried about her…”
“Cherry told me…something,” Sky insists. “It was rushed and confusing. Listen…”
As he reaches out to put his hand on Dion’s shoulder, the magic god turns on his heels and slaps Sky’s hand away with the full force of his anger. Cherry! Cherry has been spreading Dion’s shame around, sharing it with Sky? Oh, how they must have laughed at the turning of tables against him and his seducing ways… “No. Enough!” he cries, waiving care and respect for Alma’s sleep. What sordid act has her so tired at this time of morning, anyway? “If she wants to have a harem like her father does, that’s up to her. Guess that’s the family standard anyway. I hope you and Somrak enjoy sharing in the spoils.”
In his defense, Sky looks sincerely shocked. “Harem? Dion! No…”
But Dion is beyond the point of paying attention to such things. “I turn my back one night and here you are! Are you going to tell me that you haven’t been attracted to her from the very start? Always with your little secrets and pettings? Why, I’m even surprised you bother with May.”
Sky’s expression darkens, his fists clenching in righteous anger. And the way the first swirls of black start crawling up his neck make Dion’s muscles tense as well. “You are misunderstanding things. If you would just listen to me–”
Sky freezes, stiff. And so does Dion. They both turn their heads slowly to the right, toward Alma’s bed, to where she sits, glaring at them through half-shut eyes. A faint glow to them makes Dion’s heart skip a beat.
“Leave us, please,” she asks in icy tones.
Even though she does not name names, it is clear that she is speaking to Sky. The tall god looks back at her, shoulders slumping slightly, sadness in his eyes, and the way he turns those same sorrowful eyes to Dion curdles the blood in the magic god’s veins. Something is wrong, very wrong. Somehow, Dion feels, he has just lost this argument.
Sky takes a deep breath before saying, “I will be upstairs.”
He moves closer to the bed, picks up his shoes and walks past Dion, his face a sorrowful mask, and exits the room, leaving Dion still frozen in place and staring at Alma’s angry face. Her eyelids have moved slightly up and he can see her eyes better now, the way they glow and shift colors, now greener, now bluer, shimmering with iridescent tones. Her whole aura feels different now, still hers but with a new undertone, an energy he had never sensed in her before. And she looks tired, sickly. Dion feels it again, that dreadful feeling that he has just committed an irreparable error. “You…what happened?” he mumbles, rushing to her side.
“It is a bit late for that, don’t you think?” she asks slowly, voice so cold that it cuts through his skin. She pulls the covers away from her legs. Too late, Dion sees that she is fully dressed underneath them, the cut of her dress having fooled him before. His mouth falls open in helplessness and he jerks forward instinctively as Alma’s legs shake under her as she gets up from the bed, placing a hand on the wall to steady herself. She turns her face away from him to say, “Sky would have told you but you wouldn’t listen to him.”
At her refusal to look at him, Dion lets his arms fall. His mind races as he tries to retrieve the line of his thought. He was angry before but all he is now is shocked and confused. What has he done. How…how did they get to this point where he is the one at fault? “Tulip…” he mumbles, trying to return to anger. “Tulip said she saw you and Somrak in the breezeway. Kissing.”
Alma’s head turns quickly to look at him again and the glare she shoots in his direction makes him wish she hadn’t. “Is that why you weren’t here last night?” Her voice grows louder and angrier as she adds, “Is that why you came in here spewing out those ridiculous accusations? If you knew the first thing about me, Gwydion, you’d know that the last thing I want is a harem! I grew up in a harem! I know better than anyone what it is like! Why would I even want one?!”
At his momentary loss for words, she narrows her strange eyes at him, the lines on her face and the sunken darkness under her eyelids making her look even more intimidating. “Where were you, Gwydion? When I was being brought here and asking for you in my sickness, where were you?”
He closes his eyes and ponders lying but his mind is blank of inspiration for good excuses. “I was angry. And I left with someone else.”
She shakes her head. “Not even a few hours…I am delayed and you–” She looks at him, eyes wide with shock. “Did you…? You thought I was with him? Is that what you thought?”
He looks down at his feet and wishes the floor would open a hole to swallow him whole. Her outrage is sincere, he can tell.
Oh, Dion, you fool… his inner voice scolds him. Apologize. Admit you were wrong. You cannot win.
He should. He should apologize. But…he can’t. “Is it a lie?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “What Tulip said she saw?”
“No,” her cool answer makes him look up again. “It’s the truth. She saw us kiss because we kissed. I was healing him and he kissed me. We kissed. So what?!” she exclaims, throwing her arms open in frustration. “How much further than that have you gone with whatever tart you spent last night with?!” She holds a hand up to stop him from answering. Not that he was going to. “Don’t even answer that. I know the answer.”
He does not know what to say anymore. Her admission hurts him but not half as much as the dawning realization that it is not an admission of guilt. She is not guilty of anything. Somrak kissed her and even so, their agreement works both ways. It is he who cannot stand to accept that. And now…
“You want the truth, Gwydion?” Alma goes on. “I care about him. I was worried about him. He was hurt and he was suffering and all I did was add to it because I care about you more.” She points a finger at him in accusation. “I told him ‘no’ and that’s why I didn’t even think of telling you, because I thought our agreement went both ways and even though I did nothing wrong I still did not want to hurt you! But I guess that’s not how things work in your sick little head!”
She hisses the last few words and storms out of the room, leaving Dion standing there, stunned into speechlessness and motionlessness. He stares at nothing, unblinking, unseeing. And when he finally turns to follow her, when he finally rushes up the stairs, a voice in his mind shouting Go! Make it right!, it is too late.
Sky and Alma are just walking toward the door, Sky’s face concerned as he asks “…are you sure? This suspect is in Little Falls.”
“I don’t care,” Alma nearly growls. “Let’s go.”
Sky barely has time to look back at Dion with a mix of exasperation and, strangely, apology before they are out the door. Leaving him all alone with his mistakes.