She gave him all the distance he needed.
More than she wanted. And she must distance herself further still. His bonds broken, he was free from his debt; but, safe from the king only for as long as he was presumed dead, unless he assumed a new identity with a new face to match, he could not safely return to his life in Äbender. And, however briefly, Anya must.
She waited until they were secure in her kitchen before she broached the subject. It seemed somehow smaller, but more comforting for it. Summer had arrived; she’d lost weeks of jobs; she had much to do. The nearby farms would be clamoring for her services or looking to replace her with someone else, and she still had her winter stores to stock. An inheritance to claim. A roof to patch. But here was her kitchen, same as it ever was.
If it looked stranger, it might be the man, still dressed all in white but no longer pristine, at her table.
She explained her plan to him. He listened, detached and impassive.
“You’re welcome to stay here while I’m gone,” she offered. Humiliatingly, her face heated as she spoke, her earlier declarations ringing in her ear. She would do anything in her power to have him – except hold him down. “Just untilyou find alternative arrangements. Or longer, if you’d like. It’s not much to look at, and there’s only one bed, but there’s the garden, and food in the cellar–” She broke off, inadequacy tying her tongue.
He smiled. A soft smile. “It would be an honor.”
That smile made it so she would rather do anything but leave. But she had promises to keep.
So she left him in her cottage, staring forlornly at the bare walls, certain he would not be there when she returned.
First, she had to have her tits. Having already lost them once, Anya had insisted Sabina restore those first, a lengthy, consuming process. The rest of the changes, like before, took place over a series of days in the sitting room of Sabina’s brother’s mostly empty townhouse. Each day passed like an eternity.
On the final day, Perrine returned from her trip to Preule, deed to the restaurant, dubbed Falcon’s Crest, in hand.
Anya was elated to see her. Perrine chatted throughout Sabina’s ministrations, applied expertly with brushes and sponges. She detailed the number of offices she had to visit (and revisit) to secure all her permits, the view from the terrace, her plans for her menu. She had two signature dishes in mind: a vanilla custard with sugar-toasted walnuts and rose hip syrup for Anya, and rabbit braised in duck fat, red wine, and juniper for her falcon, who had finally decided to leave her just before she and Sabina had made it back to Äbender.
She also mentioned she might be interested in procuring wild game from Gescany’s woods, if she could find a seasoned enough hunter.
“Lucky for you, I know just the one,” Anya said. “The best in the Lichtenwald. Caught the phoenix, you know.”
“Do shut up,” Sabina said, slapping her lightly with a blood-wet sponge. “And stop smiling. You’ll ruin the spell.”
Anya grunted.
“You must come visit us,” Perrine insisted. “I’ll keep a table open for you, always.”
“I may be able to arrange something in winter.” Sabina slapped her again. “But only if Sabina isn’t there.”
As Sabina rubbed the blood-red paste into Anya’s nose, she turned to Perrine. “Is she always this difficult?”
“I think I may miss you,” Anya said to her.
“Don’t make me blush,” Sabina said, and indeed her cheeks were turning a charming pink. “Unless you want to keep these manly cheekbones.”
“I’m a handsome man,” Anya protested.
“It’s true,” Sabina sighed. “If only you’d let me run wild.”
“Then I’d have a bat’s tongue.”
“Clearly Sylas wouldn’t care if you had a bat’s face.”
Now was Anya’s turn to blush.
Sabina raised a knowing eyebrow. “I think we’re well beyond all that, aren’t we?” She applied one last swipe to the tip of Anya’s nose, leaving behind a pleasant tingling. Sabina held up her hand mirror. “That was the last of it.”
Anya studied herself. She looked the same as she always had, down to the fine wrinkles forming in her forehead, the way one of her dark eyebrows arched higher than the other, the pooling green of her eyes.
“You are incredible, Sabina,” Anya breathed. “You’re really going to give this up?”
Sabina blushed again, exchanging a secret look with Perrine. “It isn’t strictly legal to practice magic in Preule.” Her violet eyes twinkled. “But what they don’t know won’t hurt them, will it?”
