Gabby The Gray
Epilogue
When the soldiers finally used a chain to pull the dungeon door off its hinges, Prudence was delirious from hypothermia. She tried to bite the first man who went to untie her, thinking him to be Cian.
Even after they secured her, dried her off, and warmed her up, it was far too late to avoid a punishing case of the grippe. There was one night, a week after the day Cian had died, where Gabrielle listened to the hacking cough in the other room and wondered if God would punish her for taking Cian’s life by taking Prudence in return.
The next morning, Prudence was lucid enough to know that Gabrielle was at her bedside, holding her hand. She saw that Gabby was wearing the crown. “Seers,” she rasped through her ravaged throat.
“All dead,” Gabrielle said. “Their special drug went into the moat.”
“Angela,” Prudence rasped.
“She’ll be fine.”
“Gabby,” Prudence rasped, but she could think of nothing else to say. From that moment, her condition only improved.
It was two weeks before Prudence could eat and be trusted to keep the food down; it was another week after that before she could walk. That in-between week was quite a distress for her, because Gabrielle did not visit at any time. The servants didn’t tell her anything, and for her part, Prudence didn’t blame them; no doubt Cian had spread some sort of story all over the kingdom that she was an evil sorceress.
Prudence spent the time looking back, using self-hypnosis to recall her sessions with Gabrielle, asking herself if she should have seen the signs or could have done things differently. On the morning that Gabrielle came to visit her the next time, Prudence knew exactly what she should do.
A light snow, which the almanacs claimed would soon be a blizzard, was falling. The fire in Prudence’s room blazed, to make up for the fact that Prudence kept the window open, to watch the snow.
“You’ll catch the grippe again, if you’re not careful,” Gabrielle’s voice said from behind her.
Prudence turned to look at the young queen, and immediately saw that something was different about her. The gray eyes were brighter, more lively than she’d ever seen them. This was the queen she had wanted to see ever since that first day, the one who would say I was born at night, but not last night.
“Gabrielle,” was all she could think to say. “The Lady of the Morning.”
Gabrielle blushed. “Yes, that is what they’re saying now.”
“I liked Daughter of the Fire,” Prudence said, remembering Gabrielle’s phrase from the dungeon.
“So did I,” Gabrielle said wistfully. “But we don’t get to choose our nicknames.”
An awkward pause, as Prudence tried to find a way to the thing she truly wanted to say. Instead she said, “How is Angela,” blurting the words so quickly that they barely counted as a question.
“She’s fine,” Gabrielle said. “She hardly wants to kill you at all.”
The joke fell flat, no doubt because each woman had feared for her life at some point during their ordeal. “With each good night’s sleep she gets, the suggestions dissipate,” Prudence said. “After all, they only had a day or so with her.”
“As opposed to the years and years with me,” Gabrielle said quietly.
“Yes,” Prudence said.
An awkward silence followed. Both women knew that they had something important to say, but neither knew the right way to start.
“I know what you were trying to do,” Gabrielle said at last. “In the dungeon. You told me what I needed to hear, so that I would have the strength to fight him.”
“I did the only thing I could think of,” Prudence said. “It was cruel and dangerous.”
“You saved all of us,” Gabrielle said. “I didn’t know how to fight him otherwise.”
“You don’t understand,” Prudence said. “Do you remember my story about my first love?”
“I’m a little hazy on the details,” Gabrielle said, ”but I remember her name. Adrienne.”
“I want to finish the story,” Prudence said. “In a way that you’ll always remember. Will you let me do that?”
“Yes, of course,” Gabrielle said, knowing well how Prudence would help her always remember.
Prudence closed the shutter on the window. She turned such that Gabrielle was facing her at arm’s length. “Look at me,” she said. “Look into my eyes.”
Gabrielle noticed that Prudence’s gaze had gone unfocused, staring at a point a foot or so behind her head. Her stomach flipped, and she broke the gaze. “Don’t... please do it another way.”
“All you all right?” Prudence said. She stepped in close, touching the queen’s cheek.
“You looked at me the way that he looked at me,” Gabrielle said. “I trust you, but please do it a different way.”
“Of course,” Prudence said. “Look at the fire.”
Gabrielle did as she was bid. The fire was roaring, as high as in any fireplace in the castle, adhering to the old wives’ adage that best way to get rid of a case of the grippe was to sweat it out.
“Feel its warmth wash over your body, just as I did,” Prudence said. “Watch the fire dance, each flicker of flame sending a wave of warmth washing over your body.”
The fire was quite warm, the queen thought, the heat like wrapping her body in a heavy blanket.
“...like wrapping your body in a heavy blanket,” Prudence was saying. There was a vague sensation of deja vu in Gabrielle’s mind, which dissipated as the next wave of warmth washed over her.
“Every part of your body so warm and heavy,” Prudence said. “Your arms are heavy, your legs are heavy, your eyes are so heavy.”
Gabrielle’s vision blurred as her eyelids fluttered. The word sleep followed her down into the dark.
Prudence took the entranced queen into her arms as the royal legs went rubbery. She lowered Gabrielle into a sitting position on the bed, and sat down next to her, close enough to murmur into her ear. She counted the queen down from ten to one, doubling her relaxation with each number; Gabrielle remained sitting upright, but her chin sank down to her chest.
“How do you feel, Gabby?”
“Different,” Gabrielle said in a sleepy monotone.
“This is how you should feel, Gabby,” Prudence said into her ear. “The Seers no longer have any power over you. This is the purest trance you’ve ever had.”
“Mmmm,” Gabrielle said, her head lolling toward the sound of Prudence’s voice.
“Think back, Gabby,” Prudence said. “Remember my story about Adrienne. Remember.”
(Gabrielle imagined a castle fit for minor French nobles, a pair of women kissing in one of the higher windows. A man stood in the shadows, his face hidden from her, looking up at the lovers.)
She was your love. Your mentor betrayed you both.
(“I never knew why he did it,” Prudence said. “Maybe he held some secret desire for me. Or maybe he was the sort of man who cannot tolerate when two women lay down together. It doesn’t matter now.”)
Doesn’t matter.
(“My mentor went to the daughter’s family. Whatever his reasons, he told them that we were doing something unholy.” Even through the haze of trance, Gabrielle somehow understood the bitterness with which Prudence spat the word. “Though we were in France, the techniques they used to find the truth were straight out of the Spanish Inquisition.”)
(The image in Gabrielle’s mind’s eye blurred. She saw the scene as Prudence described it to her: A dark-haired woman, the same age Gabrielle was now, sitting in a chair with its back removed. Her dress had been slit open from the nape of the neck to the waist, exposing the full expanse of her bare flesh. Gabrielle looked up to see Prudence standing across the room, speaking to her.)
(“They wanted her to tell them where I was hiding. They attacked her flesh in ways that even a trained killer like Angela hasn’t thought of. This went on for days.”)
(A single tear ran down Gabrielle’s cheek. She felt it even through the trance.)
(“At some point after we became lovers,” Prudence said, “during one of our trances, I said to her, Nothing will come between us. No fear, no anger, no pain. And that was what doomed her. She told them nothing, because she felt no pain. The pain is important, because it tells us to protect ourselves, that our life could be in danger. Without that warning, she had no idea how much her body was suffering. At the last, her heart gave out.”)
(The image blurred again, and Gabrielle saw herself in the chair, looking up at Prudence. Even as deeply relaxed as she was, she understood what Prudence was trying to say.)
It’s not your fault.
(“I was free and far away.” Prudence’s voice wavered. “She could have answered their questions. But she never had the choice to do so.”)
It’s not your fault.
(“I didn’t understand how strong my suggestions were. I killed her. And then I told you to confront Cian without even thinking... if I had been wrong with you as I was with her…”)
(Prudence began to cry: great, heaving sobs, fit to tear her entire body asunder. The display was completely unlike her; she had always seemed so cool during the past sessions, so much in control. Gabrielle began to understand that she was not in the dungeon. She was in Prudence’s room, sitting on her bed, and her lover was suffering next to her.)
Gabrielle lifted her head and opened her eyes. Her mind was clear; she was awake and alert. She put her arms around Prudence and held her tight, whispering into her ear over and over, “It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault.”
It was some time until Prudence quieted, and they held each other in silence for some time after that. Finally Gabrielle said, “I still don’t remember what he did to me. I resisted him in the end, but I don’t remember what I was resisting against. I’ll need your help to remember.”
“I am your humble servant, my Queen,” Prudence said, her voice still shaky.
Gabrielle pulled back just enough to show Prudence a wicked grin. “If I am not satisfied in the spring, I may release you from my service,” she said.
Prudence leaned forward and kissed Gabrielle, long and slow, caressing her lips, touching them in the slightest with her tongue, until the queen sighed with pleasure. “Then I must satisfy you as many times as I can.”