Luminous

48 - Falls and Foils

"Hey, Lo!" He directed his call at Heloise with a hand beside his mouth, "Race you to the top and down!"

Before Heloise could even nod, Frenix sped off, prancing and splashing his way up the terraces. Heloise spared a second to growl in annoyance then tore off in hot pursuit. 

"Wait! Frenix, don't leave me!" Poor Amara waddled off after them. Fione dropped nimbly down the cascading steps, following Arinel and Gretella's lead.

"I'll be lineswoman!" She whipped back to yell at the death-race participants, throwing in a taunt for good measure, "My gold's on Frenix, by the way!"

"By Freda, they're going to crack their skulls on those ledges." Lady Agnes tutted, lips pursed in woe and disapproval. Meya realized with a jolt that it was now just the two of them, together. Two women involved with the same man. And it was clear who was the inferior choice.

Even obscured under the floaty white chemise, Agnes's tall, slender figure exuded an inherent grace of the sort Meya had come to associate with Marin. Where it was not burnt, the skin of her bare arms was even and unblemished. Her tapered fingers were capped with round, clear, unchipped nails. Meya's bowels churned with insecurity. 

"Well, go stop them, then."

Agnes turned around, her lips etching an even, neutral line as she waited in silence. The notion hit Meya with a jolt. She sheepishly coiled a stray lock of her hair, muttering,

"Oh, right. 'Twas foolish of me." 

Agnes tilted her head, a soft chuckle trickling through her lips. 

"Shall we?" Desperate to ventilate the dead air, Meya flourished her hand towards the chough statue. It looked as if it were frozen in the act of flying straight at the sun.

Agnes's dainty smile widened, and she gave a little nod. Holding an arm aloft for balance, she lifted the lacy hem of her underdress with her free hand, 

"I must warn you—I'm slow." She raised her leg, dangling her foot above the overflowing surface of the higher terrace, "You can go on ahead if you like." 

Meya stood rooted, helplessly captivated by the Lady's mesmerizing movement. Agnes's calf tightened into a flawless curve as she poised her arched foot, slicing through the water with the tip of her big toe and landing firm with barely a ripple. She repeated the ritual with her other foot, then slid forth in minuscule increments on the smooth lime bed. There didn't seem to be any malady plaguing her legs and feet, except for a couple of fainting, spotty purple bruises on her shin.

"What's wrong? Twisted ankle? Shoe blisters?" Meya guessed. Having shaken herself awake, she started off in pursuit, wobbling as she strove to replicate Agnes's slow, graceful gait. 

"No, I just fall easily." Agnes shook her head. She shone Meya a bashful smile as she fell into step with her, then looked back down at her feet, "I'm not sure if I'm imagining it, but ever since I lost my left eye, I kept tripping down stairs and chafing against pillars and the like." 

Meya stared at Agnes's masked face. Behind the grille, her lips were pursed in concentration as she braved another climb. 

Despite herself, Meya felt her heart soften. She held out her arm, prompting the Lady Graye to freeze and stare back, perplexed. Meya shrugged the awkwardness off her shoulder and hitched half of her grimace up to what she hoped was a grin.

"You can hold on to me, if you like. If you dun mind the reek of peasantry." Meya blurted out before she could grab her tongue. She smelled the stuffy odor of dead air descending upon them once more. Agnes simply stared. Yet, at long last, to Meya's relief and horror, Agnes accepted her proffered arm.