Sage heard the rising call of the crowds outside. Her heart rose into her throat. She knew her wife was on the way. She couldn't wait to see her riding on her silver horse, her proud face shining in the sun, her serious set of her jaw, her handsome posture.
Sage hurried through their home and out of the front door. She called to their neighbor. "Is it them? Is it them?"
The neighbor beamed and pointed. "See for yourself!"
Sage grabbed a chair and stood on it to see over the heads of so many other celebrators. There—she could see the Royal Retinue riding into the city. They had come past the city gates and the outer rings, and were finally closer to the inner city, where the palace gleamed not far from Sage's and Lonnie's spacious front porch.
Lonnie was riding just behind the Queen, and Sage met her eyes almost immediately. Sage waved her arm as though it would fall off. She hadn't seen that fair face in many months.
Lonnie locked eyes with the bright, madly waving woman she had taken to be her wife. She was filled with love. She couldn't wait to reach her. The parade seemed so, so slow, and stretched on the main road to the palace like a caterpillar. The city folk were waving to them and calling to the Queen, and the noise was overwhelming—but there were warm arms waiting for her.
The Queen turned in the saddle to look at Lonnie, and caught her attention. She gestured, and pointed to her wife. Go, she mouthed.
Lonnie did not need to be told twice. She let a servant take her horse's reins (he stayed in the Royal Stable, where he had a life of luxury) and slid out of the saddle. She pushed through the crowd to her home.
Sage met her at the front porch steps, hands on her hips.
Lonnie grinned at her. "How'd the mousing around go?"
"Never as fun as when you're around."
"Did you catch a good one?"
"I've already caught her."
Lonnie hurried up the steps and into her wife's arms. She swept her up in her arms and kissed her hard. Then she carried her into their home and slammed the door shut behind them.