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Anastasia could not deny it to herself any more: she was exhausted.
Every day she’d wake up after a scant five hours of sleep, sometimes less, and go directly to her study, where she’d pore over all the notes she’d collected and work on untangling new theorems, all in the name of serving her beloved Emperor as He needed. At noon she’d take a break to visit the nursery and spend some time with her daughter, but Arabella was usually too busy playing with the other infants to pay much attention to her, so Anastasia would simply go back to her work. Sometimes she’d take a stroll through the Ninth, observing with a critical eye if anything needed repairing, but the work was ever present in the back of her mind, finally calling her back. This routine rarely, if ever, changed.
She was glad Arabella at least had friends her age. There was something else Anastasia was having trouble admitting: she felt lonely.
Sure, the people of the Ninth were friendly to her when she was out and about, and Samael’s company was irreplaceable even if he didn’t share her interest in necromantic theory, but she was missing a different type of companionship altogether, something that involved the touch of another person. Arabella’s other parent had left shortly after the birth, claiming they were not ready for the responsibility of a child, and after that she had not received a single letter. She didn’t even know if they were still alive.
That had been almost three years ago and Anastasia had known no other since then. She had considered the possibility of inviting Samael into her bed; she knew he would do anything she asked and he’d be impossibly gentle and understanding, but something held her back. He was her dearest friend and she did not want that to change.
So Anastasia threw herself into her work, and tried to make her daughter happy, and her body grew restless with longing.
*
One cold morning, Samael came over to her study to announce an inbound ship bearing the insignia of the Emperor. Anastasia hurriedly put herself together, thinking of the progress she’d made on the theorems these past few weeks, her head dizzy with the possibility of discussing them with her Teacher.
She realised she was excited. She hadn’t felt that in a long time.
When she arrived at the docks, she was surprised to find not only John, but also his strange cavalier, skulking behind his back.
“Anastasia! Samael! I am so glad to see you,” John exclaimed with a warm smile, and hugged both of them. Anastasia stiffly tried to hug him back. “How’s everything over here? Doing all right? Good, good. Listen, I came to ask you a favour. Mercymorn and Annab—Alecto got into a spat over something silly back on the Eighth, and Alecto got a tad upset, and then… some things happened… and everyone was a tad upset… Anyway, I—we all thought it would be best to take Alecto away for a while. It can be a little vacation. You don’t mind, do you? Great, thank you so much. I must get going now, some unfinished business to take care of. Bye!”
John turned back with a wave and patted Alecto on the shoulder, murmuring something to her that Anastasia couldn’t catch. She nodded, and John re-entered the ship. In the blink of an eye, the ship was gone.
Anastasia and Samael looked at each other. They looked at Alecto. She stared back at them with a sulky expression and said nothing. Her hair, blonde and vibrant in Anastasia’s memory, now looked colourless and limp, and her clothes were in a state of disarray. Anastasia dared not ask if that was a bloodstain on her collar.
Samael coughed. “Welcome to the Ninth House. Did you bring any bags?” Alecto just shrugged, drawing attention to the enormous sword she had strapped to her back.
“Right. We’ll show you to your room then, and we can arrange to give you some clothes.”
“Maybe you two can have a practice sword match later?” Anastasia said, with a silent apology towards Samael for foisting God’s creature on him. But Alecto’s eyes glinted with something almost human.
*
Thus, a new routine was established. Anastasia still woke up early and dedicated the morning to her work, while Samael and their new guest practised the sword. At noon she went to see her daughter, Alecto in tow, and listened to Arabella’s excited prattle about the games she’d played that day.
Alecto seemed fascinated by the children, who were fascinated with her right back. She often joined their games, chasing them around the nursery and laughing out loud. She spoke little: her voice sounded like many voices screeching together and this unnerved most adults, but the children did not mind.
Afterwards, they usually strolled through the fields together. Alecto liked munching on plant leaves, her favourite being the snow leeks.
“Do you miss him? John?” Anastasia asked one day. She’d been feeling… not content, exactly, but the sensation of discomfort in her skin had abated since Alecto had arrived, and she wondered if the girl felt the same. Her hair had recovered some of its lustre, after all.
Alecto finished chewing. “Sometimes,” she said quietly, her multiplied voice not unpleasant. “But I like thy House. And thou art… nice to me.”
As they went back inside in comfortable silence, Alecto extended a hand with too-long nails towards Anastasia’s. Anastasia let her.
*
A few months after the Emperor’s visit, Arabella entered a fussy phase. She refused to eat her food, opting instead for grave dirt, and getting her to sleep at night was a struggle, her mother being the only one who could cajole her into it. Anastasia could not find it in her to begrudge her this, and actually found some comfort in holding her fast-growing daughter for as long as it took her to fall asleep, even if her back was starting to hurt.
One night she went to Arabella’s room to get her ready for bed and found Alecto holding her. The child was already in her sleeping clothes, her eyelids heavy as she bounced gently in Alecto’s arms. Alecto handed her over without a word.
Arabella mumbled ‘Mama’ and plunged a small hand down Anastasia’s top. Anastasia sighed. Her breasts had stopped producing milk some time ago, but her daughter still liked touching them, and if this was going to get her to sleep faster, Anastasia couldn’t deny her.
The child quickly fell asleep, and Anastasia tucked her into her tiny bed. She turned around to guide Alecto outside, but found that the other woman was staring curiously at her chest.
Anastasia looked down at herself. The shift she was wearing was loose and low-cut enough that one breast was fully exposed. Unembarrassed, she moved to cover up, but Alecto reached out and took Anastasia’s breast in her hand, brushing a thumb over the nipple.
A jolt of electricity coursed through Anastasia. She glanced at the other woman’s face, but Alecto was fully occupied with lowering the neckline to cup her other breast.
She could stop her, Anastasia thought, and Alecto would simply follow her lead. But Anastasia’s body had already decided for her.
She looked over at her daughter. The child was sound asleep, but she did not want to risk it, so she grasped Alecto’s arm and led them to an adjacent room, little more than a glorified closet. Alecto did not stop massaging her breasts through this, and Anastasia had to contain a moan.
When the door was safely closed, Alecto dropped to her knees and replaced a hand with her mouth. Her sharp teeth grazed painfully around Anastasia’s nipple, and Anastasia gasped, pushing her away a bit. A minuscule drop of blood appeared on the underside of her breast.
“Don’t bite so hard,” Anastasia heard herself saying. “Use your tongue and lips more.”
Alecto took her directions to heart, and applied her tongue first to the drop of blood, cleaning it up, and then to a puffy nipple, laving and sucking until Anastasia could almost see stars. Her other nipple was being pinched between Alecto’s fingers, the sensation almost but not quite pain.
She was overwhelmed. She wanted more.
Anastasia sneaked a hand down between her legs, rubbing herself through her underclothes, but Alecto, it seemed, had other ideas. She pushed at Anastasia’s arm, abandoning her breasts, and dipped her head underneath the shift. Anastasia could now only see the bump of Alecto’s head under her clothes, but there was no mistaking her intentions. Her underwear hit the floor unceremoniously, and then Alecto insinuated her tongue between Anastasia’s folds.
Anastasia lost track of time and place, her only instinct to find balance against the door and to push down, down into Alecto’s inviting mouth. She wondered if Alecto would forget and use her teeth, bite down into Anastasia’s tenderest spot, and this danger only made her spasms stronger.
Alecto pressed a fingertip against Anastasia’s entrance, moving it with great care, and it was this that had Anastasia coming against that fearful, wonderful mouth, harder than she had in years. She fell to the floor, gasping, her knees bumping against Alecto’s as the latter came out from under the shift and sat up. All Anastasia could do for a few moments was try to catch her breath, while Alecto lovingly petted her hair.
She wondered if she should return the favour. If Alecto even wanted her to.
She touched Alecto’s inner thigh under her dress, looking into her face for any sign that this was unwelcome, but Alecto just looked back at her, so she went higher. She was not surprised to find no underwear, but she was shocked to find that the skin of Alecto’s crotch was completely smooth. No hair, yes, but most importantly, no seams, no entrance.
Alecto giggled and swatted Anastasia’s hand away, then nuzzled her neck. Her arms circled around Anastasia’s sides, and Anastasia placed her hands on Alecto’s hips.
The back of her mind was racing, but she felt strangely calm.
“Do you want to go to my room? Sleep with me tonight?”
Alecto nodded with enthusiasm.
That night, Anastasia rested peacefully, the comforting weight of God’s holiest creature in her arms.