#two of two

The Woman Who Was

The war was over.

Ada Fairlight stood on the platform as behind her, the train left, to continue on to its next destination.

The military was done with her.

She had long been done with it.

Nobody was there to meet her at the station. She made her way to the carriages, and made her way home.

“Your brother wanted to be the one to welcome you home,” her mother had said later in the evening, in a rare moment of something approaching softness. “But some days, his condition is worse than others. I’m afraid he is not lucid tonight.”

Ada nodded, understood.

The accident. She had been there for it. She had come out fine, but his lungs had been burnt, scarred. His breathing would never return to normal again. And so they wrote, while she was still serving, and he was at home.

He never complained in his letters. They were always light, easy, like he had been. Simple stories of days as they passed, simple questions into how she was doing, simple updates on the social going ons of home.

She watched him as he slept, and left him alone.

She was there when he was awake, and offered what scant comfort she could.

She held his hand, and told him where she would be going, and he squeezed, and smiled, and winked, and was his usual warm self, full of a light she did not deserve.

Go, he told her. He would keep in touch.

Her mother, for a blessing, fully approved of the undertaking.

Too old for proper courtship, and too young to be taken seriously as a family matriarch, Ada supposed.

Well, she was the second born, her mother said. Never should have expected much of her, went unsaid.

It didn’t matter. She did not want nor need her mother’s approval, anyroad.

And so, former Captain Ada Fairlight changed, becoming graduate student of natural and physical studies Ada Fairlight, as she started life at university.

~*~

Ada Fairlight spent most of her time in the library.

There were a few students who, like her, were former military. She had become a pariah during her time of service, however, and that history ensured that she would not find camaraderie with them.

The other students, she simply did not find much in common with. They were younger than her, turning to university as they came of age, rather than first having had to go and meet the needs of the nation.

And so she existed, feeling somewhat outside of the shared human experience.

But in her studies, she found wonder.

In the rules and rigor of mathematics, in the exploration of theories still being formed. In the ways it could be applied to try and bring understanding to a world she frequently found confusing. In the quiet hours, all by herself.

“Pardon me, is this seat taken?”

Well, perhaps not all by herself.

“Not at all. Please, help yourself,” said Ada, barely glancing up. Some young woman. Hyur. Very blonde.

She turned her attention back to her work.

“Say, I hope you don’t mind me asking… but what is it that you’re studying?”

“Mathematics.”

Ada resisted the urge to return the question, as would have been polite. The woman made an interested noise.

“You know, I’ve always wondered. I see you in here a lot.”

“I am here a lot.”

“…right. Of course.”

Social obligations surely met by now, Ada settled back into polite silence.

“It’s just-”

Fury take her.

“Uhm, well, it’s just, I was wondering… you seem very very smart, and I could use some help. I was thinking… uh, perhaps you could help me… study?”

Ada slowly looked up to see the woman rubbing the back of her head and looking down at the tabletop, smiling slightly.

“I am certain there are tutors available for just about any subject you may need help in.”

“Well, sure, but that’s not the same! And, well, lots of them are scheduled out sennights in advance. And, well, I was thinking…”

The woman’s voice trailed off towards the end of what she was saying, to the point that she was practically mumbling. Ada looked around, seeing if there was anybody nearby who could possibly be bothered.

“I understand that it is simply polite to keep your voice down in here, but there is no need to keep so quiet that I cannot hear you.”

The woman shot up in her seat and screwed up her face, and when she spoke, her words hammered out like a stampede.

“AndIAlsoThoughtThatYouLookedLikeYouCouldUseAFriend.”

She took a deep breath in, and continued, a bit slower.

But only a bit.

“And I thought I would like a friend, too,” she finished.

Ada peered at her curiously.

“Well,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “I suppose that one of the advantages of learning in a university setting is that the students are able and meant to help one another out.”

“Right! Yes. Exactly! If you help me, well, maybe I can help you, too. Like, I could buy you lunch or something.”

“I am more than capable of affording my own lunch, thank you.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.”

The woman looked crestfallen, and mentally, Ada sighed.

“But I shall commit to working with you as best as I am able, anyroad.”

The other woman’s face positively lit up, and Ada just shook her head.

“Lyse, by the way. That’s my name. I’m Lyse.”

“Ada.”

“Oh, I’m so excited! This is going to be great, just you wait and see!”

Ada was not so sure. But, well, she was just being polite for now, and her new ‘friend’ would surely grow tired of either her or her reputations soon enough.

~*~

Lyse did not grow tired of her.

They began to meet regularly in the library. Lyse sometimes asked for help with mathematics or sciences, and Ada helped as she was able. In the library, they would talk about class work, course loads, and Ada found she was helping Lyse on matters of personal management more than anything.

Ada found herself often annoyed, at first. She never expressed it, of course. To do so would be impolite. But the woman was simply an endless font of energy, nearly always moving even while sitting, with a tendency to be impulsive and brash. Ada attempted to temper the latter as much as possible.

And after they were done in the library, they would move to lunch, where Lyse would truly light up, always seeming to have something new to say. Ada was as polite as she could manage, as polite as she had learned to be. Quiet, demure, perhaps not as deferential as mother would have liked, but mother was not here right now.

However, she did know her role. Listen politely. Ask small probing questions. She had no talent for social games, but Ada had dealt with socialites and would-be heiresses in her debutante days. She was certain that any day now, Lyse would realize that Ada was no benefit to her social movement or standing, and would drift away.

But for as much as Lyse talked, she listened, and asked questions of her own. At first, Ada thought they were simply being polite at one another, but she gradually began to realize that Lyse’s interest was real. She was paying attention. An off-hand comment about an injury from sports, and Lyse showed up the next day with a soothing balm. Conversations on favorite foods, and Lyse suggested a new spot to eat the next day that was rather to Ada’s liking.

Ada found herself warming to her, and doing likewise in return. Lyse liked dance, so Ada learned about the arts she was versed in, to be able to speak to them more intelligently. Lyse could be disorganized, but a new notebook later and Ada was able to remind her of important things she needed to tend to.

Simply favors exchanged for favors owed, of course.

But sometimes it was not just one side for the other. What was meant to be a light comment on a naturalist expedition they read about in one of the periodicals resulted in a dramatic shift in their activities in the library as the subject drew both their interest, in slightly different directions.

The library turned out to be a great source of news, as the great age of exploration launched in the wake of war. They spent many an hour in the library, poring over articles describing naturalists and explorers as they swept the world, discovering cultures, peoples, animals, lands, and more. Lyse read excitedly of the latest explorers while Ada indulged in the discoveries they made.

“Cor, Ada, all these adventures, all this excitement, all these peoples being met! And not in the name of conquest, but in the name of cooperation. I dare to think this may be the beginning of a new era of peace.”

“Indeed,” said Ada. “It is almost as though our civilization is growing up.”

“Huh,” said Lyse thoughtfully, and then they spent many hours talking about just that. And both were definitely excited to continue to read about it. Diving bells exploring the ocean, sailing ships returning from distant shores. An expedition to the far south, to explore the pole. Journeys to the far East and far West, and more. A new era of peace and understanding, that was Lyse’s position.

Ada gave more thought to what it might be like to explore those frontiers. She liked to imagine herself doing such things, and began to take on studies that might help her with that goal. Lyse, as well, shifted, beginning to make new connections with like minded individuals, arranging social meetings and expanding her arts, such as they were.

The semester ended, but at the beginning of the next one, they continued their traditions. Studying together in the library, and sharing lunch right after. Lyse began to expand her social circle, meeting new people and making new friends, but she always made time for Ada, even beginning to show interest in matters outside of their study sessions.

As did Ada herself. She knew Lyse’s dancing and demonstrations were important to her. She was part of one of the performing troupes on the campus, putting on shows. Ambassadors of peace, Lyse described them as. Telling the story they wanted to show the world, through theater, dance, showing off as many cultures as they knew about and could learn about. A dazzling show for a campus eager to learn of the worlds they were reading about from the explorers that were meeting the world where it was.

Lyse spoke much of it, and it was clear it was important work for her. And so Ada, without telling her, made a point to go see one of the shows.

It was magnificent. She had known Lyse had a physicality to her, it was obvious just looking at the woman, she had a build that spoke to a high level of athleticism. But watching her perform was something else entirely. They were putting on an adaptation of a show from the Far East, about the first meeting between two of the cultures from there. Each of the cultures shared their stories, visited one another, and when it came to teaching each other their sports, Lyse featured prominently on the stage. She was grace, and she was power, and she was incredible.

As the show ended and the performers took their bows, Ada thought for a moment that Lyse spotted her in the crowd. She did not draw attention to herself, however. This was Lyse’s night, Lyse’s performance, and Ada did not wish to be a distraction. So when the group began to break out and the crowd began to leave, Ada was quick to make her way out.

She was only a little bit down the street when she heard her name called out, and turned to see Lyse running to catch up to her.

“You came!” she said, breathlessly, as she caught up to her.

“I thought you would stay with the group and help them with break down,” said Ada.

“I asked if it was alright that I left it to them. Don’t you worry, they told me to go. I’m glad you came.”

“I am glad as well,” said Ada.

They walked along quietly for a bit.

“So… what did you think?” asked Lyse.

“I am hardly an art critic, Lyse.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking for professional criticism then, isn’t it?”

“Well,” said Ada. “You were rather a better performer than I would have guessed.”

Lyse held a hand to her chest and staggered. “Oi, such backhanded praise!”

“What?” said Ada. “That is not what I - I mean - what I meant was, uhm. Uhm. Well.”

Lyse laughed, and Ada sighed, squeezing her nose.

“No, you are right, I do not know why I said such a horrid thing. Your group was… very engaging. And you are, you were, a delight to watch. I hope you will do more.”

“Oh, I certainly intend to,” said Lyse, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning forward to look at Ada. “Seriously though, thank you for coming to see me.”

“Think nothing of it.”

They walked along quietly for a few moments, Lyse with a spring in her step, and Ada looking up at the skies wondering why Lyse was friends with someone so daft.

“You know,” said Lyse. “I thought when I first saw you that you looked kind of sad and lonely.”

Ada just raised an eyebrow at her, and Lyse smiled, sunny and beaming.

“But I know better now. You just like to lose yourself in your books, exploring your own sort of inner world.”

“We cannot all be such bright social butterflies as yourself, Lyse,” said Ada, and Lyse laughed.

“You’ve been helping me with my studies all this time! Maybe I can help you be more sociable.”

Ada looked at Lyse, considering. She was not sure she was very interested.

“You have more than repaid my assistance,” said Ada. “I do not think you thought of how much I would be eating when you offered to buy me lunches.”

“You pay more than half the time, don’t think I haven’t noticed! And I enjoy your company, so that’s hardly anything.”

Ada reconsidered. Mother had tried to impress upon her, often, the importance of making friends, establishing connections, and developing some measure of influence.

And she was a Fairlight.

“Well,” she said, “I am willing to try.”

“Cor! That’s great! Here, let’s try this on. Go ahead and stand up straight, and give me a big ol’ smile, let me see what I’m working with.”

Ada did as she was told. Right. Smile. Tight lips. Squint a bit, but not too much. Or was it show teeth? Which was more ladylike?

Lyse made a face. “Well, let’s work on that a bit, shall we?”

They both continued to chat, as they walked home. And the next time they met at study, Lyse had brought notes and cards for Ada to review. Ada continued to help Lyse with matters of science and maths, and Lyse spent many long hours helping Ada, working on the little unspoken social rules that she admittedly had trouble with.

In this, Ada had to admit, Lyse was a much better student than she was.

Politeness was the angle they ultimately worked on. Etiquette had rules, and Ada was already very polite. Lyse nudged her into exploring that further, and Ada took to it readily.

“You know,” said Lyse one day. “You came to see my performance, but I’ve never gone to see you at anything.”

“I do not think you would find the mathematics gymnasium of any great interest.”

Lyse squinted her nose and frowned up at Ada. “That sounds like a nonsense thing, but you say it in such a straightforward manner I almost believe you.”

Ada looked flatly at Lyse for a moment, and then winked, and Lyse threw her hands up in the air.

“Cor, and I thought you were unreadable before, you’re almost inscrutable now! I never should have taught you how to do that!”

Ada laughed at that. It was true, Lyse had managed to turn one of her weaknesses into a strength. Ada was bad at forcing facial expressions, but had a good neutral face, it turned out. Just needed some work, Lyse had felt, and they had worked on it.

Lyse thought it might be why few people were willing to approach Ada. Ada was of the opinion that it was just because she was generally unlikable, but had never pressed the point.

“Alright, be fair now, Ada. Wait! You’re in some sports, right? Tell me about that.”

“Well,” said Ada reluctantly. “I do play rugby.”

Lyse lit up at that, and sure enough, at the next meetup, she was there. She introduced Ada to a friend of hers afterwards, and the two exchanged niceties. He was in fencing, and Ada expressed she had long had an interest in such.

The semester break came, and with it, Ada went home.

“You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself at university,” her mother commented. “Good. The family is increasing our investment in some industrial and shipping concerns, and I would have you help with our business in such.”

Her brother was weaker, but still warm and kind with her. She spent as much time with him as she was able when he was lucid, silently vowing to find a way to help with his condition.

And then, the next semester began. This time, with Ada on the fencing team, and Lyse cheering her on.

Lyse’s social circles and influences continued to expand. She began to invite Ada to more and more events, and Ada went, of course. Lyse came to her matches, it was literally the least she could do. Favor for favor, support for support. And, Lyse opined, it was a good opportunity to test Ada’s social skills. And so after performances or during parties, Lyse would always bring Ada around to talk to people. She was kind and exuberant and excited as she introduced Ada to people, always introducing her as being far smarter and far more interesting than Ada thought she was.

For her part, Ada tried to play along. Ever polite. Downplaying her own part in conversations, while trying to lift Lyse up. Being supportive. Being as kind as Lyse was. Trying to keep up what she saw as her end of the bargain.

And their study sessions continued, too, as well as their lunches together. However, more and more often, Lyse was inviting others to lunches. At first, Ada did not mind. It was just lunch, after all. However, as she met more and more people she did not know, she found it increasingly uncomfortable.

But of course, it was good for Lyse, good for her to form relationships, to improve her social cachet.

Ada began to make excuses at the end of their study sessions as to why she could not make it to lunch so often. It did not matter. Lyse had found her people, and Ada was happy for her.

“Ada,” said Lyse one day, after Ada had begged out of another luncheon. “I notice you don’t come to lunch nearly so often.”

“I make my own arrangements,” said Ada. “And I do have other studies I need to get to. I am in the upper classes, now, and need to begin to prepare for my final study.”

“Hmn. Just so, I sort of miss our lunches,” said Lyse, thoughtfully. “Say, here’s a thought. How about we go out today? Just you and me. It’ll be like old times.”

“What of your friends?”

“They’ll understand.”

Lyse reached a hand out, and just put it on the table, palm up.

Ada looked at it for a long moment, then reached out, despite herself.

“Okay,” she said.

And as she clasped Lyse’s hand, she felt not the usual twinge of discomfort she felt when touching someone else, but something else instead. Warmth, searing warmth, a heat that seemed to travel up her arm.

And when Lyse smiled, oh, that warmth was coming from a sun.

“Great!” said Lyse, pulling Ada to her feet, and Ada followed.

“I notice,” Lyse said, some time later, “You seem uncomfortable with new people.”

Ada just shrugged, continuing to eat her sandwich.

“Maybe we should just agree to meet like this at least once a week. Just lunch, with just you and me.”

“You do not have to.”

“I - I want to. I said I miss this, didn’t I? And I do. You’re my first and dearest friend here. And I like it when I’m with you. When you’re all quiet and thoughtful.”

“I like this, too,” said Ada quietly.

“It’s all the people, isn’t it?”

“A… little bit. I am sorry, I do not mean to be a bother, but it can be a bit much.”

“Gods, Ada. You are not a bother. I don’t even think I need to tell you that. You’ve been a big help since the moment I first met you, and you’ve been really very kind, so don’t try to be all modest. I like you, alright?”

Ada just nodded.

“You know,” Lyse said, after letting a companionable silence pass, “I always had hoped I was doing you as much of a favor as you were me. Taking you to performances, introducing you to people at soirees. But if that’s too much for you, you don’t have to do it, you know.”

Ada considered. It was bad enough that Lyse was proposing giving up her lunches for her. And Lyse was right. It was a favor. Ada had met people through Lyse, made a few friends, had managed some small exchanges of favors of her own. A helping hand here and there usually returned to her in some manner. Her position on the fencing team, for one.

And Lyse was always so happy when Ada was around, happy to bring her around, happy bringing her to talk with others.

Well. Favor for a favor, then. Lyse was helping her. She would continue to help Lyse.

“I do not mind,” said Ada. “I am perhaps better with large crowds. Easier to, ah, blend in, I think.”

Lyse studied her face carefully, and Ada was careful to reveal nothing.

“Well, so long as you’re sure,” she said.

Ada was sure. And afterwards, she was better able to schedule her time. Some lunches with Lyse, the rest for more studying.

It was nice, she had to admit.

Lyse continued to have more events, and Ada increased her efforts to put in a good showing at them.

Efforts that, apparently, did not go unnoticed.

Ada was deep in a medical text book in the library. One of the days that Lyse was having lunch with her other friends, when someone came up to her table across from her.

“Captain Fairlight,” the man said, stiffly.

Ada looked up at him. She did not recognize him. Elezen, like herself. Small face, small eyes, dark skin, dark hair.

“Formerly,” she said. “I would think it quite rude for anyone to use their rank after they have separated from the service.”

The man leaned on the table, glaring at her as he did so.

“I’m certain you want others to think so. Or perhaps you think yourself so able to escape your history?”

Ada looked at him, blankly, then turned her attention back to his hand. He was rather closer than politeness should have allowed.

“I have made no secret of who or what I am.”

“Oh? And does the Princess of Ala Mhigo know she hangs out with a disgrace?”

Ada wondered how much trouble she would be in if she pinned his hand to the table using her stylus.

“Do not be ridiculous. Ala Mhigo has not had a monarchy since their civil war. And I am certain the Mad King left no heirs for so much as a courtesy title.”

“You know who I am talking about.”

Ada was bewildered. “I am certain I do not. And pardon me, but who are you, anyroad?”

The man just snorted, and turned away. “Someone who knows Colonel Mirkasch. I wonder if he knows what you’re trying. Watch your station, Captain, and watch yourself.”

Ada just stared at his back as he walked away.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” she wondered aloud.

She brought up the bizarre interaction with Lyse the next time they had lunch, and Lyse just sighed and shook her head as she listened.

“Oh, gods, Ada,” she said when she was finished. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, I think.”

“I do not see how,” said Ada.

“He was talking about me,” said Lyse.

Ada frowned, looking at Lyse.

“…you are no princess,” she said, slowly, and Lyse laughed.

“Cor, of course I’m not! And nobody around here would call me that, anyroad. But, back home, my family does have a bit of a reputation.”

Ada thought about it for a moment.

“If you wish to tell me, I will listen. But if you wish me to leave it alone, I will. I know who you are, Lyse. That is enough for me.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Lyse.

After a moment, she offered her hand, palm up. And Ada reached out, and clasped it.

“My family’s been involved in Ala Mhigo politics in one way or another since the Mad War,” said Lyse. “Most recently, my father, Curtis, was part of the group that helped get them back on their feet properly. And my sister, she worked with Louisoix.”

“Wait, Louisoix?” said Ada. “The famous naturalist Louisoix? Ambassador for peace Louisoix, the one who disappeared a few summers ago?”

“That one, yes.”

“And your sister?”

Lyse sighed. “Died during the more recent war, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” said Ada. “My condolences. I should not have asked.”

“You didn’t know. I should’ve told you, though.”

“Wait. If she worked with Louisoix…” Ada thought about Lyse’s work, the themes of her performances, her ideals that she followed. “Ambassador for peace. … I am a little embarrassed that I did not put it all together before now.”

Lyse smiled at her, and reached forward to hold Ada’s hand in both of hers.

“I didn’t want to scare you off. Here, at university, in a foreign nation, I had a chance to be a nobody for a little bit. And it worked there for a while, didn’t it? I mean, smart as you are, you didn’t know who I was. But now you do. And the work that I do - I like to think I’m doing it, at least a little bit, for her. For my sister. But also I’m doing it for myself. We all do.”

“We?”

“I stay in touch with some of her comrades. Most of them have travelled across the ocean to the west - they seem to think there’s some kind of hulaboo that might be happening over there or something. I don’t know about all that, but I know my work is here. And I think I’d like to keep doing it.”

Lyse rubbed the back of Ada’s hand, just staring at the table. “So now you know. Yes, I’m known as the Princess of Ala Mhigo. I’m not a real princess, of course. But I’m becoming better known through my work. And our message is getting out there, and the troupe’s becoming more of a thing. Probably spend my last few semesters here traveling as my thesis of sorts. Spreading our message and showing people how we can be better.”

She took a deep breath in, and let it out slow. She continued to hold on to Ada’s hand.

“I understand if this is all a bit much for you. Look, I promise, I’m not so important as all that. I mean, I’m not naive, I know names mean something, and I know that social rank is so important to your people, but really, I… am just Lyse Hext, university student. Doing my best. I promise.”

Lyse looked sad, more than anything. Which made no sense.

“I know,” said Ada. “For what it is worth, I am sorry as well. The man was right on one matter. I am Ada Fairlight. Former Captain Fairlight.”

She took a deep breath in, and she told Lyse the story. Of the ship she was on, of what it was like to be an engineer. Of the accident that damaged the ship badly, killed several, injured many. Of the investigation she did afterwards. Her findings. Bypassing the chain of command to report said findings. The trial afterwards. How, even though she continued to serve, it was effectively the end of her career.

And she even told Lyse things she did not mean to tell her. About how her brother got injured in the accident. How even now, he had not recovered, and probably never would. Of how she had felt that day. Of how she had not really felt since that day.

Lyse listened, sympathetic, until the story was done and Ada was just staring at the table. She raised a hand to her eyes, and wiped away the wet that was there.

“I am sorry,” said Ada, hoarsely. “None of that is any burden of yours. And I should be no burden of yours, either.”

“Ada, why?” said Lyse. “Why do you say such things?”

“I am a pariah among my own people,” said Ada. “And you have so much you wish to accomplish. That man. That man, whoever he was. He was right. I will hold you back.”

“I don’t care,” said Lyse, heatedly.

Ada was just silent.

“I don’t care,” Lyse repeated, louder. She reached her hands up, to almost touch Ada’s face, but hesitated, stopping just shy. And across that small gap, Ada could feel the warmth coming off of Lyse, the heat of her hands.

She leaned forward, and oh, that touch.

And now she was crying. Unwinding. Too much history. Too much time. Too many feelings, and they were all big, and overwhelming, and Ada was suddenly very very tired and wanted to go home and go to sleep, but she was crying, and she was in Lyse’s arms, and Lyse was just holding her.

“I have to say, none of this quite makes sense to me,” said Lyse. “But I don’t care about any of that. So what if you’re a - a what you said. A pariah. I don’t care about your military, I don’t care about what you did. You did - you did the right thing. And you know what? If this Colonel wants to hold a grudge and make trouble for you, why, I’ll make trouble for him right back.”

“You should not,” said Ada between sniffles.

“I will! Don’t think I won’t.”

Lyse’s hands were in her hair, soothing, warm. Lyse’s body was against hers, holding her, hot as a summer day. Searing into her. Ada used that, to anchor herself, to focus. To fight through the warmth. To find herself. To wrestle herself back under control. To stop this embarrassing display.

To be who Lyse needed her to be.

She stopped crying at last, and weakly returned Lyse’s embrace, before pushing her away, gently. Lyse let go, and Ada sat up, pulling out a handkerchief and cleaning herself up.

“It’ll be alright, you’ll see,” said Lyse. “Just… maybe you’re Captain Fairlight, sure. But to me, you’re just Ada Fairlight. And I can be just Lyse Hext. And we can each just be ourselves. Alright?”

Ada nodded. “…alright.”

She was so tired.

“…and I love you,” said Lyse.

Ada looked over at her. And after a moment, she reached out a hand towards her, and when Lyse took it, she squeezed.

Warmth like sunlight traveling up her arm.

“I love you too,” said Ada.

When the next semester break arrived, Ada sent home nothing but letters. She stayed on campus, sharing a dorm with Lyse. It was only a few short sennights, but the two made the most of it. There were no events to attend, no responsibilities to undertake. Just them, sharing. Sharing stories. Sharing dreams. Sharing of each other, and Ada found out that Lyse’s tongue was as warm and kind as she was, and Lyse found Ada’s curiosity capable of plumbing any depth.

Lyse was like a sun, almost too hot, almost burning to Ada, but it was kind, and it could be gentle, and it could be more. Nights spent with bodies intertwined, and it was a kindness Ada did not feel she deserved, but it was bestowed upon her anyroad. Palms pressed to flesh, fingers entwined in hair, gasps for sweet air, and that sun made its home in Ada.

And before the break ended and the beginning of the semester marked the world moving forward again, the last thing they decided to share were their futures.

It was a busier semester. They each had so many plans to make, both for each other, but also for themselves. This would be their last great works at the university. Lyse, as she had predicted, would be taking her troupe on tour. They would visit the many countries of the continent, putting on plays and displays of culture, sharing their vision as ambassadors of peace. The journey meant so much to Lyse, for it would end in Ala Mhigo, where she would make her case before her own people and the star.

Ada, for her part, finished her classwork studies and was preparing for an adventure of her own. Their time in the library had made full its impression, and she wished, at last, to follow in the wake of explorers who had gone before. She would not go anywhere that had not already been trod, for that would be too much for her first journey outside of the military. But she would tread those only recently trod paths, to the near east, and then to the far. She would be an explorer naturalist, learning of peoples, of cultures, of plants, of animals. And as she went along, she intended to continue her studies into mathematics, and other sciences she thought may point to the key of the underpinnings of the star.

Exciting and heady days for both of them. Tiring days, as well. There was so much to do. So much of Lyse’s work required her to talk to others, organize social events, and practice, so much practice. Ada had less, really only strongly feeling the need to tend to her fencing, and so she was present for Lyse as much as was physically possible. That it was tiring mattered not. Ada could put on a neutral face and be Lyse’s stoic shadow, ever present.

And Lyse was always so appreciative, anyroad, introducing Ada to everyone, and continuing to tell people in no uncertain terms that Ada was one of the greatest people in the world, smart, clever, strong, fast, and would surely one day be one of the star’s foremost scientific explorers.

It was tiring. But Ada endured.

And at semester’s end, they lamented that they could not share another lovely interlude like they had before. There was too much that needed doing. Lyse had her tour, and Ada had her expedition.

“I’ll write,” Ada said.

“You’d better,” said Lyse. “I didn’t really think it needed to be said, but you had better. If you don’t, I will track you down wherever you are, and when I catch up with you, well. I. I will be most cross.”

“Cross Lyse Hext?” mused Ada. “Why, I wonder what that would be like.”

Lyse swatted her, and Ada smiled. They walked to the train station, hand and hand, and shared one last kiss on the platform before Lyse left to other lands.

Ada stood and smiled and watched and waved.

Her mother, oddly, had approved when she had made the announcement that Lyse was courting her, and that Ada had given her hand.

“Never thought you would manage,” she had wondered. “Well. I suppose I shall make inquiries, then. Good fortune to you, my daughter.”

It had been the closest thing to praise Ada could remember in recent memory.

Her brother, as well, was enthused. He had met Lyse a few times, during the rare times he was lucid and able to be moved, making it to a play and once to their dorm.

“Lucky woman,” he had said, and been all smiles. He had new machinery to keep him company, now, and he was spending more and more time awake, even if less mobile.

Ada wondered if she could make the machinery somewhat more portable, but did not bother him with such problems. Instead she shared what time with him she could, in the days before she got busy, and embarked on her own adventure.

And what an adventure it turned out to be.

She spent time on boats and trains, steam powered machines that she was well familiar with, but it was novel not being responsible for them. She practiced what Lyse had taught her, and though she did not make friends, she did seem to have better luck at making acquaintances. She travelled far, seeing the many worlds and many lands. In the near east, she met with educated men and women, trading stories of their alchemy with lessons of her machinery. In the far East, she saw how the many cultures interacted and exchanged with each other, heard of their superstitions, learned of their ways, learned of their lands.

Wherever she went, she found not new lands to explore, but lands that already had their own explorers of a sort. She was discovering new things for herself, but the only new things overall were of mathematics and pattern. Each peoples were not new, and their lands were only new to her.

These were civilizations, in and of themself, she realized. She looked at them through Lyse’s perspective as well as her own, and she found she was able to see what many naturalist that had gone before her had missed. They were in too much of a rush to make names for themselves and headline new discoveries back at home.

She instead wrote of the wisdoms she found, building her thesis, and sending articles back to her supervisor at the university. New or not, it was all very exciting to her, and she drank the knowledge she found deeply.

And in it all, she was astounded by what she found, of herself most of all. There were no expectations on her, nobody to chaperone her. She no longer had social pressures pushing down upon her. No former military members lurking to remind her of her place and of the stain on her name. No complications of family politics. No mother whose approval she had to win.

Just Ada Fairlight, free and clear. Responsible only to herself. Trading only those favors she wanted to, and able to be free of them as soon as the trade was complete, moving on to the next place.

She wrote, of course. And Lyse wrote back. Lyse’s journey was as fulfilling for her as Ada was finding her own to be. She was so excited to be meeting so many people, spreading her message, and often helping those in need. Lyse was truly in her element, and Ada in hers, and both were better for it. Sweet sentiments were sent back and forth, and if the letters were spotty coming and going, well, that was fine. It was always a delight to make it to a way station and find a bundle waiting, with sennights of love to go over.

Otherwise, during the idle time that she had, sitting in a carriage or riding on a best of burden, Ada was able to turn her mind to those troubles as she wished. She managed schematics for a new machine, and sent a requisition request back to mother for parts from Fairlight’s budding industrial concerns. Paid with for her pension, of course. She would not spend family money on a personal matter. And she made a gift for Lyse, one, and then several.

It was an idyllic time.

Her trip turned, and she began the long trip home. And as she did, she picked up those bundles of letters that were waiting for her. Lyse had sent her news of her successes, her triumphs, and clippings from newspapers. She also sent Ada something of a surprise. Apparently, Ada’s papers were making inroads. She was not famous by any stretch, but she was showing up in journals, and at least one newspaper clipping had a lithograph of her from school, and an article about the newest up and coming exploring naturalist.

It was from the special interests section, and the back of that, but still. Ada wondered who could have possibly found her work compelling enough to write an article about it. She was not exactly traveling to the poles or exploring the so called ‘dark’ continents. Her work was precious to her, but the places she had been had already been ‘discovered’, were old news.

Lyse’s writings also began to turn to their future. Once they were done in university, she would still continue her mission of peace. She wrote of what their bonding might look like, how they would balance their passions, their interests, their lives. She wrote of the many people she wanted to introduce Ada too, and as she got closer to home, Ada got a feeling of gently increasing, well, something. Concern. Fear? She was not sure.

Ada had been by Lyse’s side for summers, now. Keeping up with Lyse’s social obligations. Meeting so many people from so many places. She had been glad to do it, but she had found it tiring. And after a few moons of not having to do it, she realized she had been relieved to not have to keep up with it anymore.

She was not sure she could keep it up again. She felt uncertain, as she got off the ship. Well, she had time. Lyse would still be gone, as her work would take another full semester, and Ada could take the time to write up final reports and finish her thesis.

And give her brother a gift.

Her mother was as warm as she had ever been, greeting her with a carriage in port. Curious, but Ada did not think overmuch on it as they began to head home.

“Daughter, I must confess, when you told me you were betrothed, I was simply glad you were making something of yourself. But the more I find out about this Hext woman, the more I must say, I am intrigued.”

Ada stared out the window watching the streets go by. “Intrigued how, mother.”

“Well, her little organization is doing much for the realm. To add your name to hers will bolster both, I believe. I have had our people talking with hers. Your wedding shall be the talk of us all, I think. Ambassador for Peace Hext, next to the renowned naturalist Lady Fairlight.”

Ada felt something in her chest seize. Outwardly calm, she turned to her mother.

“Whatever do you mean, mother?”

“Well. Do not worry yourself overmuch about it. We can talk more when your father returns from his business trip. But we simply must seize this opportunity. You will be traveling with Lady Hext, I assume?”

Ada’s voice was distant. “We both still have work to do to finish at university before the bonding ceremony. And then after, well, she has her work, and I intended to continue my own. That is a discussion we have yet to have in full, but we have thought about it.”

Ada’s mother waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, of course, of course. Well, with the resources we will have at our disposal, your name shall rise. It shan’t be necessary for you to go out on your own anymore, of course. Why, with your reputation, we can simply sponsor others to go and do that exploring, while you help Lady Hext with her all important work. Her star is rising, and yours shall rise with it. It will certainly be enough to erase any tales of your time in the service.”

“Yes, of course, mother,” said Ada.

She was not sure she was even in the carriage anymore.Fears she had not known she had harbored were rising up within her. She had assumed her mother would be satisfied that she was out of the way and would leave her to her own devices. Lyse could be just Lyse, and she would just be Ada.

Now it was Lady Hext and Lady Fairlight. Now it seemed the fate of the family was riding on what she chose to do, or not to do.

They arrived home, and Ada drifted through the house, lost.

Well, there was one thing she was certain about, and she anchored on it, heading to Alastor’s room.

She found him, lucid, sitting by the window. He had been watching, waiting for her to come home.

“Hey, bigger sister,” he said easily. “Star explorer and fancy naturalist.”

She smiled softly at him. “I brought something back for you,” she said.

“You brought yourself.”

“I brought something else back for you. I worked on it while I travelled. I’d like you to try it on.”

“Sure, of course, of course,” he said, and she stepped smartly over to him. She had created a small machine, to replace the many big ones that kept him from leaving the room as often as he would like. Even now, he was pulling down gas from a tube. She fitted the device to his waist.

“Huh. Ugly. I’ll never find a shirt to match it.”

“Hush.”

He watched her. “Nervous?”

“A little bit. I have tested it, of course, but I am not the patient in question.”

He shook his head. “Not about this. I can see the tendons in your shoulders. Something has you wound up.”

She shook her head, not wanting to talk about it. “Bonding nerves,” she said, which was accurate enough. “Here, try this.”

The machine strapped to his waist, she thumbed it on, and took a tube off of it, and offered it to him. It was bent at the top, and connected to the machine. He took the tube, and looked at it curiously.

“Breathe,” she said, and he nodded. He put the mouthpiece at the end of the tube in his mouth, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in. And then he wheezed, and began coughing.

“Sorry! I should have said something. It will take some getting used to, but-”

Alastor waved her off, as he took several deep breaths before taking another pull off the machine. His eyes widened, and he held a hand to his chest.

“…sure takes the edge off,” he said. “It does not feel like there are rocks in my chest anymore. I can… I can…” he took another deep breath in, and winced immediately.

“Do not push yourself too hard, too fast,” admonished Ada. “I will leave you instructions for the machine. It will require certain chemistries to do its job, but… it has an analgesic and some restorative compounds. It cannot fix your lungs…”

“But it’ll let me get out and about,” finished Alastor. He looked to Ada. “My gods, Ada. You’re a wonder.”

Ada gave him a small smile. “I had a lot of time on my hands.”

Alastor nodded, taking several more deep breaths, and huffing another draw off the device.

“Do not overuse it,” she cautioned. “Too much may drive your lungs numb, and you could hurt yourself worse.”

“Right. Of course,” he said. “…thank you again. Well.”

He stood up. “I was going to wait, but such a tremendous gift should be given one in return. Stay here.”

Ada looked as he managed to struggle to his feet. Well. Of course he was weak. But now that he had more mobile methods of helping him breathe, in a couple of years, well.

She had high hopes.

He returned, giving her a grin. “I have had a lot of time on my hands, too. Plenty of time to do things like explore that disaster that is our attic. And, well, I was going to wait until you’d been home a while longer, but while we’re exchanging gifts… here.”

He held out a box to her that she did not recognise. She frowned at it. It was a pretty thing, gold, with runes inlaid on it, and a glass window on the top.

And though she did not recognize the box, she gasped as she recognized what was in it.

“I can’t get it open,” said Alastor. “But I recognized what was in it, and I thought, well, maybe you could wear it to your bonding ceremony.”

Ada looked up at Alastor, tears in her eyes. Inside the box was a beautiful amulet, and in that amulet was set a rather large amethyst.

He sat down again, and grinned at her.

“Mother took this away from me when I was so very young,” Ada whispered.

Alastor nodded. “I remember. Part of why I recognized it when I saw it. You kicked up such a fuss when she took it from you. I don’t rightly remember why, but you were devastated. That thing meant the world to you.”

Ada cradled the box in her hands. She tried to open it, but it resisted. That was fine. A problem for later. For now, her precious childhood amulet was back in her hands.

She couldn’t even remember why her mother had taken it. She had almost forgotten about it. But now that it was back in her hands, the memories were coming back, faded on the edges, but strong for all that.

And her mother had forgotten it in the attic. Lost and gone.

Ada became dimly aware of how strongly she was gripping the box. Should have been enough to crush it.

“She had no right,” she whispered.

Alastor sat back in his chair, and closed his eyes. “Well, and when I found it, I remembered how much it had meant to you. And I figured, well, maybe you could wear it to your bonding ceremony. Let mother know you’re your own person now. After all, she wouldn’t’ dare say anything about it during the most important day of your life.”

Ada stared at it.

Just another thing that had been dictated to her.

Her life, in a box.

Something in her slipped, and released. Alastor must have noticed, because he grinned at her.

“Hey, look at that, I helped,” he joked.

“Thank you, Alastor,” she said. She swallowed. “I will… I will send you further instructions for the machine later. How to maintain it, how to fill it. I find… I must go and make a great many arrangements.”

“I know, I know, Ada’s off to see the star,” he said, grinning and closing his eyes with a wave of his hands. “Welcome back, bigger sister. And thanks for thinking of your brother.”

Ada stopped at the door, and turned and smiled at him. “Always,” she said.

The next few sennights saw the Fairlight residence always in motion. There were arrangements to be made, letters to be written, things to buy, people to talk to, and Ada was always at the forefront of it, making inquiries, helping as she was able. The house servants found her distant, but her mother found her dutiful enough. She turned her work over completely to the university, and made plans for one last journey.

Her mother had protested, but Ada indicated it would be a short one. Just one last journey, she had said, before the bonding ceremony and inevitable shared futures. Seeing has she had seemingly settled into a routine of seeming to focus entirely on her future, and was otherwise of sound planning, her mother had relented.

Other than that, her mother had no complaints. Her brother had suspicions, but he kept them to himself.

And Lyse’s letters continued to come in. Ada wrote less often, however. Though her room’s wastebasket was full of correspondence she never sent.

Finally, the time came for her final journey. She burned the papers in her wastebasket, tidied her desk, and set her place in the family house to be absolutely pristine, a final preparation. She packed her tools and her things in her bags, and was on her way.

One last letter was sent to Lyse. It contained a gift, and a few simple words.

Dearest Lyse,

I love you.

I cannot stay.

And then after that, Ada Fairlight ceased to exist.

~*~

A woman stood on the platform as behind her, the train left, to continue on to its next destination. She adjusted her glasses, squinting against the dust and the wind.

It had taken her many moons to make it this far. Travel was often perilous. She had learned much about herself in the intervening time, and had learned enough of the lands she meant to arrive at.

And now she was finally here.

She touched a hand to the amulet around her neck, a beautiful thing, with a lovely amethyst secured in its housing.

It felt to her like freedom. Freed of the box it had been in.

The young Ada Fairlight had grown up.

Debutante Fairlight had failed to secure a courtship, and joined the military.

Captain Fairlight had ended their career.

Graduate Ada Fairlight had left for the world.

Naturalist Ada Fairlight had gotten lost in the wilds.

None of those women were here now. None of them needed to be here now. She had learned much, and gone far, and now, at last, she was free.

She was free to make and reject favors as she liked. To ignore any responsibilities she did not wish to undertake. To make something of herself in this land, so far away from the familiar.

The train had left and was gone, and she found her way to borrow one of the local beasts of burden, a rroneek. The man who handled the animals looked her over warily, but was more than happy to handle her custom.

“Where you goin’?” he asked, as he helped her with the animal.

“Stonewood,” the woman said. “And when I arrive there, do you perhaps know where I might go for information?”

He scratched his head, thinking. “Well, I might try Miss F’lhaminn’s cabar-” he began, but then he looked up at her, and was startled to see that she had fixed him with a big grin that had entirely too many teeth and looked entirely too dangerous.

“Uhm, actually, I think you should try around at the Saltlick,” he said quickly. “Ask after the proprietor, she’ll steer you right enough.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, as she climbed up onto the rroneek.

Well, that would be a fine start, she considered. A new start for a new woman.

A new woman with a new name. One she had given much consideration. And now that she was here, there was little attaching her to who she was or where she had come from. Her train ticket had not even had a name on it, just a seat number.

She was satisfied.