Chapter 1 - Gheledon

Mel sits scowling with her shoulders hunched forward and her legs crossed on top of her bed in the Gheledon inn. She crosses her arms – pointedly – and stares ahead of her at the wall.

“Mel,” Edward says from the side of the room she’s deliberately not paying attention to, “are you going to be mad at me all day? All I did was buy you a poem!”

“I was mad at you all morning, so yes.”

He groans. “I just don’t understand why you’re so upset about this. I was trying to be thoughtful!”

“You should have thought better, then,” Mel says, rapidly turning her head to glare at him. “I know you don’t feel that way about me. And I know that because you read this damn sonnet to me before even reading it over once yourself. You didn’t even get the rhythm right. Honestly, Edward, isn’t that part of your princely education or whatever?”

Edward grits his teeth. “Would you just–”

“Both of you, relax!” Stella, previously rummaging through the group’s belongings on the floor, stands up and rests her hands on her hips. She’s the tallest of the three, and hopes it briefly grants her some authority. “I’m not going to let you two ruin each other’s days over this anymore. Mel. Edward was trying to do something nice for you. He wanted to be sweet. You understand that, right?”

“He was being inconsiderate,” Mel retorts. “Like he thinks I’m going to believe some generic nonsense about how beautiful I am. First of all, I’m not. Second of all, Stella, the sonnet mentioned ‘auburn locks’.” Mel flicks her decidedly black bob back and forth with an irritated roll of her head. “Do these locks look auburn to you? He should have read it to himself!”

“They don’t,” Stella agrees, slowly. “Which brings me to my next point. Edward, Mel’s hurt because you tried to compliment her by paying someone else to come up with something to say. She doesn’t appreciate the gesture because it doesn’t feel sincere. That makes sense to you, yeah?”

“I guess,” Edward says. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’m sorry, Mel. When Lyra offered to let me read the poem to someone, I just thought you’d appreciate the gesture. I guess I was pretty careless.”

Mel looks at Edward now. Stella thinks she looks less upset, but barely any less tense. Her crossed arms relax slightly, but she keeps her grimace. “…I’m sorry, too. It was a bunch of noble bull, but I didn’t have to be a jerk about it.”

Edward beams. He hops over to Mel’s bed, sitting down beside her. “Truce, then?”

Mel’s expression flickers, and she matches his smile. “Yeah, truce.”

“So we’re good!” Stella says.

“I’ll come up with it myself, next time,” Edward adds.

Mel nods. “Ha, yeah. Good idea.”

…

“Hey, Mel, could I ask you about something?” Stella asks, sitting down next to her in front of the waterfall.

Mel skips another stone across the pond. Edward’s off somewhere, asking around about advice for augmenting Excalibur, and she’s elected to spend her morning pretending she isn’t on the run from an evil vampire intent on using her to enslave humanity before they head out to Naylith.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Yesterday… did you say you’re not beautiful?”

She laughs, throwing her next rock and watching it dance across the water. “I mean, yeah. Have you seen me?” She glances at her. “Don’t worry about my self-esteem, Stella, it’s not a bad thing. I’m happy with it. Being bland is helpful in my line of work. And I like how I look, anyways.” She snorts. “I just know no poet is going to write about how gorgeous I am, and no prince has any business pretending otherwise.”

Stella can’t help herself. Mel’s laugh, however brief and derisive, is infectious. She giggles. “I get you.” She glances away for a second; Mel thinks she sees her chew on the side of her mouth. “I just don’t agree.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, right?” Stella looks back at her, a little more certain in her smile now. “I think you’re beautiful, Mel.”

Mel chucks her next rock with a little less than perfect aim. Instead of its effortless glide before, it plunks into the water. “You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it! Maybe it’s just because I know you, so you couldn’t possibly be plain to me, but I mean it.”

“Thanks,” Mel squeaks out.

Then she looks at Stella – taller than her, and fat, with a soft chest and squishy pair of arms that make for amazing hugs. She looks at her pastel, curly hair, her dark skin with scattered freckles that remind her of constellations, her deep purple eyes. She looks at her awkward, bright smile, the way her cheeks raise as she makes it. She wonders how awkward her own face must look right now.

Then she thinks about how ridiculous it is she’s looking at her like she needed any confirmation.

“You’re beautiful, too.”

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