I know that nobles have their flaws.  I know that merchants have their flaws.  I have seen, first-hand, the conflicts between the two.  But it is perhaps in this monastic setting, where flaws are held up to the blinding light of the One God and hung against the models of virtue that are the Brothers and Sisters of the faith, that they stand out most clearly.  Or perhaps I just happened to meet a mutton-headed scion of a merchant family.  Felspar you’ve heard about, I don’t know what his excuse is, but Vaterin…


    Of all the arrogant, self-satisfied things to say!  “Couldn’t even tell I was a noble?!  Why do you think that’s a compliment!?”


    Vaterin paled, all the more visible for the tanning punishment detail had given her working in the sun.  Perhaps less invested, they had no preestablished friendship, Felspar looked simply alarmed at the vitriolic tone of voice.


    “Well?  I’m waiting!”


    Vaterin pointed at Felspar.  “He said it.  I just defended it.”


    “Why were you defending it?!  That’s not any better than having said it!  You’re agreeing with someone you thought hated you and is one of the most arrogant—” I’m repeating myself.  But oh, why would Vaterin think… “Vaterin, I don’t give one whit what Felspar thinks, he’s insufferable most of the time.  But I am cut to the quick that you think a noble is not a noble thing to be.  Is it your faith?  Is it the resistance of some minority of noble families to acknowledgement that their claim on the land is only a lease from the One God?  They do not represent us!  Nobles are appointed by the White Queen, she herself ordained by the Black Queen, we are noble!  I am descended of the bloodline of the Duchess Clearwater, Lady Bitumen, and I am proud of that!”  Vaterin was sitting stock still, while Felspar seemed perplexed.  “Or is this trader arrogance?  Two can paint with a broad brush, Vaterin!  Traders take an unseemly pride in having ‘earned’ their lucre, in comparing with one another how much wealth they can amass.  Weren’t you just now contending that dragons were meant to be paragons of virtue, and yet they assemble wealth as though it’s not some temporary, ephemeral thing.  So nobles chafe at their lease of the land from the Church, the necessity of tithes, but it is the merchants who struggle to cheat the tax collectors, who skimp on their tithes and social responsibilities!  It is not the nobles who encourage the Arbiters of Righteousness to consign to forced labor the poor, the widowed, the misled child!  That is the White Queen’s domain and your kind who gleefully hand them over instead of making poor houses livable and offering of decent wages!”  Marble broke off her rant, realizing that if she wanted contrition she would need to leave space to express it.  She had better have something good to say.


    “I… apologize,” Vaterin began, hesitantly.  “I don’t think… my parents are as neglectful of the poor as you say.”  She put up a hand in abeyance of Marble’s indignant drawing of breath.  “Which is not the point.  Your point.  You were painting with the same broad brush you perceived me doing—that is also not the right thing to say.”  Vaterin fell silent, worrying at her lip.  “I am sorry that I offended you.  I… should not have offended—defended—Clay?”  Why was that a question!?  “Should not have defended Clay.”  That’s better.  “I only meant… I’m not sure what I meant.  Probably painting with the broad brush you mentioned.”  She bowed her head.  “I’m sorry.”  You said that.  But you’re trying.


    “For whatever it’s worth between you two, I’m sorry too.  I know I had been fed a number of the stereotypes you mentioned, Marble,” Felspar added.


    “Why were you even thinking about me being a noble?  And if you point to Felspar again I will be cross.”


    “I mean, it’s on my mind a lot, but it came up because I was defending nobles as not being as covetous as dragons.”  Vaterin crossed her arms in a closed posture.  She is not taking this well.  I think she just found her self-righteous arrogance again.  Wait.  It’s on her mind a lot?!  “And I said something stupid again, I can see it on your face.”


    “I’ll just leave you to it, shall I?” Felspar clapped his hands on his thighs and rose to walk away, although he hesitated as though waiting for permission.  You want to walk out, walk out.  I’m not giving you my sanction because you feel guilty over things you said.


    “First off, I do not need you to defend me to Felspar.  But more importantly, why is my title on your mind a lot?”


    “I mean, my folks would love to tie new money to a title.  They might even be willing to let me out of the math side of things and just manage relations with you as my hostess, patronizing us both after a fashion, with—”


    “Is that all I am to you?!  A title?!  You keep trying to compete in art, you were comparing and evaluating instead of just trying to create paintings of beauty, and now when I think—when I think—” tears welled up in Marble’s eyes.  “This whole time, you’ve been thinking to yourself, ‘wow, I’m kissing a duchess’?!”  Vaterin’s eyes flew wide, realization of her error and its effect on her sweetheart written on her face.  You feel bad?!  Good!  You keep doing this and you keep making amends but how many times am I going to come up against your shortcomings?!  I have a temper, sure, but you have this deep-seated need to compare virtue in… in… everything.  Who’s a better painter, who’s a better person, oh, I didn’t even realize you’re a noble but I think about it all the time!  And you’re talking about tying new money to a title, but let me tell you one thing, missy may, you’re not tying any money to my title unless you do some growing up!


    ”Marble!  I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean any of what I said!  I’m an idiot!”  You’re clearly grasping at straws.  Do you even realize what you said?  Do you understand?  Your apology isn’t even coherent.


    “Didn’t mean any of which?  That you think about my title?  You clearly do.  When you called me your girlfriend?  Maybe you didn’t.  It’s the Clearwater title you think of as your girlfriend.  That it’s a compliment that Felspar didn’t know I was a noble?  If you didn’t mean it, then why did you say it?” Marble ground out these last words.  “I can’t deal with you right now.  I will take my lunch elsewhere.”  She rose, and strode off to find somewhere, anywhere, away from Vaterin to finish her meal.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Marble studiously avoided Vaterin in the following days, but her presence followed her wherever she went.  When you share a dormitory and the same several college rooms with someone, everywhere becomes a memory of a tender moment.  When we were on punishment detail, we would kiss in passing here.  I have to sit over here now, so that my canvas blocks me from seeing her.  I’m taking my meal facing the far wall instead so that I don’t see her.


    Lord, was I wrong to get angry?  Wrath is a sin, but I didn’t mean to be wrathful.  Excuses.  But it was righteous anger!  She gave offense!  Was I wrathful?  I was righteous!  I corrected her!


    Days went on.  Marble threw down a brush, one of a dearly bought set, and realized she was stewing.  This is wrath.  This is no longer righteous.  Vaterin messed up, but why do I have to be the one to build bridges?  It is not my job to patch things up, it’s not even my job to be receptive to overtures of peace.  I will stop avoiding her.  That’s it.  I will be available, should she decide she’s ready to apologize and know what she’s sorry for.  And if she isn’t—Marble’s heart tugged painfully—then clearly it wasn’t meant to be.  She’s so sweet when she isn’t being an ox-headed… Marble sighed.  I haven’t seen her painting of me.  I stopped painting the last time she came by to sketch while I painted, and blew out all my candles to leave her in the dark.  That painting… I think she’s in love, whether she realizes it or not.


    Marble’s introspection was interrupted by the clearing of a throat behind her.  She turned, and saw a Vaterin, head bowed, clutching a bouquet of native wildflowers wrapped in drawing paper.  She looked at Vaterin, then to the bouquet, and then back to Vaterin, one eyebrow raised.  Yes?


    “I… am sorry about Felspar and me.  And I.”  Marble said nothing.  Well, go on.  Show me you know what you did wrong.  “I should not have suggested that appearing not to be a noble was a compliment, because even if some nobles are arrogant and high-handed, painting any group with a broad brush is offensive.  My words were colored by e—no!  My words were colored by wounded pride, a sin and a demon lord and more to the point utterly unGodly.”  Nice save.  “As for your title… I can’t take back the words I said.  I can’t take back the thoughts I thought.  But my esteem for you predated my awareness of you as nobility, and I can comprehend your hurt at the idea my interest in you was founded in your title.  In all sincerity, it was founded in a friendship the likes of which I have never had.  I would understand if a relationship were out of the question thanks to my error, but,” she swallowed, and Marble saw tears in her eyes.  “I would like my friend back, if that is at all possible.”


    Marble met Vaterin’s gaze, and while the blonde woman looked away briefly, she ultimately made the decision to make and hold eye contact while Marble made her wait agonizing seconds for her reply.  That’s worthy of respect, even if it’s a taught behavior.  She’s brave even when she’s admitting error.  Even when she’s terrified.  She made the overture.  She keeps making these overtures.  She even acknowledged that there may be no mending the rift between us and that is commendable.  But I’d like more than just my friend back, though I too would settle for that.  Marble rose, and accepted the bouquet Vaterin proffered, and she saw her eyes light up with hope.  “I accept your apology.”  A shaky smile appeared on Vaterin’s face.  “And I think we can be friends,” the smile wavered, “but I hope we can be a bit more than that.  Because you, Vaterin Lime, are competitive, arrogant, and brash,” she flinched at each invective, mild though they were, “but you are also devoted, thoughtful, and you see beauty in people.  And that can only come from a beautiful soul.”


    Vaterin was still holding eye contact.  “So where do we stand?”


    “It all depends on what you say to this; Vaterin Lime, I love you, for all your nonsense and for all your beauty.”


    Vaterin swallowed and paused—a hopeful sign, that.  She’s not going to just reply in kind because she misses me—“Marble Bitumen, I love you, for your unabashed expression of your own truths and, also, for all your beauty.”


    “I missed you, Vaterin.”  Marble closed the gap between them, crushing the wildflowers with a rustle of paper as she pressed her lips to Vaterin’s.


    Muffled by lips on hers, Vaterin said into Marble’s mouth what was probably, “I missed you too.”  But then the moment won out over words and they simply embraced, faces wet with tears, as leaned into the mutual support of a friendship turned into something decidedly more.  I don’t regret the time I spent away from her.  She seems to have given real thought to what she did wrong, and if I’m going to bring this butch up to scratch she’s going to have to learn a few lessons.  “You’re thinking again,” Vaterin mumbled into Marble’s neck.


    “I do that.”


    “But you usually say what you’re thinking.”


    “You noticed that?”


    “That would be the ‘unabashed expression of your truths’ I mentioned.  What aren’t you telling me?”


    Do I confide in—what am I saying, I just told her I love her.  Of course I confide in her.  “I’m glad I didn’t let go of my anger until you made your own approach.  You needed to figure out for yourself what you’d done wrong without me explaining it to you.”


    “Oh.”  Oh?  What does ‘oh’ mean here?  Is she disappointed?  Hurt?  Wishing I’d made the first—I will just ask.  For goodness sake, it’s not as if the Power of Simon were foreign to me.


    “‘Oh’ what?”


    “Then I’m glad you stayed mad at me too.”  Vaterin kissed Marble’s neck, bending down to reach the shorter woman.


    “You’re glad I stayed mad at you?  I was expecting a homily about wrath.”


    “Nah.  You’ve probably delivered one to yourself already.  And this course of action ended with you saying you love me.  So I’m glad.  I hope you continue to be patient yet firm with me as I bumble my way around loving you back.”  That is the most ridiculous, sweetest thing I have ever heard.  She’s glad I was mad at her and that I did not spare the emotional rod and staff.  Truly, this woman is adrift in the world.  It seems like she clings to whatever will keep her afloat.


    But she’s not fickle, and she’s not flighty.  She decided I was a suitable raft, and she worked at her apology until she had figured out what she’d done, and then she came armed with—“Oh!  The flowers!  We’re crushing them!”


    Vaterin laughed.  “There are more where they came from.  But there’s only one ‘this moment’ and I’m rather fond of standing here in your arms.”  She is just… so sweet.  I am glad I was assigned to introduce her to the College, I am glad she came over to hear my prayer as I worked my sorcery… I am thankful, One God, Virtue of the Jester, that you assigned whichever Power oversees love to the protection of this little spark between us.  Marble did not realize she had spoken her little prayer aloud until she heard Vaterin murmur, “Amen.”  Though her complexion was dark enough to hide a blush, evidently she was close enough to Vaterin for her to feel the heat, because she went on to say, “I’m thankful too, Marble.  Whatever happens at the expo, I am grateful to the One God for bringing you into my life.”  Right.  The expo.  Where we might attract a patron together, or we might attract different patrons, or Vaterin might attract none at all in her first season here, and return home to an arranged marriage and a business she disdains.  Marble pushed that sobering thought out of her head, and devoted herself to enjoying the moment she had left with Vaterin.