Gloriana
I have never been to Japan. I have never been to India, or to Morocco, or to Germany, or to most of the places Arthur Less has traveled over the past few months. I have never climbed an ancient pyramid. I have never kissed a man on a Paris rooftop. I have never ridden a camel. I have taught a high school English class for the best part of a decade, and graded homework every night, and woken up early in the morning to plan my lessons, and read and reread Shakespeare, and sat through enough conferences and meetings for even those in Purgatory to envy me. I have never seen a glowworm. I do not, by any reckoning, have the best life of anyone I know. But what I am trying to tell you (and I only have a moment), what I have been trying to tell you this whole time, is that from where I sit, the story of Arthur Less is not so bad.
Because it is also mine. That is how it goes with love stories.
- Less
Day 1:
“Elide.” Manon groaned, thunking her head down onto the kitchen countertop. “Why do we only have oat milk.”
Wandering out the bedroom, Elide adjusted her hair into a work-functional bun and said, “Because, repeat after me – ”
“Yes, yes, I know. The American dairy industrial complex is an environmental travesty.” Manon parroted, rolling her eyes. “But it tastes like cough syrup.”
“It does not.” Elide took a sip from Manon’s glass. “Okay, wow, yes it does. We will not be getting this brand again."
“I have five hours of meetings with Matron today. Five. I can’t survive that on this shit.” Manon grumbled, still not lifting her head off the counter.
Reaching out to run her fingers against the fanned edges of Manon’s hair, delicately, delicately, Elide eventually found the mental bandwidth to reply, “I really can’t sympathize. Today is puppy adoption day. But you have fun facing down the old crone. Go make an intern buy you coffee – maybe the sugar overload will kill you halfway through the first meeting.”
Turning her head just enough to glare at Elide, Manon said, “Why are you such a pleasant person?”
“Why Manon, I learned all my people skills from you.”
“Fuck off.”
“Drink your oat milk.”
“Maybe Abraxos will drink it for me.” Manon stood up, ruffling her hair so that it cascaded down her back like water, like silk. The contrast of it against the cerulean blue of Manon’s suit did … tragic things to Elide’s higher processing. She froze for a solid four seconds, just staring. “El?” Manon stared back, eyebrow raised.
“Right.” Elide grabbed her bag and acted like she even remotely had her shit together. “Work. Gotta go. To work.” At the door, at the lock, her hand paused, hovering in mid-space. She turned, hesitant, uncertain, trying, “See you tonight?”
“I’m counting on it.” Manon smiled back, eyes lit up to burnished amber, to gold.
“Okay. Um, good. I’ll by more oat milk.” And then Elide was gone to the sound of Manon laughing and swearing behind her.
Day 3:
A curious thing had happened to Lorcan Salvaterre. His world had gone empty, overnight.
All of his friends unfollowed him on social media. None of his friends asked to hang out. Hell, no one talked to him at all. On Monday the silence was strange, on Tuesday it was weird, and by Wednesday it was pissing him the fuck off.
Only three of his teammates would meet his eyes during practice that day. This did not comfort Lorcan, because they looked like they wanted to murder him. After practice, Connall slammed Lorcan against a locker so hard that his teeth rattled. No one intervened. “You piece of shit,” Connall hissed, “You fucking piece of shit. My sister’s ex used to hit her – you think that’s cool? Huh? You get off on that? I hear one word from you, one fucking word, and I punch out your teeth.” He did put a fist into Lorcan’s stomach, just to make a point.
When the rest of the team filed out, when it was just Lorcan and Rowan left, Lorcan pushed off the locker and got right into the other man’s space. “I know it was you. What the fuck did you tell them?”
Rowan did not look concerned about this pissed-off Lorcan Salvaterre. Cracking his knuckles in a casual-yet-menacing manner, Rowan eventually replied, “First of all, shut up. Second of all, don’t talk again. Third of all, Elide is my family. And even if she wasn’t – I’d find a way to burn you alive for what you did.”
“You have no right to go talking shit about my relationship.”
Cocking his head to the side, Rowan watched Lorcan carefully, a hawk circling prey. “Elide was very clear. She doesn’t want anyone lying for you, covering for you, ever again. So when people ask why she’s not with you, why she’s broken up with you, well, there’s only one answer. Because you, Lorcan Salvaterre, are a piece of shit who abused her.
And for as long as you’re on this team, I’m going to make your life a living hell.” Rowan patted him on the cheek, friendly-like. “Enjoy.”
Day 5:
Elide got back late from work and Manon got back even later. So it was 9 pm before they curled side-by-side on the carpet, backs propped against the couch, eating popcorn and watching Say Yes to the Dress. Manon pretended to hate this show. Manon was a fucking liar.
(On day 2, Elide had asked, do you care if I stay a little longer. And Manon had said, I don’t care if you never leave.)
As she grabbed red wine (the good stuff, Blackbeak, the goddamned good stuff this time), Elide heard Manon yell from the living room, “I’m not like every other bride. I’m different. Sure, bitch, that’s why you’re buying a lace mermaid. Bring the alcohol Lochan, I’m drowning in stupidity.”
See? Elide told you that Manon was a fucking liar.
Day 6:
Elide had a nightmare. It sent her scrambling to the bathroom, throwing up everything until nothing remained but bile. She threw that up, too. Lorcan’s face, her uncle’s voice, the shattering in her ankle and the flames.
Closing her eyes, Elide tried to inhale and tasted the smoke. She threw up again.
Eventually, when all that remained was the shaking and shaking, Elide registered Manon’s presence, one hand holding her hair back, the other soothing up and down her spine.
thanks, Elide coughed, voice rough, shaking and shaking. Manon pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder blade in reply.
They stayed like that for a long time, just breathing.
Day 9:
Dawn.
Manon’s first alarm went off at 6 am, but they still had a little time. Elide reveled in it. Breathing slow and deep, she sank into the sensation of Manon’s arm draped over her waist, a leg tucked between her thighs, lips pressed against the nape of neck. Manon slept and Elide reveled in that too, the quiet of them.
A little more time. Just a little more time.
Day 11:
Manon was in a bitch of mood. Elide knew it from the moment the apartment door slammed behind her. She also knew Manon well enough not to ask.
Stalking into the living room, Manon said, “Hi El,” before proceeding to take her heels off and drop them onto the floor. Hard. Elide winced … the things that woman did to a pair of Louboutins.
“I’m going to kill her.” Manon eventually said, her voice cold, amber eyes burning.
“Specify.” Elide replied, though she already knew.
“Matron. That bitch. That fucking bitch.”
“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again. I’m a very good shot.”
“Thanks, El. But this is a murder I’m going to commit with my own bare hands.”
Trying to be subtle, Elide started typing a DoorDash order into her phone. It was nearly 10 pm – no way Manon had eaten since lunch. Ah, curry. Curry should do.
“Shower?” Elide helpfully suggested.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Manon hissed out a breath. “I don’t think a shower’s going to cut it, El.”
“Probably not, but then you’ll smell good. So it’s a win for me.”
That finally, finally, got Manon to smile. Twisted and sharp, but a smile. “Fine. Tell me if my phone rings.” Manon dumped it onto the marble kitchen counter and Elide really hoped for all their sakes that the screen didn’t crack. Because Manon would take that so well.
As had become their habit, Manon left the bathroom door open while she showered so that they could talk (a habit that didn’t, you know, do catastrophic things to Elide’s brain).
“Maybe I will let you shoot her, El.” Manon said thoughtfully. “Just in the kneecap. Just for fun.”
“I can do that.” Elide replied, only half listening. Time till food arrival – 10 minutes. Hallelujah.
“She fucking humiliated Vesta today. Goddamned it.” A cold fury laced its way through Manon’s voice. “We’re meeting with the Galathynius’ and Matron pulls in her at the last second. Ves couldn’t have prepped even if she wanted to. Five minutes in and she asks Ves to present on the financials for the new club – and Ves has fucking no clue what’s going on. None. So right in front of Evalin and Rhoe, Matron says that maybe if Ves wasn’t spending all her time on her knees sucking cock, she’d have more time to prepare for meetings.”
“God damn.” Elide breathed.
“Yeah. Yeah. Ves doesn’t rattle easy, but that?” Manon shut off the water. “It’s one more nail in my grandmother’s coffin.”
“Why the hell?” Elide said, her brain still stuck back a few sentences ago.
“Retribution. Ves mouthed off yesterday. Matron slapped her down today.”
Elide would have thought of a suitably swear-word filled response, but her phone dinged. Food! Food food food. Getting to the door and giving the delivery woman a cheery wave, Elide was back at the kitchen table in forty-five seconds flat. God it smelled good.
“Manon!” she yelled, “I got way too much curry and even more naan. Help me eat it?”
“Sure. If there’s extra.”
Grinning to herself, Elide divided the food into two plates. Hook, line, sinker. Later, a freshly-showered Manon (who really did smell distractingly nice) sat beside her and ate and told bitchy stories about bitchier co-workers and the curry was so spicy and Elide smiled.
I don’t care if you never leave, Manon had said.
Me neither.
Day 13:
According to one Aelin Galathynius, Thursdays are the new Fridays. According to that same Aelin Galathynius, that means getting a little wasted on a weeknight is a great idea. Elide couldn’t agree more. Especially when that meant seeing Lysandra and Nehemia for the first time in fucking forever and drinking one (or two or three) too many margaritas at Pablito’s and ending up at an adult (ehem) themed shop. Lysandra may or may not have bought Elide aggressively pink, aggressively fluffy handcuffs. Elide may or may not have died.
(Her funeral will be at 11 pm sharp. Please bring chocolate.)
What definitely did happen – because Elide can’t forget this, oh my god has she tried – was The Incident. Cue scene:
Elide, right on the fine, happy line between tipsy and drunk, gets back to Manon’s apartment. Elide, not thinking clearly in any way shape or form, drops her unzipped bag onto the floor. Elide flops onto the couch next to Manon, resting her feet in the other woman’s lap and immediately falling asleep.
Abraxos goes to investigate this bag (there might be treats). But, oh, he discovers something so much better. Abraxos finds a brand new toy.
When Elide wakes up, it’s to the sight of Manon Blackbeak trying not to die with laughter while holding an aggressively pink, aggressively fluffy pair of handcuffs. Biting down on her lip, Manon finally manages to get out, “El? Do I want to know?”
“Oh. My. God.” If Elide blushes any harder, she'll combust into flame. “No, no, nonononono. That was all Lysandra. I am going to kill her. Dear god.”
“When the cops arrest you for murder, should they restrain you using these?”
“Silence!” Elide falls off the couch, because she is still really tipsy. “No. No laughing. This is veryembarrassing.”
“Sure El.” Manon replies, totally laughing.
“Give me those cuffs back.”
“Yes ma'am.” Wink.
“Manon!”
Day 14:
A nightmare shot through Elide, sharper than a supernova, just as bright. Bam. Her body hit the kitchen counter. Bam. Her body hit the floor. Bam. Her uncle shoved her down the steps and snap, crackle, bang, her ankle split open.
I was just a kid.
Bam.
She sat upright and couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t inhale. Couldn’t shake the snap, crackle, bang.
Manon’s hands touched her spine, her ribs, her cheek, trying to ground Elide down but it was all gun smoke in her head, all kerosene and pain.
She ran to the bathroom and threw up, the memories trying to carve their path right out of her body. Bam. Bam. Bam. Her hand reached back for Manon’s seeking, blindly. They held on, her to Manon, Manon to her. A seawall will only hold for so long against catastrophe. But it will hold for long enough.
Day 15:
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Lorcan opened the door. That was the second mistake. Lorcan tried to shut the door very quickly. That was the third mistake.
The first mistake? Hurting Elide Lochan.
Shoving the door back so hard that it smacked into the wall and stayed there, Manon smiled and said, “Hi Lorcan.” It wasn’t a nice smile. Aelin stood by her side, head cocked to the side, still as death. She was also smiling. That didn’t make Lorcan feel any better.
“… Hi.” Lorcan tried to sound like everything was fine. What an admirable attempt, how terribly misguided.
“Now Lorcan.” Aelin stepped forward and leaned in the doorway. “I’m very fond of my sister. Did you know that? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Nothing.” Pausing a moment, and still goddamned smiling, Aelin let all the possible meanings of that last sentence sink in. Under his spray tan, Lorcan went pale. “Right now, that means Manon and I are here to pick up Elide’s things. And you’re going to let us.”
“Bullshit.” Lorcan said, his survival instincts taking a short walk off a long cliff. “Elide can get them herself. You two aren’t coming in here.”
Turning to look at Manon, Aelin said, “Isn’t that cute? He thinks he has a choice.”
“Adorable.” Manon’s eyes never left Lorcan’s face. There was murder in them. He swallowed, going a little paler.
“Lorcan, Lorcan,” Aelin murmured, “I don’t think you’ve fully appreciated just how difficult we could make life for you. Between us we know, what, ten lawyers? Hell, we both are lawyers and I happen to be a very good one. Would you like to find out just how good? Because that can be arranged. I’m sure the court will be sympathetic to a six-foot five hockey player who beats his girlfriend.”
“Fuck you.” Lorcan spat. But he stepped back from the doorway, all bravado gone.
“Good boy.” Aelin patted his cheek, walking into the apartment and wrinkling her nose. “You live here? Jesus, thank god my sister’s free of you. You have no fucking standards.”
Lorcan pointed down a hallway, “Elide’s stuff is in the bedroom. Closet, dresser, I didn’t bother to touch it. Get it. Go.”
“Aw Manon, I don’t think he’s happy that we’re here.”
“Shocking.” Manon leaned against the dining room table, arms crossed, eyes tracing over Lorcan’s face like she had nasty little plans for him.
“Don’t play with your food, Blackbeak.” Aelin blew Lorcan a kiss before walking down the hall to the bedroom. And then it was just Manon and Lorcan, Lorcan and Manon, and a silence so deep that a heartbeat echoed. Manon waited, and waited, and – boom. Lorcan broke under the pressure.
Getting right up into Manon’s face, Lorcan spat, “This is all your fault, you cunt. Elide was happy with me. We were happy. But you've filled her head with lies and you ruined everything. I heard she’s living with you now – she’s such a fucking whore.”
Tipping her head to the side, Manon spoke a quiet voice, calm and steady, “Call me whatever you like. Cunt. Bitch. Dyke. I’ve heard much worse from much nastier people than you. But you never say those things about Elide.”
Quick as a strike of lightning, Manon grabbed Lorcan’s arm and twisted him, smacking his face into the wooden table. “Whoops.” Not bothering to be gentle, she pinned his other arm behind his back and whispered in his ear. “Remember this. Elide is a good person. I’m not.” With the precision of someone who has a vendetta to settle, Manon applied forced and pressure until Lorcan cried out in pain, his shoulder joints contorted, nearly dislocated. Biting into his lip, Lorcan hissed, “You fucking dyke, you’re going to get what’s coming for you.”
“The devil, Lorcan, that’s who will usher me into hell. I’m looking forward to it. Now listen to me. If you come near Elide again, I will pin you down and I won’t stop at your shoulders and I will peel the skin right off your balls.”
And at that lovely little juncture in the conversation, Aelin reentered the living room. “Oh good, looks like you two had a chance to chat.”
Stepping back from Lorcan, Manon slipped her hands into her coat pockets like that’s all it had been. A chat. A little chat. Stumbling away from them both, back to the fucking wall, Lorcan held his body carefully, so carefully, and said, “You – you, I’m going to sue. Just watch me.”
Adjusting a tote bag of Elide’s things on her shoulder, Aelin mussed, “She didn’t keep much here. I can’t imagine why. It’s so … charming.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I said I’m going to sue!”
“Oh no I heard you.” Aelin smiled at him, all teeth, all fury. “But I’m not listening. Because you aren’t going to sue. Because if you try, I will annihilate you in front of the media and the jury and the judge and god herself.”
“Bitch!”
“Next time we talk, find something more creative to call me.”
“Out!” Lorcan yelled. “Get out.”
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners, Salvaterre?” Manon murmured, tisking softly. “You’re such a disgrace.”
“Out!”
“Only since you asked so nicely.” The two women turned to leave, but at the doorway Manon looked back and she winked. If any blood remained in Lorcan’s face, it didn’t stay there long.
Day 16:
When Manon’s phone started ringing at 7 am, Elide decided to ignore it in favor of going back to sleep. Sunday, for the love of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the twelve disciples, it was a Sunday. Sometime later, a thunk and a whispered fuck woke her. Eyes fluttering open, Elide watched a half-dressed Manon try to be subtle.
“Sorry.” Manon murmured, picking up her shoe. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You leaving?”
“I have to go into the office for a bit, work emergency.”
“Matron lighting fires again?”
Sighing, Manon smiled ruefully, “Is there any other kind of Sunday? But I won’t be home late.” Gesturing haphazardly around the bedroom, Manon said, “Hang out with Abraxos. I think there’s food in the fridge. That damn turtleneck is in the top dresser drawer now. Take whatever you want, it’s yours.”
“Okay.” Elide murmured, cheek squished against the pillow. Through her eyelashes, she watched Manon finish getting dressed, slipping on a shirt and jacket, rings and heels. Armor and iron and gold.
“See you tonight, Lochan. Call me about anything.” For a moment, Manon sat on the bed and gently ran her fingers through Elide’s hair. Then her heels clicked, clicked across the floor and she was gone. Curling onto her side, Elide burrowed further into the blankets and breathed in the scent of Manon’s perfume and breathed out something that tasted like glory.
Day 18:
Reaching out, Elide nearly touched her fingertips to Manon’s shoulder blade. Nearly. She knew the rhythm of Manon’s breath, and the other woman wasn’t asleep yet. Not really.
“What is it, El?” Manon asked, not rolling over.
“How awake are you?”
“Enough.”
“I never really said that I’m sorry. For that morning. For all the shit – ”
“El.” Manon did roll over then, her amber eyes half-open and watchful.
Please forgive me for I have sinned. I don’t know how to make it right but I’m here. I’m trying.
“No.” Elide laid her palm in the gap between them, until it’s almost like there was no distance at all. “No, don’t cut me off. What I did was awful. I just … I took all this pain I had and I put it on you. I didn’t mean a thing that I said and I said it anyway. I know … I know words can’t make it right, but I need you to know that I’m so fucking sorry.”
Taking Elide’s hand, Manon kissed her knuckles, soft and gentle. “I’m sorry too,” she whispered, lips painting the path of her words. “Fuck. I hurt you too. I called you a coward, and – god, El. That haunts me. Because you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known. How could I dare call you that?
And you were in pain and I left you. That haunts me too. Every day. That you needed a friend and I claimed to love you and I left you.” Manon pressed another kiss against Elide’s skin, trying to communicate all the words she didn’t know how to say. “I’m so sorry.”
“We both fucked up, didn’t we?”
“God, yes.”
“Don’t laugh – ” Elide started to say, but Manon always had to be the smart-ass.
“I’ll try to restrain my hilarity.”
“Thanks, Manon. What I’m trying to say is …” Elide bit on her lip, worried at it, took in a breath, “Can you forgive me?”
Manon didn’t laugh. Interweaving her fingers with Elide’s, holding her closer than close, she breathed out, “I already have.” Then Manon paused, her eyes flitting down to where their hands intertwined. “Can you? Forgive me?”
“Yes.”
Day 21:
“Ellie!” Aelin answered her phone on the third ring. “How are you? Where are you?”
“Beach. I’m just on my lunch break, needed to clear my head.”
“Rough day at work?”
“No, not that.”
“Oh my god, is Blackbeak being mean to you? Because I will disappear her, I swear. No one will find the body.”
“Okay, you work in a law office, so cool it on the murder talk.” Elide said, laughing despite herself. “Manon is wonderful, thanks for asking.”
“Uh-hu, sure, Manon is wonderful. Whatever. You just say the word and I’m grabbing my shovel. Hey, do you mind if I eat lunch while we talk? Fucking starving.”
“Go for it.”
“Great, thanks. Rowan keeps packing me turkey and cheese sandwiches which is simultaneously so grade-school and so endearing. Today he even included a Capri Sun. It’s the little things that keep a marriage sexy, Ellie.”
“Thanks for the details.”
“Anytime. So what’s up?” Aelin said, starting in on the Capri Sun.
Deep breath. Clear your throat. Try. Keep on fucking trying. “So. Um. I was wondering if I could ask you about Sam?”
Aelin stopped drinking her Capri Sun. In a wary, weary sort of voice, she said, “What do you want to know?”
“You loved him.” A statement, not a question.
“Yeah. I did.”
Sitting down, Elide took off her shoes and curled her toes in the warm sand. Her eyes tracked across the line of the horizon, the place where blue became blue became blue, light after light. “Do you still love him?”
“Ellie – ” And Aelin just sounded so unspeakably sad.
“Because after Sam ended it with you, you were a wreck. You fell apart. You cried for weeks. You refused to say his name for months. Right? That’s how much you missed him. That’s how much you loved him.”
Silence. Then a long sigh from the other end of the line. “I did. Honestly, I still do. Miss him. Love him. It’s just a different sort of loving him now.”
“Linny?” Elide closed her eyes. Wave after wave. Light beyond light. “Then why don’t I miss Lorcan? He was a piece of my life for years. I said I loved him. I was going to marry him. But I’m not crying. And I haven’t fallen apart. I feel …”
free
Another sigh, the longest exhale. And Aelin choose her next words very carefully. “Look, Ellie. I can’t answer that for you. But, let me ask something – did you love him? Or did you want to love him?”
“I – ” Elide opened her mouth. She closed it. The waves rolled in and Elide walked to the water until it baptized her feet, until it carried away what she couldn’t carry any more. Love. I am a well made of memories. Long nights with Lorcan spent laughing and fucking, fights and daydreams, longer fights and lost daydreams, still two people trying. You made me happy and I thought, this is what love is.
Because I love you. A smile that lit up every inch of her life. A perfume that left her dizzy with an ache she’d dared not name or tame. I don’t care if you never leave. A voice at the other end of the phone on the longest night. God but I’ve missed you. A hand intertwined with her own, there at all the ragged edges. The woman she loved more than anything.
“Goddamn it.” Elide said. And the world turned right side round.
“Ellie?”
“You’re always right, you know that? It’s so annoying.” Elide said, smiling and crying and laughing for the sheer glory of it. “I have to go.”
“Are you alright? Ellie?”
“I’m – I’m so fucking good. It's just, I have to go. I love you, Linny.” Elide hung up the phone and she shoved on her shoes, who cared that her feet were soaking wet, who honestly gave a fuck? Pounding and pounding, her heart was pounding and pounding.
Manon Blackbeak, you are the goddamned love of my life. What the hell have I kept you waiting for?