The room was quiet. The rain had softened to a steady whisper against the windowpane, while the distant orange glow of the streetlights gradually faded as the murky gray dawn crept through the gaps in the heavy curtains.
Jane returned to check on the girls. She stood perfectly still in the doorway, watching her daughter sleep. Fleur's hand was still resting on top of the duvet, and Nimue's small, pale fingers remained wrapped tightly around it. Neither girl had moved since Jane had left them.
Saoirse appeared behind her a moment later, walking barefoot across the plush carpet. Her black hair, marked by that striking white streak, hung loose and messy around her shoulders.
"They will have sore necks," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Jane nodded in agreement. She stepped into the room, her footsteps soundless against the thick carpet, and reached for Fleur. She intended to lift the older girl, but Fleur stirred and murmured something incomprehensible in her sleep. Nimue's grip immediately tightened.
"Let me," Jack said, appearing behind them.
He crossed the room with quiet, measured steps. First, he carefully lifted Nimue, taking care not to disturb her sleep, and laid her in the middle of the bed. Her head sank into the soft down of the pillow, and her hand immediately reached out, searching for the warmth she had just lost.
Then he picked up Fleur. She was heavier, but he carried her with ease and settled her beside Nimue on the wide mattress. Nimue's hand found Fleur's sleeve at once and held on. Fleur turned in her sleep, her face shifting toward the familiar presence beside her as she instinctively sought its warmth.
Jack pulled the thick duvet over both girls and tucked the edges around them. He stood back for a moment, watching them, before turning to Jane.
"They are fine."
Jane pressed her fingers to her lips. Saoirse gently tugged at her sleeve, her expression uncharacteristically soft.
"Come. Let them sleep."
Jane nodded and followed them out, pulling the door closed with a quiet, final click.
. . .
The gray light grew brighter as the morning wore on. Rain tapped against the glass in a steady, soothing rhythm. Somewhere in the hotel, a heavy door opened and closed, followed by muffled footsteps passing through the corridor. None of the sounds disturbed the two girls.
Nimue woke slowly. Her eyes opened a fraction, taking in the morning light, before closing again. The room was warm, and something soft that smelled of lavender soap rested against her cheek.
She blinked and realized Fleur's face was only inches away. The older girl's silver-blonde hair spread across the white pillow like a silk fan. Her lips were slightly parted, and her breathing was slow and deep.
Nimue watched her quietly. She followed the way the pale light fell across Fleur's cheek and noticed a tiny, solitary freckle near her nose that she had never seen before. She studied the curve of Fleur's long eyelashes against her skin.
Nimue didn't move because she didn't want to wake her, but she desperately wanted to get closer to that warmth.
Slowly and carefully, she shifted inward. Her shoulder brushed Fleur's arm, and her knee touched Fleur's leg beneath the sheets. Then she tucked her head under Fleur's chin, just as she had done in the apartment, and nuzzled against the warmth of the older girl's neck.
Fleur's arm moved. She wasn't fully awake, but her hand found Nimue's back and pulled her closer in a sleepy, instinctive gesture. Nimue nuzzled her again, pressing her nose against the soft skin of Fleur's neck.
She smelled of soap and something else, a sweet, natural scent Nimue couldn't quite identify. Nimue smiled and closed her eyes, her breathing gradually falling into the same slow rhythm as Fleur's. The last thing she felt before sleep carried her away again was the steady, comforting beat of Fleur's heart against her cheek.
. . . .
When Nimue woke again, the room was much brighter. The rain had stopped, and a narrow strip of pale golden light stretched across the ceiling.
Fleur was looking at her.
Nimue blinked as she realized that Fleur's blue eyes were wide open and her face was very close. She had been watching Nimue for a while. Nimue could tell from the way Fleur seemed to be holding her breath. Her cheeks were pink, the color spreading high across them.
« Bonjour. » Nimue said, her voice thick and rough with sleep.
« Bonjour. » Fleur whispered.
Neither of them moved. Nimue was still pressed against Fleur's side, and Fleur's arm remained wrapped securely around her back. Their faces were so close that Nimue could feel the warmth of Fleur's breath against her lips.
Something stirred in Nimue's chest. It was a sudden flutter, like a bird trying to escape a cage. It didn't feel unpleasant. Instead, a warm, quick sensation spread from her heart to her stomach and down to her fingertips.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Fleur's heart was beating faster, too. Nimue could feel it through the thin fabric of their nightclothes where their bodies touched. Her eyes widened slightly at the realization.
Fleur's ears turned red, starting at the tips and spreading until the color reached their entire curves beneath her silver hair. She looked toward the window, then at the ceiling, and finally at the door before turning back to Nimue.
Their eyes met, and Nimue smiled.
It wasn't her usual small, guarded smile. This one was different, wider and much softer. It spread across her face like sunlight breaking through the clouds.
Fleur went completely still. She stared at Nimue's mouth, at the gentle curve of her lips and the way her green eyes crinkled at the corners. Her expression turned blank, as though she had suddenly forgotten how to think or speak.
Nimue's smile widened.
« Grande sœur. »
Fleur blinked as if waking from a dream.
« Quoi? »
« Tes oreilles sont rouges. » (Your ears are red.)
Fleur's ears grew even redder. Nimue let out a soft laugh, barely more than a breath, and nuzzled closer, pressing her cheek against Fleur's shoulder. She whispered against the fabric of her dress.
« Tu es mignonne, grande sœur. » (You are cute, big sister.)
Fleur didn't answer, but her arm tightened around Nimue's back.
Nimue didn't know why she did what came next. The thought appeared and disappeared in an instant, and her body moved before her mind could catch up. She lifted her head and pressed her lips against Fleur's cheek. It was quick, barely more than a brush of skin, but Fleur's cheek felt soft and warm.
When Nimue pulled back, Fleur was staring at her with wide, stunned eyes.
« Mignonne. » Nimue repeated, her voice softer this time. « J'aime ça. » (I like it.)
She nuzzled against Fleur's shoulder again, hiding her face as she giggled. The sound was light and bright, filling the quiet hotel room.
Fleur remained still for a long moment. Then she raised one hand and touched her own cheek, her fingers lingering on the spot where Nimue's lips had been.
Neither of them spoke for a while. Rain had begun tapping against the window again, while a car honked somewhere in the street below. Fleur's arm tightened around Nimue's back. She didn't pull her any closer, simply holding her as though she were afraid Nimue might disappear.
« Nimue. »
« Oui. »
« Pourquoi tu as fait ça? » (Why did you do that?)
Nimue lifted her head. Her green eyes were curious, but she didn't look confused.
« Je ne sais pas. J'avais envie. » (I don't know. I wanted to.)
Fleur looked at her. Nimue's face was open and entirely unguarded. There was no calculation or hidden meaning in her gaze. She was simply being herself.
« C'est étrange, » Fleur said quietly.
« Pourquoi? »
« Parce que... je ne sais pas. Personne ne m'a jamais fait ça. »
(Because... I don't know. No one has ever done that to me.)
Nimue tilted her head, shifting her white hair against the pillow.
« Ton papa? Ta maman? »
« Ça, c'est différent. C'est ma famille. » (That's different. They are my family.)
Nimue reached up and gently touched Fleur's cheek, tracing the spot where she had kissed her.
« Tu veux que je sois ta famille? » (Do you want me to be your family?)
Fleur's breath caught in her throat.
« Je... je ne sais pas. » (I... I don't know.)
« Ce n'est pas grave. Je serai ta famille quand même. »
(That's okay. I will be your family anyway.)
Fleur stared at her. The words seemed too big for such a small girl, too heavy with certainty. Yet Nimue said them as casually as if she were stating that the sun would rise. To her, it was simply a fact.
Fleur's eyes began to sting, and she quickly blinked away the moisture.
« Ne pleure pas, » (Don't cry,) Nimue said softly.
« Je ne pleure pas. » (I'm not crying.)
« Si. Un peu. »
Fleur rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. When she looked at Nimue again, the younger girl was watching her with that steady, unblinking gaze. Nimue leaned forward and rested her forehead against Fleur's. Their noses touched, and their breaths mingled in the small space between them.
« Grande sœur. »
« Oui. »
« Ton cœur bat vite. » (Your heart is beating fast.)
« Le tien aussi. » (So is yours.)
Nimue smiled again, that wide, gentle smile that made Fleur's chest ache in a way she couldn't understand.
« J'aime ça. »
They remained like that, forehead to forehead. Nimue's hand had found Fleur's again, and their fingers were intertwined on the white pillow.
« Tu as déjà embrassé quelqu'un? » (Have you ever kissed anyone?) Nimue asked.
Fleur's hand stopped moving.
« Non. »
« Moi non plus. » (Me neither.) Nimue paused, her eyes searching Fleur's. « Avant. » (Before.)
« Avant quoi? »
« Avant toi. »
Fleur fell silent for a moment. Then her thumb began moving again, tracing a small circle against Nimue's hand.
« Ce n'était pas un vrai baiser, » (That wasn't a real kiss,) she said.
« Qu'est-ce que c'est, un vrai baiser? » (What is a real kiss?)
Fleur thought about it, her brow furrowing.
« Sur la bouche, je crois. » (On the mouth, I think.)
Nimue raised her head and looked at Fleur's lips. They were pink and soft.
« On peut essayer? » (Can we try?)
Fleur's ears turned red again.
« Non. »
« Pourquoi? »
« Parce que... ce n'est pas pour les enfants. » (Because... it's not for children.)
Nimue considered that for a moment.
« Alors, quand on sera grandes? » (Then, when we are grown up?)
Fleur looked away, toward the fading light on the wall.
« Peut-être. »
Nimue nodded and rested her head against Fleur again.
« D'accord. J'attendrai. »
Fleur's arm tightened around her.
A soft knock came at the door.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Both girls turned toward the sound. The door opened, and Jane stepped inside, still wearing her nightgown, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. She stopped in the doorway.
Nimue and Fleur were tangled together on the bed, their foreheads still touching and their hands clasped.
Nimue's white hair was a mess, and Fleur's dress had twisted around her legs. Jane's expression shifted from surprise to something much softer.
« Bonjour, les filles. »
« Bonjour, Maman. »
« Bonjour, Madame Keith. »
Jane crossed to the window and pulled the heavy curtain aside. Gray light flooded the room, making both girls squint and blink.
« Le petit déjeuner sera prêt dans une heure, » she said. « Vous avez le temps de vous préparer. Mais peut-être devriez-vous vous lever avant. »
(Breakfast will be ready in an hour. You have time to get ready. But perhaps you should get up before then.)
Nimue shook her head against the pillow, refusing to move.
« Encore cinq minutes. » (Five more minutes.)
Jane raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in her green eyes.
« Pourquoi cinq? » (Why five?)
« Parce que... » (Because...)
Jane glanced at Fleur, who was staring very intently at the ceiling, her cheeks still pink. Then she looked back at Nimue.
« Je reviens dans dix minutes. Si vous n'êtes pas levées, je tire la couverture. » She paused, her voice softening. « Il est encore tôt. Vous voulez du petit déjeuner? »
(I will be back in ten minutes. If you aren't up, I will pull the blanket. It's still early. Do you want breakfast?)
Nimue looked at Fleur, and Fleur looked back at her.
« Oui. » they answered together.
Jane smiled.
« Alors, levez-vous. Et toi, Fleur, ta mère t'attend dans l'autre chambre. Elle a demandé de tes nouvelles. »
(Then get up. And you, Fleur, your mother is waiting for you in the other room. She asked about you.)
She left, closing the door behind her with a gentle click.
For a moment, neither girl moved.
Nimue turned her head slightly.
« Elle ne tirera pas la couverture. » (She won't pull the blanket.)
« Comment tu sais? » (How do you know?)
« Parce qu'elle dit ça tous les matins. Elle ne l'a jamais fait. »
(Because she says that every morning. She has never done it.)
Fleur let out a small breath that might have been a laugh. Then she slowly sat up, and her hand slipped out of Nimue's. The loss of warmth was immediate and strange.
She looked down at Nimue, who was still lying on the pillow, watching her with those steady green eyes.
« À tout à l'heure. » Fleur said.
« À tout à l'heure. » Nimue replied.
Fleur slid off the bed and walked toward the connecting door. She paused with one hand on the brass handle and looked back.
Nimue hadn't moved. Her eyes were still fixed on Fleur's face.
Fleur's cheeks warmed again. She opened the door and stepped through, closing it behind her.
Nimue remained on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her lips still tingled where she had kissed Fleur's cheek, and her hand felt warm where the older girl's fingers had rested. She raised it and touched her own cheek, remembering the warmth of Fleur's breath against it.
« C'est bizarre, » she whispered to herself.
But she was smiling.
===
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