Once again travelling, Sammy and Julie fell into the familiar routine when morning dawned. After breakfast, they went to the barn, finding Ma grooming their horse.

“Have you eaten?” Sammy asked.

“Yes,” Ma said, grinning. “Farmer wake up early.”

So they set off, continuing east. Sammy’s lectures today covered the countries of Alfen and how they came to be, starting with the Union of Western Ports (shortened to the PBK in its native language), touching on the establishment of the royal language, Hwang-ben, and finishing on the urbanisation efforts the countries were undertaking.

Suffice to say, Julie didn’t remember much, but enjoyed listening to her wife’s voice.

That brought them to the midmorning break, horses left to graze. Ma hovered around their horse for a while, afraid it would bolt, before joining Sammy and Julie under a tree.

“You talk much,” Ma said.

Sammy chuckled. “I learned much and I am happy it was not wasted,” she said.

The horses snorted, wind rose and fell, distant shouts of farmers, insects buzzed. Sammy sipped at her water, Julie finding it nice how her wife could make a tin cup look elegant.

After some peace and quiet, Sammy asked Ma, “Can we hear more of your story?”

Ma laughed, putting away their waterskin. “Of course,” they said, then turned to the wife and wife. “For a kiss.”

Sammy understood, smiling. Out in the middle of nowhere, she didn’t much care if anyone saw, but still looked around for Julie’s sake. Assured they were alone, she turned to Julie. Their gazes met, smiles sweetened, Sammy brought up a hand, stroking Julie’s cheek.

Julie was eagerly conscious of the situation. There were women in this world who liked to kiss women, and there were people who liked to watch women kiss, and now there were women who liked people to watch them kiss. Her heart pounded in her chest, an intense excitement. Different to the slow and gentle excitement Sammy often nurtured.

If they had met Ma a month ago, this new feeling would have been scary to Julie, she knew. But this wasn’t a month ago. They were, in the truest sense, married, and she had slowly learned to listen to her heart—listen to how her heart sang.

Of course her heart would sing loudest when telling the world she loves her wife.

Unable to resist Sammy’s teasing any longer, Julie leaned in. Sammy met her, hand sliding to the back of Julie’s head, fingers curling around the short and beautiful hair.

There was no reason their kiss lingered, rather the lack of reason why it did. Ma didn’t hurry to stop them either, but, when they broke apart, Ma happily clapped. “Such a show, I maybe tell two stories.”

Seeing the precious face Julie showed, Sammy pulled her wife into a hug, unwilling to share that tender expression. “One will do. It is a long journey and we wouldn’t want you to run out,” she said.

Ma chuckled. “Good think, I only tell one.”

They all took a moment to settle down and get comfortable. For Ma, that meant finding a spot in the distance to gaze at; for Sammy and Julie, that meant sitting closely together, Sammy’s arm lazily draped across Julie’s back.

“In the middle countries, lots of farms. Farms and farms and farms. You live on farm, you die on farm. My brothers”—low pitched—“work on farms. My sister”—high pitched—“work on farms.” Ma sighed. “I like that girl, but parents promise marry me to neighbour…. Sorry, I, it is….”

“Take your time,” Sammy softly said.

Ma did, nearly a minute passing in silence. “I like that girl. I was young, not know lots of things, but I know like that girl. And I like other the girls. I not see many, but I go to village and they very pretty. I think kissing them and I feel happy. I not happy boys.

“But I no kiss the girls. It is… loud? Adults loud?” Ma rubbed their face, then switched to Lapdosian. “There is a saying: let a child think and they will think bad thoughts. Out in the countrysides, they take that literally, bringing up children to be numbingly obedient.”

Sammy quietly translated that for Julie, then Ma continued in Schtish again.

“I told girl marry boy. I told only kiss when marry boy. I not good girl, not listen to my parent”—high pitched—“but I know they good girls, they listen to their parent. It not matter. I happy talking to them, looking at them. They let me touch them, hold their hand, poke their face. It is nice touch and smell their hair. I very happy.” Ma pauses, letting out a snort. “Parents happy I not play with boys. My sister play with boys and she”—they point at their stomach—“baby.”

Sammy and Julie couldn’t help but giggle at that, Ma chuckling too. However, the humour soon left Ma.

“Then parent”—low pitched—“want me marry. I say no, but he no question, he tell me. Neighbour has only son, not strong. I help him. My… dattory,” Ma said, that word coming out in Lapdosian.

“Duty,” Sammy said.

“Ah, yes—I read that! So it means that…” Ma said, trailing into thought until they caught themself. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, we’re thankful enough to hear your story,” Sammy said.

Ma flashed them a grin, then turned back to the comfortable spot on the horizon they’d found. “He nice boy. I like him, but I like him because he is like girl. He speak soft, smile soft, move soft. I like him, but not like I like girls. I try… put up him. I think in my mind he girl, but I don’t like kiss him. Even if he wear dress and long hair and red lips, I not like kiss him.”

Silence followed, Ma’s breaths a touch heavy, clenched hands slowly relaxing.

“I ten and eight, I run. I take horse and go. I like horse, look after horse every day, I know best one. Many girls do this to PBK. They not want to marry neighbour boy, so they come here. Make cloth, or needle cloth, or count money, or sell beer. There is many not man jobs.

“But I not like those jobs and I am strong, but strong girl is weak man. No one hire me for man jobs. Then I remember the girl, and I shave my head and dress like man, and now I am weak man. They hire weak man.”

Ma paused there, a soft smile coming to them.

“One merchant, he shout at me lots, but I ask him teach me some Lapdosian when I work and he does. When I finish, he gives me book and he tells me he wishes his son so motivated. Book is… Paschimi and Lapdosian words?” Ma said.

“A translation dictionary,” Sammy said.

Ma chuckled. “Yes, what you said.”

Silence followed, Sammy and Julie and Ma all thinking over what was said, digesting the experience. After all, this was the first time Ma had really spoken to someone of their past. They had opened up to some people before, but quickly learned not to, their past gradually changing to better fit this world. So there was something cathartic about reminding themself of the truth.

As for Sammy, she felt validated in her refusal to judge Ma. But it was such a subtle thing that she knew she may well be inventing her own truth to make life simpler. The way Ma spoke of their “fiancé”, she could see that, to Ma, the women they had been with had known the truth. After all, Ma hadn’t been that surprised when Sammy had asked that question.

To take that further, Sammy thought of how, of all the people there that night, Ma had approached her: a queer woman. Perhaps Ma could also tell such things or quickly pick up on them, and the women they were with were, if not knowingly queer, then unknowingly queer to some degree.

Meanwhile, Julie felt a keen pain from the story. That was exposed when their break finished and they saddled off and set off again.

“What did you think of today’s story?” Sammy asked.

“You two are very similar,” Julie said softly, barely loud enough to be heard over the horses’ hooves on the stone road.

Surprised, Sammy asked, “How so?”

Julie’s face scrunched up, putting her feelings to words still a difficult task. “The way she spoke of… running away from marriage… and loving girls,” Julie said. “If you weren’t a princess, wouldn’t you tell the same story?”

That really left Sammy speechless. Not just what Julie said, but the tone, Sammy truly hearing the pain Julie felt imagining that it was Sammy who had gone through such an ordeal. And it made her question if that was why she didn’t want to judge Ma.

There was still plenty of time in the day for each of them to think through their thoughts, a more upbeat mood returning with lunch and the afternoon. Of course, that included more of Sammy’s lectures, this time focusing more on linguistic history.

“It is thought that the extensive use of tone in conveying meaning comes from the continent’s rich history of theatre. And that rich history is thought to come from the times of oral storytelling, back when the people here lived in tribes. The storyteller was a venerated position, each one often taking on as many as ten disciples, then whittling them down to a single successor. Outside of their craft, they swore an oath of muteness as they believed that by listening they would learn the truths of both man and gods.

“The royal language is entirely the opposite. With long-distance trade becoming more common, it was necessary for the countries of Alfen to communicate more effectively. Unfortunately, the beauty of their tonal languages made it difficult to transcribe the same nuances, so there was a kind of necessity for a less-ambiguous language. Despite being called the royal language, the royalty and upper-classes already had their own common language, but it is… poetic, ill-suited to diplomatic missives and trade contracts. However, that royal language was used as the base and adopted to fit a simple phonetic alphabet….”

Sammy could get very carried away at times, and Julie loved it, happily listening to her wife talk on and on about the most dull topics.

The sun waxed and waned, the group stopped at a village for the night, ate merrily, drank moderately, and slept well. In the morning, they set off again and went for a couple of hours before resting the horses.

This day, Ma didn’t have to ask, Sammy and Julie settling down and sharing a sweet kiss, sweeter words. So Sammy didn’t have to ask for Ma to share more of their story.

“When I run away, I travelled much. Up the whole coast. I was… scared. I was scared of being a woman. A girl has to listen to her father. A girl has to marry a man to be a woman. A woman has to listen to her husband. But no one has to listen to a woman.”

Ma said all that with a flat tone, unusually lifeless. Even on gendered words, her tone didn’t go up or down, and she spoke less rushed, the words more thought through.

“I like women. I like listening to women, I like touching women, I like smelling women, I like tasting women. You ask me if I man or I want to be name man, but I want to be what women want.”

Ma rubbed their face, then let out a long sigh, tilting back their head and staring at the sky, a few wisps of clouds stretched across it.

“Those two things, that is why I am this me. But this me is… the outside. My clothes. If it is cold, I wear thick clothes. If it is hot, I wear thin clothes. If I want to like women and be listen to, I wear man clothes.”

Sammy waited patiently to see if Ma had more to say before she spoke. “Then, if you find a woman who likes you, would you take your clothes off for her?”

As well as a metaphor, it was an amusingly literal question, but no one laughed, Ma only cracking a smile. “Before, I think no. I think woman has to be with man, so I be man. But now I know there can be wife and wife.”

Sammy not misled by Ma’s simple Schtish, she said, “You did not answer my question.”

Ma laughed this time, shaking a finger at Sammy. “I like you very much.”

Raising her chin, Sammy held Julie’s hand and said, “Sorry, but I am already married.”

“Of course, of course,” Ma said, nodding with a grin. Then silence for a few seconds before they spoke. “Your question… is hard. I not sure if there is a woman under my clothes any more. But I think… if I find a woman who likes me, I not be scared. Maybe not wife and wife, but me and wife.”

Sammy softly smiled. “I am glad to hear that. Truly, truly glad,” she said.

“Really?” Ma asked.

Turning to Julie, Sammy’s hand came up, cupping her beloved’s cheek. “Love is something we all deserve. When I doubted myself, that belief was my light in the darkness,” she said.

Julie leant into the touch, then turned to kiss Sammy’s wrist. “You always shone so bright,” Julie said, punctuating that with another kiss.

Smiling brightly, Sammy brought back her hand and retrieved the kisses. “Such a sweet tongue, do you wish for me to taste it?” she said, playful admonishment in her tone.

While they flirted back-and-forth, Ma looked on. There was jealousy and envy inside them, as well as an incredible desire, but not an overwhelming one. Like a child enamoured with a musician, they wished with a pure heart to be like this wife and wife one day—to know such happiness.

Once their break ended, Julie fell into thought as they travelled. What Ma had spoken about had, again, been almost painfully relevant. The queerness they had so far come across in their travels was like that of Sammy’s: women who liked women. Ma certainly liked women, but the way they thought of themself as not a man and yet not still a woman, it opened Julie’s mind. After all, it was hard to imagine the things she didn’t know.

In particular, Julie felt a kind of comfort. She knew without a doubt that she loved Sammy with all her heart. However, that hadn’t felt like enough to call herself queer before. Now, though, it wasn’t such a specific word.

Those thoughts meandered through the early afternoon, such that Sammy was once again caught off guard.

“Can a queer man and a queer woman be together?” Julie softly asked, keeping Hope close to Faith.

Taking a few seconds, Sammy eventually gave an answer. “Well, in the simplest case, they could both like men and woman. In fact, if we assume just one person in a thousand is queer in this way, there would be one such marriage per million population, which would be… I think sixty in the world?”

A thorough and, to Julie, unhelpful answer—other than the beginning. “I meant more like if Ma met a man who was like her.”

Sammy smiled, both apologetic and troubled, and hesitated over whether to correct Julie. Normally, it was basic courtesy to refer to people how they wished—whether that was their name, title, or pronoun. It was just that Ma’s case was unusual and Sammy genuinely didn’t know if Ma would like to be addressed differently in private.

For the moment, Sammy focused on the question.

“By what Ma has said, I think that… wouldn’t work out. But I cannot speak for them nor can I speak for the other person. That said, I certainly do believe there are people with mismatched souls. People with a male soul and female body, or vice versa. I think, to be with such a person, one must be somewhat queer. That is, one must, at the least, be willing to accept the queer idea….”

Sammy paused there, thinking over what it precisely was that she wished to convey.

“Let me put it like this. If I say a man’s body, that means a male body, but could it not also mean a body belonging to a man? If a male body had a female soul, could it not be called a woman’s body?”

This time, Sammy paused to look at Julie, glad to see that it looked like that made some sense.

“Of course, if you would indulge me, I think… queerness is proof that there isn’t such a thing as male and female souls. After all, it isn’t the case that every man loves every woman, is it? I think queerness is the result of trying to split something as messy as a soul into two groups. For example, take red and blue. They are certainly different colours, yet it becomes rather foolish to decide whether every flower is more red or more blue.”

Julie certainly found that long-winded answer more helpful, if not overwhelming. But it was a pleasant overwhelming. Like Ma’s story, Julie felt validated by what Sammy said, and it made everything so simple. So very simple.

There were all kinds of people and some weren’t very good at being what they had to be. Julie even already knew that was true, she just hadn’t thought about being bad at being a woman.

Like herself.

Since the start of their journey, Julie had thought herself not a good enough woman for Sammy. But what if she stopped comparing herself to what she thought a woman ought to be? Instead of trying to be more red, what if she tried to be more like Sammy’s favourite flower?

Smiling to herself, Julie was sure that, if she asked, Sammy would say that Julie already was her favourite flower.

Of course, Sammy didn’t miss that beautiful smile. “Pray tell, what are you thinking about?” she asked.

At peace unlike she had ever felt before, Julie listened to her heart and of course her heart would sing quietest when telling only her wife, “I love you.” A gentle song that she wished for only Sammy to hear.

A song Sammy heard loud and clear, smile blooming and a shy chuckle slipping out. “Really?” she asked, her tone light.

“Yes,” Julie said.

Sammy believed her.

Midafternoon brought them to a larger town, one rather bustling with trade. “This is… border of the PBK,” Ma said. “Many traders from Keran come here to buy and sell.”

“Shall we stock up here and leave in the morning?” Sammy asked.

Ma hummed in thought. “Yes, that good idea. Next town bit far away.”

Turning to Julie, Sammy said, “We didn’t travel by horse much in Formadgo, but it should be time to take the horses to a farrier, no?”

“Ah, yes,” Julie said.

So the three rode in, easier to see over the crowds from high up. While the buildings were far from anything fancy, Sammy picked out some nameplates that were written in Hwang-ben, making her wonder if such prestigious families really would stay here or just owned businesses. City and town residences were, in the grand scheme of things, a rather recent trend, originating far away in Schtat and Sonlettier.

What Julie noticed was the cleanliness of those properties, no layer of dust even with all these carts around. But that confused her since these were mostly single storey buildings, few taller, and not all that wide either. She wasn’t someone who thought through economic problems, yet wondered if the owners just particularly cared about appearance or if labour was cheap.

Meanwhile, Ma looked at the women around, appreciative of the Keran-influenced uniform the maids wore. It had been inspired by the Schtish style of practicality with formality, only they had dropped the practicality, so it sometimes looked like the maids were all off to attend a funeral. Or, as Ma liked to think of them, as presents ready to unwrap.

Alas, Ma could only now think such thoughts with a wistfulness. While they continued to grow older, maids were eternally young—too young for them. But that wasn’t such a sour thought this visit, thinking how, if they did find a lover, that person could surely be wrapped up just as nicely.

Once through that district, it looked more like a normal town with taller buildings and patches of stalls and a griminess to every surface. The smell went without saying. Near the eastern outskirts, they found a farrier, leaving Ma’s horse there to be reshod too.

Then began the shopping trip. First of all, they topped up on boiled water and fodder. Next, they took clothing to be mended and darned. Finally, Sammy could indulge, her innocent smile worrying Julie. “Ma, shall we make medicine for soft skin?”

“Yes!” Ma said, tapping their fingertips together.

It didn’t take long for Julie’s worry to be proven correct. With Ma to speak fluently, Sammy engaged seller after seller in conversation, whether a store or stall or a cart stuck in traffic. She traded gossip and swapped stories, coins rarely changing hands. Still, when dusk approached, she had in her possession a whole assortment of oils, beeswax, and lye, as well as some tools to mix them together.

Though Julie felt exhausted, Ma’s enthusiasm had grown even greater. Dinner disappeared with Sammy and Ma eating quick, Julie trying to keep up, then they retired to the wives’ room where Sammy wasted no time in setting everything up.

“This may take… some mistakes,” Sammy said to Ma.

“No worry, lots of people sell late into night.”

Sammy chuckled. “Very reassuring,” she said.

As tired as Julie was, her curiosity made her watch, soon turning into a fascination. Sammy looked so beautiful as she worked. The way she measured and poured, full of confidence, stirred with such elegance, face always caught in a look of concentration, eyes slightly narrowed, lips slightly pursed. Julie found another reason to fall in love with her wife.

Every now and then, Sammy produced another sample, rubbing the attempts at a lotion between her fingers or onto her arms. So many things she could change, it wasn’t a simple challenge. However, she gradually learned, scribbling her notes onto loose papers, mumbling numbers to herself. And it was a good thing she had been prepared to fail, her tests all such small amounts.

Yet all that failure made her broad smile all the sweeter when she could finally say to Ma, “Try this.”

Ma eagerly took the small cup and scooped the lotion out with a finger, then smeared it over their cheeks. “Very smooth,” Ma said, rubbing circles.

“It… makes skin not dry and that helps it be softer. I was told by friends that it is best used in the evening after washing your face. Of course, you can also use it for your hands, but I think your work will… stop them being soft,” Sammy said, struggling a bit with how to word things.

But Ma looked at her. “Hm? I not use this,” they said.

“…. What?” Sammy said.

“This for woman I like,” Ma said, grinning.

There was a moment of silence, then Julie broke, followed immediately by Sammy’s giggling, Ma watching with some confusion, but not upset at being laughed at. Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain. “I thought I was making this for you to use, but yes, it does make more sense for you to make it for a woman you like.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ma said.

“No, it really is fine. You did you say liked women with soft faces,” Sammy said, smile wry.

Ma nodded. “Thank you very much, Mrs Sammy. I learn this very well.”

“I am sure you will,” Sammy said.

The hour getting late, Ma excused themself, then wife and wife took turns to bathe, washing each other’s backs, and dressed for bed. Julie smiled to herself. All it had taken was one night of bravery and now she saw her wife every night, showed herself to her wife every night. And Sammy had never made a fuss of it. After all, it was perfectly natural for those wedded to see each other.

But there was something more to it this night. Julie wanted to be seen, she knew. The moment she had taken off her clothes, she had wanted to look at Sammy, to see Sammy while Sammy saw her. Alas, she had been surprised by the sudden desire and ignored it at the time.

Now that she lay beside Sammy, their goodnight kiss already exchanged, she came to that realisation. She knew where from—or rather why—this new urge had appeared, and it was the talk with Sammy after Ma’s story.

Julie could never be a red rose like those Sammy had pursued in the past, but even a buttercup had its beauty. She hoped to share more of her own beauty with Sammy going forward.