S I X T E E N

Sadness Became My Whole Sky

2024 January 8
Monday

It’d taken an hours-long text message cat fight to convince Elle that they would not proceed to Dorley Hall. That’s what Summer’s training recommended—after Escape and Evade, the final step was Exit to a safe place, and “safe place” usually meant “Dorley Hall”—and Elle gave all sorts of reasons why it was the right move. It was a secure location with a standing PMC presence; it was public enough that Albert wouldn’t want to start a fight, but private enough that he could not easily sneak in a team; apparently Grandmother’s allies hadn’t dared a frontal assault there even in the hottest moments of their years-long standoff; and there was even electrolysis equipment on-site that could be used for Persephone’s transition, albeit only if they could work around the program’s schedule.

Summer had finally, reluctantly, employed a lever she hadn’t known she had until Elle had said that she’d personally set up her pension: guilt. She didn’t want to return to the Hall, she had said, because after what had happened to her there, she didn’t feel it was safe for either of them.

There had been a long, long period afterward when Elle didn’t send anything. Then finally, half an hour later, she messaged that she was making other arrangements for them and that Summer should bring Persephone to the Balmoral Hotel at noon tomorrow. Summer had expected further instructions—a name, a photo, a room number, something—but by the time they needed to be on their way, she hadn’t heard anything further. So the girls and their bags settled into the back of Morgan’s van, where blacked-out windows would conceal them until the last minute, and let their hostesses drive them to the hotel.

“One minute out,” Morgan called back to them. There was a partition that kept them from seeing each other, but they could hear the couple in the front seat.

“It’s a pity you had to spend your stay in hiding,” Lisa said. “I hope you’ll both visit again when you can have more fun!”

Persephone blushed at the suggestion, then blushed even more when Summer locked eyes with her and drawled, “I look forward to it.”

A moment later, they pulled up to the curb. Persephone hoisted the duffel onto her shoulder; Summer checked the taser in her purse; then she opened the door and they swiftly crossed to the main entrance, leaving Summer only a few seconds to take in the massive Victorian edifice she was entering. The glimpse of sandstone columns and hand-carved reliefs planted a sudden suspicion in her mind—one that was confirmed the moment she cleared the revolving doors and saw Elle Lambert herself sitting placidly in a high-backed armchair in the lobby. By the time the girls reached her, she was on her feet.

“Apologies,” she said, “we’re on a timetable; pleasantries can wait until we’re on the road.”

Elle led them swiftly through the lobby and into a series of hallways. The three women were joined by a fourth person who was so androgynous that Summer wouldn’t have been willing to hazard anything but them even without the pronoun pin on their lapel. They had dark hair and were wearing a gray blazer and slacks over a lavender turtleneck, with eyeliner and a bit of subtle lip color. And yet there was also just enough stubble to be clearly intentional, and their face—although heartbreakingly pretty—lacked the softness you’d see in a woman’s face. Summer couldn’t even begin to guess the direction of their transition, but they certainly weren’t cis.

After a great deal of walking through hallways and down stairwells, passing PMCs who had secured the route and who fell in with them as they walked by, they ended up in an empty underground car park where four identical black SUVs were waiting. The enby took a coin from their pocket, flipped it twice, and directed them to the third of the four vehicles; the PMCs accompanying them all piled into the others. The rear door opened to two bench seats facing each other; Persephone and Summer climbed in first and took the rear seat, while Elle and the enby took the middle and two PMCs rode in the front. At a suggestion from Elle, Persephone pushed the duffel over the back of her seat into the boot, and then the SUVs started moving. Only then did Summer’s hand leave the taser in her purse.

On the way up, they drove past a line of traffic cones that a worker was moving out of the way. They must have closed an entire floor of the garage for this; amazing the things Elle’s people could arrange on short notice. Even if it was more conspicuous than Summer would like.

“Persephone,” Elle said, reaching across the aisle and taking the girl’s hand, “I’m glad you’re safe.” She looked to Summer. “Both of you.”

“That’s Summer’s doing,” Persephone said. “She was brilliant. She saved me.” She slipped her other hand into Summer’s, smiling at her.

“You did your part by trusting me,” Summer said, squeezing her hand. “And I had a lot of help from friends.”

“I would like to find ways to thank them for the safe return of my goddaughter,” Elle said.

Summer snorted. “They didn’t even accept my money. And some of them,” she said, thinking of Morgan, “might think they’d made a mistake if someone of your social class thanked them.”

“I am rather skilled at rendering anonymous assistance,” Elle replied. “But we can discuss that another time; there are more urgent matters.” She released Persephone’s hand and leaned back in her seat, touching the enby’s shoulder. “Girls, I’d like to introduce you to Mx. Trev Darling, a consultant at Peckinville Associates and one of my most trusted collaborators there; I have retained them to oversee your day-to-day security arrangements. Trev,” she continued, nodding toward each of them in turn, “this is Miss Persephone Chase, my goddaughter, and Miss Summer Nesbitt, formerly of Dorley Hall.”

“A pleasure,” they said, in a voice that was deep but soft. They shook first Persephone’s hand, then Summer’s. “I’d like to fill you in on my plans?”

“Please do,” Summer said.

“First, Miss Nesbitt’s flat,” they said. “I’ve sent a team to secure it; they found it unlocked, but other than some…fixtures in the bedroom, they did not notice any signs of damage or theft. We expect you won’t return for some time, so with your permission, we’ll check for surveillance equipment and then move everything to a secure facility for storage.”

Summer found her eyes stinging. She looked out the tinted window, watching as Edinburgh Castle, perched atop high cliffs in the middle of the city, glided by, trying to control her feelings at the thought of her cozy home packed away. “My plants?”

“I’ll make sure someone takes care of them until you can get them back,” Trev said kindly.

“Thank you,” she said, forcing her gaze back to the people inside the car. Persephone gave her hand a squeeze, and she shot the girl a grateful glance.

“The motorcade,” Trev said, “will proceed to Edinburgh Airport, where a private jet is waiting for us. We have already filed its flight plan, which calls for it to land in Paris this afternoon.”

Persephone frowned. “That might be a problem,” she said. “My uncle still has my passport.”

“That won’t be an issue,” Trev said. “We’ll be making an unscheduled stop at Cambridge Airport on the way. The three of us and a number of PMCs will debark there, while Ms. Lambert will continue to Paris as scheduled.”

“What’s in Cambridge?” Summer asked, though she had a sinking suspicion she knew the answer.

“Littleport House,” Elle said. “My family’s country estate. I haven’t resided there since I was Persephone’s age, but it has been kept up in my absence and it is defensible.”

Of course she hadn’t gone back to that graveyard—Summer wouldn’t have either.

“Vehicles will be waiting for us at the airport,” Trev said, “so with favorable traffic, we should be in the estate less than ninety minutes after the pilot radios her intent to land in Cambridge. Once we’re there, a 24-hour guard rotation will deal with any threats to your safety.”

Summer thought she saw the logic. “So the plan is not to hide that we’re there, but to get us there quickly enough that they won’t have time to intercept us before we arrive?”

“Right,” Trev said. “And then to ensure that the only way to get at you would require more resources than they’ll be willing to commit.”

Summer couldn’t say she loved this idea, but it was better than locking themselves in a room a few floors above the basement. Persephone, on the other hand, seemed to take it in stride. Perhaps after nearly a decade in a gilded cage, a change of jailor was enough to satisfy her. “What is the plan in the long run?” Persephone asked.

Trev glanced to Elle; not my department, they seemed to be saying. “We’re exploring a number of avenues to convince Cainewood to stand down,” Elle said. “Legal, political, financial, diplomatic. We will attempt to gather intelligence from his PMC—an outfit called Silver River; we’ve tangled with them before—to determine their intentions and capabilities. And we will explore…extralegal means of containment.”

Persephone’s eyes widened. “You mean, like, blackmail?”

“Best that you leave such details to me,” Elle said delicately, and Persephone nodded. (Summer was certain that Elle was considering means well beyond blackmail.) “But I cannot say which of these avenues will succeed or how long it will take; it may be some months. In the mean time, Trev will try to provide you with whatever you need to wait comfortably. They will be staying with you for the duration; I hope they will be on best behavior around my goddaughter.” Elle’s gaze darted to meet Summer’s at that last sentence; it was a coded message to her.

“Of course, Ms. Lambert,” Trev said, then turned to the girls. “We have a personal shopper picking up clothes for you; there ought to be something there by nightfall. Miss Chase, I’m told you are an academic and a fencer?”

Persephone smiled; this was probably the first time she’d been ‘Miss Chase’d by a stranger, Summer realized.

“Littleport House has facilities for both, though it will take us a few days to get equipment in your size. Miss Nesbitt, do you have any requests?”

Summer frowned. What was she going to do for months in this big, empty house with no work, friends, or lovers save Persephone to pass the time? Well, that was one thing. “Will we be able to continue with Persephone’s electrolysis?” she asked.

“The equipment is already on order,” Trev said, “but it’ll take a little while to arrive.”

Voice training, makeup lessons, things like that, but all of that would hardly keep her busy. One could only spend so many hours per day feminizing a girl, after all. And it’s not like Summer’d been able to take much to entertain herself when she’d fled—hell, she only had one sex toy in her purse.

Persephone was frowning at her in concern, so Summer shrugged and said, “I’ll think of something.”

Persephone bit her lip. “Per-perhaps I could teach you?” she said.

“Teach me what?”

“Fencing.”

Summer tilted her head in thought. “Sure; sounds like fun.” Persephone beamed.

“Perhaps we can start ordering equipment during the flight, Miss Chase?” Trev asked.

“Sure,” Persephone said.

By now, they were arriving at the airport. The motorcade turned away from the public terminals; instead they took other roads, eventually driving directly into a private hangar. The PMCs swarmed out of the other vehicles, checking the building and the plane before they signaled for Trev and the women under their care to emerge. The four of them climbed a staircase onto the jet, most of the PMCs joining them, and then much sooner than Summer would have expected, they were climbing towards the heavens, glasses of wine in hand.

Elle and Persephone were clinking their glasses together in celebration, but Summer stared out the window, watching her city, her home, every friend and acquaintance and lover she’d made in the last six years save one, all fall away beneath her and then slip over the horizon.

She couldn’t help but wonder when she would see them again. Or—if Albert Chase got his way—if she ever would.

* * *

What separated Littleport House from the many, many large old manor houses Persephone had seen before was taste. Any building that had been home to wealthy families for hundreds of years inevitably accreted new construction—new wings, new floors, new façades, new renovations—and often, each of these additions was carried out in whatever style was currently fashionable, resulting in an eclectic mix of centuries of British architecture. But the owners of Littleport House had resisted this temptation, prioritizing stylistic unity over passing fads. And so even though the building had grown to heights that could not have been achieved without modern steel rebar, even though it had sprawled out far beyond its original size, it still looked like the kind of house that would’ve suited a peer of Elizabeth I’s realm.

Its interiors, too, were richly appointed. Hand-carved wood paneling, thick carpets and rich rugs, painted ceilings, gold fixtures, centuries-old paintings. But also high ceilings and large windows that made rooms feel about as airy and bright as one could hope for from January in England. The chapel, though even more disused than the rest of the building, was particularly beautiful, with stained glass windows that painted the room in a riot of colors. And the library, though nowhere near the breathtaking space Persephone had seen when Uncle Albert took her to Cainewood Castle, was quite satisfactory.

Also inside were at least a dozen soldiers carrying not only tasers, handguns, and knives, but also intimidating rifles. Persephone was just glad that they saluted her when she passed instead of shooting at her.

The first place Trev showed them was the security room. With its glowing video screens and banks of controls, it looked similar to the one at Duncraven, but with newer equipment. Trev told the girls that, in an emergency, the three of them should meet here so they could lead the girls to safety. Then they showed them to a bedroom down the hall.

It was large, even by Persephone’s admittedly high standards, with pastel pink plaster walls, a canopied bed with fluffy white bedding, a sitting area for perhaps four people arranged before a fireplace, and its own bathroom and walk-in dressing room. Persephone suspected Summer’s entire flat could fit in this space.

There was also a black camera fixed to the wall above the door, pointing towards the bed and windows. Persephone looked at it distrustfully.

“There are cameras in all the rooms,” Trev said, “but the bedroom cameras are usually left off. If they’re turned on—“ they tapped a few controls on their phone, and Persephone heard a short electronic chirp from a hidden speaker, “—you’ll hear a tone and see a red light on the camera.” Sure enough, a red LED was glowing below the lens.

“Okay,” Persephone said.

Trev pressed another button and the camera light winked out. “In any case,” they said, “this will be your room, Miss Chase.” They walked to one of the walls and opened a discreet door built in to the wall. “There’s a connecting door here to Miss Nesbitt’s room, so you don’t need to use the hallway to visit.”

“Wait, we’re not—” Summer gave her a knowing smirk; Persephone blushed. “Um…very well.”

Of course they weren’t sharing. The house must have forty bedrooms; there was no need.

It was almost too bad, though—she could get used to sleeping in Summer’s arms.