Cameron To Candy

It was a fantastic Tattoosday morning. The air was crisp, the sun shone just behind a bank of clouds, and a flock of wild bellwings flew by, chirping in a harmony usually only heard in grand orchestral theaters. And Candy was in no mood for any of it.

She’d had headache since two days before. At first, it had just been a dull pressure behind her right eye, the sort of thing she could usually force into submission with tea, stubbornness, and not thinking too hard about it. By midday, it had sharpened into something meaner. She had taken a pinch of herbs with water before leaving the house, and they had helped some, but not enough. The ache still sat in her skull like a nail that had not quite been hammered in all the way.

Still, she had made plans with Beatrix who was coming into town from Bailiwick, and the women’s bathhouse in Paddlewick Prime had become one of the only places in her life that felt remotely survivable, so she went. The public bathhouse stood in one of the cleaner, quieter stretches of the capital, all pale stone, frosted glass, and brass trim polished to a bureaucratic shine. A pair of matrons sat near the entrance desk with their ledgers open, one taking names, the other pretending not to eavesdrop on everything.

Candy stepped inside, lifted two fingers, raised her hand, and said, “Accounted for.”

The matron at the desk gave a satisfied nod and marked her down. The bathhouse was a public work. Public works had rules. In Paddlewick, public works had more rules than half the religions in the Cone. Candy had often skipped that part out of protest… ok she’d literally skipped it every single time. The darn ritual made her feel more like property than she'd care to even voice out loud, but she didn't feel well enough to deal with the potential scolding, so for once she just went with it. She lowered her hand and muttered under her breath, “Stupid woman tracking shyte.”

Warm air wrapped around her as she moved deeper inside. Steam softened the lamps and blurred the corners of the room. Voices drifted through the space in low, relaxed clusters. Water lapped gently against stone. Somewhere farther in, a woman laughed too loudly and was shushed by three friends at once.

Candy made her way to the private changing rooms. They were usually used by new mothers, older women who wanted extra privacy, or wives who needed space for one practical matter or another. Candy used them because she had no choice. She already worried about someone clocking her lower parts, there was no way she'd be able to hide them in the public changing areas.

Inside, she closed the door, stripped, and changed into the bathing suit she had learned to favor here. It was modest by Paddlewick standards, which was saying something, and it had a thicker skirted bottom that concealed what needed concealing. It was not elegant or particularly flattering, but it did the job.

She tied the sash at the hip, checked herself once in the mirror, and pressed her fingers to her temple. The pain was still there.

“Great,” she muttered.

When she stepped out into the main bath area, the heat hit her harder than before, damp and close around her face. The central pool was busy but not crowded, with women lounging along the edges or drifting in small groups near the shallower shelves. A smaller heated pool off to the side held two old ladies who looked like they had been born there and intended to die there. Candy scanned the room until she spotted a familiar face.

Vivian Corkhollow was lounging in the main pool near the steps, shoulders above water, one arm draped along the edge in a way that looked casual and somehow faintly theatrical at the same time. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, and that same amused little smile she always wore when the world gave her fresh material to work with. Candy slid into the water beside her with a quiet sigh.

Vivian turned. “Well, look at that. An off-day bathhouse sighting.”

Candy settled in up to her shoulders. “Don’t sound so honored.”

“Oh, I’m very honored,” Vivian said. “I was about to tell strangers secrets that weren’t mine just to entertain myself.”

“That still sounds like something you might do.”

Vivian smiled and shrugged. “Eh. Only if they seem boring.”

Candy let the warmth soak into her muscles. For a second, it actually helped. The water was the equivalent of a host standing when they were ready for a guest to leave. Sadly, the headache did not leave, but it stepped towards the analogy door.

“I thought I might catch you here. You mentioned something about coming the other day when your cousin was here.”

“I’m meeting someone.”

Vivian’s brows rose. “Oh?”

“My friend Beatrix.”

“I don’t think I know a Beatrix,” Vivian said reflexively, hand on her chin as she contemplated the name.

“You probably haven’t met her. You’d remember. She uh, makes an impression.” Candy glanced toward the far entrance. “She’s coming in from Bailiwick.”

Vivian gave a small hum of recognition. “Ah. From over noble-adjacent way.”

“Very adjacent,” Candy said. “Her father’s a general.”

“Ah, well then I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Candy let out a short laugh. “So, basically no change then?”

“Ha, you know it babe,” Vivian smirked. "Oh hey, check out that tall glass of water over there. What do you think she is? Five-ten?" Candy turned. A towering woman had just come through the archway from the changing corridor, around five-nine, maybe five-ten, broad-shouldered in the attractive sense, with the bright, open face of someone who met the world expecting to like it.

"Oh, speak of the demon. That's her!" Candy waved and called out to her. Beatrix saw Candy at once and lit up.

“Candy!” she called, waving. Then she caught her foot on absolutely nothing and pitched forward. Vivian made a noise in the back of her throat.

Beatrix windmilled in a way only she could, recovered for half a second, then lost balance anyway and came down hard on one knee with a splash at the pool’s shallow edge. A couple of nearby women looked over out of shock and concern, though one of them sighed like this was exactly why she preferred reading.

Beatrix popped back up at once, cheeks pink but smiling. “I’m all right!”

Candy was already laughing. “You made it.”

Beatrix came hobbling the rest of the way over with all the dignity of a carriage crash. “Sorry it took me a minute. I got the bathing suit stuck on my head and it was a whole thing.”

“Of course it was.”

“It really was,” Beatrix said earnestly.

Candy held out a hand. “Come on.”

Beatrix took it, stepped down into the water, missed the next step entirely, and went face-first into the pool. Vivian had been staring in wide-eyed shock since the first fall. A heartbeat later, Beatrix came back up, sputtering, hair half over her face.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Still fine!”

Candy was laughing hard enough now that her temple throbbed in protest. “Beatrix, this is Vivian.”

Beatrix pushed wet hair back and gave a cheerful wave from the water, still not properly situated. “Hi!”

Vivian, to her credit, only smiled politely and lifted her hand in a gentle return wave. “Uh, hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Beatrix said, then nearly slipped again trying to find footing.

Candy caught her by the elbow.

Vivian looked at Candy. “You weren’t exaggerating.”

“I never exaggerate.”

Vivian gave her a look. She returned it with an expression that said I dare you to contradict me.

Once Beatrix had been coaxed onto a stable submerged ledge, Candy glanced around the bathhouse again. “Are you here by yourself? Usually, Alyssa’s attached to your side.”

Vivian snorted. “No, Alyssa’s over in Beltforge doing some family thing.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Marilyn’s in Plumaloom again for one of those parties where everyone pretends they’re not gossiping while actively gossiping.”

“That narrows it down to every party in the Cone.”

“Fair.” Vivian stretched one arm along the edge behind her. “And Mona, if you can believe it, is off in Stiltmere on a family vacation.”

Candy turned to stare at her. “Stiltmere?”

“I know.”

“I mean, I guess if you’re really into fishing.”

Vivian laughed. “Apparently her father is teaching her daughter. A grandpa-granddaughter weekend.”

“Huh.” Candy shook her head. “That’s a bit progressive of him.”

Vivian smiled. “I thought you’d approve.”

“I do!”

Beatrix, who had been wringing water out of her hair with determined concentration, looked up. “My Papa tried to teach me how to fish once.”

Vivian turned toward her at once. “How did that go?”

Beatrix thought about it. “I got one lure stuck in my back and two in his.” There was a beat of silence. Then both women laughed.

“Well,” Candy snorted, “that tracks.”

“I said I was sorry,” Beatrix added. “More than once.”

“I’m sure that helped him tremendously,” Vivian said.

Beatrix grinned. “He said it did not.”

The three of them drifted a little closer together in the water. Around them, the bathhouse carried on in its usual lazy rhythm. Someone farther off was arguing about whether one of the Gilded Gaggle hosts had actually meant what she said in the latest broadcast or if it had just been a joke that got away from her. Two women near the far wall were passing around candied peels in blatant violation of the no-snacks-near-the-main-pool custom. Nobody seemed eager to stop them.

Vivian glanced at Beatrix. “So tell me about yourself. Other than the obvious falling.”

Beatrix accepted that with admirable grace. “Well, not a lot to tell, really. We moved around a bit growing up because my Papa’s military, so I’ve lived in a few different places. My mother died a couple years ago.”

Vivian’s expression softened at once. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Beatrix gave a small nod. “Thank you. She was wonderful.” For a moment the brightness in her face gentled, but it did not disappear. “And since then,” she went on, “my Papa’s really been trying to get me married off.”

Vivian laughed under her breath. “So’s mine. I’m just avoiding it.”

“That’s funny,” Beatrix said. “I can’t get a man to bite.”

“I’ll send you one of my extras,” Vivian joked. Beatrix laughed. Candy did too. “You laugh,” Vivian continued, “but I’m practically building a waiting list at this point.”

“That’s because you flirt with them and then act shocked when they think it means something,” Candy said.

Vivian put a hand to her chest. “I don’t act shocked. I act disappointed.”

“There’s a difference?”

“A profound one.”

Beatrix looked between them, smiling. “I like her.”

“You say that now,” Candy said.

“Oh oh! I brought snacks!” Beatrix exclaimed, pulling out a jar of pickles from the side of the pool.

Candy’s brow scrunched. “Where the hells were you hiding those?”

“Do you want one?” Beatrix asked, seemingly missing the question.

“Oh, sorry legs,” Vivian cut in. “But this is the women’s only side of the bathhouse.”

“Uh, okay… Sorry, I’m not sure I get the deal with you Capital girls and needing men to watch you eat pickles. Oh! Is it a sexy thing?”

Candy laughed and shook her head. Vivian laughed too, but in a different way.

“No, hun, it’s just that-“ POP. The sound of Beatrix opening the lid cut Vivian off. Vivian’s eyes widened for just a second. “Huh… never mind.” Candy just grinned and reached for a pickle.

They talked the way women talked in places where the air was warm, and no men were present and nobody had to perform obedience every second of the day.

They talked about the latest Gilded Gaggle episode and whether Penny had actually gotten bolder lately or if the rest of the hosts were simply teasing her less often. They talked about a new young woman on one of the scry programs who’d built a following by demonstrating elaborate “traditional wife excellence” with the solemn intensity of a military officer polishing silverware. Vivian did a dead-on imitation of her breathy voice saying, “A properly folded napkin is a love language,” and nearly got a mouthful of bathwater for her trouble.

They talked about who the most eligible bachelors were this season. Vivian had opinions, naturally. Not because she wanted to settle down, but because she refused to be uninformed.

“That new magistrate in the west quarter is getting attention,” she said. “Tall, dark hair, apparently very good with numbers.”

Beatrix brightened. “Good shoulders?”

“Excellent shoulders,” Vivian said.

Candy rolled her eyes. “You two are ranking men like horse breeds.”

“As we should,” Vivian said.

“I’m just saying,” Beatrix added, “if I’m going to terrify one by accident, I’d like him to be pleasant first.”

That got another round of laughter. Candy was halfway through some sarcastic remark about good shoulders not preventing a weak mind when she lost the thread of her own sentence. The light above the pool had gone strange. Not actually strange. It only felt that way. A white spot had drifted across her vision, then another. She lifted a hand to her temple and rubbed hard.

Vivian noticed first. “You all right hun?”

Candy exhaled through her nose. “Yeah. I think. Just this damn headache.”

“You still have it?” Vivian asked.

“Had it all day.” Candy frowned. “The herbs helped a little.”

Beatrix looked concerned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Candy squinted toward the far wall, then looked away when the white spots swam again. “I’m seeing some spots now.”

Vivian’s teasing faded. “Candy, that sounds more like a migraine.”

“Wonderful.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Beatrix shifted closer. “Should you see a healer?”

Candy gave a small shrug. “If it’s still there tomorrow, maybe. I figured the heat might help.”

Vivian glanced around the steaming room. “Or make it worse.”

“That too,” Candy admitted.

For another minute or two she tried to push through it. She listened while Beatrix told a story about trying to help a tailor once and somehow stepping backward through an entire display rack. She even laughed in the right places. But her laughter felt farther away than it should have.

The warmth that had seemed pleasant earlier now pressed too close. Her skin felt too damp. The sounds in the room began to flatten together.

Vivian was in the middle of saying something about a captain with a square jaw and terrible poetry when Candy held up a hand.

“I think,” she said slowly, “the heat’s getting to me. I might just…”

She started to stand, then the world lurched. Not dramatically at first, just a quick sick tilt under her feet, like the floor of the pool had shifted half an inch to the left. Candy sucked in a breath and tried to steady herself, but her limbs suddenly felt wrong, light and distant and unreliable.

The voices around her muffled. She took one step and felt nothing where the pool floor should have been. The white spots exploded across her vision. The room smeared into steam and brightness and wet stone. Her stomach dropped. Heat and water wrapped around her all at once. Somewhere nearby, someone shouted. Candy had a confused, flashing sense of warm wetness and slipping weight, of her body no longer answering in the proper order, of darkness rushing in from the edges. Then everything went black.

The last thing she heard was her name being yelled, muffled, laced with fear and getting further away.

“Caaannndyyyyy!”