Still, there are bonds upon her. Strictures. This castle belongs to a man. He is eager enough to bow to her, but not to relinquish his command. These people are his, before they are hers. She is tangled in his ownership, red threads cutting tight to bleed her. She must alter the balance, earn his loyalty and obeisance and that of all the rest. She starts small but heavy, plying him with food, playing to his belief in his worthiness to be saved. He is used to fine things, and so he does not question them when they come from her hands. He also has that honey on his tongue, and that is as persuasive as a kiss.

The castle shivers. Begins to rearrange itself. By the time its inhabitants come to her table, they are bleary-eyed and hungry, and they eat all that she can give them. With each swallow of their throat, they become hers. The red threads are rearranged. Ownership passes to her.

Ownership lets her slake her own thirst at last, sip by sip. It strengthens her limbs, light as air, with the force of a gale. And as she grows in strength, she can feel the press of other bodies at the walls. Little things with sharp teeth and empty bellies, whispering, Let us in, feed us, let us serve you.

So many empty bellies. The whole world is starving. But she has enough to share, doesn’t she? And then, like a dispersing dream, Phosyne is no longer the sweetness, is no longer the Lady. And she is sinking.

Laughter. She hears laughter and feels hands seize her shoulders and haul her from the stone that seeks to envelop her. Phosyne’s eyes flutter open and she is held in the embrace of the Lady and Her saints, these buzzing creatures, honey-sweet and just as sticky. Phosyne cries out.

“You’ve gone a little too deep, sweetling,” the Absolving Saint murmurs. “Come back to us. Open your eyes. That’s it, that’s it.”

“What a strange creature you are,” the Lady says. “I have never seen your like. What does it feel like, to walk in my skin for an evening?”

“Too much,” Phosyne gasps. “It’s too much.”

It’s not enough. She’d like to vibrate apart again, slide once more out of this castle. But the hunger. The hunger. It’s too much to bear, and she can’t let herself feel that again. Groaning, she throws herself forward.

The Absolving Saint lets her go, and she hits the floor. It is solid.