“I! You! Shut up!” Redana Claudius is not particularly eloquent at this moment; her cheeks are flushed. She is tap-dancing on dangerous mental ground, the shifting mirrors of Bella all around: maid, friend, longed-for, hurt, unattainable and slipping through her fingers like a phantom. She heaves the lid of the tomb up, the heavy stone, and flings it at Beautiful. Of course it won’t connect; both of them know it won’t. But whether Beautiful ducks beneath it or jumps atop it and runs across its face as it flies, pushes off into a jump, she’s still being pushed into a space where she’s reactive, and that gives Redana, her head throbbing, her heart open, room to breathe and room to seethe.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! You don’t know anything!” She lashes out with one fist, and Beautiful slams her elbow joint so hard it nearly locks up. “[i]Fuck[/i] you! How come—“

Beautiful clocks her in the same point again, and Redana staggers back, choking on the wires. How come she gets to be beautiful, a vision of loveliness, but so cruel? How come she gets to be so smart that she can impress Bella, how come [i]she[/i] has room for all those encyclopedias in her head? How come she has the chance for a fresh slate with Bella, when Redana’s already spent a lifetime wasting her chances?

How come Beautiful gets to be perfect, and Redana has to be Redana?

“You’re a loose gear with serrated edges,” Dany hisses, fists up, footwork evasive, memories of Olympic boxing baked into her muscles. “And no one is going to lose a finger. Not on my ship.”[1][2]

[hr]

[1]: “You worked hard to earn your very own fingers. Don’t lose them!”
- Coherent wisdom as regards workplace safety.

[2]: Perhaps Redana can be forgiven for forgetting that Dolce is in charge of the ship now. Most everything in her life has been hers, and also, she’s facing down New And Improved Redana Plus, which would make anyone somewhat possessive.