November 1793

“Stop! Please! Let go of her!” Reńee shrieked as armed men pinned Diane to the ground. 

No. No. No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. They shouldn’t have been so careless. They should have known that there were eyes everywhere, watching their every move. Reńee kicked as hard as she could, violently thrashing around to free herself from the firm grip on her shoulders. Reńee knew they wouldn’t listen, but she still screamed and shouted with all her might anyway. They started to lead both of them in different directions, pulling Diane so roughly from the ground that she cried aloud. Reńee threw her head over her shoulders and found that Diane, whose face had paled into a sickening shade of white, was mouthing at her the same words, over and over, and over again. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

*** 

One month ago

As Reńee stepped out of her house and onto the filthy, narrow streets of Paris, she was immediately hit with the heavy stench of thickening blood in the air that could be smelt for miles. Dark, crimson blood slithered through the small cracks in the cobblestones like a network of rivers. The cold autumn breeze seeped through her thin layer of clothing and bit at her exposed skin, sending goosebumps up her arm. She glanced into the distance where piles and piles of guillotined bodies mottled with red and bluish blemishes were stacked atop each other in wagons near the convent, waiting to be thrown into graves. Crows surrounded them, occasionally gnawing away at their rotting flesh. This city was still in deep slumber that morning, lacking its usual cacophony: the incessant shouts of fishmongers, the low hum of flies circling the poultry market, and the sound of blood squirting as the guillotine removed heads. A loud caw suddenly tore through the deafening silence, jolting Reńee out of her stillness. She looked down at her watch and swore under her breath. Hooded, she silently bounded towards Diane’s home. Reńee was used to the monstrous state of this god-forsaken city, but right now, she could only muster a sigh in lament. 

***

“Come on in,” Diane said, her voice muffled. 

Before Reńee could fully close the door, Diane had already reached her, wrapping Reńee in a tight embrace and kissing her hard on the mouth. The moment their lips met, every sane thought evaporated from Reńee’s mind. She could only register the intoxicating taste of Diane’s tongue and the touch of Diane’s hands grazing over her waist. Her kiss was as it always was, wholly sweet and full of innocence, not naivete, but purity of soul. Desire coursed through her skin, her veins, her blood. 

Diane gently pulled back a little, resting her forehead against Reńee’s, and whispered with a hint of pain, “I’ve missed you. ” 

This was the first time they had met in more than two weeks, and it felt like hell having to be separated for that long without knowing whether the other was safe. 

Reńee placed her hands along Diane’s neck and replied, “As have I, mon chérie, more than you can imagine. ” 

Diane leaned in once again and even though she wanted nothing more than to get lost in the sensation of Diane’s lips, they had work to do. 

“We’re here to talk business, yes? And the others are coming soon,” Reńee reminded her. 

Diane’s smile, the one she loved so dearly, faltered, like a flower drooping. She heaved a sigh and turned around reluctantly, disappointment and sadness etched clearly on her face. It pained Reńee to see her like that so she grabbed Diane’s wrist, playfully, “But I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.” 

A grin slipped out, but before Diane could say anything, she was interrupted by the sound of rapping on the door, signaling the arrival of the other members. Diane gave her a sidelong look that said I love you. 

They had first met at Diane’s salon, which she personally invited Reńee to, two years ago despite the fact that Reńee was notorious for her political writings advocating for the rights of women. Reńee was inexplicably and irrevocably drawn to her the moment she set eyes on Diane. She was like ivy vines, taking root in Reńee’s heart and growing and growing until every little piece of it was covered in her ivy and she could love none other. 

When the Terror took Reńee’s family away from her, she had wanted to run and hide in cowardice, to crumble into pieces. The images of their severed heads with hollow, dead eyes rolling down the execution stage flashed in her mind every time she closed her eyes. But she had to fight, for this cursed city, for the lives of thousands of innocent people. 

For Diane. 

No matter how thoroughly terrified and heartbroken Reńee was, she would not sit idly and allow this revolution to take more from her. And if this city hunts her down for it, then so be it. 

While the others settled down in their usual seats, Reńee stood behind the chair at the end of the table. For months now, they’d been secretly meeting at Diane’s house as regularly as possible, working together to write a book condemning the Terror. Soon, it was all going to come to fruition. She looked at the women around the room, meeting their determined gazes, and was suddenly overwhelmed by a surge of emotions. Her heart breaks for the sorrows and pain they carry within them but also swells and rushes with joy at the future they will build together, one where their lives will not be defined by fear and violence. 

They will prevail, no matter the costs. 

“All right ladies,” Reńee said, “let’s get to work.”

*** 

Later that evening, cloaked in the hazy darkness with only an incandescent candle illuminating the room, they clung to each other in Diane’s bed, forehead against forehead, hand in hand. Outside, the city was raging on, plunged in utter chaos. In their little pocket in time, Reńee could almost fool herself into thinking that everything would be all right, that fate was somehow going to work in their favor. 

Almost.