As the villagers of Veld prepared for a celebration, Steve used the phone in the village’s one and only inn to report in to Etta Candy.
“Veld,” he said, reporting their position. “Tiny village. It’s probably not even on the…”
Steve looked up and Diana in the entryway and held out the handset so that she could hear too, giving her a quick tutorial by gesturing to his ear. Diana’s grin was quick and sharp. No phones, of course, on Themyscira.
“Found it,” Etta announced the other end.
“Have you found Ludendorff’s operation?” Steve asked her.
“Not yet,” Etta told them, “but we’ve located him. And lucky you, he’s only a few miles away—at German High Command.”
“German High Command?” he repeated.
“Intel reports Ludendorff is hosting a gala—a last hurrah before the Germans sign the Armistice. The Kaiser himself will be there. As will Dr. Maru.”
Steve began mentally sketching out a scenario. “Actually, that gala’s perfect cover…”
Sir Patrick’s voice came over the line. “Captain Trevor, you are not, under any circumstances, to attend that gala tomorrow night. We cannot risk jeopardizing the Armistice.”
Diana lowered the handset and told Steve in an undervoice, “You shouldn’t be worried about upsetting the peace accord. Ares would never let that happen.”
Steve motioned to her to please stop talking about Ares.
Then Diana flinched, struck by a realization. Why hadn’t it dawned on her before? Her Amazon blood blazed super-hot as the thrill of the hunt coursed through her. Her heart thundered and her body demanded battle. Her quarry lay within her reach. In her mind, she saw their story unfolding in her mother’s beautiful paneled book. The final chase, the victory. Diana with her sword, her defeated quarry at her feet.
She wished with all her heart that her mother could be with her to witness her triumph. That Diana could prove to her that she had made the right choice—that both of them had. Diana for leaving, and Hippolyta for giving Diana her blessing.
Her emotion must have shown on her face because Steve asked, “What is it?”
“Of course,” Diana said, “it makes complete sense. Ares developed a weapon, the worst ever devised.”
“Ares? You mean Ludendorff.”
She looked Steve in the eye. “No. I mean Ares. Ludendorff is Ares.”
It was difficult to decipher the expression on Steve’s face, but to her it translated as the same thunderstruck revelation.
Steve returned his attention to the conversation on the phone. “Sir, this is our chance to find the gas and learn how Ludendorff plans on delivering it. Maybe our only chance. Our last chance.”
“I forbid it. Do you hear me?”
Diana watched Steve closely, but this time she was confident that he would do the right thing. He had pretended once before to do as Sir Patrick had wished, and he was pretending now.
Sure enough, Steve paused as if weighing a decision. Then he said, “I’m sorry, sir, you’re breaking up.”
“Steve? Are you there?” the man protested.
Steve quietly hung up the phone. Diana wanted to embrace him. Instead she forced herself to breathe deeply. She had a battle to prepare for.
A peace to make.
* * *
Back in London, Etta disconnected the call as Sir Patrick looked on.
“How likely is he to respect my wishes?” he asked her.
Etta shrugged. “Not very likely, to be honest,” she replied.
* * *
That night, villagers sat at tables in the town square of Veld, which were scattered with platters of sausages, cheese, and bread—the hoarded food of the Germans plus their own meager stores brought out for the celebration. Though scarce by Themysciran standards, it was clearly a banquet to the starved villagers, freely shared. Their gaunt but relieved faces were illuminated by tea lights, and despite their exhaustion, they wore smiles and tapped their toes to the music. Joy at their deliverance glowed in their tired eyes.
Inside the building marked “Café Bar Buvette” with its cheery striped awnings, a man sat at a large instrument made of wood. It took Diana only a second to realize with delight that this was a piano. He pushed his fingers downward and music flowed. He was tickling the ivories. She smiled as she made the connection. How strange it was, to possess vast vocabularies in languages she had never heard spoken by anyone but her own people, and now to encounter them where they were used. There were so many unexpected details and nuances. Everything was so different from home—harsher, darker, crueler— but alleviated with kindness and warmth, even in the midst of a catastrophic war.
A deep pang caught her as her mother’s face rose in her mind. You are my greatest love, she had told Diana. And my greatest sorrow.
If you could have seen me today, I would have been your greatest pride, Diana thought, as voices in the café lifted in song. What we did today was possible because of you. And Antiope, who made me the fighter I am. Humanity could use the help of all the Amazons. This world is aching. This world is in such danger. Danger, and terror; and yet, here, tonight, men and women smiled and danced. They shrugged away the perils and lived.
As she scanned the clusters of people at the tables, a pair of children chased each other, squealing with delight. As with the baby in London, she was mesmerized. She had never played with another child. “You know nothing about the world,” Hippolyta had told her, and that had been true. And yet, the Queen of the Amazons had allowed her to leave everything she had known behind. Perhaps like Diana, she had heard the wind and the waves whispering into Diana’s ear: This is your destiny. Your quest. You must do this.
Steve joined her at the edge of the crowd. There were greater victories to be won, at higher prices. This war, this endless war—she could chip at the edges of it, save those she could, but until she brought down Ares, pain and suffering would wash over humanity like the dark, dirty water of the London seaway, receding only briefly to leave treasures on the beach. Tonight was one such treasure.
Sammy approached with two large glass steins of a beverage whose scent was like the yellowing hillsides of Themyscira in summer.
At home the Amazons had spent centuries perfecting their painting skills, creating pottery that was as finely wrought as their armor, swords, and shields. In London, there had been such a disparity in the quality of all objects, from clothing to tankards to dwellings. Some people staggered down the dirty London streets in rags. Others strutted proudly in the choking finery Diana had tried on for Etta. On Themyscira, some Amazons were higher-ranking than others, but a sister would never allow another sister to go without.
With a jovial smile and his maroon fez cocked at a jaunty angle, the dark-skinned man held out the tankards.
“Drinks later, Sammy,” Steve said. “I need you to rustle me up a German uniform.”
“Already done,” Sammy proclaimed.
Diana wondered how he had accomplished that, but Steve was obviously relieved.
“There’s nothing we can do until tomorrow,” Sammy went on. “You said it yourself, Steve.” Giving him a pointed look, Sammy strolled off.
Steve raised the tankard to his lips and sipped. Diana did too, but was caught off guard by the burst of flavor on her tongue. There was no honey in this mead. She had been surrounded by this drink at the pub back in London, but this was her first actual taste.
“It has hints of different flavors, if you look for them,” he said.
Indeed, she thought, and mentally replayed the day. Hopelessness, death, and destruction, and then battle, and life, and hope. The mandate of the Amazons on its way to fulfillment.
I will free this world, she thought.
“You did this,” Steve murmured, indicating the celebration, the smiles, the freedom.
Diana corrected him. “We did.” The piano song lilted softly in her ear.
“You have dancing on ‘Paradise Island?’” he asked her.
She reflected a moment, then said, “There is. These people are just… swaying.”
Steve said, “Okay, if you’re going to be fighting the God of War, I may as well teach you how to dance.” A beat, and then he added, “Probably without the gun.”
He removed his holster and gun and set them down and said, “Madame, if you would?” He extended his hand and she took it.
She said, “Well, if I’m going to a gala, I’ll need to know how to—”
“You’re not going to the gala,” he cut in.
She cocked her head. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you don’t know how to dance, for one thing,” he said.
She indicated the other dancers. “I would argue that they don’t know how to dance,” she countered.
“All right. Give me your hand like so and I’m going to put my arm around you like so and we just, what did you call it? Sway.”
Skin on skin, warm. He put his arm around her waist and tingles played in the small of her back. When she had bent over him the day that she had saved his life—and he, hers—she had been intrigued by him, yet unafraid. She was still unafraid, but subtle emotions entwined with untried sensations. The palette of life at home had not contained such light as that which danced in his eyes.
Things have shifted between us, she realized. There’s been a change, somehow.
Around her, lights and joy sparkled, the heady nimbus that came with victory. Fighting side-by-side had been a different sort of dance.
“You’re awfully close.”
“That’s what it’s all about,” he drawled.
“I see.”
Then the music changed. A male voice rose sweetly over the melody, soaring with emotion. It was lyrical, transporting, and it was Charlie, the troubled assassin of men. He had taken over the piano, and it was he who was singing. These men, with their strains and threads of goodness. Ares did not command them fully; some, she supposed, had escaped his influence entirely. Was the man who faced her, who held her, one of them?
Sammy and Chief joined the people crowding around Charlie, smiling, laughing, grateful for life and good company, for a moment of pure pleasure. The song rose in pitch, plucking at her heartstrings. Steve’s hand at her back grazed her like a brazier. They swayed, embracing each other.
Charlie sang:
“I’ll walk beside you through the world today
While dreams and songs and flowers bless your way.
I’ll look into your eyes and hold you hand
I’ll walk beside you through the golden land.”
“I haven’t heard him sing in years,” Steve said.
What appeared to be a white flower petal fluttered down from the dark sky. Another, and another; they sprinkled Steve’s hair. She held out her palm, catching a few, and sniffed. Not flower petals at all. They transformed into water drops in her hand.
“It’s a snowfall,” Steve explained. “Touch it.”
She knew the word. But to experience snow? She laughed. “It’s magical.”
He blinked, then looked up, and nodded. “It is, isn’t it.”
They danced. The snow drifted down. Children, songs, hope.
“Is this what people do when there are no wars to fight?” she murmured.
He spoke against her ear. “This and other things.”
“What things?” she urged.
He paused. “I don’t know. They… make breakfast.”
They make their morning meal, she translated. “What else?” she asked.
“Read the newspaper. Go to work.” He paused again. “They… get married. Maybe have babies, grow old together. I guess.” He sounded wistful, a bit out of his depth.
“What is it like?” She watched the falling snow as it melted on the shoulder of his coat. The warmth of him surrounded her.
“No idea,” he confessed.
He pulled her in closer. She looked deep into his eyes and her chest hitched. They were dancing in more than one way, that much was clear.
Glistening snow swirled down.
* * *
Beneath the gentle snowfall they walked back to the inn. Then up the well-worn stairs, which creaked like the wood of a ship. Almost floating, Steve opened the door and Diana walked into the room. A fire flickered in the grate. He followed in, then reached for the doorknob to leave. Paused.
She was looking at him intently. Expectantly. She was inviting him.
He shut the door behind himself and faced her. The firelight played over the hollows of her face, her hair, her eyes. So beautiful.
She reached up with both hands to run her fingers through his damp hair. She pulled him to her, mouth to mouth, in the most perfect, gentle kiss. Amazon princess, soldier. Champions. This was not about that. This was about love, and goodness. They would not wait for this evil war to be over. This was their time.