《Princess Dragonslayer》


 Chapter 1

    Arriane


    Princess Dragonslayer slayed the dragon


    with swings of her mighty sword,


    then she rode off in a wagon


    because she was incredibly bored


    I winced and took another drink of what this tavern pretended was wine. The music itself wasn¡¯t bad, but by all the gods, the lyrics¡­ ¡°Sal.¡± I interrupted. She stopped playing and looked at me inquisitively. I considered my words carefully. ¡°When I suggested you pretend to be a minstrel¡­ I meant, well, that you could pretend. As in, not actually do minstrelsy things.¡±


    She looked thoughtful and started strumming her lute again. ¡°Is that truely a word? Minstrelsy? It sounds imaginary.¡± She cleared her throat. ¡°Anyway, here is the next verse:¡±


    She stood as tall and strong as an oak


    with a sword as sharp as her wits,


    and piercing brown eyes like mud underwater,


    and a set of really marvelous-


    ¡°Sal!¡± I was not interested in her finishing that line. ¡°Do not sing about my- look. First, aren¡¯t you supposed to be¡­ you know, at least a little accurate? I didn¡¯t actually slay a dragon. I¡¯m not as tall as an oak. And how can mud be peircing?¡± I took another drink to collect my thoughts. I was getting off track. ¡°Anyway. I¡¯m just saying that you have other talents. You don¡¯t actually need to make up songs. Please.¡±


    She peered at me. Her eyes - which I would have killed to have - were, in fact, piercing. They were a tawny yellow with a hint of molten gold if they caught the light just right. ¡°Are you suggesting, Arriane, that I am not very good at composing?¡±


    I considered. Sometimes blunt was the way to go. I shrugged. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Her eyes flared, and for a second I tensed. Then they died off and she sat back with a sigh. ¡°Arriane, I need to do something. I might as well do¡­ this. And how will I improve if I never practice?¡±


    She waved a hand. ¡°As to the rest of your list - ballads are not about truth, my dear. They are about the story. You did, in fact, defeat a dragon. There is no need to muddy the song with pesky details of reality. You are rather unforgivably tall for a princess. And you have quite the gaze when you get wrathful.¡± Her eyes focused lower. ¡°And I do not understand why you are uncomfortable with me singing about your chest. It seems to attract quite a lot of attention, so surely it should be mentioned?¡±


    I flushed. ¡°That¡¯s not the point. I just feel like a fraud. Even more so, you know?¡± I waved my hand around, indicating the bar. ¡°My story¡¯s over, right? I rescued myself. Once I get home my father will marry me off, assuming he can find someone who will take me, and then I get to learn how to knit or sew or something and pop out babies the rest of my life.¡± I slammed down the rest of the wine, then signaled the barmaid. I stared morosely at my empty cup. ¡°There¡¯s nothing heroic left, Sal. So you don¡¯t need to learn how to sing on my account.¡±


    I sighed, then looked over at her. And winced - her face was like stone. ¡°Look - I know it¡¯s my fault that you need something new to do, instead of doing-¡±


    ¡°Sal-type things?¡± Her voice was ironic, and I grinned at the memory of what I¡¯d called her other activities when I was young. Since I had no idea what she did when she disappeared, I¡¯d been understandably vague. Her voice was gentle. ¡°Arriane, you did what you had to do. I would not have you still locked in that tower. If this is the price paid for your freedom, then it is one I satisfied to pay.¡±


    Her next words were tinged with amusement. ¡°Besides, do you really think your story is over?¡±


    I frowned at her, then narrowed my eyes. ¡°Explain.¡±


    Her eyes glittered with flickering amusement. ¡°You are a literal fairy tale princess. Fairy tales have two things you need to worry about - momentum, and symmetry.¡± She cleared her throat and took a sip of her mead, taking on a familiar lecturing tone. ¡°Momentum is simple. Struggle as you may, the tale wants to be told a certain way. You can fight against the currents,¡± with a demonstrative wiggle of her hand, ¡°but the overall direction is beyond your control.¡±


    I took my new glass of wine and absently paid the bargirl. I frowned at Sal. ¡°But I did change things. Almost entirely.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Precisely. Which brings us to the second part - symmetry. Hero and villain, witch and wizard, and¡­¡± she drew it out with a pregnant pause. Her smile was razor sharp. ¡°Prince and princess.¡±


    I stared at her. The wine was muddling my thoughts, and I wasn¡¯t in the mood for her usual type of lesson. I let my head thunk down on the table. ¡°Please, Sal. Not now. Just tell me.¡±


    She sighed. ¡°Really, I should make you figure this out yourself¡­ but oh, very well. You rescued yourself, yes. And you took on the attributes of the story¡¯s prince to do so. You are strong, tall, handsome, well spoken, good at heart, clever in battle and skilled with a sword.¡± She leaned back in her chair, regarding me steadily. ¡°In other words, of the two parties, you are now the rescuer.¡±


    I closed my eyes, horror dawning slowly. ¡°I need to rescue my prince.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    I glared at her. ¡°Seriously, Sal¡­¡± But from the set of her jaw, I knew she was going to be stubborn. I sat back and stared at the ceiling. Ok. So I had the prince powers, and stories are symmetrical. Which meant¡­ my jaw dropped, and I looked at her in shock. ¡°No.¡±


    Her smile, if anything, grew even sharper. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s quite lovely by now. Princesses always are.¡±


    I stared at her in silence for a few minutes, then signalled the barmaid again. I was going to need more to drink.


    * * *


    Her hair glistens like the blood of her foes


    she sings like the souls of the damned,


    when she was younger she had very pretty toes


    but now they¡¯re all-


    Sal cut off, frowned, and started muttering to herself about rhymes. I was halfway through the bottle I¡¯d acquired, and I couldn¡¯t hold back my groan. ¡°By all the gods, Sal. No more.¡±


    She gave a put upon sigh. ¡°You make a miserable drunk, Arriane. Go hit something. That always makes you feel better.¡±


    I whined. ¡°But I can¡¯t just go punch someone for no reason. That¡¯s not very princessish.¡± I tasted that last word, and decided it was appropriate even if I¡¯d made it up.


    She arched one perfect eyebrow at me and gave me a critical look. I froze and tried to look as un-drunk as possible. I must have passed inspection, because she pursed her lips, then sighed again. ¡°I¡¯m sure I will regret this, but those three over in the corner have been making increasingly rude comments about me since they sat down.¡± She indicated the corner behind me.


    My grin stretched my face. Perfect. I nodded to her. ¡°You¡¯re a treasure, Sal.¡± I got to my feet carefully.


    She gave a rare unladylike groan. ¡°I will definitely regret this.¡± She snagged my hand, and I looked back at her. ¡°No weapons, and try to keep them away from your face this time.¡±


    I gave her an exaggerated, wounded look. ¡°Me?¡±


    She covered her eyes with her other hand. ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t hurt anyone too badly. And since I¡¯m sure you¡¯re getting us kicked out, meet me by the stable when you¡¯re done. I¡¯ll go grab our things.¡± I handed her my sword, Binder, and she took it with only the faintest hesitation. Then she grabbed her lute, left a large tip on the table and threaded her way to the stairs. I put her out of my mind - anyone stupid enough to mess with Sal would be lucky to get away with all of their limbs.


    I made my way over to the corner, studying my targets as I tried to avoid tripping over chairs. Laborers of some kind - maybe mills or a smithy. Strong and dumb. Two of them were older and somewhat worn down, but I knew they¡¯d still hit like a mule. The third was something else again. Only a few years older than I, almost as tall but broader and more muscular. He¡¯d be fun, and I felt my smile widen.


    I stepped up behind them, and made a mental note to avoid breaking any limbs. I¡¯m not above putting someone out of work if they deserve it, but these guys were just convenient. The big guy tore his gaze away from where Sal had been bouncing up the stairs, and he frowned at me. The other two turned as well, and all three sets of eyes worked up my body. And then locked on my chest.


    To be fair¡­ it¡¯s the one part of me that¡¯s, well. Traditionally feminine. And they¡¯re not really that big, I¡¯m just a large woman. I stand six and a half feet - and due to Sal¡¯s tutelage, I¡¯m not a sloucher - and everything is to scale. I¡¯ve yet to meet a man who ignores them entirely, but this was a bit over the top.


    I smiled brightly. ¡°Hi guys!¡± I casually put a hand on each of the older guy¡¯s shoulders. And if I dug in a bit and they winced, maybe that would teach them not to stare, right? I leaned down and forced myself to a more serious tone of voice. ¡°You¡¯ve all been saying some pretty nasty things about my friend. I think you owe her an apology.¡±


    They stared, hypnotized, so I squeezed carefully. The one on the left winced. ¡°Ow! Hey!¡± I ignored him.


    The big guy grunted and met my eyes. ¡°She¡¯s not here anymore, is she? Guess we can¡¯t apologize. So fuck off.¡± He turned and spat on the floor.


    My voice was dry. ¡°Charming. But that¡¯s not good enough, gentleman. You can apologize to me. I¡¯ll tell her.¡± I lowered my voice. ¡°Or I can beat you all up for a while. That works too.¡±


    Big guy snorted. ¡°You¡¯re a girl. We don¡¯t hit girls. Even ones who think they¡¯re a man.¡± His smile made me feel dirty. ¡°We do other things to girls. Don¡¯t we?¡± They shared a man laugh - you know the one - that made my blood boil, and then older guy number one made his mistake.


    He grabbed my tit. Then looked at it, confused, because when you fight like I do you need some serious support and restraints. Apparently he wasn¡¯t expecting leather. My grin widened, and I looked down at him. ¡°Hey, thanks.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    He looked confused up until I took a grip on his head, stepped back, and slammed his head into his neighbor¡¯s. I measured the force carefully - no point in knocking them out this early - and they were swearing as they bounced apart. The big guy surged to his feet, but he still looked conflicted. So I braced and kicked the table into his gut. He went down hard and threw up his dinner and ale. My nose wrinkled. Still, it was my fault, so I guess it would be unfair to hold it against him.


    The three of them slowly got up and faced me. And from the sound behind me, the rest of the inn was following their lead. Big guy glowered at me, still holding his stomach, and growled out, ¡°Alright. If she wants it that bad, get the bitch.¡±


    Finally. I cracked my knuckles, and then they were coming at me and there was no more time for words, or thoughts about stories and curses and princes. Just clean, simple violence.


    * * *


    I sat back against the stable wall with a sigh. The innkeep wanted me gone, but wasn¡¯t stupid enough to come out and make a point of it when I was clearly already on my way. Besides, I had other things to worry about. I hissed as Sal doused my bleeding knuckles with wine, but I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to voice an actual complaint. Lots of not-stupid going around tonight.


    I watched her as she worked. In the late evening light her golden skin was washed out, no longer making her look like a southerner. Her slight frame and fine features just added to the ethereal image. But her hair, a short red flame that seemed to have an inner glow, still shone brightly as it bobbed with her movement.


    Sal¡¯s bandages were perfunctory. I¡¯ve always healed fast and rarely gotten sick¡­ I frowned. ¡°Sal? Hey, I- ow!¡± I tried to brush her away as she dabbed at the cut on my face, but she ducked my clumsy waving to continue her torturous ministrations. My memory was a bit hazy on the source of the cut, but I think it was from being enthusiastically introduced to a chair.


    I dragged my mind back on track as she finished up. ¡°Sal-¡±


    ¡°Shush. I am still angry with you.¡± I looked away, and she sighed. ¡°Arriane¡­ I know you are upset from earlier, and I gave you permission. But you cannot always hide from your problems with your fists. Doing so will not change reality.¡±


    I swallowed. ¡°I know. But- listen. You said earlier that I took on the- that I got all princy, right? From the story?¡± The look she gave me told me what she thought of my summary skills, so I rushed on. ¡°Does that mean that I¡¯m not¡­ me?¡± I ran one hand along my muscular forearm. ¡°That it¡¯s just the magic that makes me this way?¡±


    She sat in silence for a bit, and my heart sank. I told myself I was being silly - Sal always thinks before speaking, at least when it¡¯s serious and not a song about my supposed exploits - but it was a struggle. I had always been proud of myself. Even if I wasn¡¯t a proper princess, or even really a proper girl, at least what I did have I had earned. I had worked for my strength, for the ability to fight with fists and daggers and a sword. I¡¯d paid with years of blood and sweat, and the thought that it wasn¡¯t me, that I¡¯d gotten it from some¡­ story magic¡­ felt like a stab to the heart. I wondered how naive I had been to not think of this before.


    She cleared her throat. ¡°With the understanding that this is not-¡± she paused, then continued. ¡°That this is not my type of magic, full transformations are expensive. In terms of both magical ability and sacrifice. I doubt that your story has that kind of power.¡± She met my eyes. ¡°However, the magic would act as a¡­ guide, of sorts. It shapes and encourages, molding you to fit the role.¡±


    She leaned forward and placed one hand on my shoulder, her eyes serious. ¡°Would you be so terribly tall without the story? Quite so handsome and skilled?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Probably not. But remember that it is the role you chose. You decided to rescue yourself, not the magic. You put in the work. You trained with a- with me, willingly.¡± She smiled at me, warmly. ¡°And without all that, you would still be in your tower, waiting on your prince.¡±


    Then her smile turned into a frown. ¡°The magic did not put you outside of a third-rate inn, sitting here half-drunk and covered in blood and sweat. That, my dear, you did entirely on your own.¡±


    I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall. My smile felt fragile. ¡°Thanks.¡± Then I reached out and pulled her into a hug. She fought me half-heartedly but submitted with a grumble, and in turn I was careful not to push it. From my sister¡¯s descriptions Sal is somewhat like a cat when it comes to affection - it¡¯s on her terms, or you¡¯d better be prepared to get scratched.


    After releasing her she swiftly moved away, and I sighed and stared into the night sky. I knew I should get up and help Sal prepare by retrieving Churchmouse from the stable, but I couldn¡¯t make myself move quite yet. I also knew that I¡¯d be thinking more about stories and being strong. I hated the fact that I¡¯d always wonder now if it was me, or some silly fairy tale.


    But I thought of Sal¡¯s words and her hug, and I smiled, my heart feeling lighter. And I levered myself up to help her prepare our wagon.


    * * *


    I groaned as the sun stabbed into my skull. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was the wine or the blow to the head, but the light seemed to amplify the pounding headache that was still plaguing me, rapid healing or no. I took a quick swig from my waterskin. ¡°Sal?¡±


    ¡°Mmmhmm?¡±


    ¡°If I ever get drunk and decide to start a fight again, stop me?¡±


    She didn¡¯t dignify that with an answer. She was balanced precariously in the wagon, bent over her collection of parchment, and staring down with a disappointed look. I kept myself from frowning. I couldn¡¯t figure out why she was so insistent on creating music and singing, and she can be incredibly tight-lipped when she wants to be. But the fact was she could have done so much more, and this obviously wasn¡¯t her forte. So why was she banging her head against it?


    I gave a mental shrug, and filed it away as something to worry about later. And then I chastised myself and looked around carefully. This isn¡¯t exactly bandit country, but two travellers alone is asking for trouble. Better to be watchful and avoid it if possible. I scanned the sides of the road, reflexively picking out tracks and the small animal signs of the wilderness. Three deer had passed there earlier, two does and a buck, and there a hare had crossed ahead.


    I paused and knelt, staring at the cat print in the road, and it was like reading a book. Easier, even. A male lynx, old and canny, early this morning. Tracking the hares. I grimaced and stood, obliterating it with my boot, feeling the ashes of my pride like a sharp ache. Yet another skill I had picked up not because I was actually competent, but because the magic thought I should have it.


    I shook my head and went back to checking for trouble. I eyed Churchmouse carefully - the mule had a sixth sense for danger - but he was marching along without a care in the world, and I relaxed slightly and tried to force my mood away. I walked closer and knuckled his forehead, and he playfully tried to bite my hand off as I dodged away.


    The road to Bannerstown is cut through old growth forest, and the morning fog and sunlight gave it a primeval, old world look. I frowned. There was something small, subtly off about the scene, and I slowed as I tried to figure out what my instincts were yelling about. I reached up carefully and drew Binder, then winced again as the sun reflected off of him. I swore and lifted a hand to block it¡­ and then stared.


    At my hand blocking the morning sun. Coming in front of me. Meaning we were heading east.


    Bannerstown is to the south.


    I realized I¡¯d stopped, but Churchmouse and Sal were chugging along away from me, and I sheathed Binder and jogged to catch up. Sal favored me with an amused glance. ¡°Took you long enough.¡±


    I opened my mouth to ask why we were heading east, but a lifetime of lessons made me shut it and try thinking first. Sal can get exceptionally, drily sarcastic when you ask stupid questions. I rolled the problem around in my mind for a bit, added in our conversation from last night and felt things lock into place. ¡°You know where my prince is.¡±


    She looked at me neutrally. ¡°No.¡± Then smiled with a teacher¡¯s pride. ¡°But a good guess. And close.¡± We walked in silence for a few minutes, me thinking furiously, before she took pity on me. She sighed and put down her parchment. ¡°I don¡¯t know where he is. But I know where to find out.¡±


    I closed my eyes. I was not up to puzzles this morning, but the bad guys rarely wait for you to be fully prepared, so I forced myself to consider the problem. I also took the time to do another scan around us, and by the time I finished I thought I had the answer. But I took a page from Sal¡¯s book and made it a question. ¡°How are fairy tales created?¡±


    This time her approval was unfettered, her teeth flickering like firelight in the sun. ¡°Very good. It varies, of course. Fairies - not Fae -are the most common, followed by dragons and wizards. Your story, however, was created by a witch.¡± Her smile dimmed near the end, and I felt my own expression drop.


    Witches are kind of like nature. They¡¯re not exactly evil, but they¡¯re also not exactly good, and they¡¯ll rip out your liver and eat it if they¡¯re hungry. If we had to go talk to a witch, we¡¯d need to tread carefully. And from what I recalled, there would be a price, and not one we¡¯d be happy to pay.


    I forced my voice to stay casual. ¡°Does this witch have a name?¡±


    Sal¡¯s voice was the epitome of neutral and flat. ¡°She is known is the Shadow of Twilight¡¯s End.¡±


    I swallowed. Wonderful.


    * * *


    We walked throughout the morning, and I felt myself sinking further and further into dark thoughts. My mind felt trapped in a downward spiral. I needed to keep watch, but doing so reminded me of my woodcraft. Woodcraft led, inevitable, to my magic skills, and from there to the witch. I kept imagining confronting her, the one who had shaped my life, made me into the mockery of a prince that defined my existence. Then I would force myself to look around again, and the cycle would start all over again.


    I was in the middle of feeling sorry for myself when Sal interrupted. ¡°Arriane?¡±


    I dragged myself out of my current fantasy, which involved throttling a dark robed figure. ¡°Uh. Yes?¡± Her voice was tinged with a hint of amusement, and I narrowed my eyes at her.


    ¡°I was just wondering about your prince.¡±


    I caught the emphasis and remembered my earlier words. And flushed. ¡°He¡¯s not- I just mean that he¡¯s in the same story. Not that he¡¯s really mine. In any way.¡± I knew she was teasing me, but I couldn¡¯t help reacting. It didn¡¯t help that my experience with boys was limited to punching them for stress relief.


    ¡°That is not how it sounded.¡± She wasn¡¯t bothering to hide that she found it funny now.


    I scowled at her. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about him. And if he¡¯s anything like the princesses I¡¯ve met, I don¡¯t want to.¡± I forced my gaze to the road. ¡°We¡¯ll rescue him and get this all¡­ fixed, and then we can go our separate ways.¡±


    Her eyes danced. ¡°But he will be beautiful, no?¡± Her eyes unfocused as she stared into the distance, and her voice danced on the slight breeze.


    Beauty and steel


    shadowed by gossamer threads of fate


    the prince awaits in a tower of broken stone


    I stopped in shock and gaped at her. ¡°What in the god¡¯s names was that?¡± But Churchmouse has no appreciation for verse and refused to stop, so a second later I shook my head and stepped quickly to catch back up.


    Her eyes focused back on me, and then she looked away. ¡°Nothing. Just something I read once.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t convinced, but something told me not to push so I added it to my growing list of stuff I needed to worry about later. I sighed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter anyway.¡± She looked inquiringly at me, so I elaborated. ¡°How he looks. It¡¯s not important how princes look.¡±


    She frowned. Sal is generally smart, but she doesn¡¯t really get humans sometimes. ¡°In all the stories I have read, princes are always handsome and good looking. ¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Yes, because that¡¯s nice and makes people feel good. But they don¡¯t have to be. It doesn¡¯t matter if he¡¯s ugly. As long as he has a decent personality, that¡¯s enough. Or a big enough country, if we¡¯re being honest.¡±


    Her frown deepened. ¡°So surely if he is beautiful, that is good, correct? A bonus?¡±


    I stopped, and this time Sal stopped Churchmouse as well. She was staring at me, knowing she¡¯d stepped into something but not able to comprehend what. We¡¯d gone over similar things before, and I knew it was likely futile but I decided to try to explain again anyway.


    ¡°The problem is that a princess does need to be beautiful. She needs to be sweet, delicate, and pretty. And I am none of those things.¡± I met her eyes, and smiled sadly at the confusion I saw. Sal just doesn¡¯t get gender differences - she knows about them intellectually, but to her a beautiful man is just as nice to look at as a handsome one. And a handsome girl as nice as a pretty one.


    The fact that my features might be ¡°ruggedly handsome¡± - if you''re feeling generous - means that, to her, I am attractive. Strength over delicacy. And cleverness over sweetness.


    If only the rest of the world thought the same way.


    I started walking again. I kept my voice even with an effort. ¡°The problem isn¡¯t me falling in love with a prince, Sal. It¡¯s that no prince will ever fall in love with me.¡± I took a deep breath. It¡¯s not like this was a new thought - it was a truth I¡¯d learned and accepted a long time ago, and as always I forced myself past it. No point in dwelling on things I can¡¯t change. I scanned the forest again.


    Sal¡¯s voice was tight. ¡°Arriane-¡±


    I cut her off. ¡°I¡¯m going to go scout.¡± The silence was stricken, and I hesitated before I gave her a smile. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Sal. It¡¯s not your fault.¡± I strode toward the side of the road, feeling her eyes on the back of my neck until I vanished into the trees.


    My turn to be unconvincing, I suppose.

 Chapter 2

    Wilhelm


    ¡°Oh I wanna make sweet love to you, and you, and you and you and you-¡±


    ¡°Sex! Sex! Sex! Sex! Sex sex sex! Sex-¡±


    ¡°THIS IS MY TREE! MINE! NO. GO AWAY. THIS IS MY TREE! MINE-¡±


    I groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over my ears. I have an instinctive grasp of social graces. I always look good in a dress, I¡¯m breathtaking even without makeup, and I have perfect, flowing hair. I¡¯m a foot shorter than my younger brother and get out of breath if I try to lift a sword.


    All of that is horrible. But the absolute worst thing about having princess powers is the gods-be-damned birds. Anyone who thinks it would be convenient to be able to communicate with small woodland animals hasn¡¯t lived in a room with no shutters that overlooks the woods.


    Finally I couldn¡¯t take it anymore, so I rose up and screamed, ¡°Shut up!¡± Well, I say screamed, but I forgot to mention my voice. So despite my best efforts it rang out in three perfect ascending notes, floating out the window like dawn¡¯s first tender light striking the morning dew upon two star-crossed lovers lying heaped in the aftermath of their perfect togetherness upon the shaded grass in the meadow yonder-


    I wrenched my thoughts out of the stream of spontaneous, ridiculous romantic prose. For a moment blessed silence descended, and then - like they do every single morning - every bird in the forest attempted to land on my window at once. I sighed and rose to go talk to them.


    After enduring the chorus of ¡°Princess! Princess! Princess!¡± - I¡¯d long since given up trying to correct that particular issue - I managed to convince them that the other side of the forest did, in fact, have tons of worms and free trees and yes, lots of other birds that were just waiting to mate with them all. They flew off in a flurry of winged waves, and I flopped artfully back onto the bed, splaying out in a casually decorous manner. I frowned at myself and forced myself to sit up, then closed my eyes and recited my mantra, murmuring the words.


    ¡°I am a prince of Trine, twelfth of the line of Samuel.¡± A deep breath, and I spread my legs, adopting the most unladylike posture I could manage. I felt a twinge of discomfort deep inside of me, and embraced it willingly.


    ¡°I am a man.¡± I scratched my armpit.


    ¡°I will prevail.¡± I scratched my butt - originally I¡¯d tried to fart, but it had been years since I¡¯d managed it. And the less said about my attempts to burp the better.


    ¡°I will rescue myself!¡± I rose one hand in the air with a victory and squeezed hard, waiting for the-


    I stared at my hand, then tried to squeeze again. ¡°No.¡± I took my other hand and wrapped it around, pressing the knuckles in. ¡°Crack, damn you.¡± I gripped my finger hard and forced it down, further, pushing past the pain. I felt the start of tears and gritted my teeth. I was not crying. No. My finger would crack, it was just the pain, I was not going to lose to this stupid curse-


    The heavy footstep jolted me. I had only seconds, and for once I was grateful as I transformed nearly instantly from a crying mess into a proper young lady - person - sitting and waiting for the owner of said footsteps to appear.


    She had to duck her head to enter the room, her misshapen brown face glaring at me from her beady eyes. I didn¡¯t take it personally - ogres are somewhat limited in their expressions - and instead I leaned forward slightly, making myself look welcoming, and smiled warmly back. I made sure to angle myself to emphasize my slim build and my profile, and she smiled as she took me in, as always taking a proprietary pride in her ward. I gave her a perfect curtsy (I wish I could say it¡¯s hard to do so sitting down), and made sure my voice was warm as well. ¡°Good morn, Matron Ulgafrag.¡±


    She grinned back at me, momentarily becoming even more terrifying in her bestial, brutish aspect, her tusks battered and scarred next to her teeth, craggy like a series of low dark hills that rose like dark forts from her face - I shook myself. Twice already today. I told myself I was just tired, and I almost believed it.


    I¡¯d missed the first part of Ulgafrag¡¯s sentence. ¡°-perfectly lovely this morning, my dear. Did the birds upset you again?¡±


    I made my smile bright. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s silly of me I know. I was up late re-reading the Tales of the Butterfly Princess, and well, that scene with her knight¡­¡± I gazed wistfully out the window as Ulgafrag shuffled uncomfortably. Manipulating her is a mix of playing to her expectations - she likes it when I play the perfect princess, since it reflects well on her by extension - and pushing her away. The best button to do that was to hint at a romantic interest with other men. I wasn¡¯t sure exactly why or how that bothered her, and I frankly wasn¡¯t really interested in knowing. The only thing that mattered was it worked, and I could use it to make her keep her distance without alienating her entirely.


    We chatted briefly for a moment, those inconsequential social lubricants of compliments and nothings, before she broached the real topic of the morning. ¡°There is a gathering tonight, Willhelma. It would be good of you to go.¡±


    I thought hard. I do my best to minimize outside interactions - I have no patience for it, and doing so risks my secret. But minimize doesn¡¯t mean eliminate, and if I was too recalcitrant Ulgafrag would feel the need to take measures to correct my attitude. It had been long enough since the last that I judged it prudent to attend, so I nodded carefully. ¡°Of course. I would love to attend, it has been so long since I saw the others.¡±


    She smiled proudly, and I held my expression of acceptance until she stomped down the stairs. Then I sighed and started getting ready. Even for me it can take a while.


    * * *


    I ate a light repast for lunch and then finished my preparations. A high-necked dress and discrete stuffings gave me at least a hint of a respectable bust, although I¡¯d still be the smallest mature ¡°girl¡± there.


    Ulgafrag collected me and we walked together down to the transport room, my three strides matching her one. The circular runes on the floor glowed softly, filling the room with a shifting eldritch light that played in waves over Ulgafrag¡¯s battered face, highlighting it in an etched horror of mixed civilization and barbarity, the thin line of reason between sophistication and raw, animal -


    I pulled myself out of the overwrought prose and stepped to the side. She nodded at me, again just a plain old ogress, and activated the amulet. And then we were no longer in the tower. We were far, far away.


    The Hall of the Cursed.


    Officially, it¡¯s called the Hall of Princesses, but I¡¯ve never known anyone but the matrons to call it that. The rest of us can see a euphemism from a mile away, and we don¡¯t bother lying to each other. Well, we do. Just not about that.


    We walked smartly from the transport room. Ulgafrag fussed over my appearance for a moment, and I used it to collect and prepare myself. And then we entered the main ballroom, and I swept in, head held high even as I surveyed the scene.


    As always half of the room was princesses of a dizzying variety of ages and dress. The truly younger ones, those who still cried and had hope, would be elsewhere, but the rest of us were here to be socialized and civilized, to learn how to wield the weapons of royal feminine power - compliments, half-truths, and clothing.


    The other half of the room was even more fantastical. The matrons - our chaperone/tutors/jailors - a wide cornucopia of monstrous females. At a glance I could see three dragons, four fairies, and several varieties of spirits. Ulgafrag looked at me, saw I was alright, and went to mingle. She is not the largest - not by a long shot - but she is the largest without a human form, so she towered over everyone else in the room, drawing eyes and creating a wake as the sea of flowered dresses parted before her.


    The room itself did not match the contents. Speculation among the princesses was that at one point it had been a natural cave, and I granted that it was likely - several of the walls and pillars had an organic look that one does not normally see in worked stone. And despite the best efforts of centuries of matrons, it still managed to feel like a cave - dark, closed in, oppressed, and with the faintest dank smell that lingered and insisted on intruding no matter what other scents were introduced.


    In Ulgafrag¡¯s wake eyes found me, looks out of the corners of eyes or in carefully placed handhold mirrors. I am not quite the oldest remaining¡­ princess, but I am close. And since I have no obvious curse, the rumor mill abounds with theories. But no one was brave enough to meet me head on, so I lifted my chin and made my entrance, forcing my steps to be confident and assured. But still ladylike, of course.


    At which point I was promptly ambushed. My attacker¡¯s hand snaked around my elbow and redirected me to a suspiciously vacant corner. I smoothly turned and let her lead me - fighting would have just made me look silly - but I jerked my arm away when we arrived, and she let me go with an amused look.


    I inclined my head regally. ¡°Ophelia.¡±


    Her lips curled, thick and sensuous, with just a hint of fang. Her tone was just this side of mocking. ¡°My, my. Such a proper princess you are.¡±


    I hid my flinch only because years of practice screamed at me that I should not show weakness. But my heart thumped loud in my chest, and she could hear that as easily as she could listen to the rest of the conversations in the room. I scrambled mentally - I hadn¡¯t thought I¡¯d be trading words with her - but before I could marshall my defenses she raised up one hand.


    ¡°I did not mean to start a fight, truly. I just wanted to talk.¡± She looked embarrassed, extremely unusual for her, and I felt the tension in my chest loosen. She leaned casually against the wall and looked at me invitingly.


    I hesitated for a moment, then forced myself to relax and join her. I gave her a tentative smile. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to be so formal. This room just makes me¡­¡± I trailed off, uncertain of my words, but she nodded in understanding.


    ¡°Put on your armor.¡± I nodded back, and we sat in understanding silence for a moment. I used it to examine her. Slightly taller than me, curvy where I was thin, midnight skin in sharp contrast to her pale red hair. Her dress was new - the latest court fashion from Nike, if I wasn¡¯t mistaken - a dark green that offset her natural assets fetchingly, and showed a daring amount of decolletage. I firmly ignored the twinge of envy I felt when I looked at her dress - most of us didn¡¯t have ready access to new dresses and have to make due with reworking old ones. I gave a little sigh. And truly, what I wouldn¡¯t give to have the figure to pull something like that off-If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    I stiffened and banished my traitorous thoughts. Ophelia looked at me, eyes sharp and examining, and I wondered how much she guessed. I don¡¯t have friends - I can¡¯t afford them - but Ophelia is the closest. It was impossible to hide my gender from her nose, but she¡¯d kept my secret for years and never taken advantage or asked for anything.


    She chose to pick up the conversational ball. ¡°It¡¯s been what, three gathers since I saw you last? How goes the needlework?¡± Needlework - doubletalk for the benefit of the rest of the room, lots of it with ears just as sharp as Ophelia¡¯s, if not more so.


    I looked away. ¡°Poorer than ever, I¡¯m afraid.¡± It wasn¡¯t a topic I was interested in exploring, and thankfully she took the hint.


    The rest of our conversation was of the utmost importance. We critiqued the choices of the rest of the princesses. Shoes, jewelry, hair - none of it was out of bounds, and I fell into it with the natural ease that had come to me ever since I was cursed. I tried to tell myself repeatedly that I didn¡¯t really care, that this was merely a persona I put on for protection. Then a little voice would remind me that I¡¯d expect half an hour earlier agonizing over which shoes to wear, and the relief I¡¯d felt when everything came together.


    I told it to go away, and went back to chatting with Ophelia.


    * * *


    Dinner was, as always, the best part of a gather. Not the conversation - that was stilted and formal. Nor the company, which was at best neutral. I was seated with Ulgafrag, well away from anyone I could relax with, so I just smiled and made sure everything I said was polite and inconsequential.


    No, the good part about dinner is the food. Ulgafrag is not exactly a cook, and that is one area where my own skills are also lacking. So eating something prepared by an actual cook was a treat, even if my portion felt absurdly small. I resisted the urge to take more, since if I did I knew I¡¯d just end up throwing it up later.


    After dinner we mingled further, and the look in Ulgafrag¡¯s eyes told me I wasn¡¯t to sequester myself with Ophelia and make snarky comments again. So instead I moved through the room and smiled empty smiles and spoke empty words. At which point, naturally, I was ambushed for the second time of the evening.


    This one, though, I was prepared for.


    ¡°Willhelma, darling! It¡¯s so good to see you!¡± The voice warned me, and I started preparing for battle even as I extricated myself from my current conversation. I gave the young princess I had been talking to a reassuring smile and a wink, then pivoted smoothly to face my opponent. And it took all of my self control to not stand slack-jawed and gape at her.


    Princess Nanase Tallstrider stood before me. Where I appear painfully thin, she was full-body and tall. And her dress was¡­ well, let¡¯s simply say that I didn¡¯t understand how I¡¯d missed it earlier. The cut was modern enough, I suppose, and her jewelry was tastefully chosen gold, offsetting her pearly skin and the dark green fabric. But what made me stare was her chest.


    I¡¯d seen it before, of course. Nanase is perhaps the most gifted woman I¡¯ve ever met in that area, and she considers it her most potent weapon against me. But always before, she had been modestly covered. Now her breasts were almost entirely exposed, and I stared at them in awe, both at the sight - I am, despite most evidence to the contrary, still a man - and at the daringness of the display. To think that her matron had allowed her to attend this way.


    I realized too late that I was taking too long to speak, that I had given away my interest. I could feel the attention of those nearby sharpening, wondering what was going on, and I knew I had to act quickly. Seconds are critical, but my original plan was in tatters and mostly forgotten anyway, so I went with the only backup I knew I could execute quickly. I copied Ophelia.


    I do not have her supernatural strength, but I did have leverage and Nanase considers physical effort vulgar. I drowned out her attempted protest with meaningless chatter as I stole her away, marching off to one of the side rooms as I steered her through the stalagmites. It only increased the attention we were gathering, of course, but following would have been rude. So despite the intense longing I saw on most of the faces surrounding us, most resigned themselves to learning the gossip as usual - second-hand. The exceptions were two of Nanase¡¯s lackeys, and Ophelia.


    I gave the former a glare that stopped them in their tracks, and Nanase waved them off after seeing what was going on, confident she could handle me. Ophelia I ignored - she can scout and hide with the best of them, and with her hearing she didn¡¯t need to get close anyway.


    I deposited Nanase in one of the chairs, letting my mouth run on autopilot while I examined her. On closer inspection the dress was not quite as daring as I first thought - whoever had designed it was a master of the craft, using folds and shadows to hint while still concealing. Still, it showed off quite a bit of more flesh than she had ever displayed before.


    Nanase¡¯s smirk told me she had caught me looking, and she fired off the first volley. ¡°Is that envy I see, Willhelma?¡±


    I looked away, keeping my face still. Nanase likes to think that we are rivals, while I do my best to ignore her. But no reaction at all would make her pry deeper, and that was the most dangerous possibility of all. So I played the game, walking the edge between ostracization and being a social butterfly. I turned back and gave her a slight smile. ¡°Not at all. I was simply taken aback - you poor dear, to have that dress inflicted on you by Matron Ngh.¡± I smiled, sweetly sympathetic, and lowered my voice. ¡°It¡¯s such a shame - does she truly not allow you anything appropriate to wear?¡±


    She hesitated, wary of my trap - any denial now would sound hollow, and an agreement would be even worse. But she was a capable tactician, so she took the riposte available and changed her avenue of attack. And since she has never shown a great deal of imagination, she went back to her original.


    She leaned forward, suddenly all careless sensuality, and my mouth went dry as her breasts swung free, providing almost - but quite - a free look. She blinked at me slowly. ¡°Longing for what you don¡¯t have, Willhelma? Or-¡± and her words took on a mocking edge - ¡°are you one of those girls who would rather have them on someone else?¡±


    I flushed. A mistake. I needed to respond, to deny and deflect, but her bosom filled my vision and I couldn¡¯t make the words come. Longing and desire filled my chest like a raw wound, and my breath hitched as I struggled to pull in air, to say anything. I licked my lips unconsciously, and watched helplessly as astonishment blossomed on her face. She knew. And then I watched her expression change and grow into something else. That particular brand of feminine avarice, when you know a secret and are desperate to share it and bring down your target.


    I closed my eyes and searched for anything to stop this, to change the series of events that I saw unfolding. There was only one possibility, but I was too upset to hold back even when I knew it was a mistake. I embraced anger. I opened my eyes and she flinched away from me. Then she leaned toward me as I did the one thing I had sworn never to do again. I captured her with my gaze, and I drank in her soul.


    I am not sure what about being a princess gives me this ability. But it is perhaps the most powerful of my¡­ gifts. I looked at Nanase, and I saw pride. In being a princess, in being the eldest daughter, in her looks, in her body. It was the overarching, fundamental part of her existence.


    And below that, underlying her pride like a rotten foundation, was fear. Fear of not being important, of being a bargaining chip. Fear that everyone who was nice to her simply wanted her beauty. And an old fear from years ago, from a single insult when she had developed before any other girl her age. Of being a broodmare, fit only to bear some prince his children.


    I saw this and I knew her, and I saw how to break her. It unfolded in my mind, complete and evil in scope. A few calculated insults, and she would run crying from the room. Then an offhand comment here, another there, and she would be her greatest fear, Nanase the Cow. It would be the perfect revenge, to see her crushed and broken, and for a moment I savored the picture in my mind.


    And then I remembered the last time I had used this power and I stomped down it hard, reigning in my rage. Could I destroy Nanase? Sure. But was it really worth the cost? To hide the truth, even if I¡¯d have preferred it secret? Well¡­ maybe. But it wasn¡¯t who I wanted to be. So I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, counting and letting my emotions flow out, until finally I felt in enough control to look at her again.


    I expected her to be gone, so my eyes widened when I saw her still sitting there, looking at me. The look on her face was odd - I couldn¡¯t read it, so I sat and bit my lip, waiting.


    Finally she leaned forward. Not tempting this time, but inviting a confidence. Her voice was quiet. ¡°Was that your curse?¡±


    I looked away. Yes? No? Maybe? The one inviolate rule of The Hall of the Cursed - even if I¡¯ve never heard it said out loud - is you don¡¯t mess with curses. Everything else is fair game, but you don¡¯t make fun of them or use them against other people. And it was a rule I¡¯d broken, even if the others didn¡¯t know. So I hated to hide behind it, but I didn¡¯t see any other good options. I nodded and then shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated.¡±


    She smiled sympathetically and we sat in silence for a few moments. I wasn¡¯t sure what she was thinking, but I felt off-balance at the rapid turn of events, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of a friendly Nanase.


    She cleared her throat, and I focused on her, eyes sharp. Was she about to bring down the other dainty, laced shoe, like a bludgeon of perfectly colored and crafted footwear to smash my social strata, possibly while covered in glittering sequins and beaded flowers of spun ribbon? My heart thumped wildly in chest, a herd of stallions crying out to be free and to ride into sunset as I foresaw the apocalypse of my doomed, tragic existence stomping remorselessly toward me -


    I gasped and fell forward, just barely catching myself with my hands on my knees before I fell to the ground. I could feel the silk of my dress tear slightly, and from the pain I knew I would be bruised tomorrow. But the physical sensations were a distant second to the war in my mind, as I struggled to control my thoughts. I am - I would be - myself. Not this¡­ other.


    I realized dimly that Nanase was hovering over me, concern - real concern, not the false usual mask - on her face as she asked me if I was all right. I despised doing so this moment, but I reached into myself and drew on my cloak of princessy respectability, transforming my bearing immediately to my standard haughty disregard.


    I met her eyes without flinching, and prayed that she could not tell how fragile my shell currently was. ¡°I am-¡± my voice cracked, and I gulped and finished hastily. ¡°-fine.¡±


    She looked at me knowingly, and I felt my cheeks color. Then, to my everlasting shock, she leaned down swiftly and kissed me on the cheek. My jaw dropped and I stared at her, and she grinned and gave my shoulder a soft squeeze. ¡°Willhelma,¡± her smile faded, and her tone turned serious, ¡°we may have our differences. But the Hall would not be the same without you. I hope you feel better soon.¡± And then she turned and walked away.


    I considered the situation carefully for a few moments. Then I pinched my arm hard to see if I would wake up.


    * * *


    Unfortunately, I did not.


    Ophelia appeared a few minutes later and collected me. The twin shocks of my longest prose event - combined with Nanase being nice - had thrown me for a loop, and I felt disconnected and remote from reality. I watched as she led me over to Ulgafrag, tilting my head with detached interest. My matron was in some sort of drinking contest with a pair of fairy godmothers, apparently over who had seen the ugliest stepsisters. From the drinks and slurred voices, the ogress was winning.


    She glanced over at me and frowned. Ulgafrag may not be the sharpest knife in the boot, but she¡¯s not an idiot, and it¡¯s always comical to watch people¡¯s faces when they talk to her for the first time. And she had spent almost a decade raising me. Without a word she reached over to pick up a keg, then shouldered it. She waved to the godmothers, who looked relieved, and then waded through the crowd over to us. Ophelia passed me over with a few under-the-breath words to Ulgafrag, and then we were headed back toward the portal room. Her hand on my back was, as always, a curious mixture of hard and gentle as she guided me.


    I stumbled after the transport, and she put down the keg and lifted me up. For a moment I felt like a child again, and I watched as the walls swayed while she carried me up to my room. I tried to protest when she started to get me ready for bed - there was something I needed to do tonight, if only I could think of it - but her hands were firmly immovable and I was tired and numb, so I took the easy way out and surrendered. She tucked me in and gave me a careful hug.


    I closed my eyes obediently - I could always think and do things after she left - and immediately dropped off into a dreamless sleep.

 Chapter 3

    Arriane


    Twilight¡¯s End is in a desert, and was about a month¡¯s travel distant through some of the most beautiful countryside I¡¯ve ever seen. We moved up from the forest into a high plains area, skirting the Western Mountains that challenged the sky as we wandered south. It was full of life and wonder, and other travelers were rare and pleasant - or at least, not unpleasant.


    Sal spent it working on her songs, and I listened with numb ears as she sang bad rhymes about my exploits. Churchmouse spent it glaring at the universe, eating, and doing his part to fertilize the area. And I moped.


    Every hint of ability felt like a knife to my self-worth. Every time I jogged with even breath, or lifted something without effort. Every time I would read tracks like others read novels or souls, or look at the lay of the land and know where I could find water, which areas had predators and should be avoided, which were likely to be inhabited. Every little thing I did felt tainted. I no longer had ownership of any of it - it was all stolen, magic that should have belonged to some unnamed prince. So I went about my days with a cloud of doubt overcasting my life, like a shroud that leached away happiness and pride.


    Sal put it up with it for two weeks, to give me time to collect some rope to hang myself with. And then she kicked my ass.


    * * *


    I was woken by a boot to my side toppling me from the wagon. Instinct demanded I roll, but I was groggy and slow so I only made it halfway. I landed on my arm hard, muffling a cry from the sharp pain as muscles and bones protested. I forced myself to continue, shoving myself to my feet even as I drew Binder and looked around wildly for our attackers. It took me a few minutes to recognize Sal¡¯s silhouette, outlined by the first few rays of the dawn.


    Her voice came out of the dark, disembodied and remote. ¡°Better than I hoped. But still pitiful.¡± She threw something at me, and I watched dully as it clattered to my feet. I reached down slowly and picked it up, recognizing my practice sword from the rough feel of the handle. I wanted to roll my eyes. What was the point? But I sheathed Binder and took a two-handed grip with the wooden blade.


    Despite my best efforts, my voice sounded whiny. ¡°Sal, there¡¯s no point-¡± But then she rushed at me and I had to move to defend. But I was sluggish and she was just a shape blurring in the morning light, and I watched helplessly as she slammed past my defenses, forcing me to let go of the sword as she moved in and slammed her elbow into my gut. I bent over double, the breath whooshing out of me, and had to put my hands on my knees to not fall over. I just sat like that for a moment trying to catch my breath, and then Sal kicked my sword back to my feet.


    Her voice was unchanged from before. ¡°Again.¡±


    I growled and picked my sword back up. Anger at her ambushing me like this fueled me and cleansed the fog from my mind, and I felt the bounce return to my step as I got ready. Sal can usually beat me hand-to-hand - despite all my efforts at increasing my speed, she¡¯s just too damn fast and tricky with grapples. But with swords I can use my size, strength and reach to keep her away and create openings. If she wanted to wake me up two hours early so I could beat her up, I was happy to oblige.


    I stepped forward, feinting, and she reacted like I knew she would, sprinting toward me with her own sword low. I shifted back away, throwing my sword in a wide arc at her that would force her back and away - but goddamit, she was just too quick. I felt her hand, viselike on my wrist, and my fingers convulsed as she dug in and disarmed me for the second time in as many minutes. Her sword came up, and I winced as it slammed into my arm. She stepped forward and stared me in the eye as I clutched at my pulsing arm. ¡°You are slow.¡± Then she stepped back and kicked my sword carelessly in my direction. ¡°Again.¡±


    I gritted my teeth. What was the point of that? I was always slow, compared to her. But I¡¯ve never seen anyone as fast as Sal, so it seemed unrealistic. I picked up the sword and forced the pain away. Fine. Since she wanted it like that.


    I gave a wordless shout and pounced forward, slamming down blows, using my longer sword and arms to keep her from retaliating effectively. She dodged me like flame in a wind, shifting side to side and sliding my strikes, but I was controlling the fight and we both knew it. I worked her around and¡­ there. For a second, maybe less, she had both feet solidly planted. I surged forward and slammed my sword at her center of mass, and she had no other option than to brace and take the hit straight-on.


    This was a tactic I¡¯d used before, and I was unprepared when it failed utterly. I was expecting resistance that I would then break through. But it was like hitting an immovable wall, and I stared in shock as she blocked and then pushed my hands to the side. A chop to the inside my elbow disarmed me for the third time, and then her sword came around and struck my uninjured arm, and I winced. Again, she stepped into my personal space and looked at me in contempt. ¡°You are weak. Again.¡±


    I was still staring at her. My voice was a hoarse whisper. ¡°You¡¯ve been holding back.¡± It was just another blow to my pride, my achievements.


    There was enough light now for me to make out the expression on her face, and it was furious. ¡°No. No, Arriane, I have not held back for a long time. I give you my word.¡± She pointed the sword at me, and her voice was hard. ¡°Now pick up your sword and try again.¡±


    I glared at her. But then I took a step back, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Anger leads to mistakes. Mistakes are bad. I centered myself, controlling my breathing, until I could feel my heart thump in time. I opened my eyes and felt a shred of confidence return. I nodded at her, and focused as she came at me.


    It didn¡¯t help at all.


    It was like I had lost a step. Maybe even just half a step. But that was crucial, and I couldn¡¯t recover from it. She was always just ahead of me, and that fraction of a second was enough that I couldn¡¯t capitalize on her mistakes, couldn¡¯t find the openings I needed. Every time she would disarm me, brutally or casually, almost negligent. I wondered if she was holding back, and realized to my shock that she didn¡¯t need to.


    And every time - ¡°Weak. Slow. Unfocused. Unprepared.¡± The litany of insults were bad, but the scorn in her voice was worse. I was used to training hard, to putting in effort, but I couldn¡¯t remember Sal ever being so¡­ disappointed in me. I didn¡¯t understand it. And the fatigue was catching up to me, Sal seeming to get even faster and stronger as I flagged. I glanced up, thinking surely it must be noon¡­ but based on the sun barely an hour had passed.


    After one pass I found myself on my hands and knees, breathing hard as I tried to keep from dry-heaving. Sal stood next to me, and I could feel her disgust like waves beating me down. ¡°Done already? Worthless.¡±


    I lashed out at her clumsily with one arm, and she dodged effortlessly. ¡°I know!¡± Missing left me off balance, and I fell over onto my side. ¡°I know! I¡¯m just a girl, the magic is what¡¯s good at this shit!¡± I curled up into a ball, and realized dimly that I was crying. I tried to stifle the tears - I am stronger than this, by all the gods - but it didn¡¯t seem to help.


    I could feel Sal¡¯s mood turn like a switch, and she dropped to her knees beside me. ¡°Oh, Arriane. Dear heart.¡± She pulled my head into her lap, and I tried stubbornly to resist even as she ignored my efforts. She leaned down and kissed my forehead, her voice a murmur. ¡°I did not mean to press you quite this hard. Cry, child. Lessons are over for today. Just be yourself. There is no shame in it.¡±


    So I sobbed out my tensions, the dark cloud since the revelation of my magic, and she held me and rocked me. She crooned a song, a wordless tune that took me back. It had been almost a decade since I¡¯d been Sal¡¯s arms like this, new to my tower, frightened and afraid and away from everything I knew and loved. Slowly I felt myself relax, my tears drying, until I was sitting in her lap listening to her soft music.


    My voice was a whisper. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    She stroked my cheek. ¡°No. I am sorry. Training must be hard, because life is hard. But it should not be cruel, and that is on me.¡± We sat in silence for a moment, and then her tone shifted, becoming questioning, and I recognized Teacher Sal again. ¡°What lesson was I trying to teach?¡±


    I still felt raw and hollow, and it was an effort to think. But at least the answer was obvious. ¡°That I¡¯m weak. Slow.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She pressed one finger firmly to my nose, and I smiled slightly despite myself. ¡°I said those words, yes. And they are true. But they are not you.¡± She stroked my hair. ¡°I should make you figure this out, but today I think you deserve some mercy. You are weak and slow, yes. But that is not who you are. That is because you have neglected your body.¡±


    I snorted, then decided it was a bad idea. It had sounded suspiciously like another sob. ¡°I can¡¯t, remember? Stupid story magic makes me strong. It has nothing to do with me.¡±


    I felt her shake her head. ¡°I am not stronger or faster. A month ago, you would have taken me 9 out of 10 times. Yet I overpowered you easily. The story is still active, the magic unlessened. The difference is you. Not the magic. You.¡± She squeezed my shoulder lightly, and her voice was amused. ¡°Think, Arriane. Do you believe that the years you spent training were for nothing? That they were meaningless, that it was merely the act of deciding to rescue yourself that was important?¡±


    I opened my mouth hesitantly. ¡°Well, I-¡±


    She overrode me effortlessly. ¡°No. You chose to work hard. You chose to train. You chose to go up against me with a wooden sword, when you were a slip of a girl. You worked every day, without complaint or stop. You skipped gatherings and gave up dresses and flowers for leathers and battle. And you won. You defeated your¡­ dragon. That wasn¡¯t the magic, Arriane. It may have helped. But so did having a magic sword. So did learning everything you could. It does not lessen your accomplishment.¡±


    I thanked the gods fervently that I was all cried out, because the pride in her voice at the end made me want to clutch her and bubble my thanks. But I gave her a hug, and if my ¡°Thanks,¡± was a little suspiciously wet sounding¡­ well, I think I deserved it. Then I sighed and buried my face in her lap. ¡°Gods, I feel so stupid. It was just like¡­ it seemed like everything was from the magic. It made it all seem so pointless. And like an idiot I just stopped trying. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Sal hugged me back. ¡°I was more upset with you than I should have been. These past few weeks¡­ it felt like you were deliberately throwing it away.¡± I started to speak, but she pressed one hand lightly to my lips. ¡°I forget, sometimes, that you are human. How young you are. What I said¡­¡± she trailed off, and I realized with a start that she was trembling. ¡°It was inexcusable.¡±


    I rolled out of her lap and looked at her. ¡°Sal, please. It¡¯s fine, I need it.¡±


    She shook her head violently. ¡°No. You are making excuses for my actions. I have told you enough times - excuses are meaningless. Offer explanations, but take responsibility. You will allow me to do the same now.¡± I nodded carefully.


    She closed her eyes, then opened them and looked at me, her look bright and sharp. ¡°I knew what you were doing. But I treated you as an¡­ adult. And despite everything, Arriane, in many ways you are still a child. You are still growing, and learning, and you must not take what I said to heart.¡± She took my hands and squeezed them. ¡°You are not weak. Faltering is not weakness - it is experience. You will recover and grow strong again. You may be slow today. But you will be faster tomorrow.¡±


    She leaned forward, searching my eyes, pleading. ¡°Please, promise me Arriane, that you will not let my ill chosen words define you. That you will work, and grow, and become what I know you can be.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    I thought. And then I nodded. Could I work hard? Yes. I¡¯d slacked off. Now I¡¯d had the sense beaten back into me. It wouldn¡¯t be a fun few weeks, or a month, or whatever it would take to recover my conditioning. But I would do it. I looked her in the eye. ¡°Yes.¡± And then because it seemed appropriate, and since she was looking so unhappy, I added, ¡°I promise.¡±


    Her look of relief was bright and shining, and I grunted as she hugged me hard. And now it was her turn to mumble into me. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The scene still felt tense and fragile. I wasn¡¯t quite sure how to end it, so I went with a joke. ¡°You know, if you keep this up you¡¯re going to ruin my image of you as a strict disciplinarian with no sense of humor.¡±


    She stepped back, out of my arms, and the expression on her face made me freeze up. Too late it occurred to me that - just perhaps - taunting a woman who had just demonstrated her ability to beat me up at will was not my most shining moment. Then I saw the glint in her eye, and I relaxed slightly.


    She tapped her chin, looking thoughtful. ¡°You know, you are correct. It strikes me that I have not been seeking your feedback on my latest work.¡± She turned and started walking toward the wagon.


    Eyes wide, I started after her, reaching out to grab her shoulder. She dodged me effortlessly. ¡°Uh, Sal, no, that¡¯s not necessary-¡±


    ¡°Nonsense.¡± She jumped into the wagon in a smooth motion, picking up her papers and then sitting down cross legged. She indicated a nearby rock, and I gave a sigh of defeat and plopped down on top if it. ¡°Since your body has been exercised enough today, we will continue with your mind.¡± She flicked a piece of paper and one of her pens over to me, and I picked them up reluctantly. ¡°After each verse, please write down your thoughts and the emotions it evokes.¡± She cleared her throat.


    The princess went to save her prince


    she sought out a mighty witch,


    I winced, seeing where this was going.


    on the way she stopped for a bath


    so she would smell less like she rolled around in a ditch


    She smiled sweetly at me with the last word. I couldn¡¯t help it. I broke out laughing, that full-throated from-the-gut sound when you just can¡¯t help yourself. Sal frowned at me and crossed her arms imperiously, which just made me laugh harder. She ordered me sternly to stop. But I could see the edges of her mouth curling upward, and a knot I hadn¡¯t known was there eased in my heart. We were going to be all right.


    * * *


    For the next week we travelled short days, stopping mid afternoon to break camp. I didn¡¯t realize how messed up I¡¯d been until I felt the simple joy of wilderness work again, without the crushing weight of magic over me. It was a pure pleasure to take off alone and not worry about where things came from, or how I¡¯d learned them. I hunted on the go, bringing in small game with the light bow we carried. Mostly we had stew, because it was simple and easy to make a lot of. And I needed the energy, because during the evenings we sparred.


    Sal taught me a series of exercises when I was younger, and when I¡¯m not stuck in my own head I usually run through them at least once a day. But nothing beats actual fighting. Exercise always leaves gaps somewhere, places that are missed or not worked as hard. Full-contact, no-holds-barred sparring hurts, but it¡¯s worth it.


    True to her word, Sal didn¡¯t hold back. And I flourished. It seemed like my body would respond immediately, bouncing back after every setback, growing stronger and faster before my eyes. I would go to bed sore and aching¡­ and I¡¯d wake up the same way. But after walking and hunting I would be reinvigorated, and each time I could tell I had a little more of my edge back.


    It took me three days to beat Sal once, and that was a fluke rather than any improvement in skill. Still, I grinned until she put me back on my ass. But it fed my hunger to improve and made me work even harder. By day six I beat her with actual skill, and by seven I was winning occasional bouts throughout. And on day ten I took her down three times in a row, the last with a rare - for me - grapple-to-pin move that ended with her on the ground and me ready to break her arm. She smiled at me with quiet pride when I helped her up, and I couldn¡¯t seem to stop smiling.


    I knew deep down that part of it was magic. No one normal would recover this quickly, heal bruises and small cuts overnight. But Sal had been right. The magic helped, but the difference in the past ten days was mostly hard work, and I resolved never to forget it again.


    We sat and ate a second, late dinner afterwards, and I moaned in pleasure as the cool breeze hit me. The days kept getting hotter, and I¡¯d been sweltering under my armor. Brigandine isn¡¯t as heavy as full plate, but it¡¯s still like always wearing heavy clothes, and this wasn¡¯t the weather for it. Sal watched me with amusement. She, of course, was handling the heat just fine.


    I ate quickly, not bothering to talk until I finished. I put down my third bowl and then Sal and I efficiently cleaned up, washing the battered cutlery in the nearby creek. I stretched afterwards and grimaced as I got a whiff of myself. Living in armor isn¡¯t good for personal hygiene, but taking it off for too long isn¡¯t good for personal living. So for the most part I suffered through it, and thanked the stars that Sal doesn¡¯t experience scents the same way humans do. If she did, she¡¯d have kicked me out long ago.


    She caught my expression, and humor flickered in her eyes. ¡°You know, your win today deserves a reward.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°It happens that we are passing a hot spring tomorrow. I suppose we could stop for a short time.¡±


    I regarded her with narrowed eyes. Then I grinned. ¡°A reward, huh? And I suppose you won¡¯t be using this hot spring either?¡±


    She looked at me with artfully wide eyes. ¡°Well, if you are already making use of it, it seems efficient for me to also take advantage.¡±


    I didn¡¯t tell her that her smirk ruined the effect.


    * * *


    The pools were an odd, craterish landscape, the smell harsh against my nostrils. Sal threaded her way through, leading a complaining Churchmouse while I lugged our belongings. The wagon itself we¡¯d hidden in some underbrush near the road, and I understood why now - there was no way it would have made it even this far. And with night starting to fall, even with the moon I wasn¡¯t sure how much further I was going to make it before I ended up falling in.


    To my relief Sal stopped before two pools. The first, countering my expectations, seemed almost perfectly still. The second was more standard, a slight bubbling creating a rippling, almost hypnotic effect. She surveyed it and nodded, satisfied. Leaving Churchmouse, she dipped a finger into the first, making it ripple. Then into the second, with no discernable result. Then she stood and tied Churchmouse to a nearby rock.


    She pointed to the first pool. ¡°This would be appropriate for washing your gear. The other for a bath. I was not sure they would still be the same - the springs sometimes shift, and it has been a long time since I was here last. But the temperatures are appropriate.¡±


    I put down our gear and sighed with relief. I started to remove Binder, then hesitated. ¡°Is it safe?¡±


    She inclined her head. ¡°There is an old magic here. So long as you offer no violence, you are safe.¡± She tilted her head further into the pools. ¡°I will leave you now - if my memory is correct, there is an area further in that¡¯s more to my liking.¡±


    My eyes bulged. ¡°Wait!¡± I blurted it out, then felt stupid for panicking. But - ¡°You can¡¯t just - what if someone comes? Or takes our stuff?¡±


    She smiled at me, a glittering slash in the growing dark. ¡°Theft is violence. Lying is violence. Simply state what belongs to you.¡± She waved a hand dismissively. ¡°I will not be that far. Relax and take comfort.¡± And with that she turned and disappeared around a corner.


    I stared after her for a few minutes. Then I shook my head. If Sal said it¡­ then I guessed I had to trust her. I walked over to the first pool to remove my gear to clean. But looking down I stopped and stared.


    I have never been a big fan of mirrors, and you don¡¯t get perfectly still pools all that often in the wild. So it had quite a while since I¡¯d seen my reflection last. I reached up with one tentative hand and ran it along my jaw.


    If not for the breasts, I would have sworn the figure looking up at me was a man. Possibly a handsome one, depending on your tastes, but still¡­ with only the moonlight to go off fine details were erased, washing away what femininity I had. The subtle hints around my lips and eyes were gone, and even with the hair to my shoulders my square jaw carried it through. When it was clean it was an unexceptional brown, but right now it just extended my silhouette. My shoulders, broad and bulging with muscle, and my arms were purely masculine. My waist as well, thicker than would ever be fashionable.


    My hips - something with the shape said woman, but the thickness from countless hours running and fighting made that a lie. And the overall effect¡­ A form no one shall ever love. I shook away the memory and knelt, reaching one hand to wipe it away. But I paused, and turned resolutely away.


    There¡¯s no point in trying to change the things you can¡¯t. Sal always said to change what you can, and the rest will follow. So I started stripping out of my gear - right now, what I could change was how clean I was. So I would do that, then relax and try to not think for a while. I¡¯d have to trust the gods to sort the rest out.


    * * *


    I shaded my eyes and looked around. I wanted to drink again, but according to Sal it was another two hours to water, so I resisted. My mouth was parched and my lips cracking, and I resisted the urge to lick them. I¡¯d finally given up and taken my armor off earlier, packing it into the wagon, and the lack was making the back of my neck itch. But Sal and Churchmouse seemed blissfully unconcerned, so I forced myself to not spin in circles and travel with my hand on my sword.


    We¡¯d transitioned from the plains to desert so subtly that I¡¯d almost missed it entirely. It felt like one minute we were walking through scattered grass, and the next we were trudging through rocks and sand. We followed an old riverbed as it wound through the bluffs. We were walking into the wind, and the dust and grit kept making me sneeze.


    We rounded a hill and Sal peered forward, then reached out and stopped Churchmouse. The mule had taken to the desert like he did everything else - with benign hatred and studied indifference - and he stopped willingly and started to murder the only nearby bush. I walked up next to them and looked at Sal curiously.


    She pointed at the horizon. ¡°There. Do you see?¡±


    I put my hand back up and stared as hard as I could. The landscape in that direction seemed dark and rocky, and at first I couldn¡¯t pick anything out. And then I saw it, a smudge rising up against everything else. I squinted. ¡°That hill?¡±


    She snorted. ¡°It¡¯s three days travel.¡± She clucked at Churchmouse and he started plodding away. I saw her shake her head and heard her mutter, ¡°A hill. Truly.¡±


    I shook my head and started after them.


    * * *


    I stared in awe as Twilight¡¯s End rose up before us, a towering mountain of raw rock that defied the sky in blissful disregard to every notion I had about geography. Then I stumbled and forced my eyes back to the ground. The terrain had grown ever more jagged and rugged as we travelled, and it was hazardous in the extreme to take your eyes off the ground. But still, I couldn¡¯t help peeking whenever I had a chance.


    It thrust into the heavens, nearly vertical pillars of rock mashed together in some pattern I could not decipher. It looked unnatural, like a giant - a team of giants, over centuries - had carved the pattern for some arcane purpose. But if so, I was in awe of how long ago it must have been. Some of the outer pillars had fallen, and we¡¯d passed a chunk earlier, seeming impossibly far away from Twilight¡¯s End itself, and the weathering patterns told me it was ancient.


    Over the past day the sand and stone had fled, leaving only the sharp rock and rough gravel and occasional pieces of the mountain. We¡¯d abandoned the wagon again, this time in a tiny cave Sal had known about, and we¡¯d had to leave a fair amount of our belongings behind as well. I¡¯d thought not having my armor was bad before, but now every step that took me further away felt more and more like a mistake. But¡­ change what you can change. I would have to replace protection with vigil, so I made myself constantly scan, watching for the out of place shadow or the movement of something trying to hide.


    We¡¯d been in this landscape for two days, and it still felt alien and remote. But I could finally feel myself starting to adjust, my instincts learning the sounds and shapes. My wilderness lore was useless, and at first Sal had kept me alive - finding water in the unlikeliest of places, leading me around traps of unstable rock and grit - but I could feel the rhythm of this land starting to sink into my bones. So when I could practically feel the water off to our left, I wasn¡¯t surprised when Sal took a sharp turn and we entered a hidden grotto with a small, trickling pool in the corner.


    I sighed with relief in the shade, and drank the last of my waterskin while Sal led Churchmouse over and let him drink his fill. While I waited for my turn I took a moment to look around. The signs were subtle, but I could make out evidence of long use by human - or possibly inhuman - hands. Areas worn smooth, a bit of charcoal in an area that would make a natural fire pit, smoke staining the rock¡­ but it had been a long time. Years, at least.


    I turned around and frowned at Sal, who was currently unpacking Churchmouse. I ducked out and checked the sun again, just in case it had suddenly sped up while we were in here, but no. Still midday. I walked back in and found Sal still busily setting up camp, although a twitch of her lip told me she¡¯d been watching me.


    I crossed my arms. ¡°Ok, what gives?¡±


    She nodded at the floor of the cave, then sat back gracefully against the wall. Her eyes flickered as she regarded me. ¡°This is as far as I may go. From here, you must continue alone.¡±


    I gaped at her in shock. ¡°I- no, no way. You¡¯re going to send me in alone? To see a witch?¡±


    She nodded again, calm and sure. ¡°Yes. You are human, and a party to her spell. You have the right. I¡­ I would be considered a challenge. One she could not let stand untested.¡± She looked to the side, and I flushed, guilty at the thought that she wouldn¡¯t be up to it.


    So I was on my own. I stiffened my resolve, then hesitated. ¡°How much further is it? And should I leave now?¡±


    For a moment she regarded me silently, and I cursed enigmatic magical bullshit. Then she grinned toothily. ¡°Did you truly think I would let you go with no other direction than that?¡± Her smile widened as I blushed and nodded. ¡°Oh, child. There are times when the best way to learn is to experience failure of your own making.¡± Her smile faded. ¡°Meeting a witch is¡­ not one of those times. Here. We have time to pack and for you to eat. And perhaps a quick bath. Then I will tell you what I know.¡±

 Chapter 4

    Wilhelm


    I sat and stared out the window, my knitting forgotten and carelessly scattered on my desk in front of me.  The events of the gather, two days past, still dominated my thoughts. It was time to face the obvious - I had been in denial too long.  I reached out and slowly pulled out my journal, then turned it to the very last page.


    I had started tracking my efforts five years ago when I adopted my current strategy of playing the princess in public and keeping my¡­ needlework secret.  I had been here for six years before that, and things had, shall we say, not gone well. I reached out with one hand and traced the very first entry: 63 purls.  I had to code it, of course, and the abominable knitting terms I¡¯d been forced to learn offered a perfect cover.  Slowly I flipped a few pages and stared down at the latest entry, the one I¡¯d placed only yesterday. The number mocked me: 12.


    I could still remember the effort, my arms burning as my body, impossibly heavy, weighed them down.  By the eighth push-up I had known how things would end, but I still pushed on and persevered. Ten had been agony.  And the twelfth had left me helplessly sprawled on the floor, arms screaming as I lay there crying. From the pain, of course.


    I stood and paced.  The numbers did not lie.  They showed an inescapable doom approaching, the miasma of gentle femininity slowly destroying my essence in a mathematical certitude of dresses and dancing and-


    I cut myself off again, annoyed and yet slightly cheered by the fact that I had waxed poetical about numbers, of all things.  My steps slowed as I approached the window, my slight good mood evaporating like mist under the morning sunlight.


    It would be so easy.  Scamper onto the desk, and then all it would take is a step.  I was high enough up, and surely this frail body would not survive.  And it would end it - all the tiny humiliations of my day-to-day existence.  The end of this cursed transformation, both of my body as it molded to some warped perfect vision of a princess¡¯ existence, and of my mind.  The growing knowledge that I was being slowly worn away, my thoughts, my very being being eroded by a magic that wanted me to think and be someone very different.  I would finally be free.


    I supposed that Ulgafrag might be sad for a while, but she would get over it.  She mostly cared about me because of how I reflected on her own status, anyway.  My brother and sisters might be upset¡­ but I had not seen them in years, and Father would certainly be ecstatic.  I realized dimly that I had stepped forward, my hands on the desk as I stared out. I couldn¡¯t see it from here, but I could visualize the cobblestones below, the hard worked stone.  It would hurt for a moment, but I was used to pain, and it would end. And Ulgafrag had no great healing skills to bring me back. By the time she went to the hall, found an appropriate matron and returned, I would be gone for good.


    I am not sure how long I stood there, teetering on the edge.  I am not sure why I didn¡¯t go through with it. Perhaps a small part of me wasn¡¯t ready to surrender to the inevitable just yet.  I stood there mesmerized, my dark thoughts a spiral I could not flee or escape from.


    And then Sergeant Black flew through the window and landed in front of me.


    * * *


    Sergeant Black is a blue jay (young boys should not be in charge of naming things).  As usual he was squeaky and violently enthusiastic as he hopped back and forth. ¡°Princess!  Scouting!¡± He looked like he wanted to burst out with it, but long, long training had him waiting.


    When I¡¯d first arrived, and been young, optimistic, determined, and completely ignorant of exactly what the birds were talking about each morning, I¡¯d come up with a plan.  I would train and organize them into an army. Sergeant Black was in charge of my scouts, who watched over the forest and helped me plan and search for escape routes.


    I¡¯d long since given up on that - woodland animals are not exactly renowned for their attention to detail, or their ability to focus and follow orders.  Not to mention what I woke up to. But a small core of them had seemed to enjoy it and had stuck with it, even though I now neglected them almost entirely.


    It was such a simple thing, this hopping, overly excited little bluebird, but it was enough to break the cycle in my mind.  I found myself smiling down at him. I straightened up and put on my Serious General Face. ¡°Report, Sergeant.¡±


    He promptly exploded.  ¡°Scouts Bark and Nut found a man on the ridge on the path to the tower.  He has a shining stick and a shining ball stick and a wood rope stick and pointy things in a bag and a horse and the horse has a saddle and three bags and one bag has acorns but not really acorns and-¡±


    I cut him off with a wave of my hand - Sergeant Black was nearly unique in his ability to memorize details, but he didn¡¯t seem to grasp which details were relevant.  Thankfully he was also good at not taking offense.  I translated his report mentally - a man on horseback with a sword, a mace and a bow.  And some sort of confusing food. I felt a tendril of dread worm its way into my gut.


    I wasn¡¯t sure why I cared, except it seemed easier to just keep going and pretend things mattered.  I considered my words carefully - birds are a bit weird with human names - and tried to think back to when I¡¯d considered this life and death.  Ah, right. ¡°Is he a dull fighter man, or a shining fighter man?¡±


    Black squeaked happily.  ¡°Shining fighter man!¡±


    I kept my sigh inside.  A knight, likely come to rescue me.  Great. As always I gravely thanked Sergeant Black for his service, then sent him on his way with a couple of raisins that he greedily gobbled down.  And then two more, that I sternly informed him were for Nut and Bark. I wasn¡¯t even sure who they were - probably squirrels? - but they deserved it. After he left I realized that I didn¡¯t even know if squirrels ate raisins, but oh well.  There was only so much I could do.


    I slowly walked back over to the bed and sat down.  I knew I should do something - maybe see if I could get Ulgafrag out of the tower.  There wouldn¡¯t be a full gather, but she¡¯d be delighted to set up some sort of small meeting.  Perhaps the knight would be gone by the time we returned.


    But instead, I sat still and didn¡¯t move.  I should. I didn¡¯t want this random knight¡¯s blood on my hands.  I informed myself of this fact, then watched as I sat there and didn¡¯t do it.


    Eventually I just sat back, closed my eyes and waited for something to happen.


    * * *


    ¡°Hello, the tower!¡±


    The voice wafted in the window, and I opened my eyes muzzily.  I must have fallen asleep. I levered myself out of bed and drifted toward the window.  I cleared my throat, then called out. ¡°Hello? Who is calling?¡± Despite my ennui, my voice still rang out clear and pure.  I sighed.


    His voice came back, arrogant and strong.  ¡°It is I, Sir Samuel of Haven! I am from the line of-¡° I tuned him out, groaning as I sat down and put my head in my hands.  It was like they all had the same tutor in princess-rescue-speeches. You¡¯d think I would know, but I¡¯d been sent off at such a young age¡­ I sensed him nearing the end and refocused.   ¡±-so Princess Willhelma! I¡¯m here to rescue you!¡±


    I forced a smile on my face, since it always seems to help (I¡¯m not sure how).  ¡°No thank you!¡± I sang out.


    There was a moment of strained silence.  When he responded it was with a strange mix of plaintiveness, confusion, and anger.  ¡°I- surely, my lady, you must want to be rescued? This desolate tower and wilderness is no place for someone of your magnificent stature.¡±


    I rolled my eyes - seriously, he¡¯d never even seen me.  And that barely made sense. And not to mention the arrogance of assuming my appearance had any influence on my capability.  I mean yes, in my case it does because they¡¯re directly related by the curse, but - anyway.  Time to try a different tack.


    I put a hint of sorrow in my tone.  ¡°I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s a rather terrible ogre guarding me.¡±  I had learned early on not to tell them Ulgafrag was an ogress.  At that point they all decided she would be a pushover and charged in willy nilly.  At least when they thought they were facing an ogre, perhaps a quarter of them would retreat.  I continued, hoping Samuel here would be one of the smart ones. ¡°He¡¯s quite ferocious - the tower is littered with the bones of other knights.¡±


    A moment of silence.  Then, quite earnestly: ¡°I don¡¯t see any signs of an ogre.  Perhaps it left?¡±


    I closed my eyes and counted to three.  Damn me for making Ulgafrag clean up after herself anyway.  I went for earnest. ¡°I assure you, on my word as a royal, that he is here.¡±  I hesitated. An obvious way to get rid of the good Sir Samuel would be to reveal that I was¡­ well, not a princess.  But if I did and he ran off, he might spread the word, and then I would have to spend the rest of my life dodging gatherings.  So I tried for non-specific.


    ¡°Also,¡± I begin tentatively, ¡°I¡¯m afraid to say I¡¯m under a terrible curse.¡±


    I waited with bated breath.  But he was not to be dissuaded.  ¡°Do not fret, m¡¯lady! Surely true love¡¯s first kiss shall free you!  I shall be there anon!¡± And then I heard the clatter of hooves as he charged into the courtyard and started pounding on the door to the tower.


    I gaped at the window, then shouted, ¡°Oh!  You, you man!¡± Which managed to simultaneously make me feel worse about myself, and better.  I gripped my hair in my hands, then let out a breath and forced myself to relax. He would come up here.  I¡¯d tell him my curse, and he¡¯d leave - surely he wouldn¡¯t be willing to kiss another man. Or Ulgafrag would stop him - where in the hells was she?  Surely she¡¯d heard what was going on by now. Although¡­ he did seem fairly nice.


    I almost felt bad for him.


    * * *


    I was at the bottom of the stairs, heading to open the door (you¡¯d think knights would be taught something useful, like lockpicking) when Ulgafrag materialized out of a corner to my right.  I manfully squealed and then held my hand over my heart, gasping for breath. Apparently Sir Samuel heard me - he shouted something and redoubled his futile efforts.


    Ulgafrag regarded me, eyes serious.  But her voice was soft. ¡°This will end badly.¡±


    I looked away, then turned back and met her eyes.  ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡± I trailed off, then forced myself to continue.  ¡°I don¡¯t want anyone else to die for me. I¡¯m not¡­ there¡¯s no point.¡±


    We sat in silence for a moment, then she reached out and ruffled my hair.  I sighed. ¡°Really?¡± But she just looked at me. I was tempted to continue as is¡­ but if I was going to convince Sir Samuel I needed to look my best.  I rolled my eyes, then shook my head rapidly and twirled in a short circle. I ended up facing back toward her, and felt my hair fall back into place, perfectly brushed and arranged.


    Ulgafrag was watching me with a half-smile on her face.  ¡°I¡¯ll never get tired of seeing that.¡± Then she shook her head.  ¡°I won¡¯t stand in your way, Willhelm. But I will be close if you call for me.¡±  She faded back into the darkness, vanishing before my eyes.


    I swallowed hard.  The use of my real name underscored how seriously she was taking this.  But I stiffened my spine. I¡¯d explain, he¡¯d leave. Everything would work out, and no one had to die.


    And as silly - and as girly - as it was, the little hair trick had made me smile for a moment.  It was a little piece of childish delight against the grey sameness afflicting me, but it was enough to put a small spring in my step as I walked over to the door.


    * * *


    I studied him as we walked to the rather dusty sitting room.  He fit the standard mold almost perfectly, a blond, blue-eyed tall slab of a man.  Probably well muscled too, but it was hard to tell. Still, in his plate he moved competently, if not really gracefully.  I refrained from shaking my head. Plate, against an ogre. You¡¯d think he¡¯d have been taught better. Really, I should write a book on the proper skills for princess rescuing.


    It had been a few months since we¡¯d seen a knight, and the last had been one of the intelligent ones who had retreated.  Still, the memory of what happened to the one before that was still seared into my mind, and I felt somehow obligated to at least attempt to save Sir Samuel.  It occurred to me that I was not being precisely logical - after all, I had simply sat and waited earlier - but now that he was here, it was like I had found an untapped reserve of will, and I drew on it desperately.


    We sat down, and I was about to smile at him but then thought better of it.  He had a terrible naivete to his character, a raw, flawed innocence that shone through as he stared at me.  He beheld me as if I was the greatest jewel in the universe, the most valuable thing he had ever laid eyes on.  It was immensely uncomfortable, especially since I knew that my outside appearance was twice a lie - I was neither the princess he was seeking, nor of the character to deserve such devotion.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    So I opened the conversation feeling as though I was about to kick a puppy.  I kept my expression serious and made my voice gentle. ¡°Look, Sir Samuel. There has been some sort of terrible mistake.¡±


    He winced, then reached up to scratch his head.  And now I winced, because really? With a metal gauntlet?  He swore and took them off, then looked at me apologetically.  ¡°Sorry, My Lady. I forgot for a moment that I was in the presence of your radiant words.¡±  He looked alarmed at his own phrasing. ¡°I mean - I could never forget I was with you, I was just blinded by the site of your sparkling hair.¡±  He looked at me solemnly. ¡°I normally go by Samuel. But, of course a princess of your ravenous charm can call me whatever she wants.¡± He visibly brightened at the end, as he found this latest justification for my behavior being special and acceptable.


    I blinked.  Sir Samuel certainly had a¡­ unique way of complimenting a lady.  And an interesting grasp of language.  Well, here goes. I shook my head, then gave him an apologetic smile.  ¡°Sir Samuel... it¡¯s just that I am not, in fact, a princess.¡±


    He stared at me uncomprehendingly.  I resisted the urge to fidget. Would I have to rephrase it?  But eventually a thought apparently appeared and made its way out.  ¡°But you¡¯re in a tower.¡±  Uttered as if it would end all argument.


    I nodded, trying to look thoughtful.  ¡°That is true. But you are also in a tower, and you¡¯re not a princess.  And the ogre was here earlier, and s- he¡¯s not a princess either.¡±


    He appeared befuddled by this logic.  More cogitation. ¡°You¡¯re wearing a dress?¡±


    I gritted my teeth.  ¡°Yes.¡± I would have worn men¡¯s clothes - I had a few left, still - but due to the magic they tended to fit, well¡­ tightly.  And I suspected that wouldn¡¯t have helped my situation. ¡°But that still does not make me a princess. Anymore than you wearing a dress would make you a princess.¡±


    He considered this, frowning.  Then his eyes lit up. ¡°Ah! But you swore as a royal earlier!¡±


    I sighed.  I¡¯d been hoping he¡¯d forgotten about that.  I considered my options. I could try telling him I was a queen, but¡­ fairy tale queen in a tower?  Always evil. I¡¯d be lucky to escape with my life. Nothing for it then. I took a deep breath. ¡°I know.  The truth is¡­ I¡¯m afraid, Sir Samuel, that I am a man.¡±


    I braced myself.  Based on the few times I¡¯d done this in the past, I was expecting him to - ideally - curse up a storm and then leave.  Worst case, he¡¯d hit me a few times before Ulgafrag showed up. I was not prepared for sympathy.


    His eyes filled, brimming with tears.  ¡°Oh, Willhelma. That must be prettily horrible.¡±  He reached out and grasped my hand. Still boggling at his reaction (and word choices), I let him take it.  His fingers were rough and firm against my skin.


    I reached out and weakly patted his hand with my free one.  ¡°I- thank you, sir Samuel, for understanding. You¡¯re a good man.¡±


    He shook his head, then stood.  I yelped as he pulled me to my feet.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry, bounteous Willhelma. I will make you a princess again.  You won¡¯t have to suffer in a body not your own.  Not while I have breath in mine.¡± He reached up and tenderly cupped my face with one hand, pulling me toward him.


    Oh.  Son of a bitch.  He wasn¡¯t understanding, he was misunderstanding.  I struggled futilely in his grip, trying to twist away, but his hands were like iron.  I tried words. ¡°No! Samuel, Samuel, I am not - I am a prince! I¡¯m not a princess at all!  Let me go!¡± I tried to get my free hand up to push him away, but he pulled me roughly against himself and it was trapped.  I could feel the urge to swoon into his arms rising, and fought hard against it.


    He looked down at me, compassion filling his annoying, wonderful eyes - fuck.  I tried to look away, to think of something else, but he cupped my chin and pulled me toward him.  Defiantly, I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth together. He pulled me up, my feet dangling, and his whispered breath was hot against my lips.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry, my darling. True love will see you free.¡± And then he kissed me.


    And it was¡­


    It was¡­


    Perfect.


    I was transplanted, a rhapsody of sensation exploding over my mind like the rapturous fury of a thousand maidens yielding for the first time.  I moaned and went limp, his strong arms gathering me up as I relaxed and let myself be melded into him. My lips parted, and I could feel his tongue teasing at¡­ at my¡­


    I opened my eyes and pushed him away.  This time he let me, confident as he stared down at me.  ¡°Yes, my dove?¡±


    My voice felt strange.  ¡°Samuel. I think I¡¯m¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±  He sounded triumphant.


    ¡°...going to throw up.¡±


    * * *


    I sat in the corner while he hovered over me and tried to be useful.  I was perversely glad for the taste of vomit in my mouth, and for the fact that Samuel had not been entirely successful at cleaning himself up.  The combination had completely killed any desire to let him kiss me again.


    ¡°So, do you think that was the curse lifting?  Will you transform now? Become even more majestic and perky?¡±  He sounded so hopeful.


    Unfortunately, I was completely past that.  It was puppy kicking time. ¡°Sir Samuel. My name is Prince Willhelm.  I am cursed to be like a princess.¡±  He opened his mouth, but I continued ruthlessly.  ¡°I am not your love. I do not really even like you.  And even if I was a princess, you don¡¯t get to just come in and kiss me when I¡¯m telling you no!¡±


    He gulped at me, mouth opening and closing like a fish, but I plowed on full steam ahead.  ¡°And you¡¯re an idiot, you¡¯re wearing plate against ogres! Do you know how silly that is? You need to leave, and find some other princess, but you should really train some more or maybe read because right now you¡¯re just going to get yourself killed.  So-¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡±  He screamed it, and I stopped and stared.  ¡°Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!¡± He grabbed his hair.  ¡°This is all - you¡¯re doing it wrong! You¡¯re ruining it!  You¡¯re supposed to be perfect! I-¡±


    I took a step back, and searched for calm while he ranted about what a disappointment I was for not immediately falling into his arms.  Calm was good. This would also be a nice time for Ulgafrag to show up. He paused his tirade, and I went for soothing. ¡°Sir Samuel, I apologize for earlier.  I must have been overwrought. Now, I know you¡¯re disappointed, but¡­¡± I trailed off as his eye twitched.


    In two swift strides he reached me.  Hands gripped my dress, and I gasped as he lifted me into the air.  My voice was high and tight. ¡°Sir Samuel-¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡±  Now he was icy calm, and it was even more frightening than his tantrum.  He examined me closely, and I shivered under his gaze. ¡°And you look so beautiful on the outside.¡±  Even though he murmured it, it was like a knife to my gut.


    I closed my eyes, tears leaking out.  It was like the final nail in the coffin for my self-respect.  I was a man? I was helpless. Beyond pitiful. Crying, weak. The shame took all the fight out of me.  Why was I even attempting to stand up to him? ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I whispered. Then I cried out as he dropped me.


    He towered over me, breathing hard.  I wished desperately to know what was going through his mind, so I could avoid aggravating him further.  I was considering trying to read his soul for a hint, a clue, when to my astonishment he dropped to one knee before me.


    ¡°My Lady.¡±  My heart sank at the appellation, but I held myself still.  He shook his head. ¡°I am - I am a callous brigand to have inflicted myself on you this way.¡±  He looked at me, that same earnest look, and a thrill of fear ran through me. ¡°It is this place, you see.  You are not in your right mind. Leave with me. We¡¯ll, we¡¯ll find a healer that can fix you, and everything will work out-¡±


    I tuned him out.  Enough. Enough.  I was so tired of trying to be tough, to handle things on my own, to save this delusional moron from his own stupidity.  Clearly, I was¡­ I started laughing, high and helpless. I was a damsel in distress.  So as Samuel stared at me in bewilderment, I did what any good princess would do in my situation.


    I threw my head back and screamed.  ¡°Ulgafrag!¡±


    She materialized out of the stairwell, appearing to move slowly but walking with that deceptive swiftness of her ten foot height.  In two strides she was standing over us, eyes blazing as she looked down.


    I will give Sir Samuel due credit.  Despite his obvious fear, and the acrid scent of urine that filled the air, he moved in between us and went for his sword to try and protect me.  Ulgafrag waited for him to start to draw, then reached down and closed her hand on his upper arm. There was a moment of resistance, and then the metal crumpled inward.  I could hear his bone break, and he screamed in shock. Which is what happens when you go up against someone who can bend metal with their bare hands while wrapped inside of it.


    She kicked the dropped sword off to the side, still holding Samuel up, and I let myself fall down onto my back so I could stare at the ceiling.  I heard the crumpling crunch of his other arm, and he screamed again. She held him off to the side and peered down at me, her voice a low concerned rumble.  ¡°Are you alright, Willhelm?¡±


    I considered the question gravely, then nodded.  ¡°No. Yes. I¡¯ll be fine, Matron Ulgafrag. Thank you for rescuing me.¡±  I gave her my second best reassuring smile.


    She frowned down at me, not fooled, then shrugged.  ¡°Well, I¡¯m going teach Sir Ass here a few lessons. Let me know if you need anything.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure why I felt the need to do so.  But I levered myself up and called after her.  ¡°Ulgafrag?¡±


    She turned around, Samuel under one arm, and cocked her head as she looked at me.  I hesitated. He really was an ass. But it just didn¡¯t seem right, somehow. ¡°Don¡¯t kill him, please?¡±


    She stared at me for a minute, then turned and started down the stairs with Samuel in tow.  I wondered vaguely if she was going to leave him alive, then shrugged and let myself fall back down.  I¡¯d tried. And I somehow couldn¡¯t bring myself to care anymore than I already had.


    * * *


    I stayed there for perhaps two hours.  My body ached, bruises and small cuts covering me.  Sir Samuel had not been gentle. The floor grew cold enough that I was shivering.  And yet I could not muster the will to move. Instead I did my best to ignore the sounds coming from downstairs.  To my surprise, I found it useful to lose myself in the episodes of vapid, overly descriptive prose. It was mindless and distracting, and when a sound finally drew me out of it, amusing.  Who knew that one could describe a stone ceiling as a peasant mosaic mastercraft of the flawed futility of life?


    Ulgafrag appeared first.  She was carrying a bedroll and a bandaged knight, which she dumped in order in the middle of the floor.  She then walked over and scowled down at me. ¡°Willhelm. What on earth are you doing?¡±


    Over my mumbled protests she gathered me and pulled me to her chest.  She was like a furnace, and I curled up and soaked in her heat. She walked us over and sat down next to Samuel, then nudged him with a toe.  ¡°Hey, Sir Ass. We talked about this.¡±


    He turned his head slowly and looked at us.  It took him a few minutes to track and find me, and then he smiled mechanically.  ¡°Yes. Of course. Hello, Princes - Prince Willhelm.¡± He cringed away from Ulgafrag when he made the mistake, but she didn¡¯t move and he slowly relaxed.  He continued on in a monotone. ¡°I- I have learned very much that I should respect when I am told ¡®No¡¯. And I am very sorry that I touched you without permission.¡±  He shuddered almost imperceptibly. ¡°A-and I now know that it was very wrong of me to-¡±


    I was warm now.  But I still shivered.  It had been a while since I was reminded so strongly that Ulgafrag is an ogress.  I once heard one of the matrons describe it as a comfortable illusion - a lie that we humans tell ourselves for comfort, to pretend that everything around us is really the same, even if they look or talk a little funny.


    And most of the time it¡¯s true.  We couldn¡¯t all get along if we weren¡¯t fairly similar, so it is easy to look at an ogress and think of her as a strange kind of woman.  So the trick works because she acts like one of us. Until suddenly she doesn¡¯t, and then the illusion shatters. I wasn¡¯t sure what Ulgafrag had done to Samuel.  I was quite sure that I didn¡¯t want to know.


    I realized Samuel had stopped talking, and was looking at me hopefully.  I took a guess, and nodded to him. ¡°I accept your apology.¡± He relaxed, and Ulgafrag grunted and stood up with me still in her arms.


    Her voice was stern.  ¡°I will be locking this room.  Willhelm, you will not be in here without me.  Ever. Am I understood?¡± I nodded against her chest, and I assumed Samuel did the same.  She exited the room, holding me with one arm as she locked the door behind her. I relaxed in her arms.  I felt like I could fall asleep right there.


    Her voice was quiet, and it took me a moment to realize she was talking to me.  ¡°-tell me truthfully now, please. Are you ok, Willhelm? What he did back there¡­¡± her voice darkened.  ¡°He should face justice. More than I can give him.¡±


    I opened my mouth to respond, then yawned.  Apparently I was even more tired than I¡¯d thought.  I nestled into her chest as she went side to side up the stairs.  ¡°It¡¯s ok. He¡¯s trapped in the magic like we are. It¡¯s all the same.¡±


    I could feel her shake her head.  ¡°No, Willhelm. It was his choice.  His actions. Some story whispering in his ear doesn¡¯t excuse him.  Any more than it would if he¡¯d done it drunk.¡±


    I thought for a moment.  Then I shrugged. ¡°Perhaps.  But I don¡¯t think you should kill him for it, either.¡±


    She grunted uncommitedly, then shouldered her way into my room and set me down carefully on the bed.  Away from her heat I started shivering again for real, and she wrapped my blanket around me and then crouched down to look me in the eye.


    I reached out tentatively with one hand, and she took it in hers.  I squeezed gently. I wasn¡¯t sure how to handle Ulgafrag. The careful distance, the manipulations¡­ it all felt childish, immature.  The actions of an ungrateful brat. I had treated Ulgafrag like an enemy, like my jailer. And if I was a real princess, maybe that would be the case.  But she was also my protector. I had just been too wrapped up in being manly to see it before. Sure, sometimes we disagreed, and ogre discipline wasn¡¯t very fun.  But that paled before the sacrifices she¡¯d made.


    I looked her in the eye.  ¡°Thank you, Ulgafrag. For today.  And for¡­ everything.¡± I hesitated.  But it¡¯s not like there was any point to it, and it felt wrong to still keep it hidden.  I swallowed hard. ¡°There¡¯s¡­ a case, under the bed. It¡¯s¡­ I was trying to be different. To be something I¡¯m not.¡±  I looked away. ¡°You can take it away. I¡¯m sorry for hiding it from you.¡±


    She tugged on my hand, and I looked back at her.  Her face was sad, and I ducked my head in shame. She tsked.  ¡°Really, Willhelm. You¡¯re going to give up on your needlework?¡±


    I looked up, eyes wide.  ¡°You knew¡­¡± I trailed off, shame fading.  Now I just felt.. silly. Of course she knew.  All the times I¡¯d left, or she¡¯d cleaned¡­ and I thought I¡¯d been so clever, arranging the daggers and armor to be delivered through Ophelia and claiming it was a new set of petticoats.  I hung my head.


    Ulgafrag tapped my chin.  ¡°None of that, now.¡± I looked up, unwillingly.  ¡°Now, I¡¯m not the best matron.¡± She held up her other hand as I started to protest.  ¡°No more lies. I¡¯m not dumb, but I¡¯m not clever. I see you struggle. I see you fight the magic that changes you.  I don¡¯t know how to fix it. I tried to help - I called you Willhelma. Thought it helped you stay in character. I ignored your Needlework.  Played a little dumb so you could try different things. But really¡­¡± she shrugged helplessly. ¡°I don¡¯t know magic. Don¡¯t know how to help you fix things.  Would if I could.¡± She looked past me. Quietly, ¡°I see you spending a lot of time staring at that window.¡±


    We sat in silence for a moment.  Then she squeezed my hand. ¡°The one thing I do know?  It¡¯s not over until you¡¯re dead. There¡¯s always hope, Willhelm.  Never forget that.¡± She leaned over and kissed my forehead - the first time ever, I think, that she¡¯d done so.  Then she squeezed my hand again and stood up.


    I stared at her numbly.  She looked a bit uncomfortable and scratched her head.  ¡°Well. Just my thoughts. Anyway, I¡¯m going to go stare at Sir Ass for a while.  See if I can get him to piss his pants again.¡± She gave me an awkward pat on the shoulder, then turned to leave.  ¡°Take a nap or something. You¡¯ll feel better later.¡±


    I stared after her.  Then I was giggling, and then laughing.  And at some point that turned into crying.  I wasn¡¯t sure if it was that funny, or just the emotional release.  And when it was finally over I closed my eyes and thought about Ulgafrag¡¯s words.  And drifted off to sleep.

 Chapter 5

    Arriane


    I walked quickly, winding my way through broken rock with only Binder and several waterskins.  Sal¡¯s directions had been clear, and I took two detours for water refills. I wanted to think over her words and advice, to plan for the meeting ahead and the questions I would ask.


    Instead, I watched whatever was following me, while doing my best to appear oblivious.


    They were very good, and I wondered if they¡¯d been shadowing us yesterday as well and I simply hadn¡¯t noticed.  The first I caught only scattered glimpses of, and I was sure I missed more. Whoever it was wore a cloak that blended perfectly with the surrounding rocks - the only reason I caught it was that sometimes I would look away and then back, and a small rock would appear that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    The second was even better.  I never saw it directly, and it made no sound.  But the insects were my friend. In the woods I relied on the birds and small animals, and it had bothered me greatly when I realized they were almost entirely absent in this desolate landscape.  Then I¡¯d learned to listen to the bugs - the buzzing and rasping of wings, the chirps and soft whirls. They weren¡¯t quite as good, but it was close enough. At one point whoever it was circled around behind me, so close my back itched and it took all my willpower to walk casually, and not to whirl and draw Binder.  But then it faded away and I relaxed again.


    They left me entirely perhaps an hour from my destination.  I checked the sun, and realized with some dark amusement that I would reach it almost directly at twilight.  Probably by design, although Sal hadn¡¯t mentioned it. I set my jaw and quickened my pace. If they wanted me to follow a mystically important schedule, they should have told me about it.


    To my great annoyance a wrong turn and a rock scramble left me at the base of the mountain almost precisely as the sun touched the horizon.  I studied it, then shrugged. Hard to beat magic entirely when you¡¯re a princess in a story, I guess. I turned around and regarded the gap in the mountain with some foreboding.


    I¡¯d caught glimpses of it as I approached, a dark line in the lined sheer rock face.  Now I could see it was a chasm. Someone - some thing - had pulled out a series of pillars in a line, making a passage toward the center.  I wondered again at the construction, and why - and how! - they had carved into the mountain.  Looking up I could see sky, and a hint of a broader area near the end. But the light was fading and there was no use putting it off, so I took a deep breath and started in.


    It was dark, and I waited a moment while my eyes adjusted to the light before continuing.  The floor was smooth, although I didn¡¯t know if it was by the passage of feet, manual labor, or some strange magic.  The pillars were huge, and even though the passage wiggled back and forth through the mountain in an irregular fashion I could walk in a straight line.  And the end, I could make out the flickering light of a fire.


    Several minutes later I came into the gap.  It was a great circular area in the heart of the mountain, perhaps a hundred feet wide.  I glanced up and saw a brilliant circle of stars, but the scene before me demanded my attention.


    The fire burned, to appearances perfectly normal.  The stack of wood off to the side, to my experienced eye, would feed it throughout the night with some nursing.  But the real show was the figures seated around the fire.


    To my left was perhaps the largest mountain cat I had ever laid eyes on.  It must have been four feet at the shoulder, fur a rough tan and gold that shifted like grass in the wind in the firelight.  It regarded me with that absolute neutrality of nature, that just is and doesn¡¯t care if you live or die, eyes glittering as it stared at me.  My hand twitched to go to Binder¡¯s hilt, but I forced it away from my waist and moved my eyes on.


    Across the fire from me was a girl - no, a woman.  She was pale, a pure white with no hint of pigment.  Even her hair, which cascaded down past her shoulders and down her back.  She was careless in her nudity, and I thanked Sal again for warning me about this.  Her eyes were a light purple that reflected the firelight in odd ways as she looked at me.


    To my right was what appeared to be an entirely normal rattlesnake, curled in a circle and facing away.


    Together they formed three points of a square, leaving the one by the gash obviously empty.  I realized that they were at the cardinal points, leaving east to me. It was also the most vulnerable, since my back would be exposed to the only entrance.  But Sal¡¯s words echoed in my mind.


    Show no weakness.


    So I didn¡¯t hesitate as I stepped forward.  I put Binder down carefully, then braced myself internally and started stripping.  It seemed unfair that the snake and the cat always ran around naked, but I had to take my clothes off.  I kept from hurrying, but couldn¡¯t prevent my cheeks from flushing slightly as they continued to watch me closely.  The woman especially. She might look unconventional, but she was beautiful, curved and normal and petite, and I felt harsh and rough in comparison.  It was unfair, but I couldn¡¯t help think that she was judging me and finding me wanting.


    The last items I took off were my knives, and then I stood naked before them.  I wondered if I should have shaved earlier, then gave a mental shrug. It¡¯s not like I was the hairiest thing around the fire.  I took my seat at the east position, made myself as comfortable as possible - so, not very - and then I did the hardest thing I¡¯ve ever done.


    I sat there and I waited.


    The moment stretched out, the silence of the night broken only by the soft moan of the wind and the crackle of the fire.  They stared at me, and I took that as permission to stare right back. I used it to take in more details.


    That cat was even bigger from this angle, and I wondered - not quite idly - if I could take it in a fight.  Well, she, most likely. While most of my training and experience has been against men - or, at least, human-like forms - the world has a lot of dangerous creatures too, and Sal had made sure I was at least competent against them.  I figured I was screwed hand-to-hand, with just no way for me to deal effective damage. Maybe if I got the right hold before I was hurt too badly. With a knife I might win, but I¡¯d get mauled. And I was reasonably confident that I could take her with minimal injury in my full armor and sword.


    Of course, it was probably a moot point, given that the cat was likely also a witch and would use magic.  And since my armor was several miles away. But whatever. I went with what I knew. I shifted my attention to the woman.


    My original impression had been girl, and I was struck by it again.  She was petite, but fully formed and striking with the lack of color.  I was surprised she didn¡¯t burn like crazy in the desert sun, but I remembered the scene earlier, being followed, and nodded to myself.  With the right cloak, she¡¯d be fine.


    She caught me looking, and I felt my cheeks warm as our eyes met.  Really, she was very pretty. It¡¯s just that she¡¯s petite, and with my size everyone looks even smaller usually.  I mean, she was fully proportional and everything, the kind of woman I¡¯d like¡­ to look like. It¡¯s just the paleness that threw me- ok.  Moving on.


    The rattlesnake was, by far, the plainest and most ordinary of the three.  On the larger side, yes. But not exceptionally so. It was incredibly suspicious.  I was still studying her when the woman spoke in a ritual, formal cadence.


    ¡°Greetings.  Welcome to Twilight¡¯s End.  Take nothing unoffered, give nothing unwanted, and be at peace.¡±  She gave a shallow bow, then met my eyes. ¡°Why have you come to see me?¡±


    I relaxed, but did my best to not be obvious about it.  Her talking first was a good sign. But¡­ I studied her again, eyes drifting down, and I saw her blush slightly, obvious with her skin even in the inconsistent light.  Either she was an incredible actress, or there was no way she was old enough. I supposed the cat was a possibility, just an unlikely one. Which left the obvious.


    I smiled at her disarmingly.  ¡°No offense, but I¡¯m not here to see you.¡±  I took a deep breath. I was about to either be brilliant or incredibly stupid, and there was no way to tell which one it was until it was over.  So I might as well get it over with. I shifted to face the rattlesnake, then bowed my head low. ¡°I am here to see you.  Greetings, Shadow of Twilight¡¯s End.  I am Princess Arriane Dawnjack, and you hold the key to my story.¡±


    Silence refilled the room, and I felt a moment of dread.  Then her hissing laughter filled the air, echoing off the walls.  Which was really weird because I was pretty sure she was speaking into my head.  Her voice was smoky and sibilant. ¡°Clever princess // welcome welcome shadow flickering final breath // salutations greetings .¡±


    I opened my mouth and then closed it again.  ¡°Uh. Um.¡± I glanced over at the woman, hoping for some assistance, but she was immobile.  ¡°Hi. You are¡­ the witch? Shadow of Twilight''s End?¡±


    I barely kept from wincing.  Oh yes, a clever quick wit, that¡¯s me.  I hoped what I¡¯d already said would be sufficient, because I was pretty sure I¡¯d already forgotten the rest of her full name.  Assuming that¡¯s what she¡¯d been telling me.


    She laughed again, coiling and moving to face me.  Her eyes opened, and I could see the raw age and power blazing out.  ¡°Yes correct // Speech complex mammal reptile incompatibility known // rook translates.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    I stared up at the sky and mouthed the words.  I knew what most of those meant¡­ but I had no idea what she¡¯d just told me.  Except maybe that part at the end. I looked over at the woman hopefully. ¡°You are¡­ Rook?¡±


    She nodded gracefully, dipping in her head in a slight bow of acknowledgement.  ¡°Yes. I am Rook. The Elder¡¯s language is far from human. I will speak for us.¡±


    I sighed with relief.  ¡°Ok. I- wait.¡± I looked over at the cat.  ¡°Sorry, but should we all be introduced before continuing?¡±


    I could swear that Rook looked pained.  But her voice was easy enough. ¡°You may call her Cat.¡±


    I arched my eyebrows skeptically.  ¡°That¡¯s it? Just¡­ Cat?¡± Although I guess Rook¡¯s name was similar.  I glanced at the cat, who was either smiling broadly or contemplating eating me.


    Rook¡¯s shoulders drooped slightly.  ¡°If you must know, her full name is Cat Who Mates Such That You Find Utter Despair In Your Heart Of Never Knowing Her Magnificence Beneath Your Weight.¡±


    Shadow hissed in amusement while I pulled my jaw up with an effort.  ¡°Seriously? Her name is¡­ wow.¡±


    ¡°Yes.  She is a very... direct individual.¡±


    ¡°I can... see that.  I¡¯ll stick with Cat.¡±


    ¡°We usually do.¡±  Rook turned serious, and I dragged my thoughts away from contemplating Cat¡¯s full name.  ¡°As you must realize, we have been expecting you.¡± She hesitated. ¡°Well, not precisely.  We were expecting-¡± another pause - ¡°well, the prince.¡±


    I kept my face immobile - so much for hoping she¡¯d give away the name that easily - and forced my voice to be casual.  ¡°Which is why you were following me earlier?¡± Rook look surprised and Cat started, and I grinned inwardly before continuing.  ¡°Well, that¡¯s why I¡¯m here. I¡¯m ready to rescue him, but I need to know where - and who - he is first.¡±


    She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was solemn.  ¡°Before we answer you, there is the question of the price.¡± She looked at me steadily.  ¡°The traditional payment is for the prince to lie with the maiden and beget a child.¡±


    I stared back, glad Sal had filled me in on this little tidbit earlier.  I¡¯d almost think she was lying, but it did sound like the kind of thing some male storyteller would come up with.  I sat forward. ¡°Ok. Three things.¡± I ticked off one finger. ¡°First, I¡¯m not equipped for that. I assume you have some sort of alternative?¡±  She nodded. I started to continue, then a horrific thought made my face go pale. ¡°And just so we¡¯re clear¡­ the alternative doesn¡¯t involve giving me the equipment for that, does it?  Because I like my parts exactly as they are.¡±


    She shook her head, and I relaxed a little bit.  Right. ¡°Ok, number two. Why do you need a prince to get you with child?  Because, let¡¯s be honest here, that¡¯s a little fucked up. I mean theoretically, he¡¯s on a quest to rescue a girl who he¡¯ll likely end up marrying, right?  And you make him lie with you just to get directions?¡±


    They exchanged glances.  Rook sighed. ¡°How much do you know about witchcraft?¡±


    I shook my head.  ¡°Not much.¡± I looked up and tried to remember everything Sal had told me.  ¡°That you balance magic between good and evil. That every coven has three, a maiden,¡± I nodded at Rook, ¡°a mother¡±, I nodded at Cat, ¡°and finally, the crone.¡±  I indicated Shadow. ¡°And that everything you do has a price.¡±


    Rook opened her mouth, but Shadow¡¯s shifting words overrode her.  ¡°Life price // magic fuel ignition system royal blood // infused latent.¡±


    I must have looked as confused as I felt, because Rook¡¯s words were apologetic.  ¡°To start our magic, to become a witch, we require a sacrifice.¡± Apparently I was an open book right now, because she rushed to add, ¡°A personal sacrifice.  Shadow can never have children, and Cat gave up¡­¡± she hesitated.  ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s hard to describe-¡±


    Cat cut her off with a low grumbling growl that turned into a chirp at the end.  Rook chirped back, apparently perfectly comfortable with the language, and they had a short-lived conversation.  I was intrigued - I didn¡¯t know cats could make those kind of noises, I thought they just meowed. I was going to have to have words with my sister.  Rook turned to me when it was over. ¡°She says there¡¯s no human word for it. The closest term is innocence. But not really, and with more¡­ smelling?¡±  She shrugged at me in apparently bafflement. ¡°I don¡¯t think you can really get it unless you¡¯re a mountain lion.¡±


    I blinked, thought for a moment, and decided it probably wasn¡¯t that important.  I also noticed Rook hadn¡¯t mentioned her sacrifice, but it also occurred to me that personal sacrifices are, well¡­ personal.  And since Rook was the maiden I was guessing she wasn¡¯t that old - you can¡¯t always tell by appearances with magic - and probably hadn¡¯t been a witch long.  No need to open fresh wounds.


    I nodded to her.  ¡°Ok, I can see that?  But what does it have to do with the child thing?¡±


    She shook her head.  ¡°Right. Royals are inherently magical - not because of what they are, but because of who they are, and the part they play in the stories of the world.  The child of a witch and a willing prince is always a witch. And,¡± she looked off to the side, ¡°the magic of the prince¡¯s bloodline acts in place of the sacrifice.  The child can be¡­ normal.¡± She looked wistful, and I seconded my mental note to not ask about her own sacrifice.


    I cleared my throat.  ¡°Ok, that makes sense.  Right, number three is¡­¡± I stopped and scratched my chin.  ¡°Huh. I think I forgot, sorry- wait. Right, right.¡± I hesitated, then took a deep breath.  ¡°Number three¡­ why did you do it? Why put us in a story? Is it just for that child?¡± I looked around at them, anger bleeding into my voice.  ¡°I mean, couldn¡¯t you have just, I don¡¯t know, joined a brothel near the palace for a few years and waited? Why did you have to destroy our lives and change us?  I mean, gods. I spent twelve years in that tower. I went in when I was five.¡±


    I was ranting, my voice rising, and I knew it was a mistake, but I couldn¡¯t seem to stop.  ¡°Sal lost- well, Sal lost even more. And this prince, whoever the hell he is, he basically got turned into a girl.  Because-¡± I stopped, then sighed, and continued in a lower voice. ¡°Because I got impatient. So I took away his¡­ manliness.¡±  I looked at them, and they stared back impassively, statues of unemotional judgement. I blinked away a few tears, and worked to keep my voice steady.  ¡°So¡­ why? Why did you do this to us? Just¡­ tell me. Please.¡±


    We sat there, the wind and the fire the only sounds in the room.  My heart pounded in my chest, and I wondered desperately if I¡¯d made a mistake.  Sal had been very clear on the not antagonizing part of her instructions, and I was pretty sure I¡¯d just blown that entirely.


    I froze as Shadow slithered toward me, sliding around the fire and then uncoiling directly in front.  She rose up and met me eye to eye. My fingers twitched, and it was only the knowledge that it wouldn¡¯t make any difference that kept me from going for my sword.  When she spoke, I could feel her sadness.


    ¡°Sorrow Sorrow // many many covens degrees evil measure // inevitable culmination.¡±  And with that, she curled back up into a ball in front of me.


    I looked mutely at Rook for help, and she took pity on me.  ¡°What she¡¯s saying is that we were approached, and paid, to create your story.¡±  I stared at her, and watched as she swallowed. ¡°You understand that I was not here?  That I only know this secondhand?¡±


    I nodded, and she continued.  ¡°There are other covens. Some are better, some are worse.  It is not for us to say which are which. But this particular¡­ individual, was not likely to go to a better coven if it was turned down.  So Shadow felt it was best that she take on this story, instead of leaving it for someone else.¡±


    I sat there, mind whirling.  I¡¯d thought, when Sal told me that a witch created our story, that I finally knew where to find answers.  But now it turned out that the witch was a¡­ contractor, just doing this as a job. The word came out before I could think.  ¡°Who?¡± I clenched my fists.


    Shadow rose up again before me.  ¡°Sorrow Sorrow // variable control light sound color breeze // rotten heart.¡±


    She looked sad - I don¡¯t know how I knew that, but I could tell - and I reluctantly held up a hand.  ¡°Look, I¡¯m not entirely sure what you just said there, and I know you¡¯re apologetic, but¡­ you¡¯re right.  Someone else would have done it if not for you. And besides.¡± I looked down at my arms and flexed one, tracing the heavy muscle with the other.  ¡°I like being me.  I like being active.  Controlling my own destiny.  Well,¡± I amended, ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t control it.  But I¡¯m not a helpless object either, just waiting for some guy to show up and get me out of there.  And if I¡¯d stayed at home, I¡¯d probably be married off by now.¡±


    I shrugged.  ¡°Either way, I¡¯m happy.  Maybe I¡¯m not pretty. Maybe I¡¯ll never find love.  But if you asked me to pick again, I¡¯d take kicking ass over a hot guy any day.  So don¡¯t feel sad for me.¡±


    I slowly became aware that I wasn¡¯t getting the reaction I expected.  Well, not exactly - I hadn¡¯t really known what to expect. But whatever it was, it didn¡¯t involve an odd look on Rook¡¯s face, Shadow staring at me passively, and Cat falling over on her side and chuffing in amusement.  I coughed self-consciously. ¡°Um. I would like to request that translate thing now.¡±


    Rook smiled gently.  ¡°It¡¯s understandable.  She wasn¡¯t telling you she¡¯s sad.  Sorrow is the name of the entity that requested your story.¡±


    I pursed my lips.  ¡°Oh.¡± Sorrow. The name gave no clues.  ¡°What¡­ entity? What is it? Can you tell me anything?¡±


    Rook and Shadow shared a glance, then Rook spoke.  ¡°I cannot go into specifics. Sorrow is an ancient fae.  It is¡­ unique. And appropriately named.¡± Another look between the two of them.  ¡°I¡­ witches do not like to use the word evil, you understand? We believe in balance, in shades of truth and morality.  Very few things in this world are black and white.¡± I nodded my comprehension.


    Her next words were solemn.  ¡°Nevertheless, Sorrow is very, very evil.¡±


    I gulped.  Then, to my surprise, Shadow rose back up and met my eyes.  They swirled with power, the sense of age almost palpable, and I wondered how old Sorrow must be that this witch would refer to it as ancient.


    ¡°Morose ruminations // fang balance scale balance venom balance // query acknowledge?¡±


    I started to talk, and then - since I am not always a complete idiot - I closed my mouth and turned to Rook for help.  She smiled approvingly, and then had a hissing conversation with Shadow. It was the first time I had heard her real voice, and I was shocked at how frail and weak it sounded.


    Rook turned back to me.  Her words and cadence were oddly formal.  ¡°Shadow offers you two boons to aid in your task.  The first is her regret. It is yours, with no payment or acceptance required.¡±


    I froze for a minute, but Sal had spoken of this.  Accept any boons offered.  Do not ask questions. Do not say thank you.  I bowed my head to Shadow.


    Apparently satisfied, Rook continued.  ¡°The second is her trial. It is offered freely, with no obligation of acceptance.  There is a price, but it is one you must pay to yourself.¡±


    I started to bow again, then hesitated.  Trial sounded¡­ tricky. But Sal had never steered me wrong.  So I girded myself and bowed again. ¡°Th- I accept.¡±


    At which point Shadow Flickering Final Breath, The Crone Witch of Twilight¡¯s End and the architect of my life, struck forward like lightning and sank her fangs into my right hand.

 Chapter 6

    Wilhelm


    Days turned to weeks, blurring together with a repetitive sameness, and before I knew it a month had passed.  Birds and squirrels and knitting and meals, and supervised conversations with Samuel. I skipped gatherings, and Ulgafrag just patted me on the head.


    I felt adrift, detached from everything I knew.  It wasn¡¯t a completely new feeling - I¡¯d felt the same when I first arrived - but back then I¡¯d had a plan.  One to reclaim my manliness. One I¡¯d failed utterly at.


    Ulgafrag had told me a story once when I was younger, I think in an attempt to get me to bond with her.  I don¡¯t know if it was true, but it was about a circus she said she¡¯d seen once, and the imagery had stuck in my mind.  I imagined myself to be like one of the tightrope walkers, navigating a narrower and narrower path through life as I trembled and fought for balance.  On one side, I could give up and let the curse take me fully. And while I would be beautiful and perfect and mindless, I sometimes thought it would be worth it, just so I wouldn¡¯t have to fight and be tired all the time.  And on the other side¡­


    There¡¯s always hope.


    Well, I tried not to think much about the other side.


    I was unsure of how to handle Ulgafrag.  I had spent so long considering her an adversary that thinking of her as an ally - possibly a friend? - felt unnatural.  My first instincts were always to tell the little lies, to deflect and shield and hide my weaknesses. I found it to be a cage of my own devising, untruths piling on each other until they restricted me almost as much as any magic ever had.   I had to stop and force myself to think rationally, to realize that I could be direct, to apologize, or even ask for help.


    On her part, things were also rough.  I could tell she was trying, but - and this was my fault as well - she was obviously having to work to trust me.  I had trained her, those same tactics teaching her to always seek the hidden meanings and motives. So we stumbled on slowly, the blind helping the blind as we tried to forge something new.


    And I helped Samuel heal.  At first I was too afraid, keeping my distance and shying away from his movements, and Ulgafrag did almost everything.  But I slowly found myself doing more of the work. He was simply too pitiful to inspire fear, although occasionally the way he¡¯d move or speak would make me start or jump away, like an echo of those few terrifying moments.  And it felt natural, the bandaging and cleaning and healing. Even helping him eat. Ulgafrag, thankfully, handled things when he needed to use the privy. Since he was usually soaking wet from the waist down when he came back, I gathered she just took him outside and dunked him in a stream for a bit when he was done.  I refrained from asking, though.


    Before my¡­ epiphany, I would have run screaming before I did any of this.  It felt like woman¡¯s work. It was one thing to embrace what was forced on me as a camouflage - although looking back I wondered if that had been a lie as well - and another to take to it of my own free will.  Not to mention the imagery of a damsel tending the injured knight.


    But that was before.  Now¡­ well, if it felt demeaning, at least it wasn¡¯t destroying my mind.  It distracted me from prose, let me focus on something I was good at. I was surprised at how much that slight feeling of competence helped me keep the dark thoughts at bay.  And it also helped with the guilt. I would look at Samuel, broken and bereft, and remember the hours I had lain upstairs, wanting but unable to make myself act, to even attempt to save him.


    Samuel was an automaton the first few days, but he slowly began to regain life.  He was always wary of Ulgafrag - watching her, flinching when she got too close - but when she failed to do anything horrible again, he started to relax in her presence.


    Away from his princess rescue paradigm - or perhaps because of his recent experiences - he started to show unexpected depth.  We talked, slowly at first, but then we found a shared interest and our conversations exploded.


    Warfare.


    He was, sadly, of the classical school of thought, insisting on trying to pigeonhole everything into a standard line of war.  I tried to explain to him how magical forces changed the balance - what you need against mages and dragons and fae is mobility, not siege engines and heavily armored knights.  But he was stubborn. It wasn¡¯t until I gave him my seven point rundown on why plate is a horrible armor for rescuing princesses that he looked at me with respect and saw - ironically, I suppose - a prince.


    The only part I struggled with was my attraction to him.  It was easy when I found myself descending into florid descriptions of his eyes or muscles - that, I could dismiss as the magic of the story.  It was when it happened without that when I struggled. The way his hair felI over his eyes, the curve of his mouth when he grinned, even the way he mis-used words sometimes.  I was, thankfully, very certain that I enjoyed looking at women, and I told myself that it was just another aspect of the magic.


    But I couldn¡¯t help wonder if that was yet another lie.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    * * *


    I walked down the stairs and opened the door to the sitting room, eager to resume our conversation from yesterday about the relative merits of standard cavalry charges vs centaurs.  Then I paused and looked at Samuel in confusion. I kept my voice level with effort. ¡°Samuel¡­ why are you chained to the wall?¡±


    He looked vaguely embarrassed.  ¡°Ah, yes. You see, I wanted to talk to you alone.  Lady Ulgafrag was not amused. I told her she could, well, chain me to the wall.¡±  He shook his foot, making the chain rattle, and looked at me ruefully. ¡°I thought I was joking.¡±


    I laughed.  I couldn¡¯t help it.  Then I shook my head.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry. But that does sound like her.¡±


    He sat back.  ¡°Yes. I guess it does.¡±  He was quiet for a moment.  ¡°She¡¯s a... good person.¡± He looked away, and I decided not to call him out on the lie.  He had his reasons for feeling the way he did, and the gods knew I¡¯d thought the same thing often enough.  He shook his head. ¡°Every day I¡¯m here I feel more a foolish failure.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure how to respond to that, but I felt a pang of unexpected kinship with him.  We were so different on the outside that I hadn¡¯t considered our similarities. I was, on every level, a failed prince.  And Samuel obviously felt himself a failed knight. I considered saying something encouraging, but I hesitated. I was reluctantly growing to like Samuel.  If he kept being a knight, the most likely result is he would be killed. Or he¡¯d kill a matron that I likely knew.


    While I considered what to say, I lost my chance.  Samuel¡¯s voice was solemn. ¡°Willhelm.¡± He hesitated, then gathered himself.  ¡°I owe you an apology.¡±


    I stared at him, nonplussed.  ¡°I thought you already gave me one.¡±


    He looked away.  ¡°Yes. And I meant it.  But I gave it to you because Ulgafrag told me to.¡±  He turned and looked me in the eye. ¡°I want to apologize because I want to.¡±  He appeared to consider his words, then winced. ¡°That sounded odd. What I meant is-¡±


    I held up a hand.  ¡°It¡¯s ok. I got it.¡±  We sat in silence for a moment.  I appreciated it, sure. But I was a little afraid of what he was going to apologize for.  It wasn¡¯t the most comfortable topic.  On the other hand, declining would have damaged our fragile friendship, hurt Samuel, and worst of all been unforgivably rude.  So, with some trepidation I waited for him to speak.


    He stared down at his arms.  They were still splinted, crossed across his chest, but he¡¯d started to regain some movement with his shoulders.  His voice was quiet. ¡°I thought a long time about how to say this. And I keep rejecting what I come up with. It all sounds like excuses.¡±


    I opened my mouth to speak, but he got there first.  ¡°I dream about it. What I did. It feels like someone else.¡±  His face twisted. ¡°Which is even worse. What kind of man thinks that way?  Denies his actions?¡±


    I made my voice gentle.  ¡°Samuel. Ever since I can remember, I¡¯ve lived with magic.  In magic. It twists my thoughts, who and what I am. I¡¯ve never been myself.¡±  I smiled sadly. ¡°You can fight it. But you can¡¯t always win.¡±


    His words were filled with scorn, although I couldn¡¯t tell if it was aimed at me or himself.  ¡°So what? Magic made me do it, so who cares? I¡¯m not responsible?¡±


    I sighed and sat back.  ¡°No. Everything we do¡­¡± I trailed off, remembering that moment years past in a gather.  Those shocked brown eyes filled with despair as I tore her soul to shreds. I shook my head.  ¡°What we do is on us. But it doesn¡¯t make it who we are.¡± I hesitated, then added one more line, even as I felt like a hypocrite saying it.  ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean you give up.¡±


    We sat there, lost in our thoughts.  I almost missed it when he spoke next.  ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right. I guess¡­ I just want to say I¡¯m sorry.  And have you know that I mean it.¡± Then he looked at me, and I could see that same original sad, naive knight who believed in happy endings and true love peering out of his wounded eyes.


    I considered for a moment.  Then I stood up and walked over to him, his face going wary as I approached.  I looked at him thoughtfully. ¡°So, you promise to never touch someone without their permission, or harm the innocent ever again?¡±  Not that I felt particularly innocent, but I knew the wording would appeal to him.


    His eyes went wide.  ¡°Of course!¡±


    I pursed my lips and looked upward.  ¡°Then there is someone I would like you to meet.¡±


    * * *


    It took a great deal of coaxing and gratuitous raisen bribery.  But a half hour later I descended back into Samuel¡¯s room with Sergeant Black.  The former looked confused, and the latter was vibrating with the paranoid nervous energy of a small animal in unfamiliar surroundings.


    I sat carefully, close enough to talk but far enough to keep my blue jay feeling safe.  I nodded to Samuel. ¡°Sir Samuel. This is Sergeant Black, the leader of my woodland scouts.¡±  Astonishment blossomed on his face. I turned to the bird in my hands. ¡°Sergeant Black, this is Sir Samuel.  The¡­ last shining fighter man you found.¡± Between Samuel¡¯s disgruntled look at my description and Sergeant Black examining him avidly, I had a hard time keeping a straight face, but I managed solemn with some effort.


    Sergeant Black spoke first, suspicion coloring his chirps.  ¡°Not shiny.¡±


    ...ok, a bit of a grin might have snuck out.  I managed to keep my voice even, though. ¡°He had to take off his shininess.¡±  I looked at Samuel, whose eyebrows were trying to unite with his hair.


    And I told him the story.  Of trying to teach them military discipline.  Of bribes and threats and long hours of talking to a shifting audience of tiny creatures until my voice was hoarse.  Sergeant Black contributed with mostly inaccurate and vague memories, which I translated verbatim primarily to see the look on Samuel¡¯s face.  And afterwards we fell into a deep discussion on the impact of bird scouts to modern armies (Samuel thought they would be invaluable. I was less optimistic).


    And sometime in the middle of it all I realized I was laughing and smiling freely.  That somehow in this silly discussion I¡¯d escaped, even if temporarily, all the worries that plagued me, the sense of unavoidable¡­ doom sounds too pretentious, but I could think of no better word.  It made me feel like things might just work out, somehow.


    Three days later I was shown how very wrong I was.

 Chapter 7

    Arriane


    I walk down stairs that are both too large and just right, one hand against the wall to keep my balance.  The stone is smooth and worn against my fingers. I pause at the front door. It is barely ajar, but I am small and I wiggle through.  The scent of new spring fills me as I slip into the inner ward.


    I am not supposed to be here.  But I do not want to be where I am supposed to be, so I continue, picking my way between broken stone and dirt, careful of my bare feet.  I stick to the shadows, but any direction is better than back. I go to the left because I see a dragonfly. It seems as good a reason as any.


    I start to move through the archway.  But halfway through I pause, spellbound.


    Before me is light and fire, motion and grace.  It is massive, vast beyond my eight-year old comprehension, towering even over my faint memories of Father on his horse.  Scales of gold and red and uncountable shades between gleam and shift in the morning rays. And in its hands a giant burning sword, burning brightly as it moves, following some pattern I can sense but not identify.


    I do not know how long I stand there in awe, or what gives me away.  A breath, a shift of a foot against the grass. One minute I am standing there watching, the next it is crouched before me, staring me in the eye.  The sword is gone as if it never was.


    My breath catches in my throat.  Its brow crinkles, scales shifting in a surprisingly human expression as it stares at me.  When it speaks, it is with a rumble, and it is alien and achingly familiar at the same time.  ¡°And now what am I supposed to do with you, little one?¡±


    My heart has no room for proprietary or manners.  It just knows what I want, so I blurt it out unthinkingly.  ¡°Teach me! That was amazing!¡±


    It stares at me, face unreadable.  ¡°Teach you.¡±


    I nod vigorously.  ¡°Yes! Please?¡± I look pleading at it, trembling with a desire I do not fully understand, but nevertheless want with all of my being.


    It taps claws into the ground, leaving divots.  ¡°I do not-¡± it cuts off, looking at me thoughtfully.  Then, questioning: ¡°Why?¡±


    I bite my lip and think.  I don¡¯t really know why. Not deep down.  But I know what I thought when I first saw it, so I look it in the eye.  ¡°¡®Cause you¡¯re big and strong and fast and you can do what you want.¡±


    It stares at me again, eyes boring into mine.  Then it grins, big and toothy, and I smile back.  It opens its mouth, and says-


    ¡°Arriane!¡±  The words came from far away, and I groaned as I pulled myself out of unconsciousness, the dream fading away.  I felt¡­ surprisingly good, actually. Although I didn¡¯t remember why I would feel bad, and I frowned at myself as I opened my eyes.


    Sal¡¯s face swam into view, that little concerned wrinkle on her forehead, and a stone ceiling visible above her.  I was back in the grotto, lying on a familiar lumpy bedroll. She leaned down, inspecting me and watching my eyes.  ¡°How are you feeling, dear heart?¡±


    I grinned up at her.  ¡°Really good.¡± Then I frowned again.  ¡°Why do I feel like I shouldn¡¯t feel good?  And what happened?¡±


    She sat back.  ¡°You don¡¯t remember?¡±


    Someone cleared their throat, and I turned my head to the look.  Standing there was¡­ Rook.  The name popped into my head, as did the image of the first time I¡¯d seen her.  Absolutely naked. I felt my cheeks flush. She was wearing a tight wrapped light cloth now that showed her figure, and her dwarven cloak was off on the floor to the side.  And for some reason she seemed to be as far away from Sal as was possible while still being in the cave.


    Rook looked at me.  ¡°It was- well, Shadow was giving you the boon, and it¡¯s, uh- your hand?¡±  She was adorably nervous, and I smiled reassuringly at her.


    Right, my hand did ache a bit.  I lifted it up and looked at it, and there on the back were two tiny, twin scars, each with a faint snakeskin pattern.  And now it all came rushing back. The witches in their ancient carved fortress, conversational games, learning about sacrifices and prices .  Shadow¡¯s crazy enigmatic voices in my head, learning about Sorrow. And then the boons, and brands burning into my hand as I stared in shock at Shadow biting me.


    Scrambling back when she released me, picking up Binder - and then dropping him as fire rushed through my veins, muscles curling in on themselves in agony.  Pain as bad as anything I¡¯d experienced before. Worse than the cramps of my first woman¡¯s cycle, before Sal gave me the ring to suppress them. Worse than the first month of training over a decade ago, when I was weak and frail.


    And almost as bad as Sal explaining to me over and over how weak and soft I¡¯d become.


    I remembered writhing in the floor as the venom spread, indistinct voices and figures arguing over me.  And then, mercifully, I remembered passing out.


    I opened my eyes, which was a little odd because I didn¡¯t remember closing them.  Sal and Rook were looking at me, the former concerned and the later tense. I thought about what had happened.  It seemed like I should be angry. I should be going after Shadow to demand answers. But¡­


    ¡°Huh.¡±  I looked down at the scars, then flexed my hand.  The ache was there - the only reminder of what had happened - but it was nothing, less than what I felt after a hard workout.  Experimentally I started moving and stretching, pushing my arms out and then my legs. Everything felt good. I put down one hand for balance, then pushed up to my feet.


    ¡°I know I should probably start yelling.  But I have to say, if this is always how you feel after a snakebite, I¡¯ve been missing out.¡±  I cracked my neck, sighing at the release, and rotated my shoulders. I didn¡¯t just feel good, I felt¡­ energetic.  Pumped. I wanted to move, to spar, to do something.  Sal was now looking at me with a critical eye, Rook with wide eyes.


    They exchanged glances, and then Sal nodded firmly.  Rook swallowed. Her eyes went back to my chest, tracking slightly up and down, at which point I realized I was naked.


    I stopped bouncing.  Then I resolutely turned to Sal and calmly crossed my hands across my chest.  ¡°Clothes?¡± My voice was a half-octave higher than normal, and I cleared it self-consciously.  Sal rolled her eyes. ¡°I will get you clothes. You.¡± She pointed at Rook. ¡°Start talking.¡± She turned and started rummaging through my pack.


    Rook smiled weakly.  I think. It was hard to tell since I could just barely see her out of the corner of my eye.  ¡°Right. Well, um. The bite, it¡¯s, you know, it¡¯s the boon, and so-¡± Sal turned to glare at her, and she squeaked.  My eyes widened.


    Sal sighed, handed me a pile of clothes, and marched out of the grotto.  She called back over her shoulder, ¡°Get dressed. I¡¯ll go make sure Churchmouse isn¡¯t terrorizing the local wildlife.  Let me know when you¡¯re done talking to the silly witch so I can come back.¡±


    I could almost sense Rook relax as Sal disappeared into the outside world, and I busied myself putting on clothes.  It wasn¡¯t my full armor - just some underclothes - but it was enough to cover the important parts, and I felt myself relax as I finished.  Even the normal after-embarrassment that I usually suffered from seemed to be absent, washed away in the pervasive sense of well-being that had been there since I woke.


    I turned to face Rook.  I opened my mouth to ask her about her reaction to Sal - surely she wasn¡¯t that intimidating? - but then shook my head.  Better to stay on target. ¡°So¡­ boons and bites?¡±


    She nodded at me.  ¡°Yes.¡± She seemed to gather herself, closing her eyes, and reciting as if from memory.  ¡°The bite of the snakewitch is a trial for the body, inflicting pain and great stress from the venom.  If you survive, it acts similarly to a magical supervaccination.¡± She paused at the look on my face. ¡°Sorry.  A vaccination is a type of preventative treatment - you survive a weaker version of a disease, in exchange for protection against the full one.¡±


    She looked at me inquiringly, and I nodded, feeling chagrined.  I¡¯d never been ashamed of my schooling before, but Rook was making me feel incredibly out of my depth.  ¡°Right. So¡­ I¡¯m immune to magical snake venom now?¡± I tried to keep my voice positive. I mean, sure that could be useful, but it seemed kind of¡­ specific.  Maybe Sorrow was a type of snake?


    Rook looked flustered.  ¡°I- sorry, I¡¯m not explaining this very well.  What she does is take the concept of vaccination and re-align it with the secondary time attribute.  She also broadens the concept to include other non-venoms, specifically toxins and disease.¡±


    I must have still looked confused - I mean, I got the second part.  But secondary time attribute? She rubbed her temples. ¡°Ok. Simple.  I can do simple.¡± She pursed her lips cutely. ¡°Basically, you¡¯re immune or resistant to nearly all organic venoms, poison, and diseases.¡±


    I opened my mouth and closed it a few times.  ¡°Oh.¡± I felt a bit stunned. That was¡­ I mean, I don¡¯t tend to run into that a lot.  But I¡¯d been sick a few times of course, and oooh. I could try apples.  I¡¯d always wanted to see how they tasted.  I realized that Rook was looking at me with concern for my comprehension, and searched for something intelligent to say.  ¡°That sounds neat.¡± Oh, yes. Well done, Arriane.  I searched for something better.  ¡°Organic?¡±


    Her face fell slightly.  ¡°Well, yes. Since Shadow¡¯s venom is a natural living product, sympathetic resonance only allows¡­¡±


    I tuned her out, content to let her magibabble away.  In a way it brought me back to my childhood - gathers generally weren¡¯t happy places for me, which meant I¡¯d went and hid around the matrons as often as possible.  That got¡­ difficult, as I grew, but when I was younger I¡¯d often spend the entire events just sitting and listening to them talk. Lots of it was gossip, but it was also common for the more magical matrons to get together and talk shop.  So the terms were familiar, even if I didn¡¯t actually know what half of them meant. Although I had to say, they sounded a lot sexier coming from Rook-


    I shook my head.  What was wrong with me?  I didn¡¯t like girls.  Not even ones who were exotic and cute, curved in all the right places, smart as a button - I reached up and knocked my head with my fist.  Then I realized that Rook had stopped talking and was looking at me, head cocked to one side, wondering if I¡¯d gone crazy.


    I looked away and ran a hand through my hair.  ¡°Look uh, Rook - when Shadow bit me, did that do¡­ anything else?  Or are there any other effects?¡±


    She looked thoughtful.  ¡°Like side effects? No, the bite shouldn¡¯t do anything else¡­ why are you asking?  Is something wrong?¡± She peered at me, like I might suddenly sprout with some horrible affliction.


    I took a second to imagine that conversation.  Why yes, Rook.  You see, I suddenly find you incredibly attractive and I keep getting distracted by little things, like when you peer at me with those pretty violet eyes- whoa.  Ok, so imagining that was a stupid idea.  But she was looking suspicious, so I casted about for something to explain my behavior.  It was tough since I wanted to be doing something, not thinking - ah.  Perfect. I gave her my best grin.  ¡°I was just wondering why I felt so good and energetic after a snake bite.¡±  She was staring at me with an odd look on her face, and I frowned. ¡°Why? Is that bad?¡±


    She shook her head rapidly.  ¡°Um. N-no.¡± She bit her lip adorably, and I looked away to keep from getting distracted.  Then I realized she¡¯d already started talking and I¡¯d missed the start. ¡°-Shadow healed you.¡±


    I paused.  ¡°She had to heal me?  I thought that was the trial?¡±


    She shook her head, leaning back against the wall.  ¡°No, the trial part is just surviving it. You were out for six days, and-¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±  My jaw dropped.  ¡°I- six days? That¡¯s impossible.¡±


    She looked flustered.  ¡°I mean - you were unconscious but we took care of you, Shadow didn¡¯t think there was a time limit or anything so she thought it would be ok-¡±


    I tuned her out, searching.  Six days of no activity should have killed my conditioning, and I¡¯d just spent over two weeks working my ass off to get it back.  But I didn¡¯t feel like I¡¯d lost anything. Unfortunately, feeling wasn¡¯t enough. I needed to know.  And ah, there he was.


    I picked up Binder and slid him out of the scabbard.  After making sure Rook was off to the side, I put her out of my mind.  And then I moved into the first sword form Sal had ever taught me.


    Thrust.  Stamp. Block.  Forward. Moves so ingrained I could do them in my sleep.  I had done them in my sleep, once.  The wall had been rather painful.  But most importantly, I¡¯d done this yesterday¡­ well, a week ago now.  And I had the timing in my bones. I pushed myself, going as quickly as I could, feeling the weight of the sword and the rough rock on my feet as I moved surely and precisely.


    Slash.  Block. The tricky footwork that had taken me two years to master to Sal¡¯s satisfaction.  And¡­ done. I lowered Binder and took stock.


    Impossible to be completely sure until I sparred again with Sal.  That probably had to wait until tonight. But I was nearly positive that if anything I was faster.  Binder had felt lighter. And I wasn¡¯t even breathing hard. Maybe some of that was the lack of armor, but something told me that wasn¡¯t the case.  I shook my head and went back over to put Binder away, bending down to pick up his sheathe.


    ¡°Mmph.¡±


    I stood up, turned around and looked at Rook.  She had that same odd expression on her face from before.  I lifted my eyebrows. ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°B- nothing.  Absolutely nothing.¡±  She sat down rapidly and took a few deep breaths, then smiled at me.  ¡°So you believe you¡¯re healed then?¡±


    I shrugged and flexed an arm to feel the muscles pull.  Rook made another odd sound, but her face smoothed when I looked at her.  I wondered if something was wrong with her. ¡°Either you¡¯re lying - which I don¡¯t think you are,¡± I hastened to add, ¡°or she should bottle that stuff and buy a kingdom or five.  Cause wow.¡±


    I felt like I was looming over her, so I sat down on the other side of the cave, the wall cool against my back.  We sat in silence for a moment, her looking into the pool, and against my better judgement I used it to study her.  Judging by the light outside it was just after midday, and while I could see ok the grotto was dimly lit. She was half in shadow, her alabaster skin and the wrap a sharp contrast.  She looked up and my breath caught as the light caught her neck and shoulder.


    I shook my head sharply.  This was getting ridiculous - I¡¯d have to talk to Sal and see if she knew how to fix whatever the magic had screwed up.  But for now, I needed to do something else. I stretched and forced my voice to be casual. ¡°So, do you think you¡¯re ready to face Sal now?¡±


    She stiffened, and now that I was looking for it I could see the fear in her.  Not debilitating, but there. ¡°Of course.¡±


    I snorted.  ¡°Oh, come on.  She¡¯s not that bad.¡±


    She stared at me, incredulous.  Her voice was shrill. ¡°You¡¯re travelling with Salventarius, former Second Blade of the Seventh Empire, Kinkiller, Mage Ascendent and Songmistress of the Northern Dragons.  She¡¯s over a thousand years old. And she¡¯s not that bad?!¡±


    I suppressed a grin.  A new title I hadn¡¯t heard before, another portal into Sal¡¯s past.  I wondered what a Songmistress did. I also wondered if I should tell Rook that Sal had probably heard every word, then shrugged.  It wasn¡¯t like it mattered - we¡¯d be leaving shortly anyway. Or¡­ I frowned. Son of a bitch. In all the drama I¡¯d never gotten his name.


    I turned to Rook.  ¡°I guess she just grows on you.  So hey, uh¡­ with the bite and all.  Shadow never got around to telling me the prince¡¯s name and location?¡±  I made it a question at the end. It was worth a try.


    Her smile told me she saw right through me.  ¡°I have it. We simply require that I travel with you, and that you not stand in our way when the time comes.¡±  I stared at her uncomprehendingly, and she flushed prettily. ¡°With the¡­ child.¡±


    Oh.  Oh.  Right.  I forced a smile.  ¡°I can agree to that.  I doubt it would be a problem anyway.  There¡¯s no way he¡¯ll be interested in me.¡±  She looked at me quizzically, and I changed the subject.  ¡°So, the name¡­?¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Right, sure.¡±  She closed her eyes, moving her lips, then spoke.  ¡°Prince Willhelm of Trine, in the Tower of Ogre¡¯s Reach.¡±


    I frowned in puzzlement.  His name sounded incredibly familiar, but at the same time I was sure I¡¯d never heard it before.  Then I jumped as something dropped from on outside of the grotto down into the entrance. I relaxed as I realized it was Sal.  Rook¡¯s reaction was to learn how to levitate and to squeak again, but I was too concerned to find it cute. Sal¡¯s face¡­ I made my voice flat.  ¡°What is it?¡±


    She regarded me silently.  When she spoke it was flat.  ¡°I suppose you blocked him out of your memory.  Not that I blame you.¡± She moved forward and put a hand on my shoulder, and I tensed.  Her eyes were sympathetic. ¡°Arriane, that is the real name of Princess Willhelma.¡±


    * * *


    My hand throbbed, and I resisted the urge to play with the splint.  Sal had been especially sarcastic about the wisdom of a swordswoman punching a rock with her dominant hand.  Then enthusiastic about the thought of putting me through offhand drills. I wasn¡¯t sure which was worse. At least Rook claimed it wasn¡¯t actually broken.


    I glanced off to the side so I could look at her from the corner of my eye.  The witch was trailing us, shapeless in her dwarven cloak. She had it pulled tight over her head for the shade, and a set of strange goggles that covered her eyes except for a small slit.


    On the one hand, I was glad she was covered up.  It made it easier to ignore the inexplicable attraction I had felt earlier.  On the other hand¡­ if ever there was a time I could have used a distraction, it was now.  I turned around and scowled at the landscape ahead, then resolutely put everything else out of my head and scanned for bandits.


    They failed to show up.  The bastards. Surely this was a great location to wait for helpless travelers.  I mean, there was the blistering heat, the scarce water, the complete lack of any food fit for human consumption¡­ the fact that I could still see my footprints in areas sheltered from the wind, mostly untouched, from over a week ago.  Clearly a highly trafficked area.


    I sighed, and paused.  I needed to get my head on straight.  But damn the gods, why did it have to be Willhelma?  Unbidden, I remembered the last time I had seen her - well, him.  Green eyes that looked through me, blazing with a fury I didn¡¯t understand.  Words that lashed me, cutting to the core until I had broken and run away. And never returned - that had been my last gather.  Sal¡¯d never pushed me after that, and I¡¯d been too grateful to ask why.


    My breath hissed through my teeth, and I forced my hand to relax, the sharp pain telling me I¡¯d probably re-injured it.  Sal stopped Churchmouse and looked at me, pretend indifference over her concern. Rook¡­ I had no idea. She was a motionless, unfinished statue, any expression destroyed by her cloak and goggles.


    I grunted, then turned.  ¡°I¡¯m going for a run. I¡¯ll be back when we stop tonight.¡±  And then I took off, jogging quickly. One of them might have called after me, but if so I ignored it.  The trail was rough, elevation changes and loose rocks demanding all of my attention. I quickly lost myself in the movement, eyes on the ground as I planned my route, interspersed with short pauses to survey ahead and to the sides.


    It was utter stupidity.  I could have injured myself and died before they could find me, away from food and water and lost in the heat.  I could have been ambushed. I could get lost - well, probably not. But it was possible.


    In short, I was being foolish, and I knew I¡¯d feel dumb later.  And I was sure Sal would have a few choice words to add. And while we were all at it, maybe Rook could chime in too.


    But it was still better than thinking about Willhelm.


    * * *


    I found them camped in the shelter of a bluff.  The wind had picked up as we got further away, but they¡¯d found a spot where the edge had crumbled long ago, leaving a softer hollow amidst the broken rock.  Well, softer being a relative term - in the forest I would have skipped it without a second glance - but here it seemed like a small section of paradise.


    I felt new and empty and tired, like I¡¯d taken the desert¡¯s raw desolace into myself and scrubbed myself clean.  I knew it was an illusion - nothing was really fixed or solved - and later I¡¯d have to think about Willhelm, and about all my rage and guilt and pain.  But somewhere in the empty skies and broken landscapes I¡¯d found the distance I needed to think and function.


    Rook was sitting on a convenient rock, doing something incomprehensible with a piece of string , a pebble and a curved stick.  She gave me a non judgmental glance and a smile. She also had her cloak pushed back, and I drank in how her hair framed her face and neck before I turned away.


    Sal was leaning against the wagon, and she gave me a withering glare that managed to combine two lectures, a harangue, and possibly a thrashing into a single look.  I winced, then held up my peace offering. A large hare and I had mutually surprised each other. Fortunately for me, I turned out to be bigger and more dangerous.


    Sal looked to the heavens, then pointedly went back to ignoring me.  I walked up to the small fire to dress the hare. I got to the part where I needed two hands - you know, the very first step - then closed my eyes and swore.


    Rook walked up quietly, stopping a few feet away.  ¡°Would you like some help?¡±


    I considered it for a moment.  I mean, obviously the first thing you want to do with a girl you are int-platonically looking to be friends with is fumble around in front of her because you intelligently punched a rock with your bare hand.  Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t really have any other options unless I wanted to desecrate a body, so I smiled weakly and said, ¡°Sure.  Thanks.¡±.


    At first she tried to do just that - help - and I was immensely grateful that she didn¡¯t just take it away from me and do everything herself.  But when I missed my third cut in a row, I groaned and grinned ruefully. ¡°Alright. I give up.¡± I looked at her hopefully. ¡°I¡¯ll hold, you cut?¡±


    She smiled back, then took the knife and started skillfully working the hare.  It startled me for a moment, which was stupid. She lived in a desert, had tracked me, and had kept up today without complaints.  She was obviously competent and able to take care of herself. So why did I keep insisting on thinking of her as bookish?


    We worked well together, falling into a quick rhythm that made short work of the animal.  I felt a pang of disappointment when we finished and she turned to work it onto a spit. It had been nice doing something together with her.  And her knifework was almost as cute as she was.


    I blinked, disconcerted.  Ok, now this was really getting out of hand.  I thought her knifework was cute?  I wasn¡¯t sure what was worse - the casual attractions making their way into my thoughts, or the fact that said attractions were based on how well she could use a weapon.


    I shook my head, murmured a thank you and got up to find somewhere to stretch out.  I was going to have to think of a non-suspicious way to get Sal alone for a while. I was in serious need of some advice.


    * * *


    Rook was surprisingly cooperative.  About an hour after we ate the stars came out, and she disappeared over the bluff with her witchy tools again, announcing she was going to take another reading.  I wasn¡¯t sure what she was reading or how she¡¯d see the words in the dark, but I wasn¡¯t going to second guess the chance. I waited until her footsteps faded, plus another twenty heartbeats.  Then I sidled my way over to Sal.


    She was lying propped against the wagon, facing the fire and muttering to herself with her eyes closed.  She stopped and cracked one lid open as I sat down next to her. I was trying not to use my bad hand, and winced as I thumped to the ground a little harder than I would have liked.


    Sal sighed and wiggled to face toward me.  ¡°You are not getting out of it, you know.¡±


    I ignored her, scanning for any sign of Rook returning.  But the coast was still clear. I turned back to her. ¡°I really need to talk to you.¡±


    She shook her head.  ¡°I know you do not wish to hear this, Arriane.  But what you did today was incredibly foolish. You could have been seriously hurt.  And while we have not seen any, you should not fully discount bandits.¡± She arched an eyebrow at me.  ¡°You were at least careful?¡±


    I ignored her and waved an arm.  ¡°Lecture me later. I need to ask you something while Rook¡¯s off doing magical stuff.¡±  I took another glance around, then turned to her and lowered my voice. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ ever since I woke up.  After the healing. I keep on¡­¡± I hesitated, but forged ahead. ¡°I keep on finding Rook¡­ attractive.¡±


    Crickets.  Sal had a peculiar look on her face, and it took me a moment to figure it out.  It was her Arriane-is-doing-something-human face crossed with her Arriane-is-doing-something-stupid face.  Not a good sign.


    I lowered my voice to a hiss.  ¡°Dammit Sal, it¡¯s not - I think the witches changed me somehow!  I don¡¯t know what to do, but I can¡¯t stop thinking about her face and hair and the way her tits look when she stretches in that cloak, and there¡¯s this cute way she bites her lip when she¡¯s thinking hard, and she¡¯s great with that knife and I get lost in her eyes and¡­¡± I trailed off, then closed my eyes and let my head thunk back on the wagon.  My cheeks felt warm enough to keep the fire going, and I wondered if Sal would kill me if I asked her nicely.


    Her tone was musing.  ¡°You know Arriane, I never thought this day would come.¡±


    I peeked at her.  My voice was small.  ¡°What?¡±


    She ignored me.  ¡°I prepared for it extensively.  I asked other matrons. I even talked to other princesses.  I took notes. But after a while I figured it probably would never happen.¡±  She sighed and looked down at her knees. ¡°And now here we are. And all of my preparations are a thousand miles away.¡±


    My curiosity was enough to override my angst, at least temporarily.  ¡°Sal, what on earth are you talking about?¡±


    She turned to me.  I stared. She had tears in her eyes.  ¡°I feel I have failed you, child.  I should have known you would need this talk.  But I put it off-¡±


    ¡°Whoa!¡±  I held up a hand.  ¡°I am¡­ reasonably conversant with the mechanics.  I mean. With a boy and a girl. I¡¯m not¡­ sure what a girl and a girl do.  But if you start talking about it I¡¯m leaving.¡±


    She frowned, then waved her hand.  ¡°No, of course not. I know you¡¯re familiar with the trivial biological requirements.  You had the quiz, remember?¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°No, Arriane, what you need now is something important.  Something critical, even. And I am not sure I am up to the task, but I will do my best.¡± She looked me in the eye.  ¡°You need girl talk.¡±


    The wind blew over the camp in the silence that followed, and I stared at the fire, thinking carefully.  This would require a delicate touch. ¡°Sal¡­ I don¡¯t need girl talk. The problem isn¡¯t that I like Rook.  The problem is that I like girls.¡±  I paused.  ¡°I mean - I don¡¯t like girls.  But I¡¯m liking Rook.  Since the healing. It¡¯s magical.  I mean the effect is magical, not the liking her part- ¡± I clamped my teeth together, cutting myself off before I made things worse.


    Sal was looking at me with another odd expression on her face.  Her words were questioning. ¡°So, you both do and do not like girls?  And this is¡­ bad?¡±


    I nodded.  Then I shook my head.  ¡°It¡¯s - I don¡¯t like girls.  But since they healed me I¡¯ve been attracted to Rook.  I think they messed with my head.¡±


    Her, ¡°Hrm.  I see,¡± told me she didn¡¯t, and I sighed and closed my eyes.


    ¡°Look, Sal.  Just forget it.  It¡¯s a human thing.  It¡¯s not going to make sense to you- ow!¡± I jerked away from the finger that jabbed into my ribs.


    ¡°Arriane.¡±  I held back a groan - Teacher Sal was back.  ¡°This is not a liking girls problem. Your issue is with magic and fear.¡±  I opened my mouth to protest, but she reached over and tapped my nose. ¡°No complaints.  You asked for my advice. So you do not have to take it, but you have to listen.¡±


    I rolled my eyes, deflected another jab, then settled back.  She watched, then nodded, satisfied. ¡°Very well. First we will examine your proposition - that the witches magicked you into finding Rook sexy.¡±  I coughed explosively as I inhaled wrong - I was not expecting that phrasing - but she continued on.  ¡°So. What is the motive for the Coven of Twilight¡¯s End to do such a thing?¡±


    I finished clearing my throat, opened my mouth to answer and then hesitated.  I somehow had a feeling that because they¡¯re witches wouldn¡¯t be considered an acceptable answer, so I searched for something else.  And then hung my head when I came up completely blank.


    Sal let me suffer for a moment longer, then relieved me of my misery.  ¡°Precisely. There are a few unlikely possibilities. For example, perhaps Shadow Flickering Final Breath is playing matchmaker.  But given that she¡¯s also sending Rook off to get pregnant with Willhelm¡¯s child, I consider that a low probability. So we can discard your hypothesis.¡±


    I paused.  Something about the way she said that...


    However, having dashed my beautiful witches did it because reasons theory, she wasted no time in continuing.  ¡°So. Understanding that, what else has happened recently that might explain a possible growth in your personal sexual identity?¡±


    I suppressed a wince - personal sexual identity is not something you want to talk about with someone who¡¯s basically a surrogate mother - and then held up a hand.  ¡°Well, wait. They need Willhelm - the prince - to have a child with Rook.¡± She nodded, and I continued, feeling my way through the logic.  ¡°But the magic thinks I¡¯m the prince. So maybe the story wants me to be attracted to her?¡±


    Sal pursed her lips.  ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    I felt simultaneously elated, relieved, and a little angry.  The magic was messing with my head.  But Sal was shaking her head, and I looked at her in confusion.  ¡°What? It makes sense.¡±


    She blew out a breath and leaned back, stretching.  ¡°I will admit I am not an expert in young princes. But it occurs to me that it seems¡­ unlikely, that they would need magic in that case.  Based on the appearance of the princesses at the gathers, I would guess that she would be naturally attractive to them.¡±


    I grimaced, trying to find the hole in her logic.  Aha. ¡°But Shadow didn¡¯t know Rook then. What if the maiden turned out to be ugly?¡±  Sal stared into the fire, apparently unconvinced. I wanted to poke and prod, but experience told me to wait it out.


    She finally let out a breath.  ¡°It also occurs to me that Shadow may have chosen Rook for a particular reason.¡±


    I frowned at her.  What could¡­ oh. Oh.  That was¡­ I didn¡¯t know how to feel about that.  I shivered despite myself, and rubbed my arms. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°Cold?¡±  Sal suggested, all humor gone.  ¡°Remember. Witches are not exactly evil...¡±


    ¡°But they¡¯re not exactly good,¡± I finished.  We sat in silence.


    Sal sighed.  ¡°Remember the first part as well.  I do not wish to discourage you. I simply want you to keep your eyes open.¡±  She tapped her hand on the ground. ¡°And it is likely that Rook has no knowledge or choice in the matter.¡±


    I bit my lip.  ¡°I suppose.¡± I looked at her.  ¡°So you think - the magic¡­?¡±


    She spread her arms.  ¡°It is not my kind of magic.  Truly, you should ask Rook.¡± I blanched at that idea, and she gave a small grin to show she was teasing.  ¡°If I had to guess, I would say no. But it would only be a guess.¡±


    We stared at the fire.  My thoughts were a whirlwind of feelings and hopes and fears.  I held up my good hand and clenched it, forming a fist, and felt things resolve.  I¡¯d gotten confused once before by the magic, the story, and I¡¯d almost thrown everything away.  I¡¯d needed Sal to drag me back on track. Now¡­ the magic was.  I could fight it, or I could acknowledge it and try to work with it.


    Too bad I had literally no idea how to do that.  With fighting it was easy, but with relationships¡­ the thought of liking someone just because some magic was messing with my head was, well, creepy.  And would I always wonder about it? It seemed like I was damned either way.


    Sal interrupted my confused epiphany.  ¡°Regardless, I suggest you now consider alternative possibilities.  Again - what else has happened recently that might have impacted your views?¡±


    I tried to think.  Really, a ton of things had happened.  I¡¯d rescued myself and escaped my castle, travelled with Sal, met the witches¡­ I opened my eyes wide.  Then I stared at her. ¡°It can¡¯t be that simple.¡±


    She cocked her head.  ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Just that she¡¯s the first pretty girl I¡¯ve spent time with since I left?¡±  I asked dubiously.


    Sal shrugged.  ¡°You were always intensely uncomfortable in the gathers, which does not lend itself to attraction, and then you stopped going.  The rest of your adult life you have mostly spent with me, and I view you as a daughter.¡± She looked at me levelly. ¡°And you have never thought of yourself as attractive, which I imagine is¡­ discouraging.¡±


    I felt a warm flutter in my chest at daughter.  But¡­ ¡°Sal.  I...¡± I trailed off.  Can¡¯t like girls, is what I wanted to say.  Because princesses just didn¡¯t.  At least not publically.


    But princesses also don¡¯t learn swordplay, fight dragons, or rescue princes.  They don¡¯t bargain with witches. Well, ok, it was more like talking cordially with them.  And if I did all of that¡­


    It seems strange, but it was too big of a thought, too world shaking for me to take the final step.  I felt like I was on the edge of something, but I just couldn¡¯t make myself believe it, not quite yet.  And how could I accept that it was me, with the magic hovering over me?


    Sal was watching me, waiting, and I turned away.  ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± It was a cop out, but to my relief she accepted it.


    She leaned over and gave me a half hug, and I closed my eyes and just enjoyed her warmth and the small scent of smoke she gave off.  It made me feel like a kid again. ¡°You have had a long day. Take some time to think and process.¡± She shrugged against me, then eased away.  ¡°And think of it this way - if you do like Rook, what is the worst that could happen?¡±


    And just like that, the little burning core of hope I¡¯d been feeling was extinguished.  Why did it matter if I liked Rook? Why I liked her, or if I told her? She was human, and there¡¯s no way she¡¯d like me back.  I shifted to start to get to my feet.


    Sal must have read something on my face or movements, because she swore under her breath.  But she swore in draconic, so it rumbled across the hollow and half put the fire out. ¡°Arriane, if you get up and leave without clarifying what is wrong I am¡­¡± she hesitated, and I paused, looking at her.  Then she narrowed her eyes. ¡°I am going to start asking Rook her opinion on my lyrics.¡±


    I winced and sat back against the wagon with a sigh.  ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡±


    She arched an eyebrow.  ¡°Since when have I ever told you to fight fair?¡±


    It was such a Sal thing to say that despite myself I grinned for a moment.  ¡°True.¡± Then I sighed. ¡°Sal¡­ it doesn¡¯t matter if I like her. She¡¯s not going to like me.¡±


    Pure confusion.  ¡°Why?¡± Then her eyes narrowed.  ¡°This is that human thing again, isn¡¯t it.¡±  It wasn¡¯t really a question, but I nodded anyway.


    Her lips curled.  ¡°Humans.¡± The word dripped with disgust.  I tried not to take offense, since most of the time I felt the same way.  ¡°I will never understand why you insist on taking attraction and dividing it up into little boxes, and then assigning them arbitrarily based on something as flimsy as gender.¡±


    Another time I might have taken her up on the argument.  It was something we¡¯d discussed before, although I always felt I was at a disadvantage since she¡¯s, you know, a thousand years old and I spent most of my life as a virtual hermit.


    When she¡¯d first talked about it, I¡¯d been confused as to why she cared about human attractiveness in the first place, and I¡¯d expressed that confusion.  At which point she¡¯d launched into a long theory that apparently explained why almost everything magical had a human form. Since I¡¯d been ten I¡¯d mostly just stared, glassy-eyed, but the important bit I remembered was that at some point - tens of thousands of years ago - there had only been humans, and everything else came from them being slowly twisted and changed by magical influences.


    But I didn¡¯t really feel like arguing it right now, since it didn¡¯t apply.  So I didn¡¯t bother pointing out that what works for fifteen-foot tall dragons  - who can only tell the difference between male and female by scent - might not work for natural humans with our more obvious differences.  Or what worked for fae, who put on and take off genders like the rest of us change clothes. So instead I just shrugged, trying to make it casual.  ¡°It¡¯s too bad Rook is human, then.¡±


    We sat and stared at the fire.  I became aware that the silence had a certain¡­ quality to it, and I turned to look at Sal.  There was a distinct sparkle in her eye, and the curve of her lips¡­ my jaw dropped. ¡°No. She can¡¯t be.¡±


    She went for solemn.  ¡°If that were true, it would not be my secret to tell.¡±  Translation: Correct. Rook isn¡¯t human.


    I let my head fall back onto the wagon and stared at the stars.  It didn¡¯t mean Rook liked me. But¡­ it meant there was a possibility.


    So why was I suddenly more scared than I¡¯d ever been in my life?

 Chapter 8

    Wilhelm


    It started with me waking up late.


    Not by a lot.  Perhaps an hour.  I lay there in bed, still half asleep and wondered what had woken me.  But there was nothing except a growing faint sense of unease. Something was wrong, I just couldn¡¯t determine what.  I tried to think. Usually by this time I¡¯d mostly convinced the birds to go away, and then-


    The birds.


    I sat up straight, then slid out of bed and padded over to the window.  I realized I was doing my best to make no sound¡­ and I had no idea why. But somehow I couldn¡¯t make myself so much as scuff my foot on purpose.


    I leaned over my desk and stared out.  The forest was silent. Not just the soft silence of a lazy afternoon, or the quiet after a strong thunderstorm.  This silence was oppressive, a blanket that shrouded and muffled. I strained my ears, but I couldn¡¯t hear anything, not even the small insects that normally go about their lives in blissful disregard to the outside world.  My throat ached, and I let out the breath I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding. Something small and blue fluttered and teased at the edge of my vision, and I let out a cry as I focused on it.


    Heedless of the danger I scampered onto the desk, the smooth wood hard against my knees.  I move carefully over to the window, placing my hands carefully. The ground looked very, very far away, and in other circumstances I would have laughed at myself for thinking that this would have been the easy way out.


    I leaned against the wall for balance, then reached down carefully and picked up the tiny form that had somehow made his way to the sill.  Sergeant Black lay there in my hands, still as death, and my heart froze for a moment until I felt his heartbeat. But it was so terribly slow, a solemn drumbeat instead of the vibrant hum I remembered so vividly from when I¡¯d trained him years ago.


    I threw back my head and screamed.  ¡°Ulgafrag!¡± For once I was grateful - my operatic soprano rang through all the great existence like a bell of- I screamed again and slammed my head into the wall.  I did not have time for princess shit right now.  Carefully I set Sergeant Black down, then I jumped off and hurried over to where I kept the healing supplies I¡¯d been using on Samuel.  I ignored the dull throbbing coming from my head, making myself think. But I didn¡¯t know what was wrong, I didn¡¯t know how to fix him. Desperate, I grabbed some water and a cloth to make a bird sized bed and hoped it would be enough.


    I heard Ulgafrag burst into the room behind me, slamming the door against the wall as rushed in.  I turned and marched back to the desk, and she stared at me in confusion. ¡°Willhelm?¡±


    I wanted to babble.  I wanted to scream again.  But I didn¡¯t have time.  ¡°The forest is too quiet.  Sergeant Black is hurt, for no reason I can tell.¡±  I arrived at the desk and put the water down, then folded the cloth over and over to make a makeshift next.  Then I reached over and tenderly picked him up. I held my breath - but no, he was still alive. But his heartbeat was noticeably slower.  I shook my head, flinging the tears out of my eyes as I placed him gently in the nest. My hand was trembling as I picked up the water, and I focused on it and told it to be still.  Miraculously, it obeyed me.


    Ulgafrag¡¯s hand was gentle on my shoulder.  ¡°Willhelm. Birds do not live that long. He was a good soldier, but-¡±


    I shook off her hand.  I could not - I did not let myself tremble again, this time with rage.  But I wanted to. ¡°I know that! I¡¯m not an idiot! But dammit, Ulgafrag!  Look out the window! Listen!¡± I considered for a moment, then made a cup with my hand and poured a small amount into it.  I reached down and placed it next to his small, and oh so still head. Once I could hold it still, I turned to glare at her.  But I sounded more pleading than angry. ¡°For the sake of the gods, please. Just listen.¡±


    I turned away resolutely.  Sergeant Black hadn¡¯t moved.  It was an effort to not shake him, but I moved the water closer, moving his beak right into it.  My heart leaped as he twitched, and then his eye fluttered and opened.


    ¡°Princess¡±.  He sounded so, so quiet, and I ignored the tears streaming down my face as I leaned down toward him.  Finally I felt Ulgafrag move forward, shifting so she could stare out the window.


    I nudged him again carefully.  And I channeled stern. ¡°Soldier.  You did it. Your job now is to get better, understand?¡±  I tried to find a better angle for him to drink. ¡°Come on, Sergeant.  You need to drink. That¡¯s an order, ok?¡± Sternness was lost as I struggled to just keep from sobbing.  ¡°Dammit Black, drink, damn you, you have to do what I say-¡±


    He gave a slight distressed chirp, a slight twitch, and then turned his head slightly to look at me again.  I could see him gather himself, focus all his will and effort.  And then he lifted his head.


    I mouthed it at first.  Then out loud. ¡°No. No, that¡¯s not- you need to get better Sergeant, don¡¯t worry about me-¡±


    He spoke again, his beautiful song so soft, and I subsided.  ¡°Sad Princess. Bad bad comes. Go now.¡± He closed his eyes, and the last word was so soft I wondered if I imagined it.  ¡°Honor.¡± And then he went limp, his head settling into the small pool.


    I moved my hand, blinking back tears and shock as I went to check him.  I- surely his heart was just slower, any, any second now it would beat again, and then he¡¯d drink and get better and-


    ¡°Hrmmgflrgh¡±.  I turned and stared in outraged horror at Ulgafrag.  She was¡­ sniffing.  Leaning out the window, smelling the forest.  I bristled, ready to scream at her for this¡­ blatant disrespect of Sergeant Black.  Then she turned to look at me, and my anger turned to ashes in a moment at the look on her face.


    I have seen many expressions on Ulgafrag throughout the years.  Anger. Boredom. Trepidation. Regret. To my recent shock, sympathy and humor.  But this¡­


    I had never, ever, seen her look defeated.  If you¡¯d asked me, I would have told you it was impossible.  She stared at me, eyes dull, and then shook her head. When she looked up next a hint of the fire that usually shown there had returned.


    She hopped down and gripped my shoulder, anything but gentle, and propelled me toward the door.  I tried to twist away and go back. ¡°I- no! Ulgafrag! I need to get Sergeant Black!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±  Her voice was grim as she corralled me and directed me again toward the door.  She raised her voice. ¡°Sir Samuel!¡± It was an ogre bellow, and I could practically feel the tower walls shake and rumble under it.  ¡°You must leave now with Willhelm! Get ready!¡±


    I tried to duck under her, and with a snort of disgust she picked me up and held me under one arm.  I wiggled and tried to push free, but it was like trying to bend iron. So I resorted to maturely beating my fists against her as I shouted and cursed.


    Samuel was staring wide eyed as we came down, and Ulgafrag tossed me into the middle of the room.  I scrambled up and circled, trying to make my way back up, and she sighed in disgust, then turned and tossed a bag at Samuel.  He looked at it wide-eyed as it bounced off his chest and onto the floor. She growled at him. ¡°Pick it up.¡±


    He goggled at her.  ¡°But, my arms-¡±


    She gave him an exasperated look, then caught the back of my shift and lifted me up.  ¡°Learn to use them quickly, or die.¡± The she turned and slapped me.


    Well.  I say slapped.  But really she just put her fist near my fist and flicked a finger at my forehead.  It still rocked me back, and I stared at her, stunned and with my head ringing. She knelt down and put both hands on my shoulders.


    ¡°Willhelm.  I¡¯m sorry about Sergeant Black.  But there¡¯s no time. He died doing his duty.¡±  She hesitated, then squeezed softly and stood up.  ¡°If you freak out and go back up, you¡¯re just wasting his sacrifice.  Pull yourself together, and go.¡±  She pressed the tower keys into my hand, then turned and strode out of the room.


    I stood there, weaving back and forth.  I looked at the stairs. I desperately wanted to go back up and see him.  It couldn¡¯t be true. But¡­ I shook my head, then stumbled, my head pulsing with pain.  Bad idea. Samuel watched me, even as he gritted his teeth and tried to get the pack together.  I remembered the look on Ulgafrag¡¯s face, and with tears still staining my cheeks I walked over and helped him.


    Once we had the basics - a little food and water, and his sword - I closed it up.  Samuel protested - he wanted the rest of his gear - but I ignored him and shouldered the pack, then unlocked the final door and headed down into the courtyard.  I heard him stumble behind me, swearing under his breath.


    Ulgafrag met me in the courtyard, wearing her war gauntlets.  It had been years since I¡¯d seen them, the heavy blue metal radiating menace.  I thought she kept them locked up in her armory, and since she¡¯d given me the keys¡­ I looked over.  She¡¯d ripped the door down with her bare hands.


    Samuel came out behind me, collapsing to the ground as he lost his balance.  I hesitated, then turned to help him, but he shook his head at me. I turned back to find Ulgafrag standing right next to me, a towering force of merciless destruction ready to be unleashed.


    A force that thought that she was going to lose.  But she sounded calm. ¡°Take the north gate. Head to the forest, avoid the paths.  Keeping walking and don¡¯t stop for anything.¡± She turned and walked away, heading south.  Then she hesitated and turned and looked at me.


    We stood there for a moment, both unsure, the echoes of years of lies and distrust binding our tongues.  I wanted to say so much, but I was numb and broken, so I just stared. Finally - although in reality, it was only a few seconds - she cleared her throat.  ¡°Willhelm.¡± She paused. ¡°Be good.¡±


    When I didn¡¯t say anything, she nodded and turned away, and it was like that broke the spell.  I dropped the bag and ran to her, throwing my arms around her and hugging with all my girly, princessly might.  She stopped and waited. I buried my face in her back, wondering if this was the last time I¡¯d feel her strong body, smell her musky scent.


    My voice was a muffled whisper.  ¡°Thank you.¡± Then I turned and ran.  It wasn¡¯t enough. It could never have been enough.  But it was all I had. I grabbed the bag, then Samuel yelped as I took his hand and we took off into the forest, leaving her abandoned and alone.


    And as I ran, on the edge of awareness, I thought I heard a mocking, lilting laughter.


    * * *


    I had hope for the first hour.  We were slow, but we made progress through the wood, sticking to the deep areas and avoiding the easy ways.  The soft morning sunlight slowly transitioned to something harder and hotter, edging toward a true midday heat.  The underbrush was tough, and clad only in a shift I was soon scratched and sore. I wondered at Ulgafrag¡¯s instructions - surely it would be quicker to take any of the animal paths we crossed? - but then I remembered that look on her face, and I persevered.


    And yet.


    We reached a point where the oppressive silence lessened, but could not escape it.  I saw small animals trembling and hiding, from birds to foxes to badgers and snakes.  It created an odd, unnatural peace, predators and prey joined together in some primal fear that transcended the regular order.  Once, it struck me that I could ask them for help. And then I remembered my poor blue jay¡¯s horrifically still body, and I stayed silent.


    Only the larger animals seemed capable of movement, and they were united in another way - flight.  I caught sight of wolves and elk, and once a bear crashed through not more than twenty paces away. We froze, but it had only one goal in mind, and we were irrelevant.


    And my body was flagging.  I had never been strong, and then I¡¯d given up and stopped trying to change entirely.  I wasn¡¯t up to even this pace. At some point when I tripped one too many times, Samuel forced me to stop and tie the bag so he could hang it around his neck.  I protested weakly, but he insisted, and I was grateful and ashamed when I capitulated. Later I realized that at some point he had wrapped my hands around one of his arms, and was pulling me through, breaking trail for me.


    I railed at my body.  I cursed my weakness, the magic, everything.  I¡¯d done this before, countless times during my life, but now it seemed worse.  Like the rankest cowardice, for me to fail like this when Sergeant Black had given his life, and Ulgafrag¡­ I blinked away tears and concentrated on walking.


    And then the voice came, like a cold draft sliding down my spine, drawing out my name with an edge I could not identify.  ¡°Willhelm, Willhelm, Willhelm.¡±


    I tripped, and Samuel swore and turned around to help me up.  I sat there, shaken. If¡­ if it was calling my name, then Ulgafrag¡­ I was trembling too much to stand at first, but Samuel was insistent.  Shortly I found myself pulled behind him again, dazedly forcing one foot in front of the other as time passed in a blur. I caught a glimpse of a gap in the trees ahead.


    ¡°Willhelm.  Oh, Willhelm...¡±


    It was closer, louder, and creepier, and I stopped walking.  I felt Samuel try to stop, but then he lurched and pulled me with him.  I cried out as we fell into a small creek bed, the water shockingly cold against my skin and the scent of mud and faint dead fish filled the air.  My headache intensified, and I started shivering. I realized I was on top of Samuel, and I let myself fall to the side.


    He lurched to his feet.  ¡°Shit. Sorry Willhelm, the bag swung and I couldn¡¯t catch myself- are you alright?¡±


    I felt like I¡¯d been crying forever, so it seemed unfair that I felt tears again now.  Oh, Ulgafrag. I shook my head, unsure if I was shuddering from the cold water or from silent sobs.  Samuel held out his hands, and numb, I took them and let him pull me up. I saw the grimace of pain on his face, and I wondered how much he was hurting.  And yet he hadn¡¯t voiced a single complaint. I shook my head and tried to focus.


    Samuel tried to smile reassuringly at me.  ¡°Listen. It¡¯ll be alright. Ulgafrag¡¯s the meanest ogre I¡¯ve ever met, she¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    My face felt like stone.  I searched for an expression to wear, something to match what I knew to be true, but came up empty.  ¡°She¡¯s dead.¡± Ever musical, the tones of my words were flat and tinny.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    He opened his mouth to protest, but I overrode him.  ¡°I can hear it coming. It¡¯s getting closer.¡± I looked him in the eye, pleading for him to understand.  ¡°If she was alive, if she¡¯d won¡­¡± I trailed off rather than finish the sentence.


    Samuel tried to rally.  ¡°You can¡¯t know for sure, maybe she¡¯s ahead of it and will catch up.¡±  He paused. ¡°And I don¡¯t hear anything, maybe it¡¯s just an animal-¡±


    I stepped away and clenched my fists.  ¡°No. I can hear it calling my name, in my head.¡±  He looked at me like I was crazy. So I looked at him the same way.  ¡°You are a knight travelling with a cursed prince, fleeing because something scared the entire forest.  An ogress told us to run and avoid the paths before putting on magic gauntlets.¡± My voice was rising, hysteria bleeding through.  ¡°And you¡¯re balking at voices in my head?!¡±


    He stared at me, in shock or something else, but I kept going, my voice getting higher and higher.  ¡°Something is coming, I don¡¯t know what it is, but it¡¯s calling and coming for me and we can¡¯t get away!  Sergeant Black is dead! Ulgahag is dead! Next, you¡¯re going to be dead-¡± I cut off as the thought struck me, almost staggering in its simplicity.


    Samuel stepped toward me.  His face was an open book, the same earnest naivete resurfacing from when we¡¯d first met.  ¡°Willhelm, it¡¯s like you told me - you don¡¯t give up! We can make it if we just keep going!¡±


    Gods.  He was just - just so hopelessly hopeful.  It felt wrong to crush him with realism, and I reached, trying to find the words and expressions and the right note of phrasing.  So that I could convince him to do what I knew he needed to do. But a lifetime of rapier wit and elegant duels of words had left me grossly unprepared, because we didn¡¯t have time and what I needed right now was a large blunt object.  There was only one possibility I could think of, and it was cruel beyond measure.  But if it would save his life...


    So I told myself it was the only option.  And then I looked at Samuel and saw his heart.  It was a fractured thing, broken but slowly healing, and full of shame.  Of failure, of his family, of what Ulgafrag had put him through. And the core¡­ innocence.  In his heart of heart¡¯s Samuel still believed.  In good triumphing over evil, in the knight winning the maiden¡¯s heart, in the fact that he could be important.


    And to keep him alive, so that no one else had to die because of me, all I had to do was shatter those illusions beyond all repair.  So I looked him in the eye. ¡°You need to run.¡±


    He rolled his eyes.  ¡°I know! We both-¡±


    I cut him off, forcing my voice to be harsh.  ¡°No. It¡¯s after me. You run. You can¡¯t help me anyway.¡±


    He gaped at me in shock.  ¡°But- I can¡¯t abandon you!¡±


    I laughed, the jagged edge coming from somewhere deep inside.  ¡°You? Help me?¡± I leaned toward him. ¡°Samuel, you forced yourself on me.  Then you got beat up by a girl.¡± Because, despite everything, the fact that Ulgafrag had tits still made his defeat worse somehow.  Males are odd creatures. I made my voice reasonable, calm. ¡°Samuel, you¡¯re injured. But even if you weren¡¯t? You can¡¯t fight the thing that killed Ulgafrag.  All you can do, the only thing you can be, is another person in my life that will die today.¡±


    I turned and sat on the edge of the creek, wincing as the sunlight stabbed into my eyes, making my headache pound even harder.  His mouth was opening and closing as he searched for words, and when he finally spoke his voice was small. ¡°But- Willhelm, the talks we had, and trying and always making sure to keep going¡­¡± he trailed off as I looked at him, letting my bone deep weariness shine through.


    ¡°Samuel.¡±  I smiled with razor sharp politeness.  ¡°You¡¯re a nice boy. But you can¡¯t fight this.  Go back to your father¡¯s farm. Marry someone with zits on her face and healthy hips, that will give you a son and too many daughters.  And live the rest of your life in the mud, away from magic and danger and princesses. Because that¡¯s where you belong.¡±


    He stumbled back, and I watched my lies - the worse kind, the ones filled with twisted truth - worm their way into him, feeding the secret fears and doubts that plagued him.  His face filled with tears, and he trembled, shaking. But he didn¡¯t run, and for a moment I wondered if I had miscalculated - but no. He broke, sobbing, and turned and stumbled away, disappearing into the woods.  I¡¯m sorry, Samuel.  Live.  I mouthed the words since he couldn¡¯t see me, but I didn¡¯t dare voice them.


    And then from off to the side I heard someone clapping politely.  And I turned and looked at the thing wearing Ulgafrag¡¯s form.


    * * *


    She weaved down the center of the stream toward me, an odd flowing motion as each foot was placed precisely in front of the last.  I stared in shock. It was Ulgafrag, down to the smallest detail. And at the exact same time, not. There was no single detail that was wrong, nothing I could point to and say, ¡°This is not her¡±, but the combined effect was to make a mockery of everything that Ulgafrag had ever been.


    She stopped in front of me and gave me a familiar smile that somehow managed to have too many teeth.  ¡°Willhelm, Willhelm. Bravo. That was¡­ mmm.¡± She took a deep sniff of the air, almost exactly what Ulgafrag had done in the tower, and then staggered slightly.  ¡°Oh, that¡¯s, that¡¯s fucking good.  That utter shame, twice inflicted, and just that hint of betrayal to add some spice - you were friends?  Nothing like a broken friendship. Oh, that¡¯s wonderful.¡±


    I stared in horrified fascination.  I¡¯d meant to ask who¡­ but that¡¯s not what came out.  ¡°What are you?¡±


    She ignored me, vibrating - jittering - in place.  She muttered to herself. ¡°Probably should have waited, shit, but that was so good.¡±  She looked up at me and said, in almost a normal voice, ¡°That¡¯s the thing about being an adult, Willhelm.  It¡¯s about control, and self-restraint. Like, take that knight over there - I want to go and track him down and suck the life out of him, he¡¯s, he¡¯s fucking delicious, you know?  The things I could say, you¡¯d be amazed how he¡¯d feel at the end.  Do you have any idea what that would taste like?  Any idea what it would do to me? Of course you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Not that, I mean you did a great job,¡± she added hastily, ¡°for a kid.  It¡¯s just experience, right? But- did I have a point? Of course I did.  Oh! Self-control. Well like, I could go eat him up, see? And sure it would feel good, and I¡¯d love that hit right now.  But if I wait - oh, if I wait, then it could be even better. Cause shame ages, it festers, it¡¯s like a fine wine or murder - the longer you wait the better it tastes.¡±  She beamed at me. ¡°Just a little advice. Not,¡± she added, looking thoughtful, ¡°that it will matter to you, since I¡¯m about to totally mindfuck you.  But it¡¯s the thought that counts?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡±  I wanted to back away, to run away.  But he¡¯d been catching up before - how could I expect to get away now.  And, another part of my mind pointed out, the longer I kept him here, the better Samuel¡¯s chances.  So I swallowed my fear and searched for a way to distract her. ¡°I- look. Get out of her.¡±


    She blinked at me owlishly.  ¡°What?¡±


    My anger flared.  ¡°Get out of - stop looking like her!  You don¡¯t deserve to look like her!¡±


    She sighed.  ¡°That¡¯s probably true.  And I admit, she surprised me.  She was - I mean, not tough. But like, not a total pushover.  Do you know she touched me? Been months since someone managed that.¡±  She looked vaguely disgusted. ¡°The real problem with an ogress though - another piece of advice for you - avoid em.  You get like, half the normal emotional hit. It¡¯s cause they¡¯re so stupid - not smart enough to feel anything real, really, like they¡¯re not really people at all-¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡±  I stepped forward, heedless of danger in my rage.  ¡°You - Ulgafrag was strong and brave and smarter than you¡¯ll ever be-¡±


    The slap cut me off, slamming my head around and sending me crashing to the creek bed.  The shock of the cold was bad, but worse was the ringing in my head that didn¡¯t seem to want to go away.  I blinked slowly, then felt a hand grip my shoulder, and I was flying through the air. I landed on the creek bed and saw Not-Ulgafrag looking up into the sky with a distant look on her face.


    ¡°Can¡¯t have you dying yet.  You¡¯re a fragile little thing, aren¡¯t you.¡±  She crouched down and peered at me. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe-¡± she cut herself off and grinned manically, then tried to smooth her face out.  Her voice was mock solemn. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you¡¯re sad about Ulgawhatsit, but don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll, uh,¡± she giggled, her voice strained, ¡°you¡¯ll get ogre it.¡±


    I stared at her, numb, while she burst into peals of laughter, falling over and rolling through the creek water.  ¡°I can¡¯t - oh - ogre it - it¡¯s so dumb,¡± she gasped, then giggled uncontrollably, hugging herself.


    I got up, swaying and unsteady, my head pounding in time with my heart.  I looked at her, this¡­ insane creature, that had murdered Sergeant Black and Ulgafrag and was laughing about it.  And then I turned and staggered into the forest.


    I heard her giggling cut off behind me, and her voice was plaintive.  ¡°Wait- seriously? Are we really doing this? You¡¯re going to try to run now?  Man, Willhelm. Give me a fucking break.¡± I ignored her and concentrated on pushing through trees and brush, my feet sliding and slipping on the dirt and leaves.  The daylight felt surreally harsh and bright against the horror I was fleeing.


    I stumbled against a tree, the bark harsh against my hand, then looked up and jerked myself to a stop.  Not-Ulgafrag stood in front of me, looking annoyed. She started pacing back and forth, moving in an odd pattern.  ¡°Seriously, Willhelm. You need to think. Why would you run? Now I had to go all the way over here. Kids these days, it¡¯s total bullshit-¡±


    I tuned her out, staring at her feet.  It was hard to think, but there was something¡­ it was a little indentation, maybe a rabbit run, and she always followed this little jog.  I remembered her weirdly flowing walk down the creek¡­ ¡°Paths.¡±


    She stopped ranting and peered at me.  ¡°Pass?¡±


    I ignored her.  ¡°Paths. You can¡­ you can only travel on paths.¡±  The river - maybe a current? And Ulgafrag¡¯s words from earlier.  I looked down and searched frantically, trying to see if there was a way for her to get at me.


    Her clapping interrupted me.  I looked up, and she rolled her eyes.  ¡°Oh, yes. You figured it out. Damn! I¡¯m completely defeated now.  Big bad person, but as long as you stay over there I can¡¯t get to you.  Totally makes sense.¡± She grinned, again with too many teeth. ¡°I mean, sure it¡¯s smart of you, and you inconvenienced me earlier, staying off of them.  That wasted like, oh, I don¡¯t know. An hour of my time? Very heroic of you. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be singing about that for several minutes at least.¡±


    I wanted to step back, to run away, but I was frozen in place as I watched her.  She licked her finger and put it up in the air, testing for the wind, and talking absently.  ¡°The thing is, Willhelm, that there¡¯s all kinds of paths. Should be right around- ah! Here we go.¡±  She sighed. ¡°I hate to do this. Not because of who it is, right? That¡¯ll be fun, seeing your face. It¡¯s just¡­¡± she shuddered.  ¡°Ugh. Birds.¡±


    And then she turned into Sergeant Black.  It was like a trick - one minute a ten-foot tall ogre, the next a blue jay, with nothing in between.  Almost like I¡¯d blinked, but I was sure that I hadn¡¯t closed my eyes - instead it was like I refused to see what existed in between those two forms.


    My heart leaped and then seized, and I made a small hurt sound as I looked at¡­ him?  I wasn¡¯t sure why it was so much worse to see him than to see Ulgafrag. He was just a silly bird¡­ but he¡¯d been my friend for a long time.  And he¡¯d been an innocent. As much as I¡¯d played at training him for war, and given him a military title, I¡¯d never expected him to actually fight.  Or ever thought about him dying.


    He blurred through the air, following a twisting path through the air that went to a branch above me before hovering before my chest.  I didn¡¯t think blue jays could hover, but he did so anyway. He was just so¡­ so wrong.  I closed my eyes and dropped to my knees.  ¡°Stop it,¡± I whispered.


    He moved in closer and breathed in.  ¡°Oh, grief, that¡¯s lovely. I was hoping he¡¯d make it to you - hard to tell with a little shit like this, but he was buzzing around me and being all obvious, so I couldn¡¯t exactly just leave him alone, could I?¡±  I inhaled sharply - I¡¯d gotten him killed - and Not-Black gave a little sigh.  ¡°There it is, that guilt¡­ aaah, that¡¯s nice.  But kind of disappointing, Willhelm. He was just a stupid little bird.  Less than a mortal, even.¡± It gave me chills, hearing those words in his happy little bird song.


    I bowed my head, shaking, hating the tears that filled my eyes.  I was so damnably tired of crying, of being weak. ¡°Just end it.¡±  I shook my head, choking back a sob. ¡°Kill me. Get it over with.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±  He sounded surprised.  ¡°I¡¯m not here to kill you, Willhelm.  I mean¡­ shit, do you know how long I¡¯ve been setting this thing up?¡±  He paused. ¡°You¡¯re just a kid, so you¡¯re what? Like 80?¡± It was enough to make me open my eyes in shock, but he gave a weird rippling winged bird shrug thing.  ¡°Too young? Too young. Whatever, mortal years are stupid. Anyway, like I was saying. You¡¯re not going to die! Instead, I¡¯m going to give you a present!¡±


    I got the sense he was beaming at me.  A gift¡­ I felt a small frisson of hope, until I thought of exactly what kind of gift a being like this would offer, and I swallowed and tried to ease away.  ¡°No. Just¡­ go. Or kill me. I want nothing from you.¡±


    He looked delighted, manic.  ¡°No, no, I insist. I mean I missed all those hundreds of birthdays.  What kind of dad would I be if I didn¡¯t make that up to you?¡±


    And then there was a rough hand on my chin, and I was staring up into the hard eyes of my father.


    I narrowed my eyes and spat.  He dodged it, an inhuman flicker, and rolled his eyes.  ¡°Aw, come on son. Is that any way to greet me? Now that we¡¯ve finally met?¡±  He shook my head side to side and pitched his voice absurdly high. ¡°No dad, sorry!  Thanks for finally telling me who I am!¡±


    The motion, combined with my earlier headache, left me nauseous, and I tasted bile.  I coughed, and then gritted my teeth at him. ¡°If you knew my father, you wouldn¡¯t try this.¡± I yelled.  ¡°He doesn¡¯t care about me. And I don¡¯t care about him! Try something else!¡±


    Yelling was a bad idea.  My head swam, then cleared.  Not-Father was¡­ laughing? He had both hands on my shoulders and was bent half over, shaking.  ¡°Oh! No, Willhelm, I¡¯m not - no, I mean I¡¯m your father. Your real father. Not that bastard of a king.  I-¡± he cut off again, laughing some more. ¡°I mean - really! You don¡¯t even look like him! Little fuck like that couldn¡¯t sire something like you, Willhelm.  You got a lot of your old dad in you.¡± He winked, obscenely, then grinned at the look on my face.


    ¡°Oh.  Now you get it.  I mean, don¡¯t get me wrong, your dad thinks he sired you.  Hell, your mom thinks he sired you. She was a pretty good lay - I always enjoy a nice queen - real icy, though.  Tried to struggle, tell me no-¡±


    ¡°Stop it!¡±  The world swam, and I clenched my teeth.  ¡°You¡¯re not - you¡¯re lying! And stop talking about my mother!¡±


    His laughter cut off like a switch, and he leaned down until he was inches from my face.  ¡°I do not lie, Willhelm.¡± It was a whisper, deadly serious, and I froze. ¡°I am of the fae.  And we do not lie.¡± His eye swirled, and I remembered the changing earlier. He smiled softly at me.  ¡°There there, don¡¯t cry. Although if you are, I guess I might as well.¡± He reached out and picked a tear off, then licked it off his finger.  I watched his eyes roll back in his head. ¡°Oooooh fuck. Man. Man oh man. Sometimes, Willhelm. Sometimes I almost think it would be worth it to keep slaves, just so I could do that whenever I want to.¡±  He shuddered. ¡°But there¡¯s all the dying and the messes and the feeding. It just takes so much time, you know? But I understand why some of them do it.¡± He looked wistful, then looked back down at me.


    ¡°Oh, Willhelm.  You shouldn¡¯t be so sad.  Makes it hard for me to not eat you right now.  But- well, shit! What am I talking about! I brought you a gift!¡±  He laughed, soft and happy, and reached into his pocket. The vial he pulled out was midnight black, swirling with a disturbing motion that disappeared when I tried to look closer at it.  My headache instantly intensified, a pounding migraine that dominated my thoughts. He continued on, oblivious. ¡°Stupid of me, right? I almost forgot why I was here!¡± He chuckled at himself.  ¡°That¡¯s the real danger, Willhelm. You get high and you lose track. Always remember that.¡± He thought for a moment, then shrugged. ¡°Or don¡¯t, I guess.¡±


    His fingers seemed to elongate, and my eyes widened and I gagged as he forced my mouth open and my head back.  He was talking, almost to himself. ¡°Really, I already did give him one gift. But he only used it twice, so does it really count?  Plus, I was only here for the knight. I had to hear about that silly chit second hand.¡± He tilted his head to the side, a little too far to be survivable.  ¡°So maybe that was for the first thirty years or whatever, and this will be for the second set.¡±


    Saliva and bile combined in my mouth, and I started choking.  I reached up and tried to tear his hand away, but I was too weak.  He looked over at me and his eyes went wide. ¡°Mother fucker! Sorry, I forgot about you for a second.¡±  He paused, then snorted. ¡°Mother fucker. I guess I am.¡± Still shaking his head and laughing, he reached out with a third hand and unstoppered the vial, then poised it over my head.  My vision swam, the bright blue sky soft and peaceful. A mouth with teeth like daggers smiled at me fondly.


    ¡°Bottoms up!¡±


    * * *


    I stared up, soft green leaves waving gently in the soothing summer breeze.  It was just past the afternoon, the forest at a strange peace. I sat up and looked around, smiling at the scene.


    There was something in my head.  A glass wall, and a rock that wasn¡¯t a rock.  On the other side of the wall, something silly screamed and pleaded.  The rock told me to ignore it, so I did.


    My eyes wandered and caught on a beautiful flower, its petals like the peals of sunlight, radiating from behind the eclipsed view of a knight riding off into the distance after rescuing some poor damsel.  I sighed at the romantic image, and then heard a footstep behind me. I turned, and my heart leapt as I struggled to my feet.


    ¡°Beloved!¡±  I ran to her, so tall and handsome, and cupped her face in my hands.  There was something wrong with her, but the rock told me it was ok. She smiled down at me, and I melted into her.


    ¡°There there, Willhelm.  I¡¯m here now.¡± I sighed and let her hold me in her strong arms.  The sweet embrace of my princess, Arriane.

 Chapter 9

    Arriane


    By the time we broke camp the next morning, I had just about convinced myself I was overreacting.  Overnight, and during my watch, I¡¯d thought about Sal¡¯s words - both because it made sense, and also because I wouldn¡¯t put it past her to quiz me on them later.  She was tricky enough to consider the lecture portion a lesson.


    I concluded a few things.  First, I was getting ahead of myself.  It was pointless to worry about Rook before I knew what or who she liked.  Second, following Sal¡¯s logic, just because I hadn¡¯t found an attractive man yet, didn¡¯t mean I never would.  Maybe I just hadn¡¯t seen the right guy yet. Minus drunk idiots in bars, I¡¯d seen less of them than I had women.  Then I could like men and just ignore women, magic or no magic.


    I ignored the little niggling voice in the back of my head that told me it might not be that easy.


    And third, why was I worrying about romance in the first place?  Regardless of my thoughts on Willhelm - and I had a lot of them - the fact was that he needed to be rescued before we could do anything else.  Even if that meant fighting and possibly killing Ulgafrag, who I¡¯d always felt a connection with. Even if it might mean the end of the magic. It surprised me that I could look at it now and be grateful, but Sal had forged me into too good of a warrior to ignore a useful tool forever.  Even if once upon a time Willhelm had explained to me in excruciating detail that no one would ever want me.


    Sal¡¯s words echoed in my mind.   ...you took on the attributes of the story¡¯s prince to do so¡­ I¡¯m sure he¡¯s quite lovely by now.  I¡¯d never really known why Willhelm had hated me.  At the time, I¡¯d assumed I was just a convenient target - so much larger and more muscular than everyone else, plain faced, and lacking the social graces and understanding that seemed to come so easily to the rest of them.  The other popular princesses had made snide remarks - why not him as well?


    But now¡­ now I wondered if there was something more.  What must it have been like, to be a prince trapped in that role?  Had his disgust masked envy? Or had he embraced it like I had, and I was overthinking things?  My emotions were a confused swirl of guilt and fear, anger and trepidation, all mixed together and feeding off of one another.


    A pair of boots appeared in front of my eyes, and I looked up, startled.  Sal looked at me, her face unreadable, and I realized we were ready to go.  I stood up and stretched. Then ducked as she tossed me a weighted practice sword, followed by a¡­ blanket wrapped around a rock?  Her expression was sardonic, and I blushed, then picked up the blanket and looked at her questioningly. Rook was perched on the wagon, watching us bemusedly.


    Sal nodded at the blanket.  ¡°Wrap that around your right forearm.  I¡¯ll help you tie it. Then standard one-hand work with your left, and alternate with unarmed strikes with your right.¡±  I gave an obligatory groan. I didn¡¯t really mind, of course. The lesson about losing my conditioning was still fresh, and I was still a little weirded about the whole out for six days but healed thing and this was a good way to test everything out.  But Sal has the occasional odd notion about how humans are supposed to react, and she always gets vaguely disappointed and suspicious if I don¡¯t complain at least a little when she assigns me work.


    She finished tying the blanket, and I tested the movement before nodding and picking up the sword in my off hand, the unfamiliar weight dragging and making me feel off balance.  I nodded and lifted my arm. Time to get to work.


    * * *


    Thrust.  Elbow. Step.  Block. Punch. Step.  I fell into the rhythm, occasionally breaking into a short jog to keep pace with the cart.  High stab. Grab. Disarm. Throw. Moving slowly, precisely, so that eventually I would be able to do them in my sleep, focusing all of my attention on getting it exactly right.


    Well.  Almost all of my attention.


    The princess walked up to dragon mount,


    To meet the three witches all in the nude


    she took off her clothes and her sword and her hat


    because anything else would be terribly rude


    ¡°I don¡¯t wear a hat,¡± I muttered.  I tried to put it out of my mind, concentrating on doing the slash properly.  I was having trouble keeping my grip right. But Sal¡¯s soft voice was hard to ignore.


    The first witch was golden and strong with her claws


    fierce and protective, a real mother cat,


    the second was skinny and old and weak


    the most dangerous thing that you ever saw sat


    Sal ended the verse and strummed along, humming to herself, and I snuck a glance at Rook.  Between the goggles and the cloak it was hard to tell, but somehow from the way she was perched on the wagon I would have bet on disconcerted.  Maybe it was how she was balanced as absolutely far from Sal as she could get.


    Sal¡¯s voice drifted out.  ¡°Hrm. Rook. I was wondering if I could ask your advice.¡±


    I missed a step, then gritted my teeth.  Sweat dripped down into my eyes, and I tried to shake my head with the next movement.  There¡¯s a reason I didn¡¯t usually train this way. It was a little dangerous, I was going to be exhausted by tonight, and it wasn¡¯t as helpful as you might think.  I was pretty sure it was really Sal hammering in the lesson that I had been crazy to go off on my own yesterday, since I¡¯d interrupted her dressing me down verbally.  And I was ok with that, and I guess I probably deserved it. It was a good time to do it anyway, since the bandits were still disappointingly avoiding this area.


    Rook sounded hesitant.  ¡°Yes? I mean, of course.¡±


    Sal strummed a few more bars before speaking.  ¡°I was wondering if you had any suggestions for a rhyme with the word goddess.¡±


    There was a moment of - well, not silence, because there was my labored breath, the creak of the wagon, Churchmouse grumbling, and a few errant notes from Sal¡¯s lute.  But there was a thoughtful pause. ¡°Well. There are the obvious mess and less, of course.  Godless fits but is very similar.  Thoughtless, process, flawless¡­ if you are willing to branch into near rhymes there is, oh, novice and bodice...¡±  She trailed off, then added, ¡°Sorry.  Too many?¡±


    ¡°No, no.¡±  Sal sounded amused.  ¡°Although¡­ I suppose it might be helpful if I gave more context?¡±  I saw Rook nod. ¡°Specifically, I am looking to rhyme with ass of a goddess.¡±


    It was one of those events that¡¯s a combination of several separate little things going wrong.  I was tired, and not paying attention. We were nearing the top of a hill, following a small winding path.  The ground itself was almost entirely loose rock, the trail consisting of lonely spots of level dirt struggling to stay alive.  And when Sal said ass of a goddess, I missed a step.


    Listening to them talk I¡¯d drifted away from the center, so my misstep took me to the edge of the trail, right at the drop off.  I was off balance, but the rock I stepped on as I tried to recover looked stable. It looked like every other rock on the trail as it sat there, innocently.


    It was a liar.


    As soon as my weight shifted I felt the rock move, sliding out and shooting down the hill.  I tried to recover and pull back, but I was too tired and slow, and my weight was already committed.  I had time to swear, and then I was tumbling down the hill. I heard a shout behind me - I think from Rook - but I was too busy to respond.


    I dropped the sword immediately and formed a ball as best I could, tucking in my head.  I also tried to cradle my injured hand against my chest. The first three rolls were the worst, as I was trying to recover and get into the proper position, and I knew I¡¯d be covered in cuts and bruises.  But I also knew it was just going to get tougher as I picked up speed.


    The slope was a little too steep for me to stop completely.  Fortunately for me, when you spar a lot with someone who¡¯s spent hundreds of years practicing hand to hand combat you learn how to fall.  Tumbling down a hill isn¡¯t exactly the same, but some of the same principles apply. And if I timed this right¡­


    I pushed off hard with my good arm on the next roll, rising up into the air, and then I was still sliding down the rocky slope.  But I was on my feet, legs akimbo and arms spread wide for stability. And totally blind - I¡¯d started a miniature rockslide, and dust and grit filled the air.  It filled my lungs, making me hack and cough, and the weight on my right arm kept throwing me off, but somehow I kept my balance.


    My leading foot struck a larger rock, and it was pure instinct that let me absorb the shock and ride it out.  I felt the rock give and start rolling, and I pushed off hard and let it take most of my momentum with me. Then it was just a matter of digging in, and slowly I slid to a stop.


    With the giant dust cloud it was a minute or three before I could see and speak.  I ended up about three quarters of the way down the hill, and I could make out two figures peering down at me (Churchmouse didn¡¯t appear to care).  I took a deep breath, which was a mistake. Once I stopped coughing, I spoke as loudly as possible without setting off my throat. ¡°I¡¯m alright!¡± I waved further on.  ¡°I¡¯ll make my way over and meet you on the other side!¡±


    They regarded me for a moment, then Sal¡¯s voice drifted down the hill.  ¡°You dropped your sword!¡± Then they turned away and started moving again.


    I gaped up at them, then swore and started hunting.


    * * *


    By the time I found the practice blade, dug it out, and made my way around, I was dead on my feet.  I¡¯d lost most of my water, and there wasn¡¯t anything drinkable close, so thirst clawed at my throat.  And the way I felt, I was pretty sure that ten seconds falling down a hill had done more damage than ten minutes fighting in a bar.


    When I stomped up Sal and Rook were stopped and eating a late lunch.  They looked up as I came around the curve of the hill, then stopped what they were doing and stared.  I pulled up a few feet away, sighed, and waited.


    Rook started giggling first, almost falling over before she caught herself.  She stopped, then looked at me and started again. Sal kept her composure better, but I could see the smile lurking and her eyes dancing.


    The problem was that before my tumble, I¡¯d been working up a sweat, and then I¡¯d slid through a dust cloud.  I was literally covered in it.  Every piece of skin, my hair¡­ I itched in places I didn¡¯t want to think about.  I wasn¡¯t exactly sure what I looked like, but from the reaction I gathered it was close to what I expected.


    Sal reached down and tossed me a waterskin.  I lifted it up and drank, the cool water an instant relief that made me consider forgiving her for about a second.  Then she spoke. ¡°You stopped doing your exercises.¡±


    I stopped drinking for a moment - not good to drink too much at once - and gave her my best are you serious face.  She kept immobile for a second, then broke into a grin.  ¡°The effect is somewhat ruined currently, dear.¡± Then more seriously, ¡°Are you hurt?¡±


    I shrugged, then took another drink before speaking.  My voice was still a rasp. ¡°Could be worse. Don¡¯t think I hurt my hand more, the rest is just small cuts mostly.¡±


    Rook seemed to have mostly recovered, although I could still hear the occasional suspicious sound coming from her whenever she looked in my direction.  Sal studied me for a moment, then shook her head. ¡°We can clean some of it off, but I am afraid you will need to live with being somewhat dirty until we get back to the hot springs.¡±


    I grunted in acknowledgement, then used a bit of the water to clean my hand and face.  Sal frowned at me as I held up my hand.


    She sighed and tossed me some of our jerky.  ¡°You should not waste the water. The next spring is still nearly two hours away.¡±


    I shook my head.  ¡°There¡¯s a small shaded pool, maybe fifteen minutes from here.  Little bit off the path, but not bad.¡± I frowned at myself as I realized I wasn¡¯t sure how I knew about that pool.  But it felt right, so I shrugged. Finishing off the water, I tossed the empty skin back in the wagon and started off, still munching on the jerky.


    Rook giggled again as I walked past, and I rolled my eyes.  Then a thought occurred to me. I called back to Sal, pitching my voice to carry.  ¡°Hey. How would you rhyme giggling witch?¡±


    They¡¯d mostly stopped laughing by the time we got to the pool.


    * * *


    Twelve days covered in dirt, grit, and dust in places I didn¡¯t want to think about it.


    I let out a moan of pure bliss as I lowered myself in.  It was the same one I¡¯d used before. I¡¯d desecrated an earlier pool that was now significantly more mud-like, since it would have been a crime to enter this one as dirty as I¡¯d been.  The heat soaked in, and I let my head loll back and just floated. Earlier I¡¯d been hissing in pain as I scrubbed at my cuts, but now the aches just magnified the sense of pleasure from the hot water.


    My eyes shot open at the splash to my right, and I started to rise as I turned my head.  Then I froze as I beheld Rook. I¡¯d seen her nude before, the first time we met. But then I¡¯d been apprehensive and on the defensive, my mind filled with warnings and watching for traps.  And she¡¯d been further away, across the fire.


    Now she was lit by moonlight only a handful of paces away, and my breath caught in my throat.  With her coloring she appeared like a heavenly spirit just ready to descend into the pool, an apparition that might evaporate on the wind or disappear if I looked away.  I felt caught, spellbound, and it was only when her eyebrows rose that the spell broke and I realized I was staring. And holding my breath.


    I took a deep breath and flushed, hoping that the tan I¡¯d been developing over the past couple of weeks would hide it, and let myself back down into the water.  I was suddenly very aware that certain parts of me liked to float. I made myself meet her eyes, and I smiled apologetically. ¡°Sorry. You startled me.¡± Then I did my best to casually look away.


    I felt the small waves as she slid in the rest of the way.  ¡°I¡¯m just glad I can still sneak up on you sometimes.¡± her voice was wry, and I remembered the first day as I¡¯d approached the mountain.


    I shrugged.  ¡°You¡¯re really very good.  I just caught an occasionally glimpse against the skyline - an extra rock here and there.  That¡¯s a nice cloak.¡± I let a little of my envy show. I can disappear pretty well with some cover - part of the woodcraft package, I guess - but dwarven cloaks are absolutely unbeatable when it comes to rocky surroundings.


    She made a disgusted noise.  ¡°Cat told me that cloak was going to make me lazy.¡±  Then, with a curious note, ¡°But you said you saw both of us?¡±


    I lifted my hand and waggled it.  ¡°I never actually saw Cat. Or heard her.  But I could tell where she was by the sound of the insects, since they got quieter whenever she got close.¡±


    Rook was quiet, and I risked a glance.  She was staring at me in disbelief. I grinned sheepishly.  ¡°What?¡±


    She shook her head.  ¡°Just¡­ insects? Wow.¡±


    We settled in and just enjoyed the water for a bit.  Well, maybe she did. I was hyper aware that we were bathing together - I could practically feel her presence - and relaxation eluded me.  I wanted¡­ well, I wasn''t precisely sure what I wanted. But it wasn''t doing me any good to sit here wondering, so I searched for a safe conversational topic.


    ¡°Rook?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±  Her voice was soft and intimate, and it occurred to me that maybe talking wasn''t the best idea. But it was too late now.


    ¡°I was wondering - earlier today Sal called Twilight¡¯s End dragon mount.  Do you know what she meant by that?  Did the dragons build it?¡± It had been bugging me off and on all day, but I hadn''t been in the mood for long talks.


    ¡°Build?  Oh, no, it''s a natural formation.  Well, mostly - the passage and central area were carved out long ago.  Dragon mount is an old term for a volcano, although it''s not used much any more.¡±


    Her voice took on an appealing lecturing quality, and I sat back and let her words wash over me, the muscles in my back unknotting.  It sounds contradictory when I think of it that way, but I have fond memories of Sal¡¯s lessons from when I was younger. They were always interesting and frequently amusing.  And even when I struggled to understand her, Rook had a way of speaking - or maybe something in her tone - that made it seem like she was vaguely embarrassed to know so much. As if anyone reasonable would be ignorant, and would you please forgive her for being educational?  I found it endearing.


    Or maybe I was projecting my own insecurities and adding in a dose of wishful thinking.  Whatever. I was going to stick with my original assessment. I focused back on her words. ¡°- of course, I can see why you thought it was constructed. The crystallized pillars do appear too regular to be natural, but according to Scholar Xtirn¡¯s study of volcanic formations similar columns appear with some regularity.  His hypothesis was that it was related to how the magma contracted when it cooled.¡±


    I considered her words for a minute, then sat up straight. ¡°Wait - you live in a volcano?  What if it explodes?!¡±  I mean, I''d never seen one and had only the vaguest understanding of what a volcano was. But from what I remembered they weren''t exactly a friendly piece of geography.


    ¡°What?  Oh, no. It''s perfectly safe now.¡±  She chuckled, and friendly tone or not this time I flushed in embarrassment. ¡°It''s been millions of years since it was active.  There''s some question as to whether it was even a volcano at all, it might have been some other- Arriane? What are you - oh, no. I didn''t mean to laugh, truly.¡±  She scooted over and grabbed my hand. ¡°Please forgive me?¡±


    Forgiveness was the last thing on my mind. Rook¡¯s hand was warm against mine, her fingers rough and calloused, the hands of someone not afraid to work with them.  I wondered again why I persisted in thinking of her as bookish and delicate. Perhaps the first was true, but the second¡­Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I realized I hadn''t responded, and I looked over at her.  She was studying me, her face a picture of concern that changed to something else as she read my expression.  Still looking at me, she brought her other hand up, cradling my larger one in both of hers. She paused, then shifted her grip. Too late I realized she was taking my silence for permission.  I opened my mouth to ask her to stop, and then she traced the center of my palm with one sure finger.


    My hand convulsed, and the sound I made, had it not come from my own throat, was something I would have sworn the human throat was incapable of producing.  Rook smiled at me, knowing and confident and mysterious. I watched her dumbly, wondering when she''d transformed from her normal shy and somewhat awkward self into this new creature.


    Her fingers moved, from my palm up my arm.  She paused at my wrist, and I could feel my pulse pounding under her touch before she continued up, tracing the swell and texture of my muscles.  I swallowed hard. And wondered, distantly, what kind of magic touch this was. I did not ever remember seeing my hand or forearm on any of Sal¡¯s charts or tests.  Maybe it was a two girls thing?


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±  It came out breathy, and it was a silly question.  But my brain didn¡¯t seem to be fully functional at the moment, so it was all I could come up with.


    She raised an eyebrow while her fingers continued to dance on my skin.  ¡°Seducing you.¡±


    I felt hypnotized, watching her.  It seemed like I should move away, should do something, but some part of me never wanted her to stop and currently it was winning.  Words. I should try words. ¡°You seem¡­ different.¡±


    She paused, and to my horror my hand moved on its own, rubbing against her fingers in a reciprocal motion.  Her other eyebrow rose to join the first one. ¡°So do you.¡± She leaned to the side, and kissed the inside of my wrist.  It was like a magical shock up my arm, and I groaned involuntarily.


    I seemed to be breathing harder than necessary.  ¡°We should stop.¡± It came out shaky - very convincing.


    Rook lifted her mouth from my arm and gave me a knowing look.  ¡°Do you want me to stop?¡± But she stopped moving her hands, and that gave me room to think.


    I tried to work through the problem.  All the same arguments still applied that said this was a bad idea.  I didn¡¯t know if I actually liked her, or if it was the magic trying to guide and shape me.  I didn¡¯t know what she wanted. She was going to sleep with Willhelm. And it was still a distraction.


    But oh, gods.  I wanted her to keep touching me.  I had spent so long convinced - maybe convincing myself - that I¡¯d never have this.  That I¡¯d never be touched, beyond possibly the platonic hugs and such with Sal, that I would never have something with even the possibility of more.  But now I had a taste, and every fiber of my being was screaming at me to say no, to let her continue. Even if it was just the magic. Even if she wasn¡¯t really human.  And even if in the end she¡¯d betray me for Willhelm.


    In the end, what it came down to was fear.  Partly that it wasn¡¯t real, and that in the end I¡¯d lose her.  But mostly, it was that little niggling fear that told me this was a trick.  An echo from the past that told me it didn¡¯t matter if Rook wasn¡¯t human - there was no way she could like me for real.


    So I opened my eyes and lied, making it as firm and absolute as I could.  ¡°Yes.¡±


    Rook¡¯s disappointed look hurt more than I expected, but I steeled myself as she let go and pulled away.  And then I frowned. There was this kind of rumbling sound¡­ my eyes widened, and I stared at the center of the pool where the water was starting to bubble higher and higher.  The ground shook slightly, and I stood up.


    Rook stood up too, eyes wide.  She yelled over at me. ¡°Were you lying?!¡±  She sounded extremely incredulous.


    I glanced at in her in confusion - why would that matter - but¡­ oh.  Oh, fuck me. I¡¯d lied in a hot spring protected by an ancient magic.  And it considered lying the same as violence. I swore under my breath, then shielded my eyes as the column of water exploded into the air.


    * * *


    The spray of warm water on my face vaguely reminded me of blood, and I grimaced while I considered my options.  My armor was useless. It was clean, but it was too far away and would take too long to get ready. Binder was a possibility if I moved right now, but for him to be of any real use here, I¡¯d have to release the magic he was currently storing.  And that would lead to other problems. The only real option left was diplomacy, so I waited for the spray to start to die down, then straightened and faced the column.


    Rook marched up and stared up at me, hands on her hips.  ¡°You lied. Why?¡±


    She sounded seriously ticked off, and I held back a sigh.  ¡°Look. I was¡­¡± I gulped, then forced myself to go on, ¡°I was afraid, ok?  I haven¡¯t exactly had the best, well¡­¡± I trailed off as she held up a hand.


    ¡°That¡¯s interesting and all, but we can do the drama later.  What I mean is why would you lie here, of all places?¡±  She pointed at the giant column.  ¡°I thought Sal warned you?¡±


    I grimaced.  ¡°Yes. But you were all distracting and stuff.  It was hard to think straight.¡± I shrugged. ¡°I forgot.¡±


    She narrowed her eyes, probably to berate me on my stupidity, but before she could speak a shadow cut off the moonlight.  We looked up, and I heard a soft gasp from Rook. I admired her restraint - personally I felt like screaming and running away.


    It loomed, a huge presence that spoke to some unconscious instinct.  It said I am big and you are not, and I can crush you without effort.  Only the fact that I''d spent years sparring against a fifteen foot tall dragon kept me from breaking, and even still it was all I could do to just stand there and tremble.  In the dark my only impression I could come away with was, oddly, fuzzy glass.


    It just hovered there and bubbled at us.  Then it stopped, and to my shock Rook responded, and I realized it was speaking.


    They burbled back and forth while I listened in bewilderment.  My only clue to what was happening was Rook¡¯s body language - if there was such a thing as tone, it was lost to my ears.  And from what I could tell she was arguing with it.


    I rubbed my arms as I listened.  I felt my fear fade somewhat, not disappearing entirety, but lessening with every moment I spent under this thing without something bad happening.  It occurred to me that I had spent a suspicious amount of time lately listening to ancient incomprehensible magic creatures while naked. I shook my head, dismissing the thought.  Even if that was true, it had to be a coincidence.


    What I was feeling in place of that fear was impatience.  I had no idea what was going on, or what it - or Rook - were saying.  All I knew was that Rook seemed angry, and she was¡­ she was shaking her finger at it.  At some sort of giant magical thing. Great. I wanted, badly, to grab her and make her explain what was going on.  But I was pretty sure losing my temper wouldn''t end well, so I tamped down on it and stewed in silence.


    Finally though, I just couldn''t take it anymore.  I had enough presence of mind to wait for a pause, then I stepped over.  ¡°Rook.¡± She ignored me and started bubbling again. I hesitated, but damn it all, I needed to know.  I reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. ¡°Rook.¡±


    She cut off whatever she was saying and turned to glare at me.  ¡°Kind of busy.¡± She bit off the words and shifted fluidly out from under my hand, then turned her head upwards and bubbled something apologetically.  Then she looked back at me, and her expression softened as she took in the look on my face. ¡°Trust me, Arriane. Let me handle this.¡± She lifted her hand toward me, then hesitated and let it drop.


    I stared down at her.  There was just enough light for me to see the expression on her face, pleading and hopeful.  Did I trust Rook? I wasn''t sure. She had her own motivations and reasons for being here. And my judgement of her had to be considered suspect.


    On the other hand, she also hadn''t given me any reason not to trust her.  And I didn''t see any better options presenting themselves.  So I swallowed my anger and impatience, put aside my misgivings, and nodded to her.  Her return smile was bright and guileless, and I felt oddly guilty for letting her think I really trusted her.


    I turned away as she started talking again, still wondering if it was really the best decision to leave everything in her hands.  But I never got a chance to find out, because a minute later Sal came around the corner and started roaring at us.


    Well, technically she was speaking conversational draconic, but it''s hard to tell the difference if you''re not a dragon.  I felt a moment of relief at Sal¡¯s appearance, until I realized the primary change was I now had three people arguing over me in languages I didn''t understand, instead of just two.  I threw my hands in the air and walked to the edge of the pool and climbed out. Then I¡­ may have sulked a bit.


    A few minutes later, I turned at the soft sound of footsteps behind me to find Rook standing there, wearing only a grim look and carrying a knife.  My eyes went wide, and I tried to discreetly ease away into a position I could defend myself from. Rook looked at me, exasperated, then took the knife and sliced the back of her arm open.


    She held it out to me while I gaped at her in shock.  ¡°Drink.¡± I stared at her some more, and she rolled her eyes.  ¡°It took us this long to convince him that cutting myself isn''t violence.  Now, do you want to understand what''s going on or not?¡±


    I watched the blood well from her skin. ¡°Underst- that will make me understand draconic?¡±


    ¡°And formal spirit, as long as you get off your ass and drink it before I need to cut myself open again.¡±  Her voice practically vibrated with impatience, and she stepped closer and thrust her bleeding arm in my face.


    I stared.  I''m not exactly squeamish, but I''ve also never sucked blood from an open wound.  But I''d also been throwing a hissy fit over being excluded, and I didn''t want her to use the knife again.  So I womaned up, leaned forward and sucked her blood.


    It wasn''t pleasurable.  It didn''t taste good. But it was oddly intimate, sucking on her forearm while we were naked in the moonlight, and a little reminiscent of what had caused this trouble in the first place.  So I found myself blushing.


    Just when I was starting to get desperate to stop, Rook pulled away with a grimace.  ¡°That should be sufficient.¡± I wanted badly to spit, but at the thought of possibly doing the whole thing again I forced myself to swallow instead.


    Rook kept talking, but my attention was captured by the figure in the pool.  I hadn''t been able to see it clearly before, and I hadn''t looked back during my snit.  But now I could see him in his full glory.


    He towered some thirty feet into the air.  His bottom half was a constant swirling vortex, steaming and bubbling coils of water.  The top half was still all water, but formed into the upper body of a naked man, well muscled in the averagish heroic proportions that spirits and gods and fae always seem to go with when they take a male aspect.


    His head was more interesting, with character instead of being blandly handsome.  In place of hair, his scalp was covered with distinctive feathers of a bird I wasn''t familiar with.  And for some reason he was wearing a pair of spectacles.


    And as I watched his bubbling resolved into words.  Currently he was lecturing Sal in a somewhat pedantic tone. ¡°- the fact that you initiated the chain of events has no bearing on the finding of fault.  If I allowed that then blame could be deflected to any number of effectively unrelated parties.¡± He coughed delicately, then fiddled with his glasses. ¡°I''ve already disallowed the maiden witch, and she was closer to the offense than you.  I - no, it simply won''t do. I can''t allow it.¡±


    Sal was unmoved.  ¡°I understand, but I am hardly an unrelated party.  The princess is my ward, on a class one magical story quest.  Surely some accommodation can be reached due to extenuating circumstances?  After all-¡±


    I tuned out the legalese, confident Sal had him in hand for now.  Spirits never turn down a chance to argue law. But it wouldn''t hold him off forever - I doubted Sal could convince him it was her fault I lied (and that was going to be a fun conversation later.  I didn''t need a dragon meddling in my love life).  Especially if Rook had already failed. I was going to have to apologize for doubting her, but that would also have to wait.


    I considered my options again, but nothing new presented itself.  I turned back and looked at the spirit. He was messing with the glasses again, and kind of looking off to the side.  I frowned. Was he - yes. He was avoiding looking at Sal¡¯s nude form, in a cutely bashful way.


    The inspiration was so outlandish that I almost dismissed it out of hand - there was just no way it could work.  But I didn''t have anything else, so I turned to Rook. I needed to know if it was even possible. She was glaring at me, and I winced as I remembered ignoring her.  ¡°Shit, sorry. He was distracting. And ah, can it wait? I have an idea.¡±


    She frowned at me.  ¡°About time. And no.  We need to grab our things and get out of here while Sal has it distracted.  She thinks the odds are good we can get out before he realizes we''re gone. Then she said she''ll grab Churchmouse and join us when she can.¡±


    I watched them as I drummed my fingers on my thigh.  ¡°No.¡±


    Rook gaped at me.  ¡°What? She said it was the only way-¡±


    I shook my head.  ¡°It¡¯s a sacrifice move.  She doesn¡¯t expect to get out.¡±  I¡¯d release the magic from Binder before I let that happen.  I looked at Rook, tilting my head. ¡°How did you two plan this, anyway?¡±


    She was looking at me, a neutral expression on her face, and I realized she¡¯d known Sal didn¡¯t expect to make it out.  There went that apology. She shrugged. ¡°He doesn¡¯t speak human.¡± She narrowed her eyes at me. ¡°So you have an idea?¡±


    I hesitated.  It still went against nearly all of my experience and expectations.  But if it gave Sal a shot¡­ I checked the two of them again. No signs of imminent hostility, so I turned back to Rook.  ¡°I need to ask you some questions first.¡±


    She nodded.  ¡°Shoot.¡±


    I opened my mouth, then paused.  ¡°Uh¡­ they¡¯re going to sound weird.  But I need you to know that these are completely and utterly serious, and that Sal¡¯s life depends on you answering them accurately.¡±


    She looked a little more unsure now, but nodded again.  ¡°I- ok.¡±


    I took a deep breath, then looked her in the eye.  ¡°Do you find me attractive?¡±


    She stared at me, expression growing increasingly more incredulous.  I jerked my head at Sal and the spirit to reminder her that we were on a time limit, and she shook her head as if to clear it.  ¡°That¡­¡± she took a deep breath. ¡°Yes. I find you attractive.¡± She frowned at me. ¡°I thought I¡¯d made that clear earlier.¡±


    My heart gave a little jump, despite the situation.  She really was beautiful in the moonlight. But¡­ ok, focus.  I smiled at her. ¡°Thanks. Ok, number two. Are you human?¡± I held up a hand.  ¡°You don¡¯t need to tell me what you are, just¡­¡±


    She shrugged.  ¡°No. I am not.¡±


    Ok.  Two out of three.  Which left the final, most important unknown.  One that, in my admittedly limited experience, was perhaps the single most intimate question one girl could ask another.  I looked her in the eye.


    ¡°Can I borrow some of your clothes?¡±


    * * *


    The answer, as it turned out, was kinda.  It was a problem of scale.  Thankfully most of her stuff was either designed to wrap around her body, so it still worked on my larger frame, or it was very loose on her and tight on me.  Thankfully that was beneficial for what I had planned.


    I ended up in basically a tight skirt, and a wrap around - and lifting - my bust.  To finish it off I strapped Binder to my side. It was a little aggressive for what I planned, but it gave me a backup option, so I¡¯d risk it.  Rook was having a hard time keeping her eyes off of me, which I found odd - I¡¯d just put clothing on - but it also boded well for the plan, so I decided to think about it later.


    I took a deep breath, watching Rook¡¯s eyes follow me up and down, then checked Sal and the spirit one last time.  They were on to arguing precedents, which meant it was probably a good time to interrupt. I took a moment to study the spirit again.  There was just something really appealing about him, he kinda vaguely reminded me of¡­ Rook¡­ for some reason. I felt a spark of joy bubble up within me, and didn¡¯t bother trying to contain the grin that spread across my face.


    I took a step forward, then stopped and turned to her.  She was looking at me with a worried expression, and I decided I should probably try to tone down the smile a bit.  But¡­ well, screw it. I turned the smile on her, and watched with interest as her cheeks turned red. ¡°Rook. Two more questions, then I think I¡¯m set.¡±


    She nodded a little dumbly, and I felt my smile widen.  ¡°Ok. You said he doesn¡¯t understand human. If I talk to him, do you need to translate?¡±


    She shook her head.  ¡°N-no. Your blood - I mean, my blood will cover things.  As long as you can understand him, you¡¯re fine.¡±


    ¡°Ok, perfect.¡±  I rubbed my hands together.  ¡°Final question - what¡¯s his name?¡±


    ¡°Ah.  Well.¡±  Now she blushed again, looking embarrassed.  ¡°His formal name is - ¡° and then she made a rushing noise that sounded like the flow of water from one hot spring pool to the next, followed by a susurration.


    I considered that for a moment.  ¡°It¡¯s¡­ well, beautiful. But I can¡¯t say it.  Is there a translation?¡±


    Now she really looked embarrassed, and too late I was reminded of Cat¡¯s full name.  ¡°The best translation is... Bubbly Rocky Hot Spring Man.¡±


    I closed my eyes and counted to three, then opened them.  ¡°Bubbly¡­ Rocky¡­¡±


    ¡°Hot Spring Man.  Yes.¡±


    I bit my lip.  Then a thought occurred to me, and I peered suspiciously at Rook.  ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re not just bad at translating names?¡±


    Her, ¡°No!¡± was indignant, but I waved off her further protests.  It didn¡¯t matter much at this point.


    I looked at her consideringly.  ¡°Will I massively offend him if I call him Rocky?¡±


    She thought for a moment, then shrugged.  ¡°No way to tell.¡±


    ¡°Perfect.  Well, here goes.¡±  I took a deep breath, then turned and marched toward the pool.  Sal and Rocky were still going at it, voices rising. They seemed to be discussing whether or not certain Prince Charming regulations applied, and I shook my head.  If Sal was down to prince precedents, she was getting desperate.


    I pulled up to the edge, then waded in.  That got Rocky¡¯s attention, and he turned to me and then froze in place.  Sal also shot me a glance - it was one that was extremely familiar from my childhood.  The ¡°you are not where you are supposed to be¡± look.  I ignored it with long practice, and smiled cheerily up at Rocky.


    ¡°Hello!¡±  I waved up at him, and he blinked down at me, disconcerted.  Sal wore a nearly identical expression. ¡°Sir Rocky, before we go any further I would like to formally introduce myself.  My name is Princess Arriane Dawnjack.¡± I gave him my best curtsy. It¡¯s pretty sad, if I¡¯m being honest, but I did spend some of my childhood watching (and occasionally aping) my mother and aunts and various older girls, so I was familiar with the basic mechanics.  ¡°And I would like to tender an apology for my act of violence in your demesne.¡±


    There was a moment of silence.  I saw Sal mouth Rocky?, and then he bent over and peered at me.  ¡°Well, I, of course your matron explained, but I simply don¡¯t see how that¡¯s relevant.  You-¡±, he paused as I held up a hand.


    ¡°Could you stand back up, please?¡±  I smiled winningly up at him.


    He blinked again.  ¡°Whatever for?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I just like looking at you in the moonlight.¡±  I let my sincerity fill my words.


    He stared down at me, and I saw little bubbles start on his face- was he blushing?  He was blushing. I smiled wider. He stood back up and coughed delicately. ¡°I. You.  That is, flattery won¡¯t help you, young lady.¡±


    I shook my head.  ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to let me off because of flattery.¡±  True - but I was hoping it would help.  I grinned up at him. ¡°You just have a very pretty face.¡±  The bubbles sped up, and I hoped I was right that they indicated embarrassment and not, for example, rage.  Sal was staring at me like I was insane.


    I took a step forward before he could speak again, and inclined my head.  ¡°I deeply regret my lie earlier. It was born from fear, but that does not excuse my action.¡±  I looked up and met his eyes. ¡°I will accept any punishment you deem fair. However, I am on a quest - one to free a cursed prince that I have wronged.  Therefore, I ask that you delay your punishment until such time as I have freed him.¡±


    Sal now had a calculating look on her face.  Rocky stared down at me, bubbles having died down until only the normal smooth flow of his currents was left.  I took a breath, and he gulped and looked away from my chest. He took off his glasses and tapped them with his other hand.  ¡°You- hrm. An interesting proposal. I can see the truth of your words, and the merit. Yet, justice delayed is not truly justice.¡±  He looked apologetically in my general direction.


    Before he could make his final decision, I raised a hand.  ¡°I understand.¡± I didn¡¯t necessarily agree, but I understood, and I¡¯d figured on this.  I gave him another smile. ¡°To make up the delay, I offer you two tokens.  First, a truth you have never heard before. And second, a promise.¡± I gave him another curtsy.  ¡°Of course, should you not find them to be¡­ acceptable, you may demand immediate justice as is your right.¡±


    He stared down at me, thoughts almost visibly swirling through his head.  I was pretty sure he¡¯d take my offer, though. It would make him appear more fair, and he could always just reject them and punish me anyway.  Still, it was a relief when he nodded. ¡°Very well. Your terms are acceptable.¡±


    I clapped my hands together.  ¡°Great!¡± I winked at him. ¡°Do you think I could tell you in private?  They¡¯re, ah, a little embarrassing.¡±


    His bubbles were back.  ¡°Sure- yes. Of course.¡±  He looked at Sal, who walked past me with an unreadable look on her face.  I gave her a different kind of wink, and shrugged mentally as I got no reaction.


    As soon as she left the pool, a swirling whirlpool of water rose up and surrounded us.  And I smiled and stepped forward to talk to the spirit who would determine my fate.


    * * *


    They waited until we were out of the hot springs to grill me.  I was whistling tunelessly, most of our belongings slung over one shoulder, when Sal broke the silence.  ¡°That was quite the column of steam.¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm,¡± I agreed absently.  ¡°I thought I was going to be burned for a second, but he was quick to shield me.¡±


    Rook waited a few steps more before trying a different tack.  ¡°Must have been quite the truth and promise to change his mind like that.¡±


    I shrugged.  ¡°I guess. I mostly just said what I was thinking- hey!¡±  They materialized before me, arms crossed in nearly identical postures.  I spread my arms, letting the bag fall to the ground. ¡°What?¡±


    Sal didn¡¯t really frown, but the edges of lips turned down.  It was a dangerous face. ¡°If you do not tell us, every other verse of my song will be about your breasts.¡±


    Beside her, Rook scowled at me.  ¡°And I will curse you to step in water deep enough to soak your socks, at least once a day for the rest of your life.¡±


    I turned my palms outward.  ¡°No need to get nasty. I grew up in a palace, and I did - do - have a sister.  I know how this works, ok? But I¡¯m only going to say it once. Then I don¡¯t want you guys badgering me about it.¡±  They nodded in unision.


    I crossed my arms.  ¡°The truth I told him was that his feathers looked soft and sweet as rain, and I wanted to run my hands through them while I kissed him.¡±


    Sal¡¯s face was blank, her version of surprise.  Rook¡¯s mouth opened and closed a few times before she spoke.  ¡°Oh.¡±


    I raised my eyebrows.  ¡°Satisfied?¡±


    They looked stunned for a bit, then Rook shook her head.  ¡°But - what about the promise?¡±


    I smiled widely.  ¡°I promised him that I would return, and demonstrate.¡±  I grinned wider at the expressions on their faces. ¡°That was the steam column, in case you were wondering.¡±


    Then I clucked at Churchmouse to follow me, turned around, and started hunting for our wagon.

 Chapter 10

    Arriane


    I was fine until the next morning, when my euphoria crashed and I realized I¡¯d promised to come back sometime and kiss an ancient spirit.  Yesterday felt like a dream, a series of events that had happened to some other Princess Arriane. Everything had felt so simple and certain, the chain of logic rock solid.  Rocky liked Sal. Rook liked me. So it was likely Rocky would like me too. But now in the harsh daylight that chain seemed flimsy and ephemeral. Had I really taken those chances?  Gambled that I could basically seduce him into letting me off lightly?


    I felt off, like the ground might disappear from beneath my feet.  So I got ready slowly, with that extra care that¡¯s normally only the province of the extremely drunk.  My two companions seemed to share my affliction, both abnormally subdued, and I wondered if they felt the same way about yesterday¡¯s events.  I shook my head to myself. I¡¯d been crazy. But on the other hand, I hadn¡¯t been able to come up with anything else yet. And it had worked.


    The grin bubbled up from somewhere inside of me, forcing its way out even as I tried to suppress it.  It had worked. Rocky had liked me. Rocky had blushed so hard that he turned to steam when I promised to come back and kiss him.  It still felt a little unreal, like I couldn¡¯t quite force myself to believe it. But that wasn¡¯t enough to make me stop smiling.


    And it wasn¡¯t the best part.  No, that was the part that I liked Rocky.


    Not because he was a guy.  Gender is pretty fluid - no pun intended - for spirits and gods, anyway.  Although it was nice to know. No, the reason that was the best part was because I was pretty sure I liked him for a lot of the same reasons I liked Rook.


    I wasn¡¯t quite sure what those qualities were.  Some if it was physical - the shape of the face and neck, the lips and eyes¡­ and well, yes, I also liked Rook¡¯s more obvious attributes.  And Rocky¡¯s too, I suppose, even if they were very different.


    But most of it was other.  It was the way they talked, word choices and tone.  It was the combination of confidence and shyness. It was¡­ very hard to describe, and I wasn¡¯t sure why I liked it, I just knew that I did.  And I was almost completely certain that it had absolutely nothing to do with magic.


    So by the time I was ready for the day, I had a spring in my step and a smile tugged at my mouth whenever I lost concentration.  Sal was studying me out of the corner of her eye. Not judging, but analyzing and cataloging this strange new version of me. Rook was an inscrutable gargoyle behind her goggles, pointedly not looking in my direction.


    It wasn¡¯t enough to dampen my mood.  But it niggled at my brain, eating at me as we took off and started working our way up the pass.  Ogre¡¯s Reach is in the mountains, so after we left the hot springs we headed west and started slowly working our way up.  The terrain difference was stark as we gained elevation, and by the early afternoon we¡¯d completely left the desert and were winding our way through a sparse pine forest.  The clean scent of the sap filled the air, seeming almost too rich after the past few weeks.


    And I was damning myself for being an idiot, because of course Rook was upset.  I¡¯d rejected her, and even if that had been a lie I¡¯d then immediately turned around and flirted with someone else.  And she wasn¡¯t a mind reader - I mean, presumably - so she couldn¡¯t see the sequence or logic, that my confidence came from her actions.  Or what the obvious consequence of that was.


    I resolved to apologize and explain.  Even if nothing else happened, she at least deserved that.


    Although she didn¡¯t make it easy.


    * * *


    I scowled at the forest.  A moment ago we¡¯d been finishing up dinner and I¡¯d been about to ask her to talk.  Then she¡¯d grabbed her things, jumped off the wagon and disappeared into the trees.


    Sal¡¯s voice was mild.  ¡°A lover¡¯s quarrel?¡±


    I gave her an unamused look.  ¡°Not yet. Although, thanks for reminding me.¡±  I stabbed a finger in her direction. ¡°What was that Rocky said?  Something about you being directly in the chain of events yesterday?¡±


    She did her best to look innocent.  ¡°Well, it was my suggestion that we go to the hot springs.¡±


    I shook my head, then crossed my arms.  ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be enough. What did you say to Rook?¡±


    She considered me for a moment, then held up her hands in mock surrender.  ¡°I suppose it would be a blot on my training if you had missed that.¡± She grabbed a cloth and efficiently wiped her hands, then retrieved her lute and started tuning it.  ¡°I merely informed her of your¡­ challenging childhood.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes.  ¡°Really.¡±


    She shrugged, then did something complicated with her fingers that created an oddly simple melody.  ¡°It is possible that we also talked about human attitudes toward gender and attractiveness.¡±


    I pursed my lips.  Damned if I didn¡¯t resent her for meddling.  But then I remembered Rook¡¯s touch, and goosebumps ran up my arms.  I considered Sal for another moment, then reached a decision and strode up to her.


    She tensed slightly as I approached.  So I leaned down and lightly kissed her forehead.  Then, while she stared at me with wide eyes and music forgotten, I grinned down at her.  ¡°Thank you.¡± Then I made myself look serious. ¡°But I¡¯m still going to beat you black and blue for it the next time we spar.¡±


    She recovered quickly, looking at me with a bit of the old sparkle in her eyes as her fingers went back to work on the strings.  ¡°Thank you for the warning. I shall be watchful.¡±


    I turned and headed toward the trees, pausing just to long enough to give her another smile and a wave.  Then I headed out into the forest, Sal¡¯s soft music slowly fading behind me.


    * * *


    Ten minutes later, I was reconsidering my plan.  Following a witch with a dwarven cloak into an unknown forest, while night fell?  Probably not my greatest idea ever.


    I didn¡¯t think she would ambush me.  And I could track her, even in the dark.  But I was just too slow - from what I could tell I was moving at half her pace, at best.  By the time I caught up she¡¯d already be back at camp. I needed a different tack.


    I stopped and considered what I knew of the terrain, and Rook¡¯s path so far.  She was following a ridge south, probably toward the high point up ahead so she could take some more arcane readings from the stars.  She¡¯d either come back the same way, or she could loop around, probably slightly further to the east. The same way would be easier. Looping would be better tradecraft.  Hrm. Witches and paranoia.


    It took me about five minutes to find the likely path she¡¯d take back, and another ten to find the right tree (my biggest criteria was one without sap, so I wouldn¡¯t end up sticky).  It was at a chokepoint - a pretty poor one, granted - but she¡¯d have to pass fairly close. Unless she just took the same original path back, of course. Then I was going to be cold, tired, and silly.  But there was no point in worrying about that now.


    I climbed it quickly, then settled in and rearranged the branches to break up my silhouette.  And settled in to wait.


    It was close to an hour later when I saw the shadow flitting across the ground.  She didn¡¯t usually take that long, which made me think she was trying to avoid me.  Definitely a good omen.


    My positioning wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was pretty good.  Once I was sure it was her - and not, say, a random mountain lion or bear or something else that would try to eat me - I readied myself, flexing leg muscles that wanted to cramp from inactivity, and then eased into position.  And when she was at her closest approach, I let myself fall.


    I absorbed the height with bent legs that I turned into a tumble towards her.  She was quick, and by the time I was back on my feet she was turned to face me, a knife in one hand and the other somewhere under her cloak.  With a witch the hand you can¡¯t see is the more dangerous, so I stepped slowly and carefully over to my left, letting the dim moonlight fall on my face.


    She stared for a bit, then cursed and spun around, knife disappearing into her robes.  I jogged after her as she stalked away. ¡°Look, Rook-¡±


    ¡°Arriane.  I do not want to talk to you right now.¡±  Her voice was tight, and I felt a pang before steeling myself.


    I moved in front of her.  ¡°Look. Just let me say one thing, alright?¡±


    She stopped and glared at me for what felt like forever.  Then, finally, ¡°Fine.¡±


    I closed my eyes for a moment, then looked down at her.  ¡°Please don¡¯t knife me in the throat.¡±


    She blinked at me.  ¡°What- aah!¡±


    My leap took her by surprise.  She struggled for a bit, but I cradled her carefully as I took us to the ground.  I made sure she was on top, and let out an oof as she landed on my stomach.  She was straddling me and drove the air out of my lungs.  I let go of her, and rested my hands lightly on her hips.


    She stared down at me in shock.  ¡°What was that?¡± She seemed too surprised to move, so I guess at least that part of my plan worked.  Time to start rambling.


    ¡°It¡¯s from a story - I read it when I was younger, Sal gave it to me.  Anyway, in part of it the knight and the princess get in a fight, and she runs off and he goes after her and they fight a bit and-¡± I cut off my rambling.  ¡°Anyway, long story short they end up like this and talk things out.¡±


    She peered down at me.  ¡°You are not a knight.¡± She tilted her head.  ¡°Or male. And I am not a princess.¡±


    I wanted to laugh.  Trust her to point out the technicalities.  At least for now her anger seemed to have been replaced by bemusement, so I kept going, tentatively hopeful.  ¡°Close enough. I thought you¡¯d complain if I ended up on top. I didn¡¯t want to trap you.¡± I shrugged. ¡°And frankly, if I ambushed you for real I thought I might end up dead.  I mean, not that I¡¯d blame you. So I figured I¡¯d give you a heads up, and I hoped you¡¯d be confused enough that I could get in an apology before you ran away.¡±


    She regarded me for a long moment, before reaching down and tapping my hands.  Heart sinking, I pulled them away and put them off to the side. Then she arched one eyebrow and crossed her arms.  ¡°I¡¯m waiting.¡±


    I took a deep breath.  Right, here goes. ¡°I wanted you to keep going last night.  More than almost anything. But I convinced myself it was better to stop.  I was just afraid. I thought it was just the magic, that it would be distracting.  That none of it was real.¡± I met her eyes. ¡°So, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    She was a still statue.  Then she sighed, life flowing back into her until she was just a woman again.  ¡°And then you found what you were looking for.¡± She sounded resigned, and she started to stand.


    My hand moved without conscious volition, grabbing her wrist.  She froze and looked down at me, and I swallowed. ¡°Hear me out?¡±  Then I let her go.


    She looked at me for a bit, then sighed and settled back down.  I searched for words. I can speak formally. I can talk shop with warriors and knights.  Those two are both legacies of Sal¡¯s training. I can insult guys in bars. Sal had nothing to do with that.  But this? Matters of the heart? I was mostly lost and adrift. But since lying was what got me into this mess, I decided to try the truth and see if that worked.


    ¡°I do like Rocky.  But what he mostly showed me was a lot of what I see in you.¡±  She looked confused, so I tried to elaborate. ¡°It means it¡¯s not magic.  Don¡¯t you see? It¡¯s real.¡± I reached up and took her hands. ¡°And you gave it to me, you made me think that I¡¯m¡­ maybe not ugly.  That other people might like me. So, thank you.¡±


    She looked down at me.  ¡°So what are you saying?¡±  Her voice was quiet.


    I gave her hands a squeeze.  ¡°Just that if I could go back, I wouldn¡¯t tell you to stop.¡±  I looked to the side, then back. ¡°And I hope you give me another chance to not say it.¡±  I frowned. ¡°I mean, to say don¡¯t stop. Not to say - shit. I mean-¡±


    Her lips cut me off, brief and fleeting, and I closed my eyes.  When I opened them she was gone into the night, but I was smiling.


    I lifted my hand to my lips.  Her kiss had tasted, ever so faintly, of old blood.  I thought for a moment, then shrugged.


    Nobody¡¯s perfect.


    * * *


    I woke to Rook¡¯s warmth snuggled against my back, and smiled to myself.  I hadn¡¯t expected to find her waiting in my bedroll when I got back, and I¡¯d been a bit hesitant at first.  But rejecting her again seemed counterproductive after our conversation. And frankly, I wanted to, the memory of the hot springs still fresh.  And once I¡¯d joined her, she¡¯d quickly gotten me over any reservations I¡¯d had.


    But my smile faded, because there was a reason I¡¯d woken up.  My instincts were screaming at me, and I slowly slit my eyes open because I knew I was being watched.


    Sal was about ten feet away, an amused look on her face as she looked at us.  She was fiddling with her practice sword, that basic maintenance that everything needs sometimes, and I thought for a bit.  And yeah, even with the injured hand I felt like I had¡­ maybe not slacked off, exactly. But I didn¡¯t want to lose momentum either.


    I slipped out of the bedroll.  I turned around and Rook was watching me, awake and alert, and I hesitated for half a second before I reached down and lightly brushed her shoulder.  Then I flipped the blanket over her head to keep her out of the morning sun, and went hunting for something to wear.


    It was still hot, but I judged it bearable, and it felt amazing to be back in armor.  I¡¯d probably be cursing myself later, but just the security of having it on was a boost.  I knew it was false - quite a few things we could fight wouldn¡¯t care if I was encased in solid metal - but the effect was there, all the same.  Like an itch on the back of my neck I could finally scratch. And it would definitely cut down on the bruises Sal would give me.


    Once I was dressed I hunted down the practice sword and made sure it was in good shape.  Then, since Sal hadn¡¯t kicked me out of bed to wake me up, I took the time to stretch and limber up before finding an open space and nodding to her.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    I was leery at first, but apparently I wasn¡¯t owed any new special lessons, so we started out normal.  Beginning at half speed, then working our way up until the swords and fists and kicks were just blurs. I had almost fallen into my familiar pattern of using size and strength to beat her up at a distance when she pulled away and held up a hand.  Then she walked over to the wagon and produced¡­ a second sword. My jaw may have dropped.


    Now, for obvious reasons, I have not only fought against Sal.  She¡¯d gone out of her way to make sure I sparred against a variety of different opponents, using different weapons, fighting styles, and body types.  But I¡¯ve never fought someone using two swords at once, although Sal had once treated me to a lecture on the subject. She considered it foolish, with insufficient power and accuracy to make up for the downsides.


    She bowed once, and then proceeded to demonstrate that her lecture only applied to other people by quickly ¡°killing¡± me three times in a row.  If she lost accuracy, I couldn¡¯t see it, and if her power was less she more than made up for it in versatility. And she¡¯d always mixed in her off-hand with punches and grapples, but now it had reach.  She¡¯d wade in with a flurry of lightning attacks, and I never had a chance to even respond before she¡¯d find an exploitable gap.


    The final time her off-hand blade caressed my throat, I stepped back and held up a hand, breathing hard.  ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have a practice dagger, too?¡±


    She grinned, a little wild from the fight, and then gave me an approving nod before fishing a wooden knife out of her belt and tossing it to me.  I caught it by the blade - I am not a knife catcher, ok? - and then flipped it around, holding the blade down across my forearm. Then I hefted my sword and nodded to her.


    It helped.  I mean, I was still getting my ass kicked, but at least now it was vaguely a contest.  I couldn¡¯t do anything amazing, like block all of her attacks or use it as a shield, but it gave me more options by making my off-hand dangerous.  Occasionally I used it to slide her sword, but mostly I just harried her hands and arms, using it to force her to play defensively. But really, it was just a delaying tactic.  It forced Sal to take longer, but she still seemed to find her way through my defenses much too easily.


    I heard Rook stirring, and realized she was watching us.  My next step was half a beat too slow, and I had to swing wildly and jump away to keep Sal from giving me a severe case of splinters.  I tried counter-attacking, pushing her back, until Rook made another sound and I glanced over in her direction.


    Sal took immediate advantage, sliding past my guard and bring her swords around.  Directly into mine. I¡¯d stepped into her move, robbing her of her momentum, and my own sword slammed both of hers to the side as my foot slid around hers into a trip.  Even surprised she tumbled well, but by the time she recovered I had my blade at her neck. She stared up at me, then tapped her swords on the ground in surrender.


    Then she grinned.  ¡°Arriane. Child.¡± It got wider.  ¡°Did you just bluff me with Rook?¡±


    I smiled back, then reached down and helped her back up.  ¡°Did you really think I¡¯d get embarrassed and distracted?¡±  I gave her a look. ¡°You trained me for that, remember?¡±


    She shrugged.  ¡°I was not entirely sure that it took.¡±


    I stared at her in disbelief.  ¡°You tied up a knight and made me spar in front of him.  Naked. For two weeks.¡±


    She did her best to look innocent while she brushed herself off.  ¡°I blindfolded him.¡±


    ¡°I was fifteen!  It didn¡¯t matter!¡±  My voice was exasperated, but behind me I could hear Rook quietly losing it, laughing hard into her pillow, and that was making it really hard for me to keep pretending to be angry.  I could feel a reluctant smile tugging at my face.


    Sal, her face solemn, took a ready stance and motioned for me to start.  ¡°Again.¡± She paused. ¡°And do not expect that to work a second time.¡±


    It didn¡¯t.


    It took me half an hour to figure out what worked, and it involved attacking her footwork.  While her options with the swords were greatly expanded, balance doesn¡¯t care about skill or the fact that you¡¯re a dragon.  You still have to stand properly, and in order to effectively use both weapons her positioning had to become predictable.


    In combat, predictable is usually synonymous with dead.  In this sparring it let me start thinking ahead of her, and by using kicks and trips, combined with power attacks that forced her to defend, I could knock her off balance and create my own openings.  I eventually started abandoning or throwing the knife (not that it would do damage, but it¡¯s still a heavy object coming at your head), because I found having two-handed blows, followed by a grab, was more useful.  Rook clapped once after one particular combination - she¡¯d gotten up some point and gotten dressed - and I found that more embarrassing than her watching me nude had been.


    I pinned Sal four times in a row before she called it off, shaking her head.  ¡°And that, Arriane, is why I do not like using two weapons.¡±


    It had been a good workout, and I was sweating heavily.  I wiped my forehead as I considered. ¡°I mean, I get what you¡¯re saying.  But on the other hand, that was brutal at the start. And most fights are over shortly, so people wouldn¡¯t have time to adjust.¡±


    Sal shook her head.  ¡°True, but only because you were inexperienced against that style.  With more work, you will find it easy to adapt too.¡± She tossed me her swords, and I started bundling up our sparring gear while she informed Churchmouse that he was about to be hooked up to a wagon.  He doesn¡¯t argue with her as much as he does with me, so it was over quickly.


    I thought about Sal¡¯s words, and nodded grudgingly.  I could see it being slightly weaker. With more practice, it would be easier to deal with than Sal¡¯s normal anything goes style, which is practically the definition of unpredictable.  But I kept it in mind as something to possibly try in the future, too. I¡¯d practiced using a knife in my offhand, but it¡¯s not quite the same, and who knows - maybe I¡¯d find two swords better.  Everyone is different, and Sal has her biases.


    I shrugged to myself, then shouldered Binder as we started off up the mountain again, following the thin, winding trail.


    * * *


    It took us two weeks to work our way through the mountains.  It rapidly grew colder as we ascended, which was a double-edged sword.  On the one hand, I was no longer sweating like a pig just walking around.  Now I was only sweating when Sal and I sparred. Which brought me to the downside.


    After one aborted attempt, Rook had expressed a very firm opinion on the topic of me washing up before she¡¯d join me.  Namely that either both were happening, or neither would. So I found myself hunting mountain streams and pools to wash off in.  And for reference, they are really freaking cold.


    It was enough to make me wonder if it was actually worth it.  At least until I got back to camp, shivering, and then Rook would offer to warm me up.


    The other downside of mountain travel is that we, reluctantly, started paying more attention to outside threats.  Which meant less travel time as we divided up watches so someone was always awake, and no more running off alone into the woods.  Mountains are just really good ambush country - sight lines are shorter, and paths are often constrained to pass through predictable areas.  Not to mention the endless possibilities of heavy things being dropped on you.


    On the other hand, I couldn¡¯t imagine the paths we were on saw much traffic.  We were away from normal trade routes, and they were overgrown and our wagon had a hard time of it.


    What would normally be the biggest threat - ¡°dark¡± races - I wasn¡¯t worried about at all.  For one thing, the usual classification of dark, in human terms, is synonymous with ugly.  It doesn¡¯t actually mean they¡¯re evil or unintelligent - at least, no more so than any other race - although some of them have very inhuman moralities.  So they can be reasoned with.


    However, the real reason I wasn¡¯t worried was Sal.  Dark races are smart enough to know a dragon when they see one, even if she¡¯s playing a lute and singing ridiculous music.  The worst that might happen if we ran into a group of goblins, orcs, or ogres would be them throwing us a feast and trying to beg Sal to bless them with her magic.


    No, the only worry was stupid bandits.


    Competent bandits know two things.  The first is that as long as you don¡¯t kill anyone, and you give some percentage of your ill gotten gains to the poor, you¡¯re basically set.  Stories love thieves with a heart of gold, and if you play it right they¡¯ll actually help you steal and plunder. There are areas near Bannerstown where you can¡¯t go a mile without tripping over another steal-from-the-rich bandit group.


    The second thing smart bandits know is you don¡¯t mess with groups of heroes.  Even at a distance, they¡¯d look at us and see a swordswoman, a bard, and an assassin.  So they would turn right around and go back to their hideout until we were gone, and then look for a fat merchant who needed a lighter purse.  Heroes are easily their number one cause of death, plus we rarely carry easily sellable goods that can be converted to food and wine.  The market for used magical swords and custom-fit armor is small, dangerous, and rarely profitable.


    But unfortunately for the world, not all bandits are smart.  Some are simply irredeemably stupid. Some are new and incompetent.  Some are desperate.


    And some just think with their dicks.


    * * *


    ¡°This is really kind of sad,¡± I remarked, stretching carefully and twisting in my seat.  I scanned the sparse forest, carefully not stopping as my gaze passed over the poorly hidden - and quite loud - figures that were attempting to stalk us.  The day was overcast, the clouds so close at this height that I felt like I could reach out and touch them. A soft wind played through the pass, carrying with it a soft bite and the clean promise of cold and frost.


    Sal cleared her throat.  ¡°Please remember, Arriane, that there are those without your advantages and training.¡±  She paused. ¡°And who do not live in a magical story that believes they should be an expert woodswoman.¡±


    While I flushed, she did something complicated with her fingers that produced a surprisingly simple melody, then sang.


    Bandits bandits burning fast


    Come out and face a hero¡¯s test,


    By sword and song and knife and blood


    Prepare your souls to meet your god


    The last note rang out, and Sal pulled up Churchmouse, stopping the wagon.  I shook my head. This was the best ambush location I''d ever seen. And while I''m no great strategist, it was so good that I would have immediately skipped it as being too obvious.  Now we were stopped outside their kill zone, and they were almost certainly not competent enough to change plans. If they were smart, they''d retreat and leave us alone, or at least try again somewhere else.


    The problem being that if they were smart, they wouldn¡¯t be trying this in the first place.


    The figure that approached us was so stereotyped that I immediately started scanning around again, searching for the real threat.  Surely this wasn¡¯t actually happening? It had to be a distraction.  But there was nothing, just figures in tattered clothes, wielding unkempt weapons as they eased toward us.  Twelve to our four, and so outclassed I wanted to scream at them to run, to escape before the inevitable happened.  But the idiot was still waving them out of the woods.


    I looked over at Sal, but she shook her head, resigned.  ¡°It is just what it appears to be.¡±


    I ground my teeth together.  They were just so pathetic, it wasn¡¯t fair, I did not want to be a murderer again-


    Sal¡¯s hand on my arm brought me around.  Her voice lashed at me. ¡°You are overconfident.¡±  I started, but her grip was firm. ¡°The worst blade, wielded by the truest novice, can still strike you dead.  And if you die here, I am going to- I will-¡± she took a deep breath. ¡°I will be very disappointed.¡±


    I was torn between castigating myself for my own stupidity - because by the gods, I knew that, I shouldn¡¯t have to be reminded of it - and apologizing to Sal.  But she wasn¡¯t looking for an apology. So I gave her hand a quick squeeze, the most I knew she¡¯d accept, and then I reached for the hardness I knew I¡¯d need.  These men were not innocent. They did not have good intentions. I would take them seriously, and they would die by my hand. I closed my eyes, and when they opened it was with the sight of an experienced killer.


    Training must be hard, because life is hard.


    And Sal was too damn good at her job to let me get this far without spilling life¡¯s blood at least once.


    So I looked upon them now, and my impression was much the same.  They were no match for us. But still, I cataloged their weapons and movements.  The way the older man on the right favored his right foot. How the younger blond kept glancing involuntarily at my chest, how the thin-faced archer in the wool coat was holding his bow incorrectly.  And especially how the greybeard next to him was standing with a perfect draw and wary eyes. They were unsure, Sal¡¯s song had rattled them, but they came forward anyway in futile desperation.


    I turned to give Rook some basic instructions, and somehow wasn¡¯t surprised that she had disappeared.  I smiled to myself and made sure I wasn¡¯t paying any special attention to suspicious rocks next to the wagon.


    I evaluated the leader next.  He still seemed like a caricature, the perfect picture of the honest thief gone slightly to seed.  The handsome jaw ruined by the hint of a second chin, a charming smile that did not quite reach his hard blue eyes.  Well-made clothes but slightly stained, the tunic straining - not quite heroically - to hold back the beginnings of a gut.  A sword showing a hint of tarnish on the hilt. And to top it all off, a goatee starting to disappear into a week¡¯s worth of beard.


    His voice was pure story though, jovial and true.  ¡°My Lady. A fine jest you have, and a voice as beautiful as the singer.¡±  He focused solely on Sal, ignoring me. ¡°Now, how about you ask your bodyguard to drop her little toy, and she can enjoy the company of my men while I entertain your lovely self.¡±  His smile broadened. ¡°I give you the word of Ronam Swiftblade that you shall be treated like royalty until such time as you can be ransomed.¡±


    By the gods, could he be any more cliched?  I knew, somehow, that there was only one way for this to end.  But I didn¡¯t want it to, and Sal was silent, so I did something stupid.  I stood up and offered them a chance.


    ¡°My name is Princess Arriane Dawnjack.¡±  I let the coldness I was feeling - not from the wind, but from inside - fill my voice.  ¡°I will spare anyone who drops their weapons and leaves. You have ten seconds.¡± I reached down and casually rested my hand on Binder.


    They paused for a second.  I saw Ronam weigh me, given pause by my size.  But then he grinned and started laughing, great big guffaws, and most of the rest followed suit.  Only the greybeard kept his composure, grim-faced and starting to edge back.


    I looked at Sal, and she nodded.  And then she slipped Churchmouse free from his traces, and we exploded into them.


    They were still trying to recover from laughing, which was too good of an opportunity to pass up.  We both ignored Ronam, and I saw him start to shout before a grey blur slammed into him and trampled him into the ground.  I¡¯m not precisely sure where you acquire war mules, or how they¡¯re trained, but I¡¯d take Churchmouse over a horse any day.


    We split up, Sal going right and me to the left.  I charged forward, zig-zagging slightly to make myself an unpredictable target to the archers.  The greybeard shot at Sal, and I heard the soft ting as she deflected the arrow with the sword that had materialized in her hands.


    I went after the blond who liked my tits, since he was the closest.  I drew Binder and a knife on the run, swerved toward him and then faked a throw.  He flinched, and that was enough of a gap for me to cut in and slash the side of his neck.  I had a moment''s impression of him staring in horror while blood poured out, and then I was past, and forcing down the momentary nausea that had tried to rise.


    I ran toward the greybeard, who was starting to circle and draw his third arrow.  Then I pivoted and threw myself to the left, directly into the two that had been trying to flank me.  The first was too close for sword work, and frozen in shock, so I slammed my knife under his chin. I swore as I felt it lodge into bone, then lifted him up and threw him at the other man with a roar.  They both went down in a tangle, and I ran the second one through on my way past.


    I threw myself hard to the left, tumbling, just in case someone had been about to shoot me.  Then I paused a second to take stock and survey the battlefield. I¡¯d killed three, Churchmouse was still busy desecrating Ronam¡¯s body, Sal had carved her way through four and was lazily dueling a fifth while explaining his incompetence in her dry training voice.  And Rook¡­


    My heart stopped.  Two bodies were at her feet, but now she was stuck in the open.  The greybeard had her locked in, full draw, and she was too damn far to reach him.  And she wasn¡¯t a warrior, this wasn¡¯t her specialty, there was no way she¡¯d avoid it.  So I did the only thing I could.


    I threw away all my training, roared and charged in a straight line.


    I was further away, but I have long legs.  And despite the fact that Rook was certainly the more dangerous of the two of us, it¡¯s hard to ignore over 250 pounds of solid muscle pounding toward you while screaming at the top of her lungs.  So despite his instincts, which were the only ones worth a damn in this entire group, he pivoted toward me and I was staring at the sharp end of an arrow.


    I saw Rook rise up and start to move, but she and Sal were both too far away.  And he had me dead to rights, I wasn¡¯t going to reach him. I focused everything I had on his fingers.  Right¡­ about¡­ now.


    I threw myself forward into a roll, raising up my off arm to ward my face.  I heard, more than felt, the arrow bounce off the small plate on my arm. I landed in a crouch and looked up.


    He¡¯d dodged Rook¡¯s attack and was backing away, notching a new arrow with steady hands.  I shoved myself to my feet and started forward, but I wasn¡¯t going to make it. So I threw Binder at him and charged behind.


    Now, I am not a sword thrower, but it was a big hunk of sharp metal, and at this distance I put it right at his center of mass.  He threw himself to the side, and that gave me the time to close the distance. He looked up at me, only a few feet away, and I saw the knowledge in his eyes that he didn¡¯t have time.  But he tried anyway.


    I grabbed his arm as he attempted to twist away, pulling him toward me and grinding his bones in my hand.  He cried out in pain, and then I brought him close and took a grip I¡¯d never used except in practice. I tightened my muscles, wrenching, and there was a grinding crack as his neck gave away and his body went limp in my arms.


    I dropped him, panting, and took a second to look around.  Rook was standing a few feet away, eyes wide as she watched me.  Sal had finished her last and was slowly surveying for more enemies, but the glance she spared me showed a face of stone.  And Churchmouse had wandered off and was eating a bush.


    No more enemies, at least for today.  I went and retrieved Binder, absently cleaning the blade and resheathing him.


    Then I sat down and stared at my hands for a while.

 Chapter 11

    Our camp was quiet that night.  Sal hadn¡¯t mentioned sparring, and I hadn¡¯t asked.  The fire crackled and sparked, the faint scent of the stew mixing with the smoke.  But my nose was still filled with the memory of the attack, blood and guts, urine and shit mixed together, and my appetite had been light.  We¡¯d searched the bodies for valuables - no point in leaving them there - and I had a new hunting bow and a replacement dagger. The bodies we¡¯d piled off to the side, and I¡¯d insisted on saying a few words before we left.


    So now I stared at the fire and thought.  My mind kept coming back to why.  There just wasn¡¯t enough traffic through this area to justify a bandit group.  Practically no merchants, travellers were rare. And they hadn¡¯t known the terrain, they¡¯d found a good spot but they had no practice, no experience.  Like they were new to the area. Like maybe they¡¯d only recently wandered this way recently, possibly wondering why.


    And I tried to dismiss the suspicion that it was because a hero needed to occasionally kill some evildoers.


    It wouldn¡¯t have been too bad if they had always deserved it.  But what if that was recent? Ronam had been smooth and well-spoken.  Not smart, but they didn¡¯t always have to be. He wasn¡¯t the kind of bandit leader who went after heroes.  Not unless he¡¯d maybe had a recent string of bad luck, a series of deals gone wrong. Or maybe a voice whispering in his mind, one that sounded like his own, twisting his thoughts and egging him on...


    I shook my head.  I didn¡¯t know, of course.  But my gut told me that at least some of the blood spilled today had only been in these mountains because a story isn¡¯t complete without a bandit attack.  That maybe they hadn¡¯t really been incompetent, or thinking with their dicks. Maybe they¡¯d just been convenient.


    Sometimes I can really hate magic.


    We¡¯d camped next to a small stream, and I stood up and started heading around the bend.  I didn¡¯t really feel like dousing myself in freezing water, especially with the wind, but if ever I needed Rook¡¯s touch, to forget about the rest of the day, it was now.  I stopped and looked back. She was lovely in the firelight, hood thrown back, the shadows and flickering light highlighting the fine structure of her face and the delicateness of her neck.  Then she frowned slightly and chewed her lip, deep in thought, and I felt a flush of heat run through me. I turned back to the stream, moving quickly. Now I really needed to get clean.


    * * *


    I walked back to camp, shivering and a little hesitant.  It had occurred to me that assuming Rook would want to do anything tonight might have been a bit presumptuous.  But she turned to look at me, and her lips curved into a slight smile, and the heat in her eyes matched mine.  My heart gave a hard thump, and I swallowed hard, almost stumbling before I quickened my pace.


    Sal had been taking first watch, and if I was a little uncomfortable at the fact that she was going to listen in, I also knew there wasn¡¯t a lot I could do about it.  It generally didn¡¯t take long before Rook made me forget about everything else, anyway. I started to step around the fire, Rook rising to join me, and then the first note rang out.


    A mountain wind can freeze to the bone


    a witch¡¯s dance is filled with fire,


    A touch can soothe a lonely soul


    But in the end none are wiser


    The words themselves were fairly mild.  It was the tone, the inflection on the last line, that made them damning, and I stumbled to a stop and stared at Sal in shock.  Rook looked stunned and a little afraid, but Sal¡¯s gaze was locked on to me.


    Her voice was gentle but firm.  ¡°I do not wish to interfere with who you see or sleep with.  But today I saw you panic when Rook was threatened, and you relied on luck.¡±  Her lips curled with the last word, making her opinion obvious.  Not that I needed the reminder.


    The main actors in magic stories are always lucky, at least when it comes to survival.  Stories want to be completed, and they can''t if we''re dead. It''s nothing huge, it doesn''t make you invincible, but it can shift a blow a half inch either way, or change the angle of a blow.  Enough to turn a serious strike into a shallow slash, or make an arrow hit right at the most protected area. Sal hates it - she thinks it''s sloppy - and usually I agree with her.


    But - ¡°Wait.¡±  I felt the anger start to build.  ¡°Sal, I am not a child. It is not your job-¡±


    ¡°Yes it is.¡±  Her words cut through me.  ¡°You are still my ward, Arriane.  It is, in fact, literally my job to chaperone you.¡±


    But then she held up a hand, her voice soft.  ¡°However, as I said before, I do not wish to interfere.  I believe you are adult enough to make your own romantic decisions.¡±  The and mistakes was left unsaid.  Sal''s gaze shifted to Rook.  ¡°But I do insist that both parties communicate their intentions openly and honorably.¡±  Her voice hardened again. ¡°And if Rook does not do so, I will not hesitate to speak for her.¡±


    I gaped at her.  That couldn''t be true, Rook wouldn''t¡­ she¡­ I looked over at her, and my heart seized.  Rook didn''t look indignant, or angry, or confused. She looked guilty. I mouthed the words but couldn''t make myself say them.  Oh gods, no no no¡­


    Rook¡¯s voice was formal, and she gave Sal a seated bow.  ¡°Lady Salventarius, I will take responsibility and explain.¡±  She hesitated. ¡°If we could have some privacy¡­?¡±


    Sal regarded her for a moment, then inclined her head.  A part of me noted it had been the bare minimum to not be a mortal insult, if we were at court.  ¡°Of course.¡± She paused. ¡°My hearing is very good, and I cannot go too far. But if you do not raise your voices, I will not be able to make them out.


    She turned to me, and I saw a look of pain flash over her face as she took me in.  She opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped and closed it. I think she could tell I wasn''t in the mood for apologies or platitudes.  Then she walked away and vanished into the night.


    Rook and I sat in silence.  I snuck glances at her, and she looked conflicted and unsure.  But my anger was returning, building until I couldn''t control myself any longer.


    ¡°So none of it was real?¡±  It was an effort to keep myself from yelling, but I managed somehow.  ¡°It''s some magic thing? Or were you just thinking I was desperate, easy to manipulate?  Maybe get me to help you with Willhelm, or betray-¡±


    ¡°No!  No, Arriane, I promise.  It was nothing like that.¡±  After her outburst she trailed off, looking embarrassed.  ¡°Please believe me, I¡¯m not - it¡¯s -¡± she took a deep breath, then finished.  ¡°There¡¯s no ulterior motive.¡± She looked at me entreatingly.


    I closed my eyes and let my head fall into my hands.  Finally, I nodded. I didn''t really understand, and wasn''t sure I wanted to.  But she was waiting on me, and this seemed like a small thing to give her.


    Relief shone on her face.  ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m sorry, it¡¯s just.  Alright.¡± She shook her head and visibly collected herself.  Then tentatively, ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to ask this, but - are you in love with me?¡±


    Yes.  The strength of my immediate reaction surprised me.  I tried to hide it, but I¡¯m sure Rook saw because she grimaced briefly before smoothing her face out.  I searched for something to say, I mean obviously it was too soon, but still...  But she held up her hand before I could talk.


    ¡°Just listen for a bit.¡±  She took a deep breath, then set her face.  ¡°Whatever you are feeling, you are not in love with me.  It might be love with someone else - an ideal me, a fake me, but you don¡¯t know me, Arriane.¡±  I opened my mouth, but she overrode me ruthlessly.  ¡°Think. How much do you know beyond that I¡¯m a witch?¡±  She paused. ¡°What are my dreams? Why did I become a witch?¡±  Then, more gently, ¡°What¡¯s my real name? What am I, if not human?¡±


    Then she let me sit there and stew in my own stupidity.  Every second I felt more like an idiot, more blind, more incompetent.  How had I missed all of that? I¡¯d let myself get lost in the physical, the newness, and I¡¯d missed the forest for the trees.  Even now a part of me just wanted to reach out and hold her, to push back the emptiness from earlier today.


    My thoughts ran in circles, and it was a shock when she spoke again.  ¡°I know you don¡¯t have a lot of¡­ experience. And this is my fault. Because I do like you.  I like you a lot.¡± Her eyes were steady, her voice frank. ¡°I like your body, sure. I lo-like your smile.  And you have fantastic muscles.¡±  I blushed. ¡°But it¡¯s other things too.  You¡¯re smarter than you think you are. You were clever enough to guess you should talk to Shadow.  You figured out how to handle an ancient spirit.¡±


    I swallowed, hard, while she continued.  ¡°I like that you¡¯re doing the right thing with Willhelm.  I don¡¯t know what he did to you, but I know it was pretty bad.  But you¡¯re saving him anyway.¡± She looked away. ¡°So I didn¡¯t stop to think things through.  Lady- er, Sal - kind of encouraged me to try. But I didn¡¯t consider what it would mean that it was your first time, that you might not see what I saw.  Maybe part of me didn¡¯t want to, so I could just enjoy what we had.¡±


    She stared into the fire.  I could see that she was building up to something.  ¡°And even though there¡¯s a lot to like,¡± she took a deep breath, ¡°I don¡¯t love you, Arriane.  And I don¡¯t think I ever will.¡± And even though I¡¯d been expecting those words - or something like them - it was still a hammer blow to my heart.  I closed my eyes, trying to push past the tears while she kept talking.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about you - it¡¯s just that we¡¯re going in different directions.  Would you live your life in Twilight¡¯s End? Help me raise Willhelm¡¯s daughter?¡±  I squeezed my hand into a fist, feeling it shake. ¡°Or would you ask me to give up the coven, to join you at court when this is all over-¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡±  My voice was barely a whisper, but she cut off, looking at me with wide eyes.  ¡°Enough, Rook. You¡¯ve made your point. No need to belabor how stupid I was.¡± I stood and started walking.  I needed to be away. Rook made a wordless protest behind me, but I put her out of mind and started jogging. And once I was far enough away, I started looking for a convenient tree.


    * * *


    ¡°Child.¡±


    Sal¡¯s voice caught me off guard, and I aborted my next punch and stumbled, barely catching my balance.  I put my hands on my knees, breathing hard, and glared at her. Normally there¡¯s no way she could have snuck up on me, but I¡¯d been distracted by my demolition efforts.


    She surveyed the scene, frowning.  I was on my third tree, and I was pretty sure I looked like a mess.  As did the surrounding area. Not that I could see too clearly in the dim moonlight, but Sal doesn¡¯t have the same limitations.


    She sighed.  ¡°Well. Do you feel better, at least?¡±


    I considered her question.  My hands hurt, and I was pretty sure that even with the leather I¡¯d wrapped around them I was bleeding pretty good.  My arms ached. My legs ached. My everything ached. I was a hot sweaty mess, my chest hurt whenever I thought of Rook, and my head was a whirl of confused emotions.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    So no, I didn¡¯t feel better.  But I nodded to her. ¡°A little.¡±  Damned if I wanted her to think I was out here for no reason at all.  The look she gave me indicated I wasn¡¯t fooling her, but I ignored it.


    She sat down and regarded me.  ¡°Well. I will not berate you further tonight.  And I am aware that it may be a few days before you are willing to talk to me.¡±  Her voice was filled with regret, and pain. But also resolve. ¡°I just wish for you to know that when you are ready, I am here.¡±


    I clenched my hands, digging into my knees.  ¡°Why?¡± I hadn¡¯t meant to say anything, but it came out.  I wasn¡¯t even sure what I was asking, which ¡°why¡± I wanted answered.  Why Rook? Why me? Why today?


    She sighed.  ¡°Because life is hard.¡±


    It took me a moment to connect things, then I stopped and looked at her, incredulous.  ¡°You- you think this is training?¡±  Another thought occurred to me.  ¡°Did you¡­ encourage her, knowing¡­?¡±


    But Sal was shaking her head.  ¡°No, I did not. Not like you are thinking.  But your first question?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Everything is training, Arriane.  No one is an expert the first time. Relationships are no different.¡± She tilted her head, considering.  ¡°In fact, they are the hardest thing we do. In my opinion, of course.¡±


    She turned back and looked me in the eye.  ¡°So no, I was not hoping that it would end badly.  But I suppose I was expecting it.¡± She smiled sadly.  ¡°Cynical of me, I know.¡±


    We sat in silence for a bit, my mind whirling.  I hadn''t wanted to talk to her, but now I found myself overflowing with questions.  ¡°Wait. You''ve been in love before?¡± She raised one sardonic eyebrow, and I flushed.  I know it was a silly question, all things considered, but¡­ still.


    I tried something more immediately relevant.  ¡°So if you knew it would end badly¡­¡±


    ¡°Why did I encourage Rook?  Or not object?¡± She shrugged.  ¡°For one thing, I did not know.  I suspected.  I hoped you would surprise me.¡±  She turned and looked at me, face unreadable.  ¡°And¡­ do you recall what I told you when you first started training?¡±


    I screwed my face up as I thought back.  ¡°That my footwork was the most atrociously horrific thing you had seen in three centuries?¡±


    She looked nonplussed.  ¡°No, not that-¡±


    ¡°That my sense of timing needed so much work that by the time I learned it, you would be dead of old age?¡±


    ¡°...no, not that either-¡±


    ¡°That the way I held my sword meant you should be disavowed as a swordswoman-¡±


    ¡°Stop!  That is¡­ not what I meant.¡±  She put her hand over her eyes, and muttered something about being more careful with her criticisms in the future.  Then she looked at me while I stared back in confusion. ¡°About good judgment.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡±  Good judgement comes from experience.  Experience comes from bad judgement.  I''d been frustrated over losing and not progressing, and that had been Sal¡¯s mantra to encourage me.  I swallowed hard. ¡°So you''re saying¡­¡±


    ¡°Better that you fail here, and learn from the attempt, than to fail in the future with someone you could love fully and truly.¡±  Her voice softened. ¡°I wish for you to be happy, Arriane. But happiness is sometimes like magic. You have to sacrifice for it.¡±


    My eyes burned, and I looked away.  For a minute or two, talking to Sal, I''d managed to forget everything that had happened.  Her ultimatum, Rook¡¯s confession, my blindness. The ache in my hands returned with a vengeance, pulsing in time with beating of my battered heart.


    Sal just sat there, an unspoken offer of comfort, to be a child again in my protector¡¯s arms.  But I wasn''t ready yet, the knowledge that she''d known too raw and fresh, that she''d pushed Rook at me expecting this result.


    So instead I just nodded stiffly.  ¡°Thanks.¡± I kept it from being bitter, but she still flinched slightly before smoothing out her face.


    She stood and inclined her head.  ¡°I am sorry. I hope you will forgive me eventually.¡±


    I wanted to shout after her as she walked away, but I kept my silence until I was sure she was out of earshot.  Then I looked down at the ground, and said in a whisper, ¡°I hope so too.¡±


    Then I broke down and cried for a while.


    * * *


    I stare at the man across from me.  He is tall and rangy, and terribly thin.  Shorter than I even at 16 years, but most are.  The sword in his hand is unexceptional but serviceable.


    The figures surrounding us are silent.  The magistrate and the lordling have exhausted all their arguments against the immovable rock that is Sal.  And the guards, prepared to cut the man down if he tries to run.


    My palms are sweaty.  This is not my first fight, even against someone other than Sal.  But it is my first fight to the death. Against this criminal who was brought here in chains.  I do not know his crimes, only that he chose a trial of the sword. And I am his executioner.


    No one here objects to this fight.  They only object to a 16-year old girl taking part.  But Sal is a figure too intimidating for most mortals, and so when she nods I step forward and draw my sword.


    Despite my height and muscles the criminal sneers at me, confidence showing in every step as he strides my in direction.  The animal part of me wants to charge and wipe the smile from his face. But I override it and let my nervousness show, wiping a hand hurriedly, licking my lips and shuffling undecidedly.  My opponent¡¯s smile broadens, his pace quickening, and I hear one of the guards swear something decidedly not fit for my ears.


    I wait for his first swing, a lazy exploration, and then I reverse suddenly and slam into him, knocking his blade contemptuously to the side as I body check him back.  His overconfidence has left him wide open, and for a moment I have a perfect opening to end the fight. But I hesitate a heartbeat too long, and the cut across his chest draws blood but is not fatal.


    I focus, annoyed at myself, and press my advantage.  Compared to Sal he moves as if through water, and I have all the time in the world as I push him back, never letting regain his balance.  I see my opening and my forward foot steps on his just as he''s about to move back. It isn''t enough to pin him, but the unexpected resistance makes him stumble, and I beat his sword to the side and then step in to finish him.


    And I can''t do it.  I''ve had too much time to think, and I pause at the killing blow.  I just¡­ need¡­ And then pain sears my forearm, his counterattack catching me as I struggled.  Training temporarily deserts me, and I drop my sword. I stare at it and all I can think is that Sal is going to kill me.


    He readies another blow to run me through, and pure instinct sends me diving away.  I roll on the ground to get distance, trying to force down the panic that is bubbling up and clouding my thoughts.  I need¡­ gods. No sword. On the ground. It isn''t fair.


    I pause for a fraction of a second.  No, Sal would say. Fighting is never fair.


    I close my hand into a fist, digging into the ground, and then I roll forward again, onto my feet.  In the same motion I fling the dirt behind me into his face, and he flinches away from the blow that would have crippled me.


    Everything seems so clear.  He swings blindly, and I step forward and kick his leg out, grabbing his sword arm as he starts to fall.  I twist and pull, and he screams and drops his blade as his elbow breaks against my rising knee, the joint reversing direction.


    I kick his sword away, then follow him down, hammering a hand into his crotch to keep him from focusing.  Then I reach back and draw my dagger as he curls around himself. With my other I get a firm grip in his hair and pull his head back, feeling it start to tear from his scalp.  And then I bury the knife in his throat.


    I stare for a minute, fighting the urge to vomit.  He''s dead. He''s dead and I killed him. I stand, unsteadily, and look around.  Every face is etched with horror. The magistrate. The lordling. The guards. The only one smiling is¡­


    I stumble away.  He''s standing next to the magistrate, grinning and clapping.  My knife still lodged in him, blood soaking his shirt. He nods to the ground.  I turn, slowly, dread rising. I freeze, incapable of breath.


    Sal, my sword through her chest, smiles up at me.  ¡°Well done.¡± Her lips bubble green, dragon blood, matching the pool surrounding her.  I open my mouth-


    I woke up with a shout, my heart pounding, my throat raw as I gasped for breath.  Sal was hovering over me, frozen in indecision with one hand stretched out. I pulled away instinctively, and her face went blank before she stepped back and withdrew her hand.


    I grimaced.  I''d been reacting to the nightmare - an old friend with a new ending - but Sal didn''t know that.  I groped for an explanation, but before I could organize my thoughts she bowed her head to me and wordlessly walked away.  I swore under my breath as I watched her. Rook was observing silently from the other side of the fire, and I caught the guilt on her face before she turned away.


    Lovely.  All sorts of misunderstandings this morning.  I wanted to slam my head into the ground in frustration, but I forced myself to sit back and clear my mind instead.  It took longer than normal, but eventually I was able to get up and prepare for the day with some semblance of calm.


    Rook and Sal were in some sort of civility standoff, treating each other with exquisite, icy politeness.  If I heard ¡°Lady Salventarius¡± or ¡°Maiden Rook¡± one more time I was going to be sick. Me they treated as fragile, walking on eggshells and taking great pains not to annoy me.


    It was revolting.  But they meant well, so I smiled back emptily and went about breaking camp.  And the gods were kind, since once we started traveling for the day conversation dropped off.  Sal even kept her newest lyrics to herself, which was probably good for the peace of our party.


    So I walked in silence and thought.  About what Rook had explained. What Sal had said.  About my own reactions. It seemed clear to me that neither had been malicious.  But I still felt a great, unreasoning anger at their actions, that they''d kept me in the dark.  Whenever it got to be too much I would draw Binder and work my way through forms, until the required focus wiped my mind clean.  Then I''d start the cycle over.


    It also seemed obvious what I was supposed to do.  In my youth I''d read romantic stories, a sort of guilty vice.  Well¡­ok, ok. Maybe I still read them. I''m not entirely ungirly.  And based on those, we were supposed to keep up this sort of careful distance, dancing around our hurts and sending veiled barbs at each other disguised as delightfully witty but innocuous conversation.  Then in a week or a month something big would happen, and we''d be forced to realize there were more important things that brought us together and we would reconcile.


    Well.  Fuck that.


    * * *


    By the time we stopped for the day my thoughts had crystallized into a vague plan.  We camped next to a high alpine lake, partially sheltered from the cruel cold wind by a brace of pines.  After we finished eating - the last of the bandit¡¯s supplies that we''d judged edible - I gave my stomach a few minutes to settle, then went to retrieve our sparring weapons.  I tossed Sal her sword, and she got up before following me, her face unreadable and her footsteps heavy.


    We faced each other, then I took my stance.  Sal was slow to get into hers, and I frowned at her, then stood up and crossed my arms.  ¡°If you¡¯re not going to take this seriously, don¡¯t bother. I didn¡¯t bring you out here to beat you up.¡±


    She stared at me, and for the first time that day I saw a spark of interest in her eyes.  She gave me a nod, and then she was coming at me and all I could do was react.


    The first minute was a whirl as I just tried to stay ¡°alive¡±.  She¡¯d caught me in a bad position, and she took ruthless advantage of it to keep me on the defensive.  I tried to recover, but in the end it was too much, and the match ended with a jab to my gut that drove all the air from my lungs.


    I managed to narrowly win the next two times, but I didn¡¯t see the opening I wanted.  The fourth match was the charm.


    She misjudged a feint, and it was just enough of an opening.  I followed up with the strike we both knew was coming after, the one she had to block or lose.  The expression on her face when she knocked my sword from my hands was priceless, and the lack of resistance froze her in place for a moment, which was all I needed.


    I stepped around behind her, blocking her elbow as she tried for my ribs, and grabbed her shoulder.  She writhed, trying to get away, but I clamped down. Then I used my other arm and swept her into my arms.  Then I closed my eyes and very, very carefully, squeezed.


    There was silence for a moment.  Then I felt her sword faintly tap my head, indicating I''d lost and was now dead.  Her voice was exasperated. ¡°Arriane, what - by the fires of creation - are you doing?¡±


    I opened my eyes and looked at her solemnly.  ¡°Hugging you.¡±


    She looked confused.  ¡°I am not quite sure I understand.  But if you insist.¡± She dropped her sword and hugged me back.


    I exhaled heavily.  ¡°Sal. I''m still mad at you.  And we''ll eventually be having a talk about your habit of meddling with my¡­ romantic possibilities.¡±  I squeezed slightly harder. ¡°But of course I forgive you.  Even if my heart isn''t convinced, my head knows you''re just trying to help.  It¡¯s just¡­¡± I trailed off, hesitating. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ stupid to stay mad, and I know it, but I can¡¯t help it and at the same time I don¡¯t want to let you just not know-¡±


    ¡°Shush.¡±  She reached up and put her hand on my shoulder.  ¡°I understand. That is a very mature attitude. I must admit, I did not expect you to take it this well.  Especially after this morning.¡± She paused, and I could practically feel her impatience from being held. ¡°However, you will put me down now.¡±


    I grinned and released her.  She brushed herself up and looked up at me, a quiet pride on her face, and my breath caught.  I swallowed, and my voice was a bit husky. ¡°Well, I had a good teacher.¡±


    She snorted.  ¡°No, not in that.  In this, Arriane, it is simply you being sensible.  And when you are ready, I am prepared to be scolded.¡±  She stepped back and raised her sword, then smiled at me.  ¡°Now, though, we should continue.¡±


    I scooped up my blade, then took a second to refocus and center myself.  Then I nodded back, and we were moving.