Happiness in Numbers

by Nicole Field

  Pidge clenched her jaw. "I shouldn't have gone like that. I just felt, I don't know, overwhelmed." She licked her lips. "I… I see now why you chose Aram. You know, he said he came after me because he was trying to court me, too. Like I deserved as much attention as you do."

  "You do."

  Pidge licked her lips. "He kissed me."

  Trina smiled. In the early morning light, she was as lovely as a painting. "He told me that he loves adventure stories. He'd pretend to study philosophy or arithmetic when he was really reading about heroes and pirates. He told me he was so excited to meet you. You're a bit of a hero to him."

  "He said I was a knight."

  "He's a clever one."

  Pidge took a deep breath and let go, leaning back against the tiles of the roof to gaze up at the dawn sky. The same one she saw in the palace and outside of it.

  "Trina, I'm never going to be like the two of you. I feel… too wild." Because what had she been thinking? Had she even considered the true ramifications of winning the hand of a princess? "I don't know what sort of wife I'll be to the two of you."

  "You'll be a perfect wife for two fools who chose you. Wild or not." Trina edged closer, wrapping an arm around Pidge's middle and tucking herself into her side. This close, Trina smelled like sandalwood and rose. "I wish you could see in you what I see. What we see."

  "What sort of a future will see a commoner beside the throne?"

  "A beautiful one," Trina insisted, but it didn't quite feel right.

  "An uncertain one, if Aram doesn't recover," Pidge murmured. She wrapped an arm around Trina's shoulders. "I need to return to Gurd."

  "Pidge—"

  "Aram was in danger because he came after me. He was hurt because I chose to carry on with a job nobody asked me to do, even knowing he'd never been in that position. He was hurt just trying to protect a bystander." She took a deep breath. "If I can stop the lich, he should be all right."

  "Should. You don't know for sure."

  "No," Pidge agreed. "But I have to try, don't I? I'm the one who got him into this mess."

  "Fine." Trina pulled her hand back, leaving Pidge feeling suddenly very cold and lonely. With a sigh, Trina rose, dusting off her skirts. "I suppose I'd better pack because I'm coming with you."

  *~*~*

  In the palace, in the safety and familiarity of her court, Trina shone like a star. But on the road, she was rather more like a gangly fawn tripping over its own feet. At first, she tried to sit side-saddle but found that, over long distances, it wasn't practical.

  "This feels horribly… inappropriate," Trina muttered, shifting uneasily in the saddle, her legs on either side like a man's.

  Pidge grinned. "Who is going to see you but me?"

  Trina blushed and shifted again. "Pidge. We're out in the open."

  They were. And Trina had never in her life been out like this. A princess leaving her home always traveled with guards and dignitaries. She always had important diplomatic work to do. She was always the lead.

  This time, however, it was just the two of them. Trina and her mercenary. And this time, it wasn't Trina's work they went to do, it was Pidge's.

  The world had turned upside down.

  "You might have to get used to it," Pidge pointed out. "Aram has left us both with the impression he quite likes this sort of thing."

  "I'm outnumbered, then," Trina grumbled, but her lip twitched.

  Dusk had fallen over Gurd by the time they arrived, and the town had transformed. Windows were locked even before sundown. Those on the streets hurried about their tasks, throwing furtive glances over their shoulders.

  "What a dreadful place," Trina murmured as Pidge led her to the stables.

  "It wasn't this awful before," Pidge murmured. "Word must have spread of last night's attack."

  In the safety of the stable, Trina at last dismounted with a groan and hobbled, bow-legged, to the bench while Pidge paid the stable boy. "I don't understand how man can stand to ride like that," she huffed. "Nor you, for that matter."

  "I told you. You get used to it." Pidge pulled a small bundle out of one of the saddlebags and handed it to her. "Let's go."

  Pidge wasn't sure how well attracted a lich would be to fresh meat, but it was more certain than digging through the trash and hoping to find a second rotted hunk in as many days.

  Tucked in the same alley, Pidge tossed the meat out where it had been before. But she wasn't going to hesitate this time. She pulled her sword and held it at the ready. The minutes inched by. Trina clutched at the edges of her cloak.

  "How long do you think this has been going on?" she murmured. "How many people has this creature hurt?"

  Pidge sighed. "I don't know. Sometimes these things just happen."

  "With nothing in place to stop it." Trina set her jaw. "This town will soon be my responsibility, along with the rest of the kingdom. We can do better."

  "What will you do, outlaw ghosts?"

  "I don't know." Trina shivered, pulling her cloak tight about her shoulders.

  Pidge's hair stood on end. The temperature slipped downwards around them. Another ghost? Or perhaps the lich was up to take the bait again. Either way, it was time. Pidge gripped her sword a little tighter and glanced back.

  Her heart froze.

  Trina stood exactly where Aram had stood. No. Trina wouldn't stay put. The same thing would happen again!

  Cool mist began to flow across the ground. Pidge sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed Trina's hand.

  "Trina, get in the smithy," she ordered.

  Trina stared at her with wide eyes. "No. Pidge, I'm not leaving you!"

  "You don't have a weapon. Creatures like these can't handle iron. If you must come back, bring some way to protect yourself."

  Trina hesitated her dark eyes wide. For one horrible moment, Pidge thought she would refuse but, at last, Trina sighed and pulled away.

  "Just for a moment," she allowed.

  Pidge released her sword just long enough to pull her lockpick set from one of the pockets of her cloak, fiddling with the padlock until, with a click, it gave. Trina ducked in through the open door.

  Pidge took a deep breath and locked the padlock behind her, sealing her in.

  If she was lucky, Trina would forgive her.

  The padlock froze under her fingers, stinging like fire. Pidge jumped back and whirled around. And there he was. For the second night in a row, the shambling husk of long-decayed humanity crept across the ice and mist he made, his milky eyes fixed on the hunk of meat. Pidge took a deep breath and unsheathed her sword.

  The lich's head jerked in her direction.

  Pidge launched herself forward, swinging with everything she had, right toward the foul creature's exposed neck. But the lich was faster than it seemed. Before Pidge even saw it move, her sword sailed through empty air.

  Pidge scrambled to turn on the icy ground, swinging wildly. A horrible screech tore through the air. The lich stumbled back, one hand clutching its arm.

  "Pidge!" a muffled voice called, followed by a banging on the door. Trina had realized she was locked in. "Pidge, gods damn you to the deepest circle, let me out!"

  The freeze of ice crackled through the air as the lich flooded the road with its chill. The hilt of the sword stung against Pidge's palms.

  The lich's jaw unhinged, its mouth sliding open into an inhuman cry as it lifted one arm. Pidge darted forward, sword raised, as something cold wrapped around her ankle.

  She crashed against the ice, stars dancing before her eyes. The sword flew just out of reach. No!

  She squirmed, throwing a glance over her shoulder. A half-rotted spectre held tight to her ankle. Its second deformed hand wrapped around her calf, its fingers a vice of pure ice.

  "Argh!" Pidge screamed, trying to kick at it, but the ghostly thing seemed not to even comprehend her struggles.

  An unnatural cold inched up her legs, needles of ice pricking her skin until she could feel nothing at all.

&nbs
p; The lich knelt down, its long, thin fingers straining for her.

  The banging continued on the inside of the door. Pidge squeezed her eyes shut. At least Trina would survive the night.

  In a last-ditch attempt, Pidge dug out her lockpicking kit. Her fingers were numbing making her more clumsy. She couldn't tell which tool she grabbed as chilly fingers settled on the top of her head.

  "Pidge!"

  BANG!

  The door flew open in a splinter of wood, a heavy axe jutting out from it. And there, mussed and red-faced in her fury, ran Trina, an awl clenched in her upraised fist.

  The world slowed as the impossible became reality. The door had been blown away. Trina leapt forward with a shout.

  "Aaaarrrraugh!"

  The lich let out an unholy scream. The spectral hands disappeared from her legs. Pidge gasped as the lich staggered back, an awl jutting out from its rotted throat. It clawed helplessly at the tool as Trina stumbled away from it, ashen and wide-eyed. No! She wasn't meant to be here.

  Pidge tried to scramble to her feet, but her legs didn't want to cooperate. Seven hells!

  "Trina," Pidge gasped, reaching out. "My sword!"

  "What?"

  "My sword!"

  Trembling, Trina grabbed the sword, just as the lich trained its glassy eyes on her and darted forward.

  Trina screamed and squeezed her eyes shut, swinging wildly.

  "Hurk!"

  Steel embedded in flesh, but it wasn't enough to cut all the way through. The lich let out a startled gurgle as thick, browned blood dribbled from between its lips.

  "Get it again!" Pidge shouted.

  Trina yelped and pulled the sword free before swinging again. The lich darted forward only to meet her blade again. And again, as Trina hacked away at the dull creature's neck. Congealed blood covered the cobblestones as the foul creature, too stunned and slowed by Trina's attacks, collapsed to the ground.

  With one final hack, the business was done. The lich was no longer a threat.

  Warmth washed over her. Pidge gasped, resting her head against the cobblestones.

  The sword clattered on the street in front of her.

  "If you ever try something like that again," Trina warned. "I think I'll leave the thing to kill you."

  Pidge huffed but smiled. "As my queen wishes."

  Trina's boots shuffled against the cobblestones. Pidge glanced up to see her pacing, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

  "That was awful," she insisted. "That was… we could have died. We should have died!"

  "You caught him by surprise. Luck was on your side, today."

  Trina whirled around, eyes wide. "And this is what you do? This is what you and Aram will do?"

  Pidge took a deep breath and pushed herself up onto her elbows. "Let's go back and see what Aram thinks about it now he's had his first actual adventure."

  "Right. Of course." Trina scrubbed a hand over her face. "Right. Of course. Yes." She turned to head back to the inn.

  Pidge cleared her throat. "Would you mind sending the stable boy back for me? I… don't yet seem able to feel my toes."

  *~*~*

  Aram looked so tiny alone in Trina's bed, but his cheeks had a touch more color than before. The whole place stank of smoke and medicines. The sweltering fire blanketed the whole place in a cloying heat, but nobody dared to douse it. Not until Aram stirred.

  Trina curled up on the bed next to him, every minute or so turning the page of a book. An adventure story about Borghis and his crew of bloodthirsty pirates. Aram would probably love that when he awoke.

  Pidge begrudgingly sat at the foot of the bed. It felt more correct to stand, of course, but her legs still prickled unpleasantly and would likely do so for days to come. And Trina had been of the opinion that, really, the three of them ought to be comfortable lying in a bed together.

  "It sounds like this Borghis fellow was a real scoundrel," Trina mused, turning the page.

  "Lucky for us, he met his end when his men mutinied against him," Pidge said with a smile.

  "That's not how he died."

  The faint, wispy voice was almost drowned under the crackling of the fire. Pidge shot up, her eyes wide.

  Aram stirred, glancing between them with half-lidded eyes and a faint smile. "He was knocked overboard during a storm. Didn't sound like a good way to go. Didn't match his reputation. So, his first mate made up the mutiny."

  "Aram," Trina breathed, dropping the book to squeeze his hand.

  Aram blinked up at her, then glanced at Pidge. "Well, this is a surprise," he wheezed. "You know, I don't believe I know how I got here."

  "We'll tell everyone it was something grand," Trina promised him.

  "But…" Aram struggled to push himself up. Pidge rushed to his side to help him adjust against the pillows. He was such a tiny thing; he weighed almost nothing.

  "We took care of the lich," Pidge assured him. "The town is safe. You're going to be fine."

  "Oh. Good." Aram relaxed. "I'd hate to think we didn't do our job."

  "Well, I have some ideas about more… efficient ways to do the job," Trina said primly, her lips tugging into a small smile. "Beginning with training a watch in every town to tackle such incidents in the future."

  "That does sound splendid," Aram said, arching a brow at Pidge. "I can't say it wasn't exciting… but I rather think I'd like to avoid too many such adventures in the future if it's all the same. At least until I can throw a better punch." He flexed his scabbed knuckles.

  "I… can't promise it won't come up again," Pidge said, her stomach squirming.

  Aram frowned, pursing his lips before nodding. "Ah. Well. Then I know what I'm marrying into."

  Pidge's insides went soft. Never for a moment had either Aram or Trina backed away from a challenge. Neither of them had so much as hesitated to join her. Royal or not, skilled or not, they were willing to do it. For her.

  If they were willing to do that, then maybe she could make room for herself at the side of a queen.

  "I'll want to bring both of you to start sparring with me," Pidge decided. "I don't know how well I'd sleep now that I've seen what complete rubbish you both are in a fight."

  "I saved your life," Trina pointed out primly. "I, erm… I think I can manage without."

  "Perhaps. Or perhaps next time you don't catch the creature off guard. It's always a good idea to be cautious."

  "What is this now?" Aram glanced between the two of them, beaming like the sun itself. "I must hear of this adventure."

  "You will. And afterwards…" Pidge licked her lips. "Maybe in return you can both help me with court etiquette. In time for the wedding."

  Trina's face lit up. "So, you agree to be a part of the ceremony? It won't be just me and Aram standing up there?"

  Pidge's face burned. They both stared at her so expectantly. It still rankled her. The thought of presenting like that in front of a whole kingdom who thought ill of her. Wearing a silk gown that didn't suit her while she took the hands of two royals. But the way they looked at her… maybe it would be easier if she could pretend it was only the two of them looking at her.

  Pidge ducked her head in a small nod. "I suppose I need to report to the tailor to have a dress made," she allowed.

  *~*~*

  In the final hour before night overtook day, when almonds blossomed and the birds clustered in the trees around the garden, Pidge stood at the back of a crowd. Two royals stood before the high priest. Trina's dark hair had been pulled into a series of elaborate knots, strung through with pearls to accent those on her dress. Aram stood opposite her, his brocade coat shining in the golden light, a new feather as big as an arm jutting out from his cap.

  Harp music floated on the air, lulling everybody into a state of coziness and ease. A table groaned under the weight of gifts. Pidge smiled. She could see her own right at the front. A compilation of adventure stories for Aram. A set of bronze-handled throwing knives for Trina, who had proved herself to be surprisingly pr
oficient in the last few weeks.

  "In the name of the old gods and the new, with the hopes of Tamren and Ithsveld united, I bless this union," the priest recited before glancing up.

  As one, the sea of courtiers glanced back.

  Pidge took a deep breath and stepped forward into the light of the setting sun. She did not wear pearls. She did not have brocade. Just a simple frock, pretty but plain. What must she look like to them? Too tall. Too plain. A common sellsword making believe she could stand alongside a couple of royals.

  Royals who could make believe they were warriors. A prince who loved adventure stories. A princess who could behead a lich. They were the spouses of a mercenary.

  When Trina and Aram stared at her, the crowds melted away and it was only the two of them looking at her. Pidge caught her breath and forced herself to take the first step forward. Then the second, her long train trailing along the garden path behind her as she joined her husband and her wife.

  Ten Days of Harmony

  MEYARI MCFARLAND

  For my parents, the first, best example of what family means. Thank you for everything.

  Hemlock

  Giang Nunes sat in xyr car, staring at the pack's home and wanting to fuss with xyr appearance. Somewhat. There was no way to change xyr mix of human and dryad features before meeting with the werewolves. The dryad side of xyr heritage showed clearly in the shifting colors of xyr hair, eyes and skin while the human side showed in xyr features, fingers, hands and limbs, all of which were as human as human could be.

  Xyr boss had always said that they should present themselves as attractively as possible when meeting with the public. But Giang struggled with that. Xyr hair was growing into spring greens after the white of winter. At least xyr eyes had made the switch fully. Instead of the spooky ice-blue that always startled xem during January and February, xyr eyes were the green-gold of new aspen leaves with sunshine through them, bright and happy and… nervous.