Beneath the Veil

by Megan Hart

  "We've got you, Daelyn," said Freet.

  "I said I'd be fine!" He grouched but sighed loudly when they helped him to the bed. "And keep your bedamned voices down, I don't want you to wake up my fetchencarry."

  "Some fetchencarry," scoffed Penryn. "Doesn't even wake to help his master..."

  "Shut your gob." Daelyn's voice had begun to slur. "I don't want him for this."

  I'd been ready to step out and help but at that retreated to the shadows of my alcove. He didn't want me. Why, then, had he chosen me?

  I flung myself into my bed and pulled the covers over my head. Let his lords undress him, wash his face, help him to the privy to piss! He didn't want me, and he wouldn't have me.

  I covered my ears with my pillow so as not to hear any more that night. Even if he called me, I'd not come. He told me to leave him alone, and I would....

  Next I knew, the first chimes of the day were tinkling throughout the White Palace. I was awake in an instant, but it took me longer than that to force myself out of the tangle I'd made of my sheets.

  Daelyn's friends had undressed him and put him to bed. I paused to look at him as he slept, but he'd pulled the covers so close about him I saw nothing.

  The White Palace was quiet so early in the morning, but not silent. Follies glided past me on slippered feet and the public rooms bustled with their crews of cleaning staff. I passed the kitchens, the smell of breakfast already wafting on the heated air from the ovens.

  The morning air chilled me when I went to the fight field. Surrounded by the palace walls, the courtyard held the vestiges of morning mist like wispy bits of lace on a gentleman's handkerchief. Overhead, the sun was a bright disc that would warm the field and chase away the dew, but for now I shivered as the moisture crept around my legs.

  I didn't see Lir at first, hidden by the mist. He leaned against one of the goal posts driven into the earth in the field's center. He wore shirt and trousers without ornamentation, and his hair had been pulled back in a thick tail that hung over one shoulder.

  "Good morn," he greeted. "I wasn't sure I'd see you here."

  "I could say the same. I thought you might not want to teach me."

  Lir uncrossed his arms and stood straight. "I said I would, didn't I?"

  "I thought you might've changed your mind."

  He nodded. "Today will show me what you can do. You might change yours."

  "Is that a challenge?" The words came out with less rancor than I'd thought I could speak to him.

  "It is. And I hope to see you rise to it."

  I made a leg and bowed low, arms outstretched from my sides. "I'll do my best."

  I came up grinning, and he matched it. My heart felt lighter here on the fight field with Lir. He might judge me, but it would be on my efforts and what I could change, not what I could not.

  "Let's get you fitted for a weapon."

  He'd brought a rolling rack composed of two long pieces of wood with several cross pieces connecting them with him. Weapons in different sizes hung from the rack.

  "You're not big enough for the broad sword," Lir said, which was so true I couldn't take offense. "Not yet, anyway. Come here and let me measure you for this, instead. Take off your tunic."

  I wore a loose fitted shirt beneath it and I'd bound my chest well, but the tunic offered me extra protection. Lir didn't seem to notice my hesitation. I tossed my tunic to the grass and straightened my shoulders. Confidence was the best disguise.

  "Hold out your arm."

  Instinctively, I raised my left.

  "Your fighting hand, Aeris."

  "I fight with both my hands."

  Lir shook his head. "You fight with both your fists, aye, but with a sword you need to use your dominant hand. Which hand do you write with?"

  Being left-handed was not so shameful as being a woman, but it was looked down on by most as being uncivilized. I most naturally used my left hand but had been trained to write well enough with my right. I raised it.

  Lir snugged himself up against my back and laid the side of his face against my hair. If I leaned back, I'd be against him. I kept myself straight. He put his right arm out along mine. His other hand gripped my waist so tightly I didn't move. I found it suddenly difficult to breathe.

  "You'll need a lighter weight blade and a shorter one as well. You'll always have to lunge deeper against your foes. You'll have to have your weapons custom-built for you, unless you grow taller."

  That didn't seem probable. "Custom weapons are costly."

  "But worth it."

  He moved a little closer. His hand ran past my elbow then closed on my forearm. His grip tested the width of my bones, the strength of my muscles.

  "Sinder's Arrow, Aeris, you're fair tiny." With his words, his breath puffed hot against my ear. His other hand tightened on my hip. "Were you starved as a child?"

  His closeness befuddled me. With a tug, I stepped neatly out of his arms and turned to face him. I knew my face was flushed, but Lir's was the same golden peach it always was – and I hated him for being able to affect me so physically without any sign of him feeling the same. I hadn't forgotten he'd turned away my clumsy offer the night before.

  "I'm strong enough," I said. "And I'm not that small."

  "If I'm going to teach you, we might both at least try not to go for each other's throats unless we're actually fighting."

  He ranked higher than I, and it wasn’t my place to contradict him. "Yes, my lord."

  Lir sighed as though my answer displeased him and plucked a rapier from the rack, then tossed it to me. "Shall we?"

  I caught the weapon without fumbling, pleased to see his nod of approval. It was lighter in my hand than I'd expected, the handle rough on my palm. The curved grip encased my fingers and held them stiff while allowing my wrist complete flexibility.

  "Nice form," Lir commented. "Hold this weapon loosely, with plenty of movement. You're not going to be hacking with it. You're going to dance with it."

  And dance I did, for four full chimes while the sun rose higher overhead. My education began with a series of basic parries and thrusts, focusing on the defensive rather than the offensive. I worked until my muscles screamed and faintness threatened me...but I didn't stop.

  Sweat had matted my hair to my face and soaked my shirt. Blisters had sprouted on my sword hand. I paused to swipe at my face with the sleeve of my shirt.

  "One more time!" Lir lunged toward me, blade pointed at my heart. "Make me work for it, Aeris!"

  I blocked his thrust, and the metal grip of my rapier ground against the thin skin of my blisters. They broke, excruciatingly. My body followed the arc of my sword, and I stumbled. Lir gave me no leeway. He came at me again, and I acted without thinking. I pulled the grip away from my seeping wounds and grabbed it with my left, unblistered hand. I rolled from one knee and pushed to my feet, sword out. It met Lir's with so much force it knocked his blade back, and he stepped back to compensate. I gave him no more slack than he'd given me.

  I advanced and swung, and thrust, and swung again. I drove him back with every blow, until my final one caught his upraised sword so fiercely it knocked it from his hand. We watched it thud into the soft grass of the fight field as though it took an entire chime to fall. Then I used all I'd learned that day and leaped toward him.

  Crimson bloomed at the tip of my blade. Lir put his hands in the air. I lowered my sword, then lowered my head. The world had begun to tilt.

  He pressed a mug of water into my hand, and I splashed it onto my face. The thought of drinking it made my stomach heave. I breathed deeply the scent of grass and sweat and churned earth. I wet the back of my neck, and began to feel better.

  "Mother's Milk," Lir swore. "I've never seen anything like you."

  I spat to clear my mouth. "I can only do what I've been taught."

  "Aeris –" He caught me by the shoulder until I turned to face him. "I was complimenting you."

  I felt suddenly small. "Oh."

  "I've nev
er seen a move like that from someone with so little training. It takes years of practice to be able to effectively wield a weapon with one's weak hand." He lifted my right palm, and his face twisted. "Ah, lad, what by the blood have you done to your hand? Why did you not tell me you were blistering? I'd have stopped."

  I pulled it away and tipped the last of my water over the blisters. The relief was slight. "I didn't want to stop. I'll be fine."

  "Aeris." I heard frustration clear in his voice. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wrapped it around my palm, then pulled the ends tight enough to make me bite my lip from the pain. He touched the bandaged hand, then put his palm to my cheek where the bruises were finally beginning to fade. "Mother's Milk, lad, you're killing yourself."

  I shook his hand away. "A man must learn to fight."

  "Aeris," Lir said. "You're not a man."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Through the sudden ringing in my ears I heard Lir calling for a folly to bring more water. He doused me with it. It chilled me, and my teeth began to chatter. I curled in on myself, mind awhirl. He knew the truth.

  "I plead your mercy," Lir murmured from his knees beside me. He pulled me upright. Like a boneless doll I moved in his arms until I stiffened my back to sit straight. "I meant no insult. Your mercy. I meant only that you're a lad, still --"

  I thanked the Invisible Mother who watched over me. My laughter was strained and hoarse, but it seemed to relieve Lir.

  "Too much exertion and not enough water. You gave me a scare." He gave me a stern look. "Your hand must heal before we have any more lessons. Tell Daelyn to provide you with leather sword gloves."

  I cradled my hand in my lap. "Think you he'll do that? He was angry you'd offered me lessons in the first place."

  Lir smiled and in the direction of Daelyn's quarters. "He's pissed because he's begged me to teach him and I've refused. He can have any Master of the Art in the land train him."

  "But none as skilled as you."

  Lir shrugged. "And none as close to him, either. He doesn't have coin enough to pay me. He wouldn't listen to anything I tried to teach. I value his friendship too much to lose it that way."

  The chimes told us it was after noon. "I'd better go back."

  "You're good for him, you know."

  Lir's words surprised me. "I am?"

  "You want to please him, yet you think for yourself. He needs that. It's not good for Daelyn to have everyone fawn on him all the time."

  "You never fawn. On anyone." I splashed my face with some water. "He wants me to anticipate what he wants without telling me. I don't think I guess right very often. But how am I supposed to do as he wishes if he won't tell me what he wants? Is he testing me for some reason?"

  "He's testing you," Lir said. "But not for the reason you'd think."

  "Why then?" I got to my feet and gathered my tunic and hung up the sword on the rack. "Why not just give me a list of duties to perform, so I can do them? What else could he have brought me here for?"

  "It’s not my place to say." Lir held out his hand to me, and I shook it, gingerly, to protect my sore hand. "But he's sure to let you know."

  The euphoria of the fight was wearing off. The exertion and the sleepless night had taken their toll. I yawned so wide I fair to cracked my jaw and rolled my head on my neck.

  "Good job today, Aeris."

  I nodded at him. "Thank you, my lord."

  "See?" Lir called to my back as I made my way from the field. "It’s not impossible for us to get along!"

  "Until the next time, when I wipe the field with you," I called back, and his laughter followed me out the gate.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Daelyn didn't appear to have moved since the morning. I stared at his bundled form for a long time. What did he want from me? Perhaps the more important question was, what did I want from him?

  I could run away from the White Palace, but where would I go from there? Not back to my uncle's home. I could leave the city, brave the desert or the mountains, perhaps find a ship to take me sailing over the sea. I didn't think myself brave enough for any of that.

  The dried sweat on my body was making me itch, and I blessed the luxury of my private bathing chamber. Stripping, I opened the faucets. I closed the door most of the way, leaving a crack to listen for Daelyn stirring. I dropped my sweat-stiff clothes in the basket for the follies to take to the laundry. I unbound my breasts, glad to feel the air upon my naked skin. My nipples had chafed beneath the cloth, and I held my breasts in my hands for a moment to soothe the irritation. I scrubbed and rinsed the binding cloth and laid it to dry.

  Then I knelt on the slatted wooden mat over the drain in the floor and soaped myself all over. I used the scrub brush, though it stung so much I cried. I rinsed until I was clean, then did the same to the matted length of my hair.

  When I'd finished cleansing myself, I could at last get into the tub. Bliss at once enveloped me. Every abused muscle, every inch of battered skin, felt cradled in luxury. I hissed a sigh at the stinging ecstasy. I sank as far as I could, my back curving along the sleek, carved wood until my knees touched the tub's other side.

  I played over the morning in my mind. Lir had been a harsh taskmaster, giving me no leeway but never pushing me too hard. I'd done that to myself. I flexed my blistered hand. I'd worked hard, and in the end, I'd been able to surprise him into defeat. I'd have to work twice as hard the next time we met to be able to do it again.

  That didn't frighten me. It gave me a sense of purpose. Fighting with Lir had made me feel strong and able. Capable. Worthwhile.

  I slept and woke with a start to the noise of the door creaking open. I sat up so fast water splashed over the tub's high sides. I turned, mouth open to chastise the folly I thought had interrupted me, and clapped my mouth closed.

  "I called for you several times," Daelyn said from the doorway.

  I couldn't rise above the tub's high side and reveal my naked chest. My breasts were small...but undeniably female. "I plead your mercy, my prince. I'll be ready to help you in a few minutes."

  He nodded. His gaze pierced me. He left the doorway, and I sank, trembling, back into the tub again, my heart in my throat. How much had he seen?

  I dressed before I was even dry. I didn't bother to comb through my hair, just tied it back at the nape of my neck. I bound my hand with a fresh bandage and went to his chamber.

  "I plead your mercy," I said again, but he cut me off with a glance.

  "What were you doing today, while I slept?"

  He didn't look well. His cheeks were pale, his eyes hollowed with fatigue. A long, angry red scratch had bloomed across his forehead. He didn't wait for me to answer before speaking again.

  "Were you on the fight field? With Lir?"

  I saw no point in lying. "Aye, my prince."

  He chuckled, but the sound was without much humor and sounded as though it hurt him to give it. "That bastard."

  "If you'd like me not to train with him –"

  "No, Aeris." His naked gaze disconcerted me. "Lir is the best in Alyria. It's an honor he chose you to train. He only takes those he thinks have the potential to also become the best."

  I thought of what Lir had said about not wanting to lose his friendship with Daelyn. "There are some things more important than becoming the best, my prince."

  "Are there?" He laughed again, the sound like a glass breaking. "Sometimes I wonder."

  I went to the window and pulled up the shade. With a wince, he threw up his hand to block the rays of dull afternoon sunlight.

  "Damn, that's bright," he said. "What chime?"

  "Well past the four chime, my prince." I poured fresh water into his basin and brought it to him with a cloth. "Would you like to wash your face?"

  He snapped his fingers toward the vanity table. "Do I look that bad? Bring me a looking glass."

  I found an ornate, long-handled glass encrusted with jewels. He held it up to his face and pulled a sour expression. He passed
a hand over his forehead, then down his cheeks, and at last scrubbed at his mouth.

  "Mother's Milk." He spat the curse. "I look like a pile of shite."

  A laugh burst out of me, a foolish laugh but one I couldn't stop. "You look tired. But you don't look like shite."

  I pulled the glass from his hand and held it up to my own reflection. Several small cuts crisscrossed my cheeks, and my mouth was cracked. One eye had puffed nearly shut.

  "I look like a troll," I said. "And when the bruises heal, I'll not look much better."