by M. A. Larson
“Really, I’m only meant to be observing, Captain,” said Basil. He was looking quite frail amidst all the burly knight cadets.
“No one has ever learned to use a blade by watching. Now, let’s see if your hands are as operational as your mouth. Cadet Forbes, a basic downward strike, if you please.”
Basil gulped and raised his sword, which quivered in the air. Evie’s eyes met Remington’s, and for once he did not look amused.
“Ready, cadets?” shouted Lamarche. “Hup!”
Evie flinched as Forbes lunged forward, his blade slashing through the air. Basil leapt to the side, then grabbed his blade with his off hand and snapped it right to Forbes’s neck, where it hovered less than an inch from the skin.
“Well. that’s not fair, is it?” said Forbes, who didn’t dare move. “He’s got a two-hand sword.”
Lamarche took an arming sword off the rack and tossed it to Basil, who caught it by the hilt. “Again.”
Basil set his own sword aside, then took his position. “See? Hand behind the back to reduce the targets—”
Forbes’s blade whistled through the air. He didn’t even wait for Lamarche to signal him. Basil’s sword shot up and blocked it—chink! Forbes looked ready to spit fire. He lunged at Basil, swirling his sword in a series of attacks. Basil hopped away from each, using his blade to deflect them.
“Easy, men! Wait!” called Lamarche, but Forbes continued to rain down strikes. Basil deftly avoided them, then spun around and kicked Forbes’s leg out from under him. Several of the Huntsman cadets began to cheer, which seemed to embolden Basil. Forbes hopped up, ignoring Lamarche’s warnings, and attacked again. Basil’s confidence had grown, however, and he easily batted away Forbes’s blade. He moved as fluidly as a squirrel running from a dog.
“Go on, Basil!” shouted Evie with a whoop. His instincts were superb. His blade darted like a falcon as metallic chinks rang out beneath the cheers. Forbes could clearly feel himself being bested, and it only made him angrier.
“Agh!” he shouted as he took a mighty overhead swipe. Basil ducked under it and brought his sword up beneath the attack. “Aaaah!” Forbes fell to the dirt, holding his chin.
Basil’s triumphant smile began to fade. He’d cut his opponent. The cheering of the others quieted as Forbes writhed in the dirt.
“That’s enough!” called Lamarche, racing over to his wounded cadet. But before he could get there, Forbes sat up. There was a slice on his chin. It was bleeding quite badly, but wasn’t deep.
“Well done,” he said. “Looks like you win.”
“I’m sorry!” said Basil, mortified. “Are you all right?”
Lamarche helped Forbes to his feet and inspected the cut.
“It’s nothing,” said Forbes. “At least I’m wearing red.” He dabbed the cut on his sleeve. It made a deep stain on top of the red fabric.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” asked Lamarche.
“I’m fine. Believe me, I’ve had worse.” He extended a hand to Basil, who hesitated, then shook it.
“I’m sorry, Forbes. It was an accident.”
“You shouldn’t play with swords if you’re afraid of a little blood,” said Forbes. Then he turned to Lamarche. “Let’s keep going.”
Lamarche nodded, his volume returning as he realized Forbes really was all right. “There you are, men. Be where the strike is not. Expertly demonstrated, Cadet . . .”
“Basil.”
“Cadet Basil. Now, the rest of you, positions. One single attack. This is a defensive drill, not a sparring session.”
Evie’s heart was still racing, though now she was exhilarated by seeing Basil’s performance. “Captain? Could I try as well?”
Lamarche turned to look at her. Several of the Huntsman cadets laughed. “Come on, then, young lady.”
Her legs felt like rubber as she stood and made her way down the risers. Her hand was shaking atop the pommel of her sword. You shouldn’t play with swords if you’re afraid of a little blood. Evie was terrified of blood, particularly her own, but greater than her terror was her desire to swing her sword.
“Captain, if I may,” said Remington, stepping forward. “I taught my cousin to use a sword, and she’s one of the best in Brentano. I’d be happy to train this one as well.”
“Fine, yes,” said Lamarche. “You, over here with me.” The boy who had been working with Remington trotted over to join Lamarche. Evie walked over and stood opposite Remington.
“If you cut me, I’m never speaking to you again,” she said.
“Don’t worry, Malora, I’ll go easy.”
Evie chuckled and shook her head. “Now it’s you who should be afraid of getting cut.”
“Blades up!” called Captain Lamarche.
Evie slid her sword from the scabbard. In the dim sunlight, it was nearly as red as a ruby. Remington raised his eyebrows, impressed. “That’s an absolutely stunning blade.”
“Care for a closer look?” she said with a smirk.
“Ready, cadets? Hup!” shouted Lamarche.
Blades swung all around her. She closed her eyes and tried to block Remington, but her sword just slashed through empty air. When she opened her eyes, she saw him standing there, blade still raised.
“I find it’s best to be attacked before you defend,” he said.
“Well? Attack, then!” Adrenaline thrummed through her body.
“I just wanted to see how you handle a sword before I strike you. You’ve got an intuitive sense of balance, it seems.”
“And you’ve got an intuitive tendency to talk too much.”
He laughed. “If I may, the very first rule any weapons master will teach you? Keep your eyes open.”
“Don’t worry about my eyes,” she said, bobbing the sword in her hand. “Worry about your own.”
He raised his eyebrows, then his sword. All around them, the other cadets did the same.
“Ready, cadets?” shouted Lamarche. “Hup!”
She saw his arm jerk forward and reacted. She threw her blade out, knocking his aside with a clink! In the same motion, she brought the pommel around and cracked it into his cheek.
“Gah!” he said, clutching his face.
“Remington!” She dropped her sword and ran to him. “I’m so sorry!”
His cheek had already gone bright red where she’d hit him, though he was still smiling. “Brilliant move, Evie!” He wiped away two small splotches of blood. “I knew you had the instinct for it!”
“Are you all right?”
“Unless my head’s rolling round on the ground, I’m fine. Come on, again!”
For the next hour, Evie and Remington traded blows. He offered tips and adjustments to improve her technique, but continued to be impressed with how she handled the blade. She could feel her confidence growing with each jarring clash of steel. Finally, when her arms were shuddering so much she could barely lift the sword, Lamarche called an end to the session. Evie and Remington walked to the risers and sat. He offered her a drink from his waterskin.
“Thanks,” she said. As she drank, most of the other Huntsman cadets began to disperse, placing their swords back on the racks and heading to the barracks. Basil and Forbes, however, continued to spar. They seemed to be coaching each other after each clash. “Is it possible we’re witnessing the beginnings of a friendship over there?”
Remington looked up just as Forbes took a massive whack at Basil. Clang!
“What, Forbes? No, I think he’d be perfectly happy to kill Basil right now.”
Evie watched closely as Basil corrected Forbes’s stance. The scowl never left his face. “Is he all right? Since he’s been back? There’s something I’d like to talk to him about, but he’s not exactly the most approachable person, is he.”
“Forbes? What do you want to talk to him about?”
“You remember that portrait from last year. The one that turned Forbes into a pig?”
“Of course, the portrait of you.”
“I’d quite like to see it for myself. Just to satisfy my curiosity.”
Forbes took another mighty swing. Crash! Basil seemed not to notice his building frustration. “That was good, but you’ve got to remember your balance. Upper body speed is meaningless if you’re on the ground.” Forbes gritted his teeth.
“Perhaps you should let me speak to him,” said Remington.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Well, he’s having a bit of a rough go of it at the moment. Rumor round the company is that his kingdom is in the process of being wiped from the map.”
“What?”
“His father’s made quite a few enemies over the years. It seems one of them has finally decided to do something about it. Forbes fled the city with those two other blokes he turned up with, but his father is apparently still trapped inside.” He turned to face her. “Perhaps he might be a bit more open to talking to me than to you.”
Clang! Shing! Clack!
“Forbes!” called Basil. “Stop! Forbes!”
Forbes had lost control. His eyes were aflame as he poured attacks on Basil.
“Cadet Forbes, enough!” bellowed Lamarche, but Forbes kept going. Basil retreated, expertly parrying away the attacks. It was only a matter of time, however, before he would trip on the rough ground and Forbes would have the advantage.
Forbes hacked at Basil with everything he had. Basil dipped to the side, then bashed the flat face of his sword into Forbes’s back. It knocked him off balance and sent him straight into the dirt. Like a viper, Basil’s blade was at Forbes’s throat.
“Blimey,” said Remington. “That chap certainly knows his way round a blade.”
Forbes slapped Basil’s sword aside and scrambled to his feet. He tossed his own in the dirt and stomped off toward the barracks. Evie watched him with narrow eyes.
“Perhaps I will let you talk to him after all.”
As the cadets of Leatherwolf Company settled in for another foreshortened night of sleep, Evie could still feel every one of Remington’s sword strikes in her bones. Her hands were raw and blistered. Still, for all the physical pain, there was a newfound confidence that lingered as well. She liked that bit. Quite a lot.
“All right, Maggie?” she asked.
“Yeah, fine,” said Maggie, sitting in bed with a book on her knees. “Just reading the chapter on outsmarting goblins again. Don’t want to give Professor Adelbert any excuse to send me home during our Applied Courage exam tomorrow. And I’ve been trying to prepare for this Witches’ Night that Princess Copperpot warned us about, but I can’t find anything about it in any of the books. It’s all so stressful.”
“Ah,” said Evie. And she didn’t know quite what to say after that. Maggie hadn’t asked about the sword training, so she didn’t volunteer anything about it.
“Don’t you ever take a break?” said Demetra, returning to her bed with a breezy smile. She’d come from chatting with Nessa and Liv across the aisle.
“Don’t you ever stop taking a break?” said Maggie.
“I’ll have you know that we were studying as well.”
“Then why don’t you find your way back over there again? I already feel dumber since you’ve started talking.”
Demetra’s face curled up in confusion. “Why are you having a go at me?”
Maggie sighed in frustration. “Never mind. Just leave me alone. I’ve got actual studying to do.”
Evie and Demetra exchanged a look. Evie shrugged, as if to say, I don’t know either.
“Attention!” called Princess Copperpot. The girls leapt to their feet and assembled at their footboards as their House Princess lurched inside with another sack full of letters. Lance strutted ahead, searching for things to peck. Maggie held her breath for a full forty seconds as he passed by. “This will be a short announcement, I’m afraid. Only one cadet has received any correspondence this evening.”
All around the room, shoulders slumped in disappointment. Evie, her cheeks flushing pink, made her way across the bearskin rugs to retrieve her letters.
“That is all, girls. You may sleep. And remember: tomorrow you must be more a princess than today.”
At first, Evie had thought that mantra a threat, as though anyone who wasn’t more a princess would be discharged. But as one week turned into the next, and as she felt her friends becoming increasingly distant, the words also served as a helpful reminder: I’m here to become a princess, no matter what else is happening. If Maggie wanted to snipe at Demetra, if Demetra wanted to ignore Maggie . . . she just had to let all of that go, because tomorrow she would need to be more a princess than today.
She absently pulled open the drawstring and emptied the sack. Demetra climbed into her bed and began writing a letter. Neither she nor Maggie was as enamored with Evie’s letters as they’d been that first night. Around the room, torches began to go out. Girls traveled to and from the latrine, toothbrushes in hand. Evie sat on her bunk and absently flipped through the letters as she glanced over at Maggie. I’m here to become a princess, that’s true. But it would certainly be nice if my friends weren’t so hostile toward—
A small package slipped free from her hands and fell to the floor. It was slightly bulkier than the other letters. As she picked it up, she realized that it was made from two parchment hawks that had been stitched together. There were no markings, only a crude wax seal across the back with a string melted into it. She squeezed the package and felt something hard inside. She pulled on the string, which tore a line through the wax. The package opened and something clattered to the floor. She gasped and jumped back as though a snake had slithered out of the package.
“All right, Evie?” said Demetra.
Evie stared at the object on the floor in horror. She slowly reached down to pick it up. She rolled the cold, hard object between her fingers, watching the firelight play off of its smooth surface. It was roughly six inches long, and sharp as a needle at one end.
“It’s a wolf’s fang,” she whispered.
“What?” said Demetra. She climbed out of her bunk and joined Evie, taking the fang from her fingers. “Why would someone send you a wolf’s fang?”
Evie opened the letter, her fingers trembling. The message inside read, Found this and thought you should see it, and it was signed, a friend.
Something was stuck to the inside of the package with a spot of wax. It was an ordinary parchment, not a bird, and it had been roughly folded. As Evie opened it, she could tell by the coppery tint of the words that it was not written in ink, but rather in blood . . .
Vertreiben awakes!
Pennyroyal Akademie burns!
“AND YOU’VE ABSOLUTELY no idea who sent this?” Princess Beatrice stalked around her office, glaring at the blood-streaked parchment in her hands. Princess Hazelbranch, Princess Copperpot, and Corporal Liverwort were there as well, looking various shades of concerned. There was also a large man with long black hair and silvery stubble whom Evie had seen at meals but never formally met. His name was Sir Schönbecker, and he was the House Knight of Shield Company, the highest company for knights.
“I’m sorry, Headmistress,” said Evie, sitting at the edge of one of Beatrice’s chairs. “I’ve gotten quite a few letters this year, and I don’t know who sent any of them.”
“Are you tellin’ me there’s more of them things?” snapped Liverwort, one of her eyes closing in a sneer. “And you’re only now tellin’ us?”
“No, not like this one. The others, they’re from . . . admirers.” She cringed as she said it.
“Admirers? Well, ain’t you just the most precious—”
“I believe we’re missing the point here, everyone,” said Princess Hazelbranch. “Evie’s done nothing wrong.
She brought me the letter as soon as she got it—”
“And that’s another thing,” said Princess Copperpot loudly, her one good eye bulging from her head. She awkwardly stroked Lance, who sat nestled in her natural left arm. “Why didn’t you come to me? I am your House Princess now, and I am the one to be confided in. This whole affair leaves quite a sour taste . . .”
“I’m sorry, Princess,” said Evie. “I suppose I just got in the habit of talking to Princess Hazelbranch last year.”
“Bad habits must be broken,” she said, glaring down at Evie. “You shall hereafter confide solely in me. That is a direct order, do you understand?”
“Yes, Princess.”
“Have you shown this to anyone else, Cadet?” said Beatrice, holding up the letter.
“No, Headmistress. Well, I mean, I may have mentioned it to Maggie and Demetra.”
Beatrice flicked her head to Princess Copperpot, who turned and lurched out of the office. “And that’s it? No one else?”
“No, Headmistress.”
“Good. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I shall have some of our best princesses out in the field look into this, but I can assure you that it will prove to be the work of witches. We have seen this very thing before, many times.”
Evie glanced to Liverwort, then to Hazelbranch.
“You may go, Cadet.”
“Yes, Headmistress.” She stood and walked to the door.
“Oh, and Cadet, I must insist that you not mention this to anyone else. Let us handle it from here.”
Evie nodded, then went out into the candlelit corridor and closed the door behind her. She glanced down the hallway to the staircase that led to the outside, but hesitated. Muffled voices had resumed from behind the door. She took a deep breath, then carefully leaned forward and put her ear to the wood, where a man’s deep baritone came through.
“Forgive me, Headmistress, but I’m afraid I’ve never heard of this . . . Vertreiben.”
“And there is absolutely no reason you should have,” said Beatrice with disgust. “They are an embarrassment to the princessing service.”
