by Jocelyn Fox
After receiving his Knight’s sword, Finn had opportunities to…acquaint himself…with several ladies. He’d never let the dalliances progress too far, never beyond flirtation and perhaps just beyond a few passionate kisses. He was no stranger to lust, but he found himself at a loss with this nymph, this wild and unknown creature of the forest. She felt warm and solid, like any other woman…he carefully prevented himself from thinking any further. He held carefully still as she traced his lips again, bringing her thumb over his lower lip and gripping his chin lightly.
“Make me feel,” she whispered, hunger in her eyes. Finn leaned forward and kissed her, gently at first – how much experience did a tree nymph have with such matters? – and then more passionately as she responded to his touch. He felt rather than heard a chime of laughter shiver through the air, and the other nymphs turned away in their trees…or so he told himself. For once, he gave himself over to the heat rushing through his body. He abandoned caution and surrendered to sensation, doing his best to fulfill the nymph’s wish. Judging by her wide eyes and catlike smile, he did indeed make her feel.
The shadows deepened as they lay cradled in the roots of her tree.
“What is your name?” Finn asked, watching her as she ran light fingers over the silver scar on his shoulder.
She considered. “I have never been asked my name.” After a moment, she made a sound that was like wind whispering through leaves and then dropping into stillness.
“I don’t think I can make that sound,” said Finn with a smile. She looked at him in confusion and then smiled tentatively. “Say it again?”
She obliged as he closed his eyes and listened.
“Shaleh,” he said, eyes still closed. “That’s what I think your name would be in my tongue.”
“In your tongue,” she repeated with a mischievous wriggle. “I can think of other uses for your tongue.”
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” he asked with a grin, raising an eyebrow. She kissed the faint white thread of a scar on his forehead, her lips warm against his skin.
“A woman has her secrets, even if that woman is the spirit of a tree,” she whispered, her green eyes bright in the shadows.
He chuckled. Somehow, he felt free here under the canopy of leaves. Shaleh had given him permission to display any emotion he felt. It was…liberating. Shaleh pressed her hand to his bare chest, admiring the contrast of her dark skin against his paleness.
“Like snow,” she murmured. Then she glanced up at the sky. “It is almost dusk. You should go.”
“I’m not afraid of the dark,” said Finn.
“You should be,” said Shaleh, disentangling herself from him gently. “Things are awakening.”
Finn sat up and frowned, reaching for his shirt. “What do you mean?”
The nymph crouched atop the arch of a root. “I mean that there are creatures roaming these forests that I have not seen before. They do not smell as they should, and they do not act as they should.”
“What kind of creatures?” Finn pressed, tightening the laces of his jerkin. He buckled his belt around his waist, arranging the sheath of his sword against his left leg.
“Creatures that perhaps you could kill and perhaps you could not,” said Shaleh. “They look like wolves, but they feel…wrong.”
For an instant, Finn wondered if the Northerners had ventured south again. He’d heard the tale of their bitter departure from Ramel as he was still healing from the trial of the gauntlet. “Thank you for warning me,” he said honestly. “I’ll go tell the other Knights.” He paused and looked at her wild, beautiful form, gathered in muscular curves atop the gnarled root. “Will you come out again, if I come back?”
Shaleh gave him a crooked smile. “If you say my name just right, perhaps.”
Finn grinned at her as he pulled on his boots. He leaned forward and gave her a kiss. When he leaned back and opened his eyes, she was gone. He pressed a hand briefly to her tree and turned toward the path, his strides brisk as he heeded her warning to return to the safety of Darkhill by dusk. Shimmering laughter followed him from the small clearing, and he found himself smiling as he headed into the shadows of the forest.
He found Knight Arian in the Knight’s Hall. The Knight’s Hall was the gathering place for the Knights, and the Guards had their own; it was a place meant solely for the Knights, without their squires or ladies. “Arian,” he said in greeting. It still felt strange to call his former master without his title sometimes, but it was getting easier.
“Finnead,” returned Arian with a nod. “What brings you to the Hall so early tonight?”
Finn smiled a little. Most nights, the younger set of Knights didn’t arrive at the Hall until well after the evening meal, when the ale and mead flowed freely. “I wanted to speak to you. I went into the forest, and a nymph told me that she has seen strange creatures roaming after dark.”
Arian reached forward and plucked an oak leaf from Finn’s hair. “And is that all this nymph told you?”
Finn pressed his lips together and tried to keep his face stoic, but Arian clapped him on the shoulder with a chuckle.
“Well, you’re not the first lad that the trees have welcomed, but you’re the first in about a century, I’d wager.” Then the older Knight sobered, his grin fading. “What kind of creatures?”
“She said they looked like wolves, but wrong.” Finn shrugged. “I thought perhaps that it had something to do with the Northerners, but their wolves look like, well, wolves, even if they are infernally big.”
“That’s true,” said Arian thoughtfully. “And what else did you speak to this nymph about?”
Finn swallowed. He couldn’t lie to Arian, not when he was a squire and not now. “She saw…she felt Kieran’s death.”
“Ah, Finn,” sighed Arian. He shook his head slightly, then glanced at his former squire. “Did it at least give you some surcease?”
“Strangely, I think it did,” said Finn slowly. He did feel…lighter, although he couldn’t pinpoint whether that was due to the catharsis of finally hearing Kieran’s last moments or the sheer physical pleasure he’d experienced with Shaleh. He supposed he’d know for certain the next morning.
“Well, then I’m glad for you,” said Arian. “I’ll speak to one of the Three about putting together a search party in the forest, try to find some of these strange wolves that your nymph described.”
“Let me know if he’d like me to tell him exactly what she said,” Finn said. “I could also return and ask her further questions.”
“I’m sure you’ll be returning anyway,” said Arian in an undertone, lifting his cup.
“I expect that kind of humor from the squires,” said Finn archly, even as his cheeks heated.
“I’m sure you’ll be hearing it from Squire Ramel soon,” replied Arian with a grin.
Finn sighed. Of course, the news of his romance with a nymph would travel like wildfire around the Court; sometimes it seemed like all the courtiers did was gossip and compare the newest styles, which were of course all set by the Queen and her ladies. And then he sighed again when he realized that eventually Andraste would hear about it.
He had kept a careful distance between them since the night that she’d snuck into the barracks in disguise to see him after the gauntlet. She was young, after all, younger than Ramel, even if she did display remarkable flashes of insight and maturity. And after Queen Mab had given him his Knight’s sword at the Solstice, he became keenly aware that she could also take it away. He also told himself that any romance with the Princess would end badly for them both. He supposed it was possible for a Knight to marry a Princess, but he didn’t think the Queen would want her sister betrothed to a young man with no family name, even if he’d proven himself as a Knight.
After the Solstice, he’d chosen Ramel as his squire, and the lad had grown remarkably in skill the past years. Finn didn’t harbor any illusions that it was because he was an exemplary Knight, though he knew that he did
pay close attention to the lessons he gave his squire because he had just been a squire himself. Some older Knights didn’t approve of his taking a squire so soon after being Knighted, but Finn didn’t see the sense in waiting. Either he was a full Knight or he wasn’t, and taking a squire was one of the privileges afforded a Knight.
He took his leave of Knight Arian and headed back to his quarters. The chambers of the Knights were within Darkhill itself rather than the barracks out by the training yard. Threads of taebramh glowed as though greeting him as he walked through the corridors. His room was small, still not much bigger than the quarters he’d shared with Kieran, but the bed was larger and rich tapestries adorned the walls. He had a bookshelf stocked with his small personal library; right now, it only held a dozen volumes, but he added a new one every few months. A few of the other younger Knights teased him that he’d have been better off as a Scholar. Most of them were useful references, and three of them had belonged to Kieran. The Vaelanbrigh himself, Kieran’s cousin, had given those volumes to Finn after the Solstice when he’d received his Knight’s sword. Finn ran his fingers lightly over the spines of the books as he passed the bookshelf. He tapped the lightglobe on his writing desk. The delicate glass sphere came to life with a golden glow. It was paired with a lightglobe in Ramel’s quarters in the barracks. Most of the time, Finn used it to simply let Ramel know that he was in his chambers, so Ramel could retrieve gear to clean or return a polished breastplate or greaves. Finn cared for his Knight’s sword himself. Some other Knights left the task to their squires, and more than a handful didn’t even wear their swords unless the Queen summoned them.
Finn thought the lightglobe was more sophisticated and a bit less of a hassle than finding a pageboy to run the message to the squire’s barracks. Some Knights had set hours for their squires, but Finn liked the structure that Arian had imposed: he only summoned his squire when necessary, and after outlining duties and expectations, he left it to the squire to manage his time. He’d adopted his former master’s methods and improved upon them as they progressed.
He unbuckled his belt and hung it neatly on its hook on the wall. With a sigh, he realized that he’d have to wash and change his clothes before the evening meal, since anyone with a keen eye would know that he’d been rolling around on the forest floor. He tapped the washbasin to activate its heating runes; by the time he’d stripped out of his shirt and trousers, the water steamed gently. As he washed, he found a few bruises from that morning’s sparring session, and he kneaded the scar on his shoulder out of habit. A brisk knock on the door sounded as he finished dressing.
“Good evening, sir,” said Ramel as he opened the door. The copper-haired squire had grown a bit in height but the biggest difference was the muscle beginning to fill out his boyish frame.
“How did lessons go today?” asked Finn, tucking his shirt into his trousers and contemplating which color belt to wear.
“The black belt, sir, goes with your trousers. Never black and brown together,” counseled Ramel with an impish glint in his eye. “Lessons went well. More drills with Knight Balaron, and then some work in the saddle. Knight Balaron said he would consider my suggestion to add Walking to the squires’ curriculum, but I think I’ll most likely be left to study it on my own when we progress to self-guided study.”
“You could always add it to your studies on your own time now,” said Finn, raising his eyebrow at Ramel’s cheekiness but picking the black belt all the same.
“I’ve done some elementary skills work with Apprentice Murtagh,” admitted Ramel. “It’s just not as much time as I would like, and I don’t fully understand the limitations of traveling as a Walker. Going somewhere without a weapon feels…wrong.”
“Even though you don’t carry a real weapon yet?” replied Finn with a chuckle.
Ramel finished replacing Finn’s armor in the wardrobe and placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “Sir, you wound me. I carry at least three daggers at all times.”
“All right then, the issue is just with the size of your weapon,” returned Finn.
“You know, it’s not entirely fair for you to exercise such sarcasm, sir, since I can’t rightly return it,” Ramel said.
“You find your ways to say your piece respectfully,” said Finn. He grinned. “It teaches resourcefulness.”
“Resourcefulness in communication is a skill that I will no doubt need to use often, sir,” replied Ramel.
“Any other news that you’ve picked up while I was out today?” Finn pulled out his black boots from the bottom of the wardrobe, resignedly giving them over to Ramel’s expectant hands. His squire efficiently buffed the toes of the boots to a quick shine and inspected the rest of the shoes for any scuffs or dirt before handing them back to the Knight with a nod.
“Ah, well…that is to say, yes, there’s other news,” said Ramel.
Finn frowned as his normally verbose squire stumbled over his words. It wasn’t that he’d already heard about Finn’s interlude with a nymph, because he certainly didn’t hesitate in framing his sarcasm respectfully. No, this was something that Ramel truly didn’t know how to say…or didn’t know how to tell Finn. The Knight straightened and fixed his squire with an expectant gaze.
Ramel took a breath and then said it as quickly as he could. “The Princess came down to the training yards in disguise again today, sir.”
“What?” said Finn flatly.
“Sir,” began Ramel again. “She was wearing the same disguise…well, actually, she’s worked on it a bit, I think, because it is a bit more believable…”
Finn waved a hand and interrupted his squire. “Just to be sure I heard you correctly,” the Knight said slowly and deliberately, “Princess Andraste was in the training yard…doing what?”
“Training,” said Ramel faintly.
“Stars preserve us,” said Finn. “What happened? Was she discovered?”
“No,” the squire said. “I made sure she was gone when the Vaelenseld came looking for her.”
Finn ran a hand through his hair. “Do the other squires know?”
“I think they suspect, sir,” said Ramel carefully, “but none of them said anything outright. To admit that they knew would be to admit that hitting her is punishable by death.”
“They hit her during training?” Finn could only shake his head.
“Well, it was either that or let on that they knew,” replied Ramel. “It’s a rather tricky thing.”
“We already have enough to worry about without the Princess making life more difficult for all of us,” muttered Finn. He looked at Ramel sharply. “Don’t repeat that.”
“Of course not, sir.” Ramel looked affronted. “You know that I would never break your trust.”
Finn felt his face soften slightly. “I know, Ramel.” He sighed. “Gods… what is there to be done about our errant Princess?”
“Well,” replied Ramel thoughtfully, “in my opinion, sir, there are two options.” He held up one finger. “Either we let her continue to come down to the training yards in disguise, and risk her being discovered…which wouldn’t end well for us.” He raised a second finger. “Or, we can arrange for her to be taught how to fight without coming down to the yards in disguise.”
“I have the feeling that you’re about to present me with a plan that is impeccable in its logic yet insufferable in its actual execution,” said Finn, narrowing his eyes.
“With your permission, sir.” Ramel inclined his head without any trace of sarcasm.
“Go on, then,” Finn sighed.
“I believe the Princess still has an affinity for you,” said the squire, choosing his words with delicate precision. “If you were assigned as her permanent escort on her rides into the forest or to the White City, we could teach her all the skills she desires without endangering any of the other squires and pages.”
“Or she could stop acting like a spoiled child,” muttered Finn. He shook his head. “Forget I said that.”
“Forgo
tten, sir,” replied Ramel seriously. He paused and then continued. “She is very dedicated, sir. I think she’s come down to the yard more often than I’ve seen her, and it’s plain she practices on her own time.”
“She’s come down to the yard more than this once?” demanded Finn.
Ramel braced himself. “Three times in the year after you took me as your squire. I knew you wanted to keep your distance, sir, and I thought I had solved the problem.”
“By the Dark Tree, doesn’t she understand that her little games could get people killed?” Finn paced in front of the hearth. His squire watched him expressionlessly, hands linked behind his back as he awaited his orders.
“I beg your forgiveness, sir, for not informing you earlier,” said Ramel quietly, a note of chagrin in his voice. “I thought…I thought I had solved the problem, when clearly I had not.”
“It is a lesson to be learned,” replied Finn. He smiled slightly. “I vowed I wouldn’t repeat Knight Arian’s phrases when I had my own squire, yet here I am.”
“They are true words. It’s a lesson I won’t forget,” said his squire, earnestness ringing in his words.
Finn stood still and thought for a long moment. As much as he disliked the idea of offering himself as some kind of personal escort to the Princess – as much as it made his chest clench oddly, as much as it sent a shiver down his spine – he could see that it could be a solution. But first he’d speak to her. Perhaps it wouldn’t come to that. Perhaps he could convince her that disguising herself was folly, that she risked more than her own reputation and safety when she slipped down to the training yards. He stepped over to his writing desk and found half a sheet of parchment. With an eye to neatness but not perfection, he wrote a quick missive and sealed it with his own signet ring pressed into a daub of red wax.
“Ensure this gets to one of the Princess’s ladies,” he said, handing the little square of parchment to Ramel.
“I know just the one, sir,” said his squire. “Anything else before the evening meal, sir?”
