“First, though,” Charlotte said, almost as if she were reading Kate’s mind, “a bath. A lady cannot very well put on a beautiful dress when she smells like a dog kennel.” She leaned in toward Kate and sniffed. “An overcrowded dog kennel. Yes, definitely a bath.”
2
The women swarmed Kate and took her training clothes off, then led her to the tub in her bathing room. It was already filled with steaming water. Kate stepped in and let out a sigh as she sank down until the water was up to her neck.
Her helpers seemed to think she had no time to soak and enjoy the bath, however. Serla took up a bar of soap and a scrub brush in her strong arms and began to scrape at the lady’s skin until she felt as if she was being flayed.
Kate had learned not to try to stop the women from doing what they thought was best, or more importantly, what they thought her mother would want. It was better all around if she held her tongue and tolerated it. It would end soon enough.
And end it did, after every inch of her body was scrubbed clean and flushed. Her fair skin shone a light-pink color, making her look ridiculous, at least to her. Rowina had washed Kate’s hair while the Serla worked on her skin. With her locks wrapped in a towel and her body draped with another, she stepped back into the dressing room.
In the room’s triptych of full-length mirrors—the three panels almost allowed Kate to see the back of her own head—she eyed her naked body as Serla took away the towel used to dry her.
She liked how she looked, though her form was unconventional for one of her station. Whereas the ladies at court were soft and curvy—mainly because dresses were pulled tight to reshape some of the more malleable parts of the body—Kate was anything but soft.
Kate towered over most of the women she had ever met, and some of the men. Her lithe body was comprised of taut muscle; her arms tight, with visible striations; and her back and stomach showed the definition she had worked so hard to develop. She had no idea if any of the young men at court would find her desirable, but then again, she didn’t really care.
“Ooh, your dress is lovely,” Charlotte cooed. “I simply cannot wait to see you in it.”
While Serla started brushing Kate’s hair in preparation for curling, the younger Rowina reverently carried the dress to Kate from across the room where it had been hanging on a tailor’s dummy.
Kate generally scorned such things, but even she admitted the dress was beautiful. It was a gown of turquoise silk, with a fitted robe of grey brocade covering her arms and three-quarters of the turquoise silk petticoat beneath. A matching silk ruffle trimmed the edges of the outer garment and just below the elbow, where the sleeves flared out over the wrists and were edged with darker colored lace.
Serla wound Kate’s hair tightly around hot metal cylinders from the heating box sitting over a brazier and pulled them out again, leaving the red locks in gentle curls. Meanwhile, Rowina began dressing the lady in layers, a simple chemise beneath voluminous undergarments first. By the time they got to the dress itself, Kate had had enough. But that was also when they ran into their first big problem.
“Your shoulders are too big to fit into the dress,” Charlotte said, wringing her hands and biting her lower lip. “I don’t see how that is possible. You were fitted not a month and a half past.”
“Huh,” Kate grunted. “It must be the intense strength training Dante has been having me work on the last month. I feel stronger but didn’t realize it had added so much muscle.” She turned left and right, inspecting herself in the mirror, focusing on her shoulders and arms. “I like it.”
“Well, I do not,” Charlotte huffed. “What are we to do? There is no time to call the tailor in to make alterations.” The woman was tugging the dress, trying her hardest to stretch it around Kate’s muscular shoulders.
“I guess I just won’t be going to the ball,” Kate said with a smile far too wide for the situation.
“Oh!” Charlotte put the back of her hand to her forehead and swayed as if she was going to faint.
“Calm yourself, Charlotte. I am joking. Here, there is an easy solution. I shall simply wear something else.” She walked to one of the three huge wardrobes lining the wall and began rifling through the clothing within. “Here, this one will do nicely.”
The dress she pulled out was simple but elegant, and if pressed for her opinion, Kate would have called it beautiful, too. It was a voluminous green silk dress, as was the current style, tight around the waist and chest, and—most importantly—sleeveless. It had detached sleeves of green silk that fit on her upper arms and had long trains of white lace starting at the elbow. She had always liked how it made movements with her hands almost magical, the gossamer lace floating in the air as she gestured. She also liked the simple gold embroidered filigree across the chest. It was modest, barely showing the smallest hint of cleavage, yet still pretty and frilly enough to satisfy her mother. And maybe even Charlotte.
The lady in waiting gasped. “Wear a previously worn dress for the biggest ball in three years? Oh my.”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t good enough for Charlotte.
“We have no other option, Charlotte,” Kate said. “It’s either wear a dress I’ve already worn before or not go. You can choose.”
The insufferable woman huffed and stamped one foot. Then, after an exaggerated exhalation that was very nearly a sigh, she said, “If it must be, then so it must be. Your duchess mother will have me executed for this, I am sure. But what does that matter to you?”
Kate laughed despite the fact she knew Charlotte was probably being serious. “It’ll be fine, Charlotte.”
Kate’s helpers aided her in getting the other dress off, both of them tugging to draw it over her head and then to get the new one on. When they were done, Kate made a slow turn in front of the mirror. She had forgotten that the other side of the dress had a swooping line so that half her back was exposed. Turning awkwardly so she could see the reflection of one mirror in another, she applied close scrutiny to her back.
The recent strength training had caused some changes. As she moved and twisted, the soft ripples of her muscles shifted and jumped. A smile leapt to her face. She didn’t know if men felt the same way—and it really didn’t matter if they did—but she thought her defined, strong back was sexy. She sighed contentedly.
But enough foolishness. She had many other more important things to think about. Like the trials the next morning.
“Is this satisfactory to you?” she asked Charlotte.
“The gown is beautiful, my lady. However, to be perfectly candid, I find it a shame that you have worked yourself to starvation to such an extent that one can see ridges and ripples in your skin, especially in your back. It is a pity the dress doesn’t cover it. The young lords will wonder what is wrong with you.”
Kate laughed again. “Oh, Charlotte, you are precious.” She twirled, causing her dress to billow, and the two helpers clapped their hands.
Charlotte sniffed.
“It really is unfortunate that your hair was cut last year,” Charlotte said as she fussed with Kate’s red hair. Kate noticed Charlotte hadn’t said it was unfortunate Kate had insisted on getting it cut. “You have such lovely, soft hair. It would be fantastic if it was to your lower back or your waist—a proper length for ladies of the court.”
“It’s too much of a nuisance long,” Kate said. “My opponents can grab it, or it can get caught as I spar. I like how it is now. Touching my shoulders is long enough for a ponytail, but not so long as to be a liability.”
Charlotte made a show of sighing loudly.
“I can’t believe the Festival of the Test is finally here,” Kate said. “I’ve been waiting for years to be old enough to be tested.”
“Yes, yes,” Charlotte answered. “But the festival itself, with all the celebrations and the ball, that is something to be excited about.”
Kate shook her head. “All of that is just the lead up to the test itself. Imagine it, Charlotte, if I pass. My family ha
s a long history of service to the Order of the Fire. I would join their lofty company in representing the family.”
“None of your ancestors who served were women,” Charlotte pointed out. “Ladies should be in court or at balls, not out in some dirty field swinging a sword about. It is unladylike.”
“There are women in the Order.”
“Yes, women. There are women soldiers, but no ladies.”
“Well, then,” Kate said. “I will be the first.”
“But Lady Kate,” Charlotte whined, “it’s dangerous. Being in the Order is not practice with wooden swords. It will be sharp steel and the enemies, the demons”—she whispered the word—“are real. They will try to kill and eat you. Oh.” Her hand went to her forehead again, and she swayed dangerously.
Kate grabbed hold of Charlotte’s forearm and steadied her. “It’s what the Order does. Would you prefer that the demons flood through the Gates of Hell and overrun the whole world? The Order of the Fire does an important job. It is honorable, and it is necessary. I will be part of it.”
“Can’t you just throw parties to raise money for the Order and help that way?”
“The Order doesn’t need money. The other kingdoms pay Brasea to support the Order’s work because if we fail, the rest of Telusium is not safe. What they need is more soldiers. I will be one of them.” Kate leveled a stern look at Charlotte. “And I’ll not hear another word about it.”
Charlotte’s lower lip quivered as she methodically went over every inch of Kate’s dress, smoothing a wrinkle here and straightening a fold there. She whimpered a soft, “Yes, my lady,” and fell into silence.
Several minutes later, as presentable as she was going to be, Kate stalked down the corridor outside her chambers toward the coach her family would take to the ball.
3
The carriage ride to the castle took only a handful of minutes. As they traveled, Kate’s brother Jonathan excitedly bounced on the seat next to her. His ginger hair, not quite so deep a red as hers, was perfectly styled to look slightly tousled according to the currently favored manner among the young nobles. His pale, barely freckled face was flushed, and his pupils seemed too large for the amount of sunlight coming in the carriage windows.
“I’ve been waiting for this ball for two years,” he said. “I was too young to really court the last time it rolled around. I will make up for it tonight.”
“Dear,” his mother, Cheruse, said. “Don’t be so eager. It is unbecoming. You must comport yourself calmly as a gentleman at all times.”
“I will not bring any disrespect on our house, Mother.” He cast a meaningful glance toward Kate. “You’ll see.”
Cheruse patted his arm. “Of course. I know you will do well.”
Kate caught her father considering her from the corner of her eye, but she remained silent. It was bad enough she had to go to the silly social function. She would not make it worse by causing problems.
The duke Hammond Courtenay wasn’t fond of large gatherings either, though Kate’s mother enjoyed them. She respected both her parents and didn’t want to do anything that would wound the family reputation. A duke’s family would be held to a higher standard than even the other noble families. She just wished her mother and father understood and cared what was important to her, as she understood what was important to them.
At times, it seemed like no one else comprehended her love of fighting and her desire to be in the Order of the Fire. Well, no one except Dante. He knew how much it meant to her. He understood, being a former Order soldier himself.
The simple fact was that her family of nobles had lost sight of why they were nobles to begin with. Her father hired Dante when she was only a young girl, mainly so she would stop pestering him with her dreams of getting into the Order. He figured once she saw how hard the training was to learn the sword, she would get tired of her dream and give it up.
That was ten years ago, and she had been training since.
She wondered what he thought of her plans now. Though they talked often and had a close relationship, they somehow always seemed to avoid talking about her wanting to join the Order. She wouldn’t bring it up now, not in the carriage with her mother and brother there to scowl at her.
“Oh, we’re here,” Jonathan said, pointing out the window.
It was true. The line of carriages moved slowly up to the door reserved for the nobility to enter the castle. They soon got to the front and stepped out, her father nudging aside a servant to offer his hand to his daughter and help her step down. Kate smiled at him and went inside with her family.
The number of people nearly caused her to turn around and leave. She had been to balls, of course—though she had been able to convince her parents to let her stay home from this particular ball the last time—but it seemed like everyone in the world was at this one. Once through the entry, they waded through the throngs to the great double doors to the Grand Ballroom.
“Duke Hammond Courtenay, Duchess Courtenay, Lord Jonathan Courtenay, and Lady Katherine Courtenay,” the steward at the door said loudly as they passed through what surely were the Gates of Hell.
“Kate,” Kate muttered as she passed the man. He looked askance at her but only turned to the next guests in line to repeat his performance.
Jonathan was off in a flash, hunting either the other young nobles he knew or some of the ladies he wanted to know. Their mother smiled warmly in his direction.
Kate continued walking with her parents.
Some of the other nobles greeted the duke and his family. Kate tried her best to be friendly, but her heart wasn’t in it. She would stay with her mother and father, and hopefully the night would pass quickly.
“Oh, Katherine, what a beautiful dress,” the Countess Harmanse said, her eyebrows raising slightly when they reached Kate’s muscular shoulders.
“Thank you, Countess. Your own dress is fantastic. I’ve never seen the like.”
The matronly woman smiled and walked toward another couple she apparently wanted to greet.
After fifteen minutes of eerily similar conversations with other friends of her parents, Kate spied a distraction. A yellow cloak billowed as a man walked toward two others, one in a dark-green cloak over his fine clothes and sword, and the other in a blue cloak. Both of the latter had a wide stripe around the edge of the cloak, the first black and the second yellow.
They were former Order soldiers. What’s more, one had been of the Black.
She took off at a trot, surprising her mother enough to cause her to gasp. Kate looked back apologetically but didn’t stop.
The three men were chatting and laughing when she reached them, each of them with a drink in his hand. The man with the yellow stripe saw her first and bowed formally to her.
“Well, good evening, young lady. What brings you to this gathering of old men?” He was not tall, and his body was sort of squat, but the bright blue eyes set under his head of grey hair reflected the smile on his face, and Kate decided she liked him.
“Only two are of elder years, you old codger,” said the man with the solid yellow cloak. He looked to be in his thirties, tall and wiry, with a nose that must have been broken at least once.
“Terrick,” the yellow-stripe said, “the young lady can’t yet be twenty years of age. To her, you are an old man. Face facts.”
Kate felt her skin flush, and she tried to think of something to say so the man didn’t think she was insulting him.
“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, my dear,” Terrick said. “It’s just a joke among friends. It’s true, it has been long since I have been called young except by ancients such as these.” He swept his arm out toward the two older men as if announcing them. “Let me introduce myself properly. I am Captain Terrick Abney of the Order of the Fire.”
Kate’s heart thumped in her chest. An actual officer in the Order! She curtseyed flawlessly. “It is my pleasure and honor to meet you, Captain Terrick. I am Kate Courtenay.”
“The pleasure i
s mine, Kate. Please, dispense with the title and refer to me as Terrick. It will be the kindest name I have been addressed with tonight, I assure you.” That last was said with a glare for his companions. “Courtenay, Courtenay. The name is familiar. Oh, I know, Aimery,” he said, swatting away what the man with the black stripe was about to say. “I know she’s the duke’s daughter. Something else. Ah! A Courtenay will be taking the test tomorrow. A brother, uncle, some other relative?”
“It will be me.”
“Pardon?” the captain said.
“Me. I am the one taking the test. I will be joining the Order.”
The man looked at her for a moment, as if he didn’t know what to say. Then his smile bloomed again, and he clapped his hands. “Oh, that is fantastic. Trained up in the sword and shield, have you?” He looked at her shoulders as had the countess, but his gaze was approving.
“I have. I have been training with Dante Bellweather for several years now,” she said.
“Dante?” the yellow-striped man said. “He was a solid swordsman. Is, I suppose. I’m sure you are skilled if he has been training you.” He shook his head. “I am sorry, my dear. My manners seem to have flown in the face of such loveliness. I am Geffrei Forester, former captain of the Order.”
“It is a great honor to meet you as well, Captain. I know stories of both you and Aimery Carlyle there.”
“Ah, girl,” the black-striped man said. “Why’d you have to go and ruin my self-introduction? These two will never let me hear the end of it.”
“I am sorry,” she said, bouncing on her toes, “but it’s so exciting to meet two of the heroes of the Order.”
Geffrei and Aimery tilted their heads toward Terrick as if to say, “She knows who we are, but who are you?”
All three men burst out laughing, and Kate was just a second behind.
“It’s all right, Terrick lad,” Aimery said. Turning to Kate, he continued. “Terrick is in charge of testing for this cycle. He’s very important. I’m sure he’ll get more rank before he retires. He still has time for heroics, too. But remember, Kate, heroics are a good way to get yourself killed. Solid soldiering, working with your squad, and following orders are the way to retire with a nice pension and maybe a title and land.”
Order of the Fire Box Set Page 2
