Our camp was quiet that night. Sal hadn’t mentioned sparring, and I hadn’t asked. The fire crackled and sparked, the faint scent of the stew mixing with the smoke. But my nose was still filled with the memory of the attack, blood and guts, urine and shit mixed together, and my appetite had been light. We’d searched the bodies for valuables - no point in leaving them there - and I had a new hunting bow and a replacement dagger. The bodies we’d piled off to the side, and I’d insisted on saying a few words before we left.

So now I stared at the fire and thought. My mind kept coming back to why. There just wasn’t enough traffic through this area to justify a bandit group. Practically no merchants, travellers were rare. And they hadn’t known the terrain, they’d found a good spot but they had no practice, no experience. Like they were new to the area. Like maybe they’d only recently wandered this way recently, possibly wondering why.

And I tried to dismiss the suspicion that it was because a hero needed to occasionally kill some evildoers.

It wouldn’t have been too bad if they had always deserved it. But what if that was recent? Ronam had been smooth and well-spoken. Not smart, but they didn’t always have to be. He wasn’t the kind of bandit leader who went after heroes. Not unless he’d maybe had a recent string of bad luck, a series of deals gone wrong. Or maybe a voice whispering in his mind, one that sounded like his own, twisting his thoughts and egging him on...

I shook my head. I didn’t know, of course. But my gut told me that at least some of the blood spilled today had only been in these mountains because a story isn’t complete without a bandit attack. That maybe they hadn’t really been incompetent, or thinking with their dicks. Maybe they’d just been convenient.

Sometimes I can really hate magic.

We’d camped next to a small stream, and I stood up and started heading around the bend. I didn’t really feel like dousing myself in freezing water, especially with the wind, but if ever I needed Rook’s touch, to forget about the rest of the day, it was now. I stopped and looked back. She was lovely in the firelight, hood thrown back, the shadows and flickering light highlighting the fine structure of her face and the delicateness of her neck. Then she frowned slightly and chewed her lip, deep in thought, and I felt a flush of heat run through me. I turned back to the stream, moving quickly. Now I really needed to get clean.

* * *

I walked back to camp, shivering and a little hesitant. It had occurred to me that assuming Rook would want to do anything tonight might have been a bit presumptuous. But she turned to look at me, and her lips curved into a slight smile, and the heat in her eyes matched mine. My heart gave a hard thump, and I swallowed hard, almost stumbling before I quickened my pace.

Sal had been taking first watch, and if I was a little uncomfortable at the fact that she was going to listen in, I also knew there wasn’t a lot I could do about it. It generally didn’t take long before Rook made me forget about everything else, anyway. I started to step around the fire, Rook rising to join me, and then the first note rang out.

A mountain wind can freeze to the bone

a witch’s dance is filled with fire,

A touch can soothe a lonely soul

But in the end none are wiser

The words themselves were fairly mild. It was the tone, the inflection on the last line, that made them damning, and I stumbled to a stop and stared at Sal in shock. Rook looked stunned and a little afraid, but Sal’s gaze was locked on to me.

Her voice was gentle but firm. “I do not wish to interfere with who you see or sleep with. But today I saw you panic when Rook was threatened, and you relied on luck.” Her lips curled with the last word, making her opinion obvious. Not that I needed the reminder.

The main actors in magic stories are always lucky, at least when it comes to survival. Stories want to be completed, and they can't if we're dead. It's nothing huge, it doesn't make you invincible, but it can shift a blow a half inch either way, or change the angle of a blow. Enough to turn a serious strike into a shallow slash, or make an arrow hit right at the most protected area. Sal hates it - she thinks it's sloppy - and usually I agree with her.

But - “Wait.” I felt the anger start to build. “Sal, I am not a child. It is not your job-”

“Yes it is.” Her words cut through me. “You are still my ward, Arriane. It is, in fact, literally my job to chaperone you.”

But then she held up a hand, her voice soft. “However, as I said before, I do not wish to interfere. I believe you are adult enough to make your own romantic decisions.” The and mistakes was left unsaid. Sal's gaze shifted to Rook. “But I do insist that both parties communicate their intentions openly and honorably.” Her voice hardened again. “And if Rook does not do so, I will not hesitate to speak for her.”

I gaped at her. That couldn't be true, Rook wouldn't… she… I looked over at her, and my heart seized. Rook didn't look indignant, or angry, or confused. She looked guilty. I mouthed the words but couldn't make myself say them. Oh gods, no no no…

Rook’s voice was formal, and she gave Sal a seated bow. “Lady Salventarius, I will take responsibility and explain.” She hesitated. “If we could have some privacy…?”

Sal regarded her for a moment, then inclined her head. A part of me noted it had been the bare minimum to not be a mortal insult, if we were at court. “Of course.” She paused. “My hearing is very good, and I cannot go too far. But if you do not raise your voices, I will not be able to make them out.

She turned to me, and I saw a look of pain flash over her face as she took me in. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped and closed it. I think she could tell I wasn't in the mood for apologies or platitudes. Then she walked away and vanished into the night.

Rook and I sat in silence. I snuck glances at her, and she looked conflicted and unsure. But my anger was returning, building until I couldn't control myself any longer.

“So none of it was real?” It was an effort to keep myself from yelling, but I managed somehow. “It's some magic thing? Or were you just thinking I was desperate, easy to manipulate? Maybe get me to help you with Willhelm, or betray-”

“No! No, Arriane, I promise. It was nothing like that.” After her outburst she trailed off, looking embarrassed. “Please believe me, I’m not - it’s -” she took a deep breath, then finished. “There’s no ulterior motive.” She looked at me entreatingly.

I closed my eyes and let my head fall into my hands. Finally, I nodded. I didn't really understand, and wasn't sure I wanted to. But she was waiting on me, and this seemed like a small thing to give her.

Relief shone on her face. “Thank you. I’m sorry, it’s just. Alright.” She shook her head and visibly collected herself. Then tentatively, “I’m not sure how to ask this, but - are you in love with me?”

Yes. The strength of my immediate reaction surprised me. I tried to hide it, but I’m sure Rook saw because she grimaced briefly before smoothing her face out. I searched for something to say, I mean obviously it was too soon, but still... But she held up her hand before I could talk.

“Just listen for a bit.” She took a deep breath, then set her face. “Whatever you are feeling, you are not in love with me. It might be love with someone else - an ideal me, a fake me, but you don’t know me, Arriane.” I opened my mouth, but she overrode me ruthlessly. “Think. How much do you know beyond that I’m a witch?” She paused. “What are my dreams? Why did I become a witch?” Then, more gently, “What’s my real name? What am I, if not human?”

Then she let me sit there and stew in my own stupidity. Every second I felt more like an idiot, more blind, more incompetent. How had I missed all of that? I’d let myself get lost in the physical, the newness, and I’d missed the forest for the trees. Even now a part of me just wanted to reach out and hold her, to push back the emptiness from earlier today.

My thoughts ran in circles, and it was a shock when she spoke again. “I know you don’t have a lot of… experience. And this is my fault. Because I do like you. I like you a lot.” Her eyes were steady, her voice frank. “I like your body, sure. I lo-like your smile. And you have fantastic muscles.” I blushed. “But it’s other things too. You’re smarter than you think you are. You were clever enough to guess you should talk to Shadow. You figured out how to handle an ancient spirit.”

I swallowed, hard, while she continued. “I like that you’re doing the right thing with Willhelm. I don’t know what he did to you, but I know it was pretty bad. But you’re saving him anyway.” She looked away. “So I didn’t stop to think things through. Lady- er, Sal - kind of encouraged me to try. But I didn’t consider what it would mean that it was your first time, that you might not see what I saw. Maybe part of me didn’t want to, so I could just enjoy what we had.”

She stared into the fire. I could see that she was building up to something. “And even though there’s a lot to like,” she took a deep breath, “I don’t love you, Arriane. And I don’t think I ever will.” And even though I’d been expecting those words - or something like them - it was still a hammer blow to my heart. I closed my eyes, trying to push past the tears while she kept talking.

“It’s not about you - it’s just that we’re going in different directions. Would you live your life in Twilight’s End? Help me raise Willhelm’s daughter?” I squeezed my hand into a fist, feeling it shake. “Or would you ask me to give up the coven, to join you at court when this is all over-”

“Enough.” My voice was barely a whisper, but she cut off, looking at me with wide eyes. “Enough, Rook. You’ve made your point. No need to belabor how stupid I was.” I stood and started walking. I needed to be away. Rook made a wordless protest behind me, but I put her out of mind and started jogging. And once I was far enough away, I started looking for a convenient tree.

* * *

“Child.”

Sal’s voice caught me off guard, and I aborted my next punch and stumbled, barely catching my balance. I put my hands on my knees, breathing hard, and glared at her. Normally there’s no way she could have snuck up on me, but I’d been distracted by my demolition efforts.

She surveyed the scene, frowning. I was on my third tree, and I was pretty sure I looked like a mess. As did the surrounding area. Not that I could see too clearly in the dim moonlight, but Sal doesn’t have the same limitations.

She sighed. “Well. Do you feel better, at least?”

I considered her question. My hands hurt, and I was pretty sure that even with the leather I’d wrapped around them I was bleeding pretty good. My arms ached. My legs ached. My everything ached. I was a hot sweaty mess, my chest hurt whenever I thought of Rook, and my head was a whirl of confused emotions.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

So no, I didn’t feel better. But I nodded to her. “A little.” Damned if I wanted her to think I was out here for no reason at all. The look she gave me indicated I wasn’t fooling her, but I ignored it.

She sat down and regarded me. “Well. I will not berate you further tonight. And I am aware that it may be a few days before you are willing to talk to me.” Her voice was filled with regret, and pain. But also resolve. “I just wish for you to know that when you are ready, I am here.”

I clenched my hands, digging into my knees. “Why?” I hadn’t meant to say anything, but it came out. I wasn’t even sure what I was asking, which “why” I wanted answered. Why Rook? Why me? Why today?

She sighed. “Because life is hard.”

It took me a moment to connect things, then I stopped and looked at her, incredulous. “You- you think this is training?” Another thought occurred to me. “Did you… encourage her, knowing…?”

But Sal was shaking her head. “No, I did not. Not like you are thinking. But your first question?” She shrugged. “Everything is training, Arriane. No one is an expert the first time. Relationships are no different.” She tilted her head, considering. “In fact, they are the hardest thing we do. In my opinion, of course.”

She turned back and looked me in the eye. “So no, I was not hoping that it would end badly. But I suppose I was expecting it.” She smiled sadly. “Cynical of me, I know.”

We sat in silence for a bit, my mind whirling. I hadn't wanted to talk to her, but now I found myself overflowing with questions. “Wait. You've been in love before?” She raised one sardonic eyebrow, and I flushed. I know it was a silly question, all things considered, but… still.

I tried something more immediately relevant. “So if you knew it would end badly…”

“Why did I encourage Rook? Or not object?” She shrugged. “For one thing, I did not know. I suspected. I hoped you would surprise me.” She turned and looked at me, face unreadable. “And… do you recall what I told you when you first started training?”

I screwed my face up as I thought back. “That my footwork was the most atrociously horrific thing you had seen in three centuries?”

She looked nonplussed. “No, not that-”

“That my sense of timing needed so much work that by the time I learned it, you would be dead of old age?”

“...no, not that either-”

“That the way I held my sword meant you should be disavowed as a swordswoman-”

“Stop! That is… not what I meant.” She put her hand over her eyes, and muttered something about being more careful with her criticisms in the future. Then she looked at me while I stared back in confusion. “About good judgment.”

“Oh!” Good judgement comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgement. I'd been frustrated over losing and not progressing, and that had been Sal’s mantra to encourage me. I swallowed hard. “So you're saying…”

“Better that you fail here, and learn from the attempt, than to fail in the future with someone you could love fully and truly.” Her voice softened. “I wish for you to be happy, Arriane. But happiness is sometimes like magic. You have to sacrifice for it.”

My eyes burned, and I looked away. For a minute or two, talking to Sal, I'd managed to forget everything that had happened. Her ultimatum, Rook’s confession, my blindness. The ache in my hands returned with a vengeance, pulsing in time with beating of my battered heart.

Sal just sat there, an unspoken offer of comfort, to be a child again in my protector’s arms. But I wasn't ready yet, the knowledge that she'd known too raw and fresh, that she'd pushed Rook at me expecting this result.

So instead I just nodded stiffly. “Thanks.” I kept it from being bitter, but she still flinched slightly before smoothing out her face.

She stood and inclined her head. “I am sorry. I hope you will forgive me eventually.”

I wanted to shout after her as she walked away, but I kept my silence until I was sure she was out of earshot. Then I looked down at the ground, and said in a whisper, “I hope so too.”

Then I broke down and cried for a while.

* * *

I stare at the man across from me. He is tall and rangy, and terribly thin. Shorter than I even at 16 years, but most are. The sword in his hand is unexceptional but serviceable.

The figures surrounding us are silent. The magistrate and the lordling have exhausted all their arguments against the immovable rock that is Sal. And the guards, prepared to cut the man down if he tries to run.

My palms are sweaty. This is not my first fight, even against someone other than Sal. But it is my first fight to the death. Against this criminal who was brought here in chains. I do not know his crimes, only that he chose a trial of the sword. And I am his executioner.

No one here objects to this fight. They only object to a 16-year old girl taking part. But Sal is a figure too intimidating for most mortals, and so when she nods I step forward and draw my sword.

Despite my height and muscles the criminal sneers at me, confidence showing in every step as he strides my in direction. The animal part of me wants to charge and wipe the smile from his face. But I override it and let my nervousness show, wiping a hand hurriedly, licking my lips and shuffling undecidedly. My opponent’s smile broadens, his pace quickening, and I hear one of the guards swear something decidedly not fit for my ears.

I wait for his first swing, a lazy exploration, and then I reverse suddenly and slam into him, knocking his blade contemptuously to the side as I body check him back. His overconfidence has left him wide open, and for a moment I have a perfect opening to end the fight. But I hesitate a heartbeat too long, and the cut across his chest draws blood but is not fatal.

I focus, annoyed at myself, and press my advantage. Compared to Sal he moves as if through water, and I have all the time in the world as I push him back, never letting regain his balance. I see my opening and my forward foot steps on his just as he's about to move back. It isn't enough to pin him, but the unexpected resistance makes him stumble, and I beat his sword to the side and then step in to finish him.

And I can't do it. I've had too much time to think, and I pause at the killing blow. I just… need… And then pain sears my forearm, his counterattack catching me as I struggled. Training temporarily deserts me, and I drop my sword. I stare at it and all I can think is that Sal is going to kill me.

He readies another blow to run me through, and pure instinct sends me diving away. I roll on the ground to get distance, trying to force down the panic that is bubbling up and clouding my thoughts. I need… gods. No sword. On the ground. It isn't fair.

I pause for a fraction of a second. No, Sal would say. Fighting is never fair.

I close my hand into a fist, digging into the ground, and then I roll forward again, onto my feet. In the same motion I fling the dirt behind me into his face, and he flinches away from the blow that would have crippled me.

Everything seems so clear. He swings blindly, and I step forward and kick his leg out, grabbing his sword arm as he starts to fall. I twist and pull, and he screams and drops his blade as his elbow breaks against my rising knee, the joint reversing direction.

I kick his sword away, then follow him down, hammering a hand into his crotch to keep him from focusing. Then I reach back and draw my dagger as he curls around himself. With my other I get a firm grip in his hair and pull his head back, feeling it start to tear from his scalp. And then I bury the knife in his throat.

I stare for a minute, fighting the urge to vomit. He's dead. He's dead and I killed him. I stand, unsteadily, and look around. Every face is etched with horror. The magistrate. The lordling. The guards. The only one smiling is…

I stumble away. He's standing next to the magistrate, grinning and clapping. My knife still lodged in him, blood soaking his shirt. He nods to the ground. I turn, slowly, dread rising. I freeze, incapable of breath.

Sal, my sword through her chest, smiles up at me. “Well done.” Her lips bubble green, dragon blood, matching the pool surrounding her. I open my mouth-

I woke up with a shout, my heart pounding, my throat raw as I gasped for breath. Sal was hovering over me, frozen in indecision with one hand stretched out. I pulled away instinctively, and her face went blank before she stepped back and withdrew her hand.

I grimaced. I'd been reacting to the nightmare - an old friend with a new ending - but Sal didn't know that. I groped for an explanation, but before I could organize my thoughts she bowed her head to me and wordlessly walked away. I swore under my breath as I watched her. Rook was observing silently from the other side of the fire, and I caught the guilt on her face before she turned away.

Lovely. All sorts of misunderstandings this morning. I wanted to slam my head into the ground in frustration, but I forced myself to sit back and clear my mind instead. It took longer than normal, but eventually I was able to get up and prepare for the day with some semblance of calm.

Rook and Sal were in some sort of civility standoff, treating each other with exquisite, icy politeness. If I heard “Lady Salventarius” or “Maiden Rook” one more time I was going to be sick. Me they treated as fragile, walking on eggshells and taking great pains not to annoy me.

It was revolting. But they meant well, so I smiled back emptily and went about breaking camp. And the gods were kind, since once we started traveling for the day conversation dropped off. Sal even kept her newest lyrics to herself, which was probably good for the peace of our party.

So I walked in silence and thought. About what Rook had explained. What Sal had said. About my own reactions. It seemed clear to me that neither had been malicious. But I still felt a great, unreasoning anger at their actions, that they'd kept me in the dark. Whenever it got to be too much I would draw Binder and work my way through forms, until the required focus wiped my mind clean. Then I'd start the cycle over.

It also seemed obvious what I was supposed to do. In my youth I'd read romantic stories, a sort of guilty vice. Well…ok, ok. Maybe I still read them. I'm not entirely ungirly. And based on those, we were supposed to keep up this sort of careful distance, dancing around our hurts and sending veiled barbs at each other disguised as delightfully witty but innocuous conversation. Then in a week or a month something big would happen, and we'd be forced to realize there were more important things that brought us together and we would reconcile.

Well. Fuck that.

* * *

By the time we stopped for the day my thoughts had crystallized into a vague plan. We camped next to a high alpine lake, partially sheltered from the cruel cold wind by a brace of pines. After we finished eating - the last of the bandit’s supplies that we'd judged edible - I gave my stomach a few minutes to settle, then went to retrieve our sparring weapons. I tossed Sal her sword, and she got up before following me, her face unreadable and her footsteps heavy.

We faced each other, then I took my stance. Sal was slow to get into hers, and I frowned at her, then stood up and crossed my arms. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, don’t bother. I didn’t bring you out here to beat you up.”

She stared at me, and for the first time that day I saw a spark of interest in her eyes. She gave me a nod, and then she was coming at me and all I could do was react.

The first minute was a whirl as I just tried to stay “alive”. She’d caught me in a bad position, and she took ruthless advantage of it to keep me on the defensive. I tried to recover, but in the end it was too much, and the match ended with a jab to my gut that drove all the air from my lungs.

I managed to narrowly win the next two times, but I didn’t see the opening I wanted. The fourth match was the charm.

She misjudged a feint, and it was just enough of an opening. I followed up with the strike we both knew was coming after, the one she had to block or lose. The expression on her face when she knocked my sword from my hands was priceless, and the lack of resistance froze her in place for a moment, which was all I needed.

I stepped around behind her, blocking her elbow as she tried for my ribs, and grabbed her shoulder. She writhed, trying to get away, but I clamped down. Then I used my other arm and swept her into my arms. Then I closed my eyes and very, very carefully, squeezed.

There was silence for a moment. Then I felt her sword faintly tap my head, indicating I'd lost and was now dead. Her voice was exasperated. “Arriane, what - by the fires of creation - are you doing?”

I opened my eyes and looked at her solemnly. “Hugging you.”

She looked confused. “I am not quite sure I understand. But if you insist.” She dropped her sword and hugged me back.

I exhaled heavily. “Sal. I'm still mad at you. And we'll eventually be having a talk about your habit of meddling with my… romantic possibilities.” I squeezed slightly harder. “But of course I forgive you. Even if my heart isn't convinced, my head knows you're just trying to help. It’s just…” I trailed off, hesitating. “It’s… stupid to stay mad, and I know it, but I can’t help it and at the same time I don’t want to let you just not know-”

“Shush.” She reached up and put her hand on my shoulder. “I understand. That is a very mature attitude. I must admit, I did not expect you to take it this well. Especially after this morning.” She paused, and I could practically feel her impatience from being held. “However, you will put me down now.”

I grinned and released her. She brushed herself up and looked up at me, a quiet pride on her face, and my breath caught. I swallowed, and my voice was a bit husky. “Well, I had a good teacher.”

She snorted. “No, not in that. In this, Arriane, it is simply you being sensible. And when you are ready, I am prepared to be scolded.” She stepped back and raised her sword, then smiled at me. “Now, though, we should continue.”

I scooped up my blade, then took a second to refocus and center myself. Then I nodded back, and we were moving.