Arriane

I walk down stairs that are both too large and just right, one hand against the wall to keep my balance. The stone is smooth and worn against my fingers. I pause at the front door. It is barely ajar, but I am small and I wiggle through. The scent of new spring fills me as I slip into the inner ward.

I am not supposed to be here. But I do not want to be where I am supposed to be, so I continue, picking my way between broken stone and dirt, careful of my bare feet. I stick to the shadows, but any direction is better than back. I go to the left because I see a dragonfly. It seems as good a reason as any.

I start to move through the archway. But halfway through I pause, spellbound.

Before me is light and fire, motion and grace. It is massive, vast beyond my eight-year old comprehension, towering even over my faint memories of Father on his horse. Scales of gold and red and uncountable shades between gleam and shift in the morning rays. And in its hands a giant burning sword, burning brightly as it moves, following some pattern I can sense but not identify.

I do not know how long I stand there in awe, or what gives me away. A breath, a shift of a foot against the grass. One minute I am standing there watching, the next it is crouched before me, staring me in the eye. The sword is gone as if it never was.

My breath catches in my throat. Its brow crinkles, scales shifting in a surprisingly human expression as it stares at me. When it speaks, it is with a rumble, and it is alien and achingly familiar at the same time. “And now what am I supposed to do with you, little one?”

My heart has no room for proprietary or manners. It just knows what I want, so I blurt it out unthinkingly. “Teach me! That was amazing!”

It stares at me, face unreadable. “Teach you.”

I nod vigorously. “Yes! Please?” I look pleading at it, trembling with a desire I do not fully understand, but nevertheless want with all of my being.

It taps claws into the ground, leaving divots. “I do not-” it cuts off, looking at me thoughtfully. Then, questioning: “Why?”

I bite my lip and think. I don’t really know why. Not deep down. But I know what I thought when I first saw it, so I look it in the eye. “‘Cause you’re big and strong and fast and you can do what you want.”

It stares at me again, eyes boring into mine. Then it grins, big and toothy, and I smile back. It opens its mouth, and says-

“Arriane!” The words came from far away, and I groaned as I pulled myself out of unconsciousness, the dream fading away. I felt… surprisingly good, actually. Although I didn’t remember why I would feel bad, and I frowned at myself as I opened my eyes.

Sal’s face swam into view, that little concerned wrinkle on her forehead, and a stone ceiling visible above her. I was back in the grotto, lying on a familiar lumpy bedroll. She leaned down, inspecting me and watching my eyes. “How are you feeling, dear heart?”

I grinned up at her. “Really good.” Then I frowned again. “Why do I feel like I shouldn’t feel good? And what happened?”

She sat back. “You don’t remember?”

Someone cleared their throat, and I turned my head to the look. Standing there was… Rook. The name popped into my head, as did the image of the first time I’d seen her. Absolutely naked. I felt my cheeks flush. She was wearing a tight wrapped light cloth now that showed her figure, and her dwarven cloak was off on the floor to the side. And for some reason she seemed to be as far away from Sal as was possible while still being in the cave.

Rook looked at me. “It was- well, Shadow was giving you the boon, and it’s, uh- your hand?” She was adorably nervous, and I smiled reassuringly at her.

Right, my hand did ache a bit. I lifted it up and looked at it, and there on the back were two tiny, twin scars, each with a faint snakeskin pattern. And now it all came rushing back. The witches in their ancient carved fortress, conversational games, learning about sacrifices and prices . Shadow’s crazy enigmatic voices in my head, learning about Sorrow. And then the boons, and brands burning into my hand as I stared in shock at Shadow biting me.

Scrambling back when she released me, picking up Binder - and then dropping him as fire rushed through my veins, muscles curling in on themselves in agony. Pain as bad as anything I’d experienced before. Worse than the cramps of my first woman’s cycle, before Sal gave me the ring to suppress them. Worse than the first month of training over a decade ago, when I was weak and frail.

And almost as bad as Sal explaining to me over and over how weak and soft I’d become.

I remembered writhing in the floor as the venom spread, indistinct voices and figures arguing over me. And then, mercifully, I remembered passing out.

I opened my eyes, which was a little odd because I didn’t remember closing them. Sal and Rook were looking at me, the former concerned and the later tense. I thought about what had happened. It seemed like I should be angry. I should be going after Shadow to demand answers. But…

“Huh.” I looked down at the scars, then flexed my hand. The ache was there - the only reminder of what had happened - but it was nothing, less than what I felt after a hard workout. Experimentally I started moving and stretching, pushing my arms out and then my legs. Everything felt good. I put down one hand for balance, then pushed up to my feet.

“I know I should probably start yelling. But I have to say, if this is always how you feel after a snakebite, I’ve been missing out.” I cracked my neck, sighing at the release, and rotated my shoulders. I didn’t just feel good, I felt… energetic. Pumped. I wanted to move, to spar, to do something. Sal was now looking at me with a critical eye, Rook with wide eyes.

They exchanged glances, and then Sal nodded firmly. Rook swallowed. Her eyes went back to my chest, tracking slightly up and down, at which point I realized I was naked.

I stopped bouncing. Then I resolutely turned to Sal and calmly crossed my hands across my chest. “Clothes?” My voice was a half-octave higher than normal, and I cleared it self-consciously. Sal rolled her eyes. “I will get you clothes. You.” She pointed at Rook. “Start talking.” She turned and started rummaging through my pack.

Rook smiled weakly. I think. It was hard to tell since I could just barely see her out of the corner of my eye. “Right. Well, um. The bite, it’s, you know, it’s the boon, and so-” Sal turned to glare at her, and she squeaked. My eyes widened.

Sal sighed, handed me a pile of clothes, and marched out of the grotto. She called back over her shoulder, “Get dressed. I’ll go make sure Churchmouse isn’t terrorizing the local wildlife. Let me know when you’re done talking to the silly witch so I can come back.”

I could almost sense Rook relax as Sal disappeared into the outside world, and I busied myself putting on clothes. It wasn’t my full armor - just some underclothes - but it was enough to cover the important parts, and I felt myself relax as I finished. Even the normal after-embarrassment that I usually suffered from seemed to be absent, washed away in the pervasive sense of well-being that had been there since I woke.

I turned to face Rook. I opened my mouth to ask her about her reaction to Sal - surely she wasn’t that intimidating? - but then shook my head. Better to stay on target. “So… boons and bites?”

She nodded at me. “Yes.” She seemed to gather herself, closing her eyes, and reciting as if from memory. “The bite of the snakewitch is a trial for the body, inflicting pain and great stress from the venom. If you survive, it acts similarly to a magical supervaccination.” She paused at the look on my face. “Sorry. A vaccination is a type of preventative treatment - you survive a weaker version of a disease, in exchange for protection against the full one.”

She looked at me inquiringly, and I nodded, feeling chagrined. I’d never been ashamed of my schooling before, but Rook was making me feel incredibly out of my depth. “Right. So… I’m immune to magical snake venom now?” I tried to keep my voice positive. I mean, sure that could be useful, but it seemed kind of… specific. Maybe Sorrow was a type of snake?

Rook looked flustered. “I- sorry, I’m not explaining this very well. What she does is take the concept of vaccination and re-align it with the secondary time attribute. She also broadens the concept to include other non-venoms, specifically toxins and disease.”

I must have still looked confused - I mean, I got the second part. But secondary time attribute? She rubbed her temples. “Ok. Simple. I can do simple.” She pursed her lips cutely. “Basically, you’re immune or resistant to nearly all organic venoms, poison, and diseases.”

I opened my mouth and closed it a few times. “Oh.” I felt a bit stunned. That was… I mean, I don’t tend to run into that a lot. But I’d been sick a few times of course, and oooh. I could try apples. I’d always wanted to see how they tasted. I realized that Rook was looking at me with concern for my comprehension, and searched for something intelligent to say. “That sounds neat.” Oh, yes. Well done, Arriane. I searched for something better. “Organic?”

Her face fell slightly. “Well, yes. Since Shadow’s venom is a natural living product, sympathetic resonance only allows…”

I tuned her out, content to let her magibabble away. In a way it brought me back to my childhood - gathers generally weren’t happy places for me, which meant I’d went and hid around the matrons as often as possible. That got… difficult, as I grew, but when I was younger I’d often spend the entire events just sitting and listening to them talk. Lots of it was gossip, but it was also common for the more magical matrons to get together and talk shop. So the terms were familiar, even if I didn’t actually know what half of them meant. Although I had to say, they sounded a lot sexier coming from Rook-

I shook my head. What was wrong with me? I didn’t like girls. Not even ones who were exotic and cute, curved in all the right places, smart as a button - I reached up and knocked my head with my fist. Then I realized that Rook had stopped talking and was looking at me, head cocked to one side, wondering if I’d gone crazy.

I looked away and ran a hand through my hair. “Look uh, Rook - when Shadow bit me, did that do… anything else? Or are there any other effects?”

She looked thoughtful. “Like side effects? No, the bite shouldn’t do anything else… why are you asking? Is something wrong?” She peered at me, like I might suddenly sprout with some horrible affliction.

I took a second to imagine that conversation. Why yes, Rook. You see, I suddenly find you incredibly attractive and I keep getting distracted by little things, like when you peer at me with those pretty violet eyes- whoa. Ok, so imagining that was a stupid idea. But she was looking suspicious, so I casted about for something to explain my behavior. It was tough since I wanted to be doing something, not thinking - ah. Perfect. I gave her my best grin. “I was just wondering why I felt so good and energetic after a snake bite.” She was staring at me with an odd look on her face, and I frowned. “Why? Is that bad?”

She shook her head rapidly. “Um. N-no.” She bit her lip adorably, and I looked away to keep from getting distracted. Then I realized she’d already started talking and I’d missed the start. “-Shadow healed you.”

I paused. “She had to heal me? I thought that was the trial?”

She shook her head, leaning back against the wall. “No, the trial part is just surviving it. You were out for six days, and-”

“What?!” My jaw dropped. “I- six days? That’s impossible.”

She looked flustered. “I mean - you were unconscious but we took care of you, Shadow didn’t think there was a time limit or anything so she thought it would be ok-”

I tuned her out, searching. Six days of no activity should have killed my conditioning, and I’d just spent over two weeks working my ass off to get it back. But I didn’t feel like I’d lost anything. Unfortunately, feeling wasn’t enough. I needed to know. And ah, there he was.

I picked up Binder and slid him out of the scabbard. After making sure Rook was off to the side, I put her out of my mind. And then I moved into the first sword form Sal had ever taught me.

Thrust. Stamp. Block. Forward. Moves so ingrained I could do them in my sleep. I had done them in my sleep, once. The wall had been rather painful. But most importantly, I’d done this yesterday… well, a week ago now. And I had the timing in my bones. I pushed myself, going as quickly as I could, feeling the weight of the sword and the rough rock on my feet as I moved surely and precisely.

Slash. Block. The tricky footwork that had taken me two years to master to Sal’s satisfaction. And… done. I lowered Binder and took stock.

Impossible to be completely sure until I sparred again with Sal. That probably had to wait until tonight. But I was nearly positive that if anything I was faster. Binder had felt lighter. And I wasn’t even breathing hard. Maybe some of that was the lack of armor, but something told me that wasn’t the case. I shook my head and went back over to put Binder away, bending down to pick up his sheathe.

“Mmph.”

I stood up, turned around and looked at Rook. She had that same odd expression on her face from before. I lifted my eyebrows. “Sorry?”

“B- nothing. Absolutely nothing.” She sat down rapidly and took a few deep breaths, then smiled at me. “So you believe you’re healed then?”

I shrugged and flexed an arm to feel the muscles pull. Rook made another odd sound, but her face smoothed when I looked at her. I wondered if something was wrong with her. “Either you’re lying - which I don’t think you are,” I hastened to add, “or she should bottle that stuff and buy a kingdom or five. Cause wow.”

I felt like I was looming over her, so I sat down on the other side of the cave, the wall cool against my back. We sat in silence for a moment, her looking into the pool, and against my better judgement I used it to study her. Judging by the light outside it was just after midday, and while I could see ok the grotto was dimly lit. She was half in shadow, her alabaster skin and the wrap a sharp contrast. She looked up and my breath caught as the light caught her neck and shoulder.

I shook my head sharply. This was getting ridiculous - I’d have to talk to Sal and see if she knew how to fix whatever the magic had screwed up. But for now, I needed to do something else. I stretched and forced my voice to be casual. “So, do you think you’re ready to face Sal now?”

She stiffened, and now that I was looking for it I could see the fear in her. Not debilitating, but there. “Of course.”

I snorted. “Oh, come on. She’s not that bad.”

She stared at me, incredulous. Her voice was shrill. “You’re travelling with Salventarius, former Second Blade of the Seventh Empire, Kinkiller, Mage Ascendent and Songmistress of the Northern Dragons. She’s over a thousand years old. And she’s not that bad?!”

I suppressed a grin. A new title I hadn’t heard before, another portal into Sal’s past. I wondered what a Songmistress did. I also wondered if I should tell Rook that Sal had probably heard every word, then shrugged. It wasn’t like it mattered - we’d be leaving shortly anyway. Or… I frowned. Son of a bitch. In all the drama I’d never gotten his name.

I turned to Rook. “I guess she just grows on you. So hey, uh… with the bite and all. Shadow never got around to telling me the prince’s name and location?” I made it a question at the end. It was worth a try.

Her smile told me she saw right through me. “I have it. We simply require that I travel with you, and that you not stand in our way when the time comes.” I stared at her uncomprehendingly, and she flushed prettily. “With the… child.”

Oh. Oh. Right. I forced a smile. “I can agree to that. I doubt it would be a problem anyway. There’s no way he’ll be interested in me.” She looked at me quizzically, and I changed the subject. “So, the name…?”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Right, sure.” She closed her eyes, moving her lips, then spoke. “Prince Willhelm of Trine, in the Tower of Ogre’s Reach.”

I frowned in puzzlement. His name sounded incredibly familiar, but at the same time I was sure I’d never heard it before. Then I jumped as something dropped from on outside of the grotto down into the entrance. I relaxed as I realized it was Sal. Rook’s reaction was to learn how to levitate and to squeak again, but I was too concerned to find it cute. Sal’s face… I made my voice flat. “What is it?”

She regarded me silently. When she spoke it was flat. “I suppose you blocked him out of your memory. Not that I blame you.” She moved forward and put a hand on my shoulder, and I tensed. Her eyes were sympathetic. “Arriane, that is the real name of Princess Willhelma.”

* * *

My hand throbbed, and I resisted the urge to play with the splint. Sal had been especially sarcastic about the wisdom of a swordswoman punching a rock with her dominant hand. Then enthusiastic about the thought of putting me through offhand drills. I wasn’t sure which was worse. At least Rook claimed it wasn’t actually broken.

I glanced off to the side so I could look at her from the corner of my eye. The witch was trailing us, shapeless in her dwarven cloak. She had it pulled tight over her head for the shade, and a set of strange goggles that covered her eyes except for a small slit.

On the one hand, I was glad she was covered up. It made it easier to ignore the inexplicable attraction I had felt earlier. On the other hand… if ever there was a time I could have used a distraction, it was now. I turned around and scowled at the landscape ahead, then resolutely put everything else out of my head and scanned for bandits.

They failed to show up. The bastards. Surely this was a great location to wait for helpless travelers. I mean, there was the blistering heat, the scarce water, the complete lack of any food fit for human consumption… the fact that I could still see my footprints in areas sheltered from the wind, mostly untouched, from over a week ago. Clearly a highly trafficked area.

I sighed, and paused. I needed to get my head on straight. But damn the gods, why did it have to be Willhelma? Unbidden, I remembered the last time I had seen her - well, him. Green eyes that looked through me, blazing with a fury I didn’t understand. Words that lashed me, cutting to the core until I had broken and run away. And never returned - that had been my last gather. Sal’d never pushed me after that, and I’d been too grateful to ask why.

My breath hissed through my teeth, and I forced my hand to relax, the sharp pain telling me I’d probably re-injured it. Sal stopped Churchmouse and looked at me, pretend indifference over her concern. Rook… I had no idea. She was a motionless, unfinished statue, any expression destroyed by her cloak and goggles.

I grunted, then turned. “I’m going for a run. I’ll be back when we stop tonight.” And then I took off, jogging quickly. One of them might have called after me, but if so I ignored it. The trail was rough, elevation changes and loose rocks demanding all of my attention. I quickly lost myself in the movement, eyes on the ground as I planned my route, interspersed with short pauses to survey ahead and to the sides.

It was utter stupidity. I could have injured myself and died before they could find me, away from food and water and lost in the heat. I could have been ambushed. I could get lost - well, probably not. But it was possible.

In short, I was being foolish, and I knew I’d feel dumb later. And I was sure Sal would have a few choice words to add. And while we were all at it, maybe Rook could chime in too.

But it was still better than thinking about Willhelm.

* * *

I found them camped in the shelter of a bluff. The wind had picked up as we got further away, but they’d found a spot where the edge had crumbled long ago, leaving a softer hollow amidst the broken rock. Well, softer being a relative term - in the forest I would have skipped it without a second glance - but here it seemed like a small section of paradise.

I felt new and empty and tired, like I’d taken the desert’s raw desolace into myself and scrubbed myself clean. I knew it was an illusion - nothing was really fixed or solved - and later I’d have to think about Willhelm, and about all my rage and guilt and pain. But somewhere in the empty skies and broken landscapes I’d found the distance I needed to think and function.

Rook was sitting on a convenient rock, doing something incomprehensible with a piece of string , a pebble and a curved stick. She gave me a non judgmental glance and a smile. She also had her cloak pushed back, and I drank in how her hair framed her face and neck before I turned away.

Sal was leaning against the wagon, and she gave me a withering glare that managed to combine two lectures, a harangue, and possibly a thrashing into a single look. I winced, then held up my peace offering. A large hare and I had mutually surprised each other. Fortunately for me, I turned out to be bigger and more dangerous.

Sal looked to the heavens, then pointedly went back to ignoring me. I walked up to the small fire to dress the hare. I got to the part where I needed two hands - you know, the very first step - then closed my eyes and swore.

Rook walked up quietly, stopping a few feet away. “Would you like some help?”

I considered it for a moment. I mean, obviously the first thing you want to do with a girl you are int-platonically looking to be friends with is fumble around in front of her because you intelligently punched a rock with your bare hand. Unfortunately, I didn’t really have any other options unless I wanted to desecrate a body, so I smiled weakly and said, “Sure. Thanks.”.

At first she tried to do just that - help - and I was immensely grateful that she didn’t just take it away from me and do everything herself. But when I missed my third cut in a row, I groaned and grinned ruefully. “Alright. I give up.” I looked at her hopefully. “I’ll hold, you cut?”

She smiled back, then took the knife and started skillfully working the hare. It startled me for a moment, which was stupid. She lived in a desert, had tracked me, and had kept up today without complaints. She was obviously competent and able to take care of herself. So why did I keep insisting on thinking of her as bookish?

We worked well together, falling into a quick rhythm that made short work of the animal. I felt a pang of disappointment when we finished and she turned to work it onto a spit. It had been nice doing something together with her. And her knifework was almost as cute as she was.

I blinked, disconcerted. Ok, now this was really getting out of hand. I thought her knifework was cute? I wasn’t sure what was worse - the casual attractions making their way into my thoughts, or the fact that said attractions were based on how well she could use a weapon.

I shook my head, murmured a thank you and got up to find somewhere to stretch out. I was going to have to think of a non-suspicious way to get Sal alone for a while. I was in serious need of some advice.

* * *

Rook was surprisingly cooperative. About an hour after we ate the stars came out, and she disappeared over the bluff with her witchy tools again, announcing she was going to take another reading. I wasn’t sure what she was reading or how she’d see the words in the dark, but I wasn’t going to second guess the chance. I waited until her footsteps faded, plus another twenty heartbeats. Then I sidled my way over to Sal.

She was lying propped against the wagon, facing the fire and muttering to herself with her eyes closed. She stopped and cracked one lid open as I sat down next to her. I was trying not to use my bad hand, and winced as I thumped to the ground a little harder than I would have liked.

Sal sighed and wiggled to face toward me. “You are not getting out of it, you know.”

I ignored her, scanning for any sign of Rook returning. But the coast was still clear. I turned back to her. “I really need to talk to you.”

She shook her head. “I know you do not wish to hear this, Arriane. But what you did today was incredibly foolish. You could have been seriously hurt. And while we have not seen any, you should not fully discount bandits.” She arched an eyebrow at me. “You were at least careful?”

I ignored her and waved an arm. “Lecture me later. I need to ask you something while Rook’s off doing magical stuff.” I took another glance around, then turned to her and lowered my voice. “It’s… ever since I woke up. After the healing. I keep on…” I hesitated, but forged ahead. “I keep on finding Rook… attractive.”

Crickets. Sal had a peculiar look on her face, and it took me a moment to figure it out. It was her Arriane-is-doing-something-human face crossed with her Arriane-is-doing-something-stupid face. Not a good sign.

I lowered my voice to a hiss. “Dammit Sal, it’s not - I think the witches changed me somehow! I don’t know what to do, but I can’t stop thinking about her face and hair and the way her tits look when she stretches in that cloak, and there’s this cute way she bites her lip when she’s thinking hard, and she’s great with that knife and I get lost in her eyes and…” I trailed off, then closed my eyes and let my head thunk back on the wagon. My cheeks felt warm enough to keep the fire going, and I wondered if Sal would kill me if I asked her nicely.

Her tone was musing. “You know Arriane, I never thought this day would come.”

I peeked at her. My voice was small. “What?”

She ignored me. “I prepared for it extensively. I asked other matrons. I even talked to other princesses. I took notes. But after a while I figured it probably would never happen.” She sighed and looked down at her knees. “And now here we are. And all of my preparations are a thousand miles away.”

My curiosity was enough to override my angst, at least temporarily. “Sal, what on earth are you talking about?”

She turned to me. I stared. She had tears in her eyes. “I feel I have failed you, child. I should have known you would need this talk. But I put it off-”

“Whoa!” I held up a hand. “I am… reasonably conversant with the mechanics. I mean. With a boy and a girl. I’m not… sure what a girl and a girl do. But if you start talking about it I’m leaving.”

She frowned, then waved her hand. “No, of course not. I know you’re familiar with the trivial biological requirements. You had the quiz, remember?” She took a deep breath. “No, Arriane, what you need now is something important. Something critical, even. And I am not sure I am up to the task, but I will do my best.” She looked me in the eye. “You need girl talk.”

The wind blew over the camp in the silence that followed, and I stared at the fire, thinking carefully. This would require a delicate touch. “Sal… I don’t need girl talk. The problem isn’t that I like Rook. The problem is that I like girls.” I paused. “I mean - I don’t like girls. But I’m liking Rook. Since the healing. It’s magical. I mean the effect is magical, not the liking her part- ” I clamped my teeth together, cutting myself off before I made things worse.

Sal was looking at me with another odd expression on her face. Her words were questioning. “So, you both do and do not like girls? And this is… bad?”

I nodded. Then I shook my head. “It’s - I don’t like girls. But since they healed me I’ve been attracted to Rook. I think they messed with my head.”

Her, “Hrm. I see,” told me she didn’t, and I sighed and closed my eyes.

“Look, Sal. Just forget it. It’s a human thing. It’s not going to make sense to you- ow!” I jerked away from the finger that jabbed into my ribs.

“Arriane.” I held back a groan - Teacher Sal was back. “This is not a liking girls problem. Your issue is with magic and fear.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she reached over and tapped my nose. “No complaints. You asked for my advice. So you do not have to take it, but you have to listen.”

I rolled my eyes, deflected another jab, then settled back. She watched, then nodded, satisfied. “Very well. First we will examine your proposition - that the witches magicked you into finding Rook sexy.” I coughed explosively as I inhaled wrong - I was not expecting that phrasing - but she continued on. “So. What is the motive for the Coven of Twilight’s End to do such a thing?”

I finished clearing my throat, opened my mouth to answer and then hesitated. I somehow had a feeling that because they’re witches wouldn’t be considered an acceptable answer, so I searched for something else. And then hung my head when I came up completely blank.

Sal let me suffer for a moment longer, then relieved me of my misery. “Precisely. There are a few unlikely possibilities. For example, perhaps Shadow Flickering Final Breath is playing matchmaker. But given that she’s also sending Rook off to get pregnant with Willhelm’s child, I consider that a low probability. So we can discard your hypothesis.”

I paused. Something about the way she said that...

However, having dashed my beautiful witches did it because reasons theory, she wasted no time in continuing. “So. Understanding that, what else has happened recently that might explain a possible growth in your personal sexual identity?”

I suppressed a wince - personal sexual identity is not something you want to talk about with someone who’s basically a surrogate mother - and then held up a hand. “Well, wait. They need Willhelm - the prince - to have a child with Rook.” She nodded, and I continued, feeling my way through the logic. “But the magic thinks I’m the prince. So maybe the story wants me to be attracted to her?”

Sal pursed her lips. “Perhaps.”

I felt simultaneously elated, relieved, and a little angry. The magic was messing with my head. But Sal was shaking her head, and I looked at her in confusion. “What? It makes sense.”

She blew out a breath and leaned back, stretching. “I will admit I am not an expert in young princes. But it occurs to me that it seems… unlikely, that they would need magic in that case. Based on the appearance of the princesses at the gathers, I would guess that she would be naturally attractive to them.”

I grimaced, trying to find the hole in her logic. Aha. “But Shadow didn’t know Rook then. What if the maiden turned out to be ugly?” Sal stared into the fire, apparently unconvinced. I wanted to poke and prod, but experience told me to wait it out.

She finally let out a breath. “It also occurs to me that Shadow may have chosen Rook for a particular reason.”

I frowned at her. What could… oh. Oh. That was… I didn’t know how to feel about that. I shivered despite myself, and rubbed my arms. “That’s…”

“Cold?” Sal suggested, all humor gone. “Remember. Witches are not exactly evil...”

“But they’re not exactly good,” I finished. We sat in silence.

Sal sighed. “Remember the first part as well. I do not wish to discourage you. I simply want you to keep your eyes open.” She tapped her hand on the ground. “And it is likely that Rook has no knowledge or choice in the matter.”

I bit my lip. “I suppose.” I looked at her. “So you think - the magic…?”

She spread her arms. “It is not my kind of magic. Truly, you should ask Rook.” I blanched at that idea, and she gave a small grin to show she was teasing. “If I had to guess, I would say no. But it would only be a guess.”

We stared at the fire. My thoughts were a whirlwind of feelings and hopes and fears. I held up my good hand and clenched it, forming a fist, and felt things resolve. I’d gotten confused once before by the magic, the story, and I’d almost thrown everything away. I’d needed Sal to drag me back on track. Now… the magic was. I could fight it, or I could acknowledge it and try to work with it.

Too bad I had literally no idea how to do that. With fighting it was easy, but with relationships… the thought of liking someone just because some magic was messing with my head was, well, creepy. And would I always wonder about it? It seemed like I was damned either way.

Sal interrupted my confused epiphany. “Regardless, I suggest you now consider alternative possibilities. Again - what else has happened recently that might have impacted your views?”

I tried to think. Really, a ton of things had happened. I’d rescued myself and escaped my castle, travelled with Sal, met the witches… I opened my eyes wide. Then I stared at her. “It can’t be that simple.”

She cocked her head. “Why not?”

“Just that she’s the first pretty girl I’ve spent time with since I left?” I asked dubiously.

Sal shrugged. “You were always intensely uncomfortable in the gathers, which does not lend itself to attraction, and then you stopped going. The rest of your adult life you have mostly spent with me, and I view you as a daughter.” She looked at me levelly. “And you have never thought of yourself as attractive, which I imagine is… discouraging.”

I felt a warm flutter in my chest at daughter. But… “Sal. I...” I trailed off. Can’t like girls, is what I wanted to say. Because princesses just didn’t. At least not publically.

But princesses also don’t learn swordplay, fight dragons, or rescue princes. They don’t bargain with witches. Well, ok, it was more like talking cordially with them. And if I did all of that…

It seems strange, but it was too big of a thought, too world shaking for me to take the final step. I felt like I was on the edge of something, but I just couldn’t make myself believe it, not quite yet. And how could I accept that it was me, with the magic hovering over me?

Sal was watching me, waiting, and I turned away. “I don’t know.” It was a cop out, but to my relief she accepted it.

She leaned over and gave me a half hug, and I closed my eyes and just enjoyed her warmth and the small scent of smoke she gave off. It made me feel like a kid again. “You have had a long day. Take some time to think and process.” She shrugged against me, then eased away. “And think of it this way - if you do like Rook, what is the worst that could happen?”

And just like that, the little burning core of hope I’d been feeling was extinguished. Why did it matter if I liked Rook? Why I liked her, or if I told her? She was human, and there’s no way she’d like me back. I shifted to start to get to my feet.

Sal must have read something on my face or movements, because she swore under her breath. But she swore in draconic, so it rumbled across the hollow and half put the fire out. “Arriane, if you get up and leave without clarifying what is wrong I am…” she hesitated, and I paused, looking at her. Then she narrowed her eyes. “I am going to start asking Rook her opinion on my lyrics.”

I winced and sat back against the wagon with a sigh. “That’s not fair.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Since when have I ever told you to fight fair?”

It was such a Sal thing to say that despite myself I grinned for a moment. “True.” Then I sighed. “Sal… it doesn’t matter if I like her. She’s not going to like me.”

Pure confusion. “Why?” Then her eyes narrowed. “This is that human thing again, isn’t it.” It wasn’t really a question, but I nodded anyway.

Her lips curled. “Humans.” The word dripped with disgust. I tried not to take offense, since most of the time I felt the same way. “I will never understand why you insist on taking attraction and dividing it up into little boxes, and then assigning them arbitrarily based on something as flimsy as gender.”

Another time I might have taken her up on the argument. It was something we’d discussed before, although I always felt I was at a disadvantage since she’s, you know, a thousand years old and I spent most of my life as a virtual hermit.

When she’d first talked about it, I’d been confused as to why she cared about human attractiveness in the first place, and I’d expressed that confusion. At which point she’d launched into a long theory that apparently explained why almost everything magical had a human form. Since I’d been ten I’d mostly just stared, glassy-eyed, but the important bit I remembered was that at some point - tens of thousands of years ago - there had only been humans, and everything else came from them being slowly twisted and changed by magical influences.

But I didn’t really feel like arguing it right now, since it didn’t apply. So I didn’t bother pointing out that what works for fifteen-foot tall dragons - who can only tell the difference between male and female by scent - might not work for natural humans with our more obvious differences. Or what worked for fae, who put on and take off genders like the rest of us change clothes. So instead I just shrugged, trying to make it casual. “It’s too bad Rook is human, then.”

We sat and stared at the fire. I became aware that the silence had a certain… quality to it, and I turned to look at Sal. There was a distinct sparkle in her eye, and the curve of her lips… my jaw dropped. “No. She can’t be.”

She went for solemn. “If that were true, it would not be my secret to tell.” Translation: Correct. Rook isn’t human.

I let my head fall back onto the wagon and stared at the stars. It didn’t mean Rook liked me. But… it meant there was a possibility.

So why was I suddenly more scared than I’d ever been in my life?