by Robin Roseau
“I am?”
“It’s almost as if you lunge on command,” I added. I gestured. “And he knows it.”
“I don’t lunge on command,” he muttered.
“Almost as if,” I said. “He was goading you into it, and he scored four of his points that way, twice by letting you bury yourself against his sword, and the other two times when you were slow to recover.”
“I don’t lunge on command,” he muttered again.
“Maybe I’m wrong.”
We sat quietly, watching the next match. The opponents were relatively even, but not very strong. Blaze gestured. “Felnia is the best female fencer I’ve ever seen.”
“Is she?” I asked. “Who is her opponent?”
“Grist,” he said. “He’s a nice guy. Not very bright. Kind of like a friendly dog. You wouldn’t be impressed by him, but you’d like him.”
“Get someone to bring him to tea,” I replied.
“I will. Does he lunge on command?”
“Stuck on that, are you?” I asked with a laugh. “No. He has a weak riposte. It’s consistently off-target and easy to parry. The only reason Felnia isn’t beating him soundly is his reach.”
“What about her?”
“She’s too timid. Maybe she’s more aggressive against someone closer to her size. She’s very precise.”
And then Tall and Arrogant had his next match. At the end, he removed his match and taunted his defeated opponent. My lips tightened, but I said nothing.
Sergeant Felist wandered by. She leaned into my ear. “You’re better than anyone here.” I looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. “You are,” she said.
“Probably not in the styles you’ve been teaching me.”
“In that style,” she said, gesturing.
I shrugged, although I thought it likely she was right.
It was some time later that Tall and Arrogant won what would have been the final match of the day. I was quietly offering my own critiques to Blaze, who had begun encouraging my comments. I thought I was speaking so quietly only he heard, but I was wrong.
The man removed his mask, offered an arrogant bow, and then stepped over to stand opposite me. I was thankful for the seats between us, as I didn’t really care to have him towering over me. “What did you think, Darfelsa?”
“I think,” I said, “That only my closest friends use my name. Even in public, Blaze refers to me more formally than that.”
“Oh, that’s right. It’s Princess.”
I set a hand on Blaze’s arm, ready to rush to my defense. I was about to address him when the woman in front of me said, “Princess Darfelsa thinks your style is weak.”
I offered a quick glare. Tall and Arrogant laughed. “I just won this tournament, just like I won the last one. I am the best swordsman in the entire country.”
I looked around. I saw the faces. I’d seen the body language. And I came to a conclusion. No one in this room would mind if this man learned a little humility. I leaned to Blaze. “Is he politically connected?”
“No,” Blaze said, without hiding his answer.
“Good. Stay out of this.” I shifted my gaze and lifted my voice. “You aren’t remotely the best swordsman in the country. You aren’t even the best swordsperson in the room. Oh, you’re not terrible. You’re tall, aggressive, and with a long reach, perhaps the longest in the room. But you’re far from the best. I don’t see anyone who carries himself with the air of military about himself, excepting my own guards.”
“They must not be very good if it takes so many to protect you.”
“Pray you never find out,” I said. I stood up. “You telegraph half your attacks. You are fast to riposte, but you prefer a high line, making you predictable. On your lunges, you twist your forward foot in an odd fashion, and in a real swordfight, your opponent would use that to your disadvantage. You get away with it here only because using it to break your leg is disallowed.”
“Bullshit.”
“Furthermore, you use your reach and your aggressive nature to bully your opponents, probably like you do in your daily interactions.” I gestured around. “I find it unlikely there is a single person here who claims you a friend and wonder whether you have any at all.”
“I have plenty of friends!”
“You’re a bore and an arrogant lout. And, unless you were hiding your true abilities, you’re far from the best swordsperson in the room.”
“I suppose you think you are.”
“No. I suppose Sergeant Felist is. I’m not sure how I compare against her guards.”
“Princess Darfelsa,” said the sergeant. “For this style, you are the best in the room, beyond any doubt. The guard doesn’t practice such pretty styles. However, he has the reach on you.”
I shrugged. “It is unfortunate I am inadequately dressed.”
“I have a spare set,” Felnia said. “We’re of a size, Princess. It’s clean.”
“Care to be beaten by a slip of a girl?” I asked Tall and Arrogant.
“I’m happy to shut your mouth,” he countered.
“Felnia, isn’t it?” I asked, not looking at her. “Help me warm up?”
“Sure. Come on. There’s a dressing room.”
* * * *
We were, indeed of a size. She was a little taller, but only slightly. Shoes were a problem, but Felnia found a pair for me, and an epee.
I pulled on a borrowed mask, did a few more stretches, then turned to face Felnia. “Are you as good as you just claimed?” she asked me.
“Yes. Whenever you’re ready.”
She saluted me with her own epee then came after me.
She was actually better against someone her size. I didn’t try for easy points, but I used it as an exercise to warm up. And she never touched me. Finally, we both stepped back, pulling off our masks. She bent over, panting heavily. “I couldn’t touch you, and you weren’t trying to touch me.”
“I wanted a warmup, not a match,” I said. “Did you want to try a few points?”
“Sure.” We donned masks and then played to three points. Then she pulled away again, shaking her head. “Kick his ass.”
“I intend to.”
She led the way back to the main room. Tall and Arrogant was waiting. He offered a sneer then pulled his mask on and moved into position.
And the referee called the start.
Tall and Arrogant got the first touch. He really did have a long reach. He got the second as well.
And I got the next five.
I backed away. Sergeant Felist stepped to my side, watching Tall and Arrogant. I didn’t take my eyes from him, either.
And then the room broke out in loud applause.
Tall and Arrogant glanced at everyone and stormed off, but then I heard someone call out, “Beaten by a girl! How does it feel to be beaten by a girl?”
“No,” I said firmly. “Let him be a lout, but no one else needs to. If you want to taunt him, do it sometime I’m not around.”
“Sorry, Princess,” said the man.
I nodded. Tall and Arrogant had fled. I removed my mask. And then I was surrounded, people congratulating me.
“You’ve made an enemy,” Blaze said to me later.
“And about thirty friends,” I replied.
“And made a few good points as well,” he added.
* * * *
I accepted Alexi’s invitations, both to the club, and to other events, and she accepted mine. At the club, yes, she made me blush, and she made sure everyone knew it. But the club filled the nights I was to attend, and in private, she thanked me for the additional business.
It became popular to toss out suggestions to her for ways to embarrass me. It wasn’t like she needed the help. The woman was a fiend, after all. But I was deeply impressed how she handled it.
People who offered good suggestions received encouragement. But people who were well out of line found themselves chastised, and the audience became increasingly attuned and perhaps protective of
me while at the same time relishing my discomfort.
But even when I was on stage and the focus of attention, I let myself laugh, even at myself, and I enjoyed attending Bashful once every other week or so.
The first social event I attended with her was for an evening with friends. It was quite lovely, and there was dancing after dinner. I danced with anyone who asked, but Alexi was my favorite partner, and I found myself melting into her arms every time we came together. I rather thought she enjoyed me as well.
Later, in the carriage, she kissed me. I kissed her back, and that was the encouragement she needed. She climbed atop me, and we kissed deeply, and kissed, and kissed.
And I didn’t realize what her clever fingers were doing, but she had my dress half undone before it began to spill from my shoulders.
“Alexi!” I complained.
She giggled and continued to work on the dress. I struggled to hold it in place while fending her off, and the exasperating woman just kept giggling as she continued to release buttons down the back of the dress.
“No!” I told her. “We’re not taking it that far.”
“One minute, Darfelsa.”
“I take a lot longer than one minute.”
“Trust me for one minute.”
“No.”
But I stopped fighting her, and when she kissed me, I let her. When she caressed the skin of my now bared back, I let her do that, too. And slowly, I softened, and I let her do more than I had planned, far more.
But then she pulled away, looking down at me. “I wouldn’t take advantage of you,” she said.
“Alexi,” I whispered.
“Tell me ‘yes’, and you know what happens.”
“If not for Flame, I would, even knowing I’m just a plaything for you.”
“You’re more than a plaything,” she said. She kissed me again, and then we held each other, my dress threatening to fall from my shoulders, held only in place because she was pressed against me. “Darfelsa, will Flame be traveling to Flarvor with you?”
“No, but we’re together for now.”
“Then perhaps I will visit Barrish sometime. I don’t think you’d say ‘no’ then, would you?”
“I rather doubt I would.”
“All right, then.” She kissed me once more, and then she did my buttons back up, and she had me all together by the time we pulled up to the embassy. “I won’t do that again unless I hear Flame has withdrawn herself, or if you invite it.”
“Thank you.” I paused. “Give me a week before you come to tea again.”
“Next week, then.”
“Yes, but make sure you come then.”
“I will.”
I gave her one more kiss, and then I caressed her leg before climbing from the carriage.
* * * *
She did, indeed, come the next week, and we were best of friends. On future evenings, we kissed and touched, but it was no more than that, and I deeply enjoyed our time together.
Insurance
I smiled. Flame was pressed into my back, rubbing my bottom. I wasn’t at all sure how long she’d been doing that, but I rolled onto my stomach, giving her better access. She giggled but obliged. “You’re so easy.”
“You’re just that good,” I replied.
We touched for a while, and then we bathed. It was while dressing that I told her, “I have an appointment with the ministers today.”
“I know. It’s public.”
“Will you be there?”
“Yes. Half of Dennaholst will be there.”
“I doubt that.”
“We’ll see.”
We shared breakfast, and then I sent her away. My appointment was for after the lunch hour, and I was nervous, but I did my best to hide it.
I tried to work, but that went poorly. Eventually I took a book to the garden.
Sergeant Felist showed up. She tossed a few garden implements around. I froze, and then she rushed me.
I tipped sideways out of the chair, pulling it over with me, tangling her with it. I rolled, found a rake, and spun it at her before giving myself more room.
We fought, pulling our strikes. I took a few bruises, but so did she. And then she drove me directly into the arms of one of the guards.
Who grabbed me.
“No!” I screamed. I stomped down on her foot, hard, quite hard. She was wearing solid boots, but I imagined it hurt. I managed to avoid a strike from Sergeant Felist, and if she hadn’t already been pulling it, she would have hit the woman holding me. I used the opportunity to kick the sergeant, and I didn’t pull it. She fell backwards, and I slammed into the woman trying to subdue me. She banged firmly against the wall behind her, loosening her grip, and a series of backwards elbows and slamming my head back caused her to release me.
I’d lost the rake, but I spun and drew the guard’s own sword, then continued the spin, the sword now held at the guard’s neck height. She raised her arms defensively, entirely surprised, and while I was prepared to stop short of her neck, I barely avoided removing one wrist. I froze, the guard and I staring into each other’s eyes.
Then we stood, panting, Sergeant Felist not approaching me. “Princess,” she said.
“Corporal,” I whispered.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Your wrist.”
“I’m fine.” She pulled off her glove, wincing. There was a light gash, but no deeper.
“Corporal,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Coming up,” Sergeant Felist said from behind me. “Watch the sword.”
I held it to the other side. The sergeant stepped around me and took her soldier’s arm. She examined the wound, then produced cloth and wrapped it around, holding it tightly. “Who brings a wrist to a sword fight?”
“That isn’t funny,” I said. “Mariya…” I whimpered.
“She’s fine,” said the sergeant. “She’s the idiot who was wearing live steel.”
“It’s her job to wear live steel.”
“Not when she knows we’re in training.”
“She couldn’t have anticipated…”
“Yes, well. Princess, are you going to let this little accident slow you down next time? Brilliant move appropriating the sword.”
“I panicked.”
“You kept your head,” she said. “You incapacitated and possibly killed one of your attackers, and you were better armed than the remaining assailant. Furthermore, there is a psychological advantage to decisively taking out one of your opponents. There’s something about seeing a compatriot spurting blood that can take a lot of fight out of most people.”
“Corporal,” I said, staring at her wrist.
“Listen to me, Princess Darfelsa,” said the woman. “You were perfect. I’m proud of you. You would have pulled it. This is my fault.”
“Still.”
“You didn’t take the hand. It’s just a cut. Not even that bad a cut.”
I nodded.
“I’ll take the sword,” Sergeant Felist said. “We’re going to get that taken care of.” She gestured. “You should perhaps go clean up.”
* * * *
Sergeant Felist caught up with me as Renishta made final touches to my appearances. “How is the corporal’s wrist?”
“Fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about that. Focus on your job and let me focus on mine.”
I nodded. “I’ll try.”
“Let me see.” So, I turned to her. She gave me a close look and then made a few minor touches, entirely unnecessary. “Looking good. Princess, I’d like a minute of your time.”
“We’ll catch up with you, Renishta,” I said.
“Yes, Princess.”
We waited until the door closed, and then I turned to the sergeant again. She stepped close and made a few more unnecessary adjustments. I stood for it, deciding she was simply doing it to touch me. She smiled. “You don’t need this kind of help.”
“And you don’t need an excuse, Mariya.” I took her hand and held i
t in both of mine. She set her other on my arm.
“I’m not a woman of words,” she said.
“That’s my role.”
“I want to say this, though. I’ll get it out, and I made sure we had time.” So, I smiled and nodded. “Princess Darfelsa, spending the last few months with you, I have hope for Flarvor’s future.”
“Mariya,” I said. “Thank you.”
“I vow myself to you, and to your sister,” she added.
“Mariya.” I pulled her into a hug. She held me carefully. I was much firmer. And then she relaxed her hold. We both sighed before separating. “Thank you.”
She nodded. “I’ve spent weeks trying to figure out what to say.”
“Sometimes simple is best,” I said. “Escort me now.” And I took her arm.
* * * *
We met in a much larger room than we had previously, and while it wasn’t half of Dennaholst, it was a significant percentage. The room was quite full when I was announced, standing room only, and the people opened a path as I strode forward.
I didn’t look around, as tempted as I was to do so. Instead, I strode forward, my head high, my closest staff around me, my honor guard fore and aft.
I was actually surprised as I drew closer. Near the center of the room was a large, circular table on a larger, round dais. Once I was close enough, I saw I wasn’t quite right. It was actually two tables, each a half an arc, with a pathway allowing someone to move into the center area, addressing anyone seated. And there was a short flight of stairs.
Talith stood at the top, and she beckoned me forward. I climbed the stairs.
Prime Minister Githien was waiting, standing in the center of the tables. He gestured to several open seats, enough for my immediate household. The guards took other places, facing out. I strode forward, coming to a stop.
He raised his hand, but when the audience grew no quieter, I turned, holding my own hand up and laughing. “Settle down, you!” I called out. “I don’t want this to take a week.”
They laughed, and someone yelled, “I could look at you for a week.” Several others commented on my gown. And I think I was invited on three different dates. I laughed again and said, “Settle down.”