by M. A. Larson
The sight of him enraged Evie. She tried to worm free of his grip, so he pinned her arms to her sides and lifted her off the floor.
“What are you doing? Let go of me!”
“Cadet Forbes, release that girl!”
“I’m only trying to save her from herself.”
“Put me down!” She thrashed and wriggled, but his grip was too tight.
“All right!” he said. He gently lowered her to the floor, but kept his arms clamped around her. “All right, but just, please, calm yourself. Before you say something you’ll regret.”
He eased his arms open. She shoved him back, fixing him with a dark scowl.
“That’s enough!” shouted Wertzheim.
“Perhaps we might forgo this round of treatment, Princess?” he asked.
“You don’t speak for me, Forbes!”
“Our companies have joint exercises this afternoon. Let me take her now, and I assure you she’ll return for her next treatment in an entirely different frame of mind.”
Wertzheim glared at Evie, then gave Forbes the slightest of nods.
“She does apologize, if not with her mouth, with her heart.” He took Evie’s hand, but she shook him off. “Come with me now or you’ll do something you cannot undo,” he said. The intensity in his eyes cut right through her anger. She knew what he was saying was right.
He thanked Wertzheim again, then ushered Evie away. She opened her mouth to shout at him, but he had already shouldered through the door. He didn’t hold it for her.
“Ah, lovely. Clouds.”
“Who do you think you are, handling me like that? You have no right—”
He stopped, and she nearly crashed into him. “Right, shall we just go back in, then, and you can complete your self-destruction?”
She had no words at the ready. She hated the way he made her feel like a child.
“Those ladies have cared for me these five years gone, and I don’t like to see them mistreated. Especially by some stroppy cow who shouldn’t even be here in the first place.” His boots ground the frosted dirt as he turned to march on.
“Oh, so you’ll judge me by my blood as well!”
“I’m not judging you by your bloody blood, I’m judging you because you ran away. You quit. A Princess of the Shield never quits, highborn or otherwise.”
She trudged to a stop. Once again, he left her with no response. It would have been easier, and perhaps hurt a bit less, had he just been one of the aristocracy who looked down on commoners.
“Come on, it’s cold,” he said, annoyed. “Or do you want to lie down in the road and have a sulk?”
He disappeared around a corner, and she quickly realized she didn’t know where she was going, so she chased after him. He had already started walking along the top of a stone wall, deteriorating and covered in leafy gray lichens, with gnarled roots pushing through the rocks. The wall had been built to brace a stand of trees that had long since outgrown it, and rather than take it down, the groundskeepers had decided to let it crumble away on its own.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t respond. She stumbled along the wall behind him until they were even with the peak of Stendal’s Forge. The Forge wasn’t a particularly high structure, but it was high enough to break a bone. Eventually the wall leveled off and Forbes hopped into the grove of trees behind it. She followed, tracking his black doublet through the green.
“The staff attempted to enchant these trees years ago for training, but they never got the magic quite right. They decommissioned them, and they’ve just been growing here untouched ever since.”
Evie’s attempts to stay angry began to falter. She had been in so many forests that wanted her dead that the sensation of being in one safe behind the Academy’s protections was bizarrely soothing. These were oaks and spruce, red firs and giant’s-toe pines. Calm, peaceful trees that reminded her of home.
“Believe it or not, I do have some sympathy for you,” said Forbes, ducking the lower fork of an oak branch. “I understand your aversion to the potions. The uncursed watch us go off for treatment like we’re some sort of curiosity.” He couldn’t disguise the contempt in his voice.
“I don’t care about them,” she said. “I’m here to fight witches, not piddle about with curses and potions and other distractions.”
“You have quite a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?” he said with a laugh that dripped arrogance. “I suppose you’d classify me as a distraction as well?”
“As a matter of fact, I would.” And I’d also like to punch you right in the mouth. She might have enjoyed this walk if he weren’t so skilled at making her angry. Everything about him, from his condescending sneer to his ease in weaving through the trees, was just so . . . certain.
“My father is one of the great military strategists of our time. He’s led armies in countless battles, some of the most famous ever fought. My mother died when I was quite young, and he took it upon himself to teach me the ways of men, but most of these lessons came from his absence. He’d be away weeks on end, sometimes months, collecting lands and treasure. Prestige, as well. It was difficult to understand as a boy, but it was always made right when I’d see his sails on the horizon. I was in awe of him, really. I understood quite early on that most boys didn’t have fathers like mine.”
Suddenly the trees ended. Evie and Forbes emerged into the shadow of a behemoth structure of cut yellow sandstone.
“See there? The Bronze Keep. Just round this way.”
They followed the wall, then emerged into a cobblestone hub with roads that spiderwebbed in every direction. Without hesitation, he selected a path and led her into a serpentine alleyway flanked by white plaster buildings crisscrossed with dark brown timbers.
“After my father returned from his last campaign, something had changed,” he continued. “He didn’t greet me at the port or take me riding, as he normally did. There was no treasure in his hulls, and there were no tales of faraway lands to send me to sleep at night. There was only a portrait.”
Evie grimaced. That bloody portrait again. He hadn’t had a chance to bring it up since their walk to the Dining Hall that day, and she was hoping she had already heard the last of it.
“My father is a hard man. He’s a noble man, but not exactly a good man. The portrait, which he’d won through some unscrupulous deal or another, had been cursed by a witch. She told him if he ever laid eyes on it, he’d be punished for his greed. So he locked it away deep in the castle and forbade anyone from entering, on penalty of death. I saw even less of him then, though I always knew exactly where he was. Just sitting there outside that door. The portrait consumed him, though he was destined never to see it. It was all he thought about.”
Evie said nothing. She despised Forbes, but there was something quite genuine in his voice.
“I had to know what had taken my place in his heart, so I went down there one day when I knew he was away on some diplomatic mission or another. I snuck past his guards and got inside. It was a dusty old room, no windows, no furnishings. Just a lone portrait sitting on an easel. I lifted the cover, and that’s when you and I first met. And that’s when I earned my hooves.” He paused and turned to face her. The smile on his face was the thinnest of covers for a poorly buried anger. “You’ll forgive me if I’ve been a distraction.”
Her eyes fell to the cobblestones. He glared at her for another moment, then charged ahead. She followed, winding past unknown structures until quite suddenly the Queen’s Tower loomed overhead. It looked like it had been spun of the most delicate glass, a perfect, crystalline structure buried in the clouds. Unfortunately, Forbes marched right past its astonishing beauty.
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” she said, leaving the tower behind to keep pace. She felt chastened, as though she was partially to blame for what had happened to him. “I just . . . I have had o
ther memories, but I lied to Princess Wertzheim about them because they don’t matter.”
“Oh?” he said without breaking stride.
“They’re just flashes of things, and none of it makes any sense. A table, a mountain, a man with a beard . . . a screaming dragon.”
“Did you hear that monster scream the other night?” She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “He nearly got me, but the dragonslayers made up for it. I only wish it had been me who put the lance in him.”
“In her,” said Evie, and whatever thaw had started between them iced right back over again. “And I suppose there’s some honor in murdering dragons?”
“Murder, is it?” he said with a laugh. “And why are you suddenly so concerned about dead dragons?”
Evie faltered. She didn’t trust Forbes, and she certainly didn’t want to reveal that she was the daughter of dragons to someone with so much hate in his heart. “Some knights care more about chivalry and honor than killing, that’s all.”
“And I shall do my best to avoid their bones as I kill the dragons that killed them.”
She wanted to throttle him, to say she wished her sister had killed him that night, but she didn’t dare. “You may be a human, but you’re still a pig!”
“Is that so?” he said, turning to face her with a scowl. “Well, mark this: I wouldn’t be able to slay a single dragon had you not given me these back.” He flexed his gloved fists in front of her face. “Thanks for that.”
He set off down the hill and left her reeling beneath the statue of a man in smooth, impenetrable armor, the granite draped in a fine layer of snow. He was a knight, lance in hand, grave frown forged in the blood of a thousand dragons. She lingered there a moment, staggered by the implication of what Forbes had said, and when she finally stumbled through campus and rejoined her company for the joint training exercise with Thrushbeard Company, she received the crushing news that he was the only knight cadet still without a partner. But for her sister, she made up her mind that she would do whatever it took to succeed, even if it meant working with a pig.
And so, as she struggled to slither under a downed tree, she refused to take his hand. She could feel her strength being sapped away into the black mud beneath her, but would rather have been stuck there forever than accept his help.
“Hurry up, will you?”
The knight cadet next to her squirmed under easily, then reached back to drag Basil through.
“In a life made up of humiliating moments, this beats all,” he said as his partner hauled him out of the slop.
Evie twisted her body until she was on her back and kicked into the mud. Finally, she began to slide through. She grabbed the rough bark of the log and pulled with all her remaining strength until she came free, then scrambled to her feet, great walls of black slopping off of her. They ran; she was tied to Forbes by a long rope, most of which was coiled around his shoulder. Up ahead, there loomed a thirty-foot wall topped by a crenellated parapet. It was scorched and battle-damaged, and a fetid moat intersected it to the right. But the cadets they were chasing had gone left, to an outbuilding that housed a staircase up to the wall walk.
“Move, Cadets!” shouted the Fairy Drillsergeant behind them. “All of you run the Woundwort Tower spirals today except the first team up! LET’S GO!”
Evie and Forbes paused at the base of the wall. He began cutting himself loose with a blade from his belt.
“Hurry, you bloody idiot!” It felt good to insult him, even though he wasn’t doing anything wrong. She glanced at the staircase and frowned when she saw Remington helping his partner, Malora, mount the first step.
Forbes slapped the coil of rope into her chest. “Would you rather kiss him or beat him? Go!”
She hauled the heavy rope to the stairs and sprinted up, taking them two at a stride. She and Malora reached the wall walk at the same time. Only a handful of others were there. I’m going to win this challenge, she thought as she raced past the first crenellation. Demetra was there, her rope taut across the battlement, already struggling under the weight of her knight.
Evie leaned into an open crenel and saw Forbes waiting below. She threw the coil over the side, wrapping the other end from palm to elbow. Moments later, he began his climb, jerking her into the stone.
“Bloody hell!” she heard him yell.
She regathered the rope and braced herself. This will be harder than I thought. He began again. She gritted her teeth, leaning into his weight. The rope dug into her shoulder. From her neck through her back and down both legs, her muscles screamed.
“What are you doing?” It was Demetra, and there was distress in her voice.
Evie glanced over and saw Malora standing in Demetra’s crenel with her rope over the side. Other blue dresses scurried past down the wall walk, but there was plenty of open space along the battlement. Malora had intentionally chosen that one to harass Demetra, and had already started edging her to the side.
Evie’s arms shook from exertion, yet she eased back until she could see down the wall. There, not quite halfway up, Demetra’s knight was nearly on top of Remington.
“Keep ’er steady!” he called in a thick brogue.
“Malora, give me some space!” shouted Remington.
Evie looked back to the crenel and saw Demetra struggling mightily to maintain her grip. Malora, also having a difficult time with the rope, still managed to land a kick to Demetra’s shin.
“Malora!” shouted Evie. “What’s the matter with you?” She was so disturbed by the assault that she lost focus. The rope fibers began to eat at her fingers.
“Shut it!” yelled Malora as she forced Demetra to the crenel’s edge, where her arms would soon meet stone and she’d have to drop her knight. The girls grunted, each trying to protect her space, but Malora was taller, her will stronger.
“Can’t you even hold a bloody rope?” called Forbes from down the wall.
“COME ON, LADS, CLIMB!” yelled the Fairy Drillsergeant, and Evie’s heart sank. If she was still down at the bottom of the wall, there would be no help coming for Demetra.
“Malora, please!” said Demetra. “I’m going to drop him!”
But it was Malora who lost her grip and tumbled to the wall walk, her rope whizzing across the stone and disappearing over the side.
“Remington!” shouted Evie. She leaned against the coarse limestone, the rope biting her shoulder. He was sprawled on the ground, rubbing the back of his head, dazed but alive.
She pushed back from the wall and peered to the next crenel. Demetra was struggling mightily under the weight of her knight. Her eyes were clenched, her teeth were gritted, and her arms shuddered like dragonfly wings.
“He’s almost to the top, Demetra!” called Evie. “Just hold on!”
Malora scrambled to her feet and charged at Demetra, knocking her into the stone battlement. Demetra’s rope zipped over the side, and the thud of her knight hitting the ground followed.
“WHAT’S GOING ON UP THERE?”
Demetra put a hand to the back of her head. It came back slick with blood. Her face hardened and she shoved Malora, leaving a dark smear across her dress. “Don’t ever touch me again, you cow!”
Malora lunged. She clutched Demetra by the shoulders and hurled her into the crenel. Demetra tried to grab the stone, but her momentum was too great. She toppled over the side.
“DEMETRA!” shouted Evie. She dropped Forbes and leaned over the battlement.
“Aahhh!” he shouted from the ground, clutching his leg.
The Fairy Drillsergeant, meanwhile, caught Demetra with her wand only a moment before her neck would have snapped on the ground. “HOW IN BLAZES DO YOU FALL OFF A WALL, CADET?”
Something flared up inside Evie. She charged at Malora and they both crashed to the wall walk.
“Oi, Evie! Stop!” called
Anisette.
The girls grappled. Evie reached for any sort of leverage—linen, flesh, or hair—as Malora clawed a line of blood into her face.
“Get your hands off me!” she snarled.
“You could have killed her!” shouted Evie, enraged.
Anisette dove on top and tried to force her body between them. Others stood and watched, holding their ropes as best they could.
“That’s enough, girls!” said Anisette, jerking Malora’s arm back and freeing Evie’s hair from her grip. Malora shrieked and tried to claw Anisette’s face. Evie reached up to grab her wrist, and as Anisette tried to push them apart, her elbow inadvertently smashed into Malora’s eye.
“THE THREE OF YOU, GET OFF MY WALL!” bellowed the Fairy Drillsergeant, who had arrived on the wall walk just in time to see Anisette strike Malora.
Evie scrambled to her feet, then helped Anisette up. Malora, feeling around her tender eye for blood, pushed herself to a sitting position.
“We’re sorry, Fairy—”
“GET OFF MY WALL!”
“You can’t send me home,” said Malora. Even through labored breath, her voice remained calm and defiant. “My mother will never—”
“I don’t care if your mother is Cinderella herself! I want you off my wall! NOW!”
Evie, breath pluming from her mouth in the bracing winter air, suddenly realized what she’d done. I’m being discharged. I’ve got myself thrown out of the Academy, and now I’ll never learn to defeat a witch.
Behind the Fairy Drillsergeant’s trail of sparkles, Maggie finally arrived at the top of the staircase. She looked horrified by the scene she found waiting on the wall walk.
“It’s not Evie’s fault, is it?” said Anisette. “I started the fight.”
The Fairy Drillsergeant turned her ire full on Anisette. “Good, then we’re agreed! GET OUT!”
“With respect, it ain’t fair to send her home for what I done. It’s my responsibility—”
“Anisette, what are you doing?” said Evie, but Anisette cut her short with a glare.
“GET OFF MY WALL, CADET! I WON’T SAY IT AGAIN!” Then the Fairy Drillsergeant turned to Evie and Malora, jabbing her tiny finger at them. “You. And you. We’ll let the Headmistress sort you out.”