“Hear, hear,” the other two said, raising their glasses.
“Thank you,” Kate said. “I’ll try to remember that. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help with the trial?”
The smiles lessened on all three men’s faces, falling completely off Terrick’s.
“Oh,” she said, feeling her face go hot. “My apologies. Should I not have asked that?”
“It’s fine, Lady Kate,” Terrick said. “The trial is not to be talked about, but of course, you would not know that yet. You will be told tomorrow. We cannot answer questions about it. It is only for those in the Order to know or speak about. You understand.”
“I do,” she said, gulping air. “I will not ask anyone again.”
“Then there is nothing to be sorry about,” Aimery said, his mouth turning upward again. “What I can tell you about is some of the particularly exciting battles I’ve been in. Would you like to hear about them?”
“Oh yes,” she said, clapping. “To hear it from the mouth of one of the Order’s heroes would be a privilege.”
“Very well, then.” He thought for a moment, then started. “It was a dismal day at the gate, and the demons were hitting us hard and heavy. Suddenly, a massive bruiser of a demon came charging through the ranks, scattering Reds like they were children holding cooking-pot lids. Another moment, and the wall would collapse completely. I ran to meet the demon…”
Kate listened to Aimery and Geffrei tell stories of the Order for another ten minutes. In the middle of one, someone tugged on Kate’s arm. She shook the hand off, eyes still locked on Geffrei, almost seeing the battle he described. The arm grabbed again, harder.
She turned, sweeping her arm around in a circle and locking the elbow of the offending arm, turning the rest of her body to deliver a blow to the intruder’s face.
She stopped cold when she realized it was her brother.
Kate immediately released him but continued to glare. “What is it, Jonathan?” She did her best to keep her voice calm, though she was mad enough to actually strike him.
“I must talk to you,” he said, rubbing the arm she had grabbed. “Pardon me, gentlemen.”
Kate’s three companions bowed their heads to Jonathan, but Terrick wore a curious expression, one eyebrow up and head tilted. He looked amused at the display.
Kate curtseyed, thanked the three for their time and advice, and walked off with Jonathan.
“Just what is wrong with you?” Jonathan said, wheeling on Kate when they were out of sight of the three soldiers. “You are at the biggest ball of the year, and though you are dressed like an Icirusian beggar—” He swept her dress with his eyes and locked them on her bare shoulders. “There is still a chance some poor sod will find you attractive. If you loiter about chatting with soldiers, you will embarrass the family.”
“I am going to be in the Order, Jonathan. I will be a soldier. Face it. Accept it.”
“I will not. They will see you for who you really are, a lost girl with silly dreams of being a hero. They will reject you, and then you will have to find a suitable husband. You might as well start right now. Now go.” He pushed her toward a young man who had been staring at her for several minutes. “The son of Count Pruchard seems to have taken a fancy to you. Put away your silly schemes and talk to him. Do. Not. Mess. This. Up.”
He pushed her again and then left.
Kate found herself standing a few feet from the young man. It was too late to flee without making a scene. She smiled, looked into his crooked, pock-marked face, and sighed through her teeth.
After successfully excusing herself from the count’s son and dodging a few other wholly unsuitable suitors, Kate found her parents again and passed the rest of the ball looking over her shoulder. Jonathan met her eyes a few times, jerking his head toward some direction or another, but Kate simply smiled and continued talking with her father, mother, or those her parents were talking to at the time.
When she was finally able to lean back in the carriage on the way home, Kate let her mind drift as Jonathan gave their parents a summary of what new alliances or friendships he had forged that night. To Kate, it was meaningless buzzing as she pictured the heroic stories the three soldiers had told earlier that night. As soon as the carriage stopped in front of their manor house, she leapt down without waiting for anyone to chivalrously take her hand and jogged upstairs to get out of the dress she had been wearing for much too long.
Charlotte was waiting, of course, and wanted to hear everything that happened during the ball. Kate took a perverse pleasure in telling the woman only about meeting heroes of the Order and even sharing some of their stories. Once Kate was rid of the dress, she put a tunic and pants on and left the room.
“I want to go for a walk and get some air,” Kate told Charlotte. “You may go to bed. I’ll not need you for anything for the rest of the night.”
“But,” the lady in waiting said, “who will turn down your bed and prepare you for sleep?”
“I’ll be fine, Charlotte. I really need to be alone right now.”
“Yes, my lady,” Charlotte said with downcast eyes, obviously disappointed.
Kate walked the corridors of the ground floor of the manor house. She had always liked it when she had the halls to herself. A few servants, busy with tasks of their own, bowed or curtsied, but she told them she needed nothing and bade them a good night.
She found herself pushing through the double doors into the library. They were shiny in the brazier light, the faint scent of the beeswax used to polish them wafting through the air she disturbed with her passing.
She breathed in deeply, enjoying not only the waxy smell but that of the leather and fine parchment of the books on the shelves. The covered lanterns on the walls shed more than enough light to read easily anywhere in the room. How she loved this chamber and all its memories.
The expanse of the room showed how important the books and heirlooms displayed throughout were to the family. Massive, carved bookshelves lined the walls, with a large- and medium-sized table in the center, one of which held the books she had been looking through the last time she was there. Several comfortable chairs were scattered throughout the room, making it look cozy and not too organized.
Portraits of important Courtenays were displayed proudly in elaborately carved frames, with significant items or swatches of cloth mounted underneath them. She made a circuit, delighting in the playground of memories. She had always held a special fondness for this room.
To the left side of the chamber stood a massive fireplace. Several logs blazed there to take the chill out of the air.
Kate stepped up to an ancient painting. The man depicted wore laughable attire, robes dripping off his frame like they were melting. He was a rugged-looking man, his hair and beard a rust color, darker than those in her immediate family, almost a brown. The image, as clear as when the oils were placed there by the artist all those decades ago, showed the man’s smiling face but somehow also revealed an underlying hardness. She thought she would have liked to have known him…and would have been afraid to anger him.
“Ah,” a voice rushed into the silence, startling Kate. “Adras. The one who started it all.”
Kate’s loose red hair swung as she pivoted to see her father walking into the library, a glass of wine in his hand. He held it up and raised his eyebrows. Kate answered with a shake of her head.
“Tell me again,” she said. “Just like you used to when I was a child sitting here with you, wondering what fantastic stories you would tell me.”
“Was it so long ago?” he said, sitting on a large and heavily upholstered chair. “I guess it was. You’re a woman now, all grown. And such a beautiful woman, at that.”
She went and sat in the couch next to his chair. “Oh, papa, you are always so kind. But don’t change the subject. Tell me of Adras Courtenay. Just one more time.”
He touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “I never could deny you anything. Very well. I
will even tell you a bit that I have never told you or your brother before, mostly because he would not believe it.”
Kate wiggled to get into a comfortable position on the couch and smiled up at him.
“Adras was not always named Courtenay. Did you know that? In fact, when he joined the Order of the Fire, his name was Courtknee. You see, his family had been servants in the royal household for untold generations, often kneeling before the nobles. When surnames began to be used, our ancestors, not surprisingly, were named for their constantly taking a knee in court. Some families got names like Carpenter or Smith because of their trade, and Adras’s family, our family, was no different.
“But then he joined the Order and strove to do his family proud. Thirty-six years he served, attaining the rank of captain before he retired, old and well satisfied with his years and service. As you know, when someone is accepted to join the Order, they can choose whatever name they want. He decided to rename himself Courtenay. It maintained its roots to the proud tradition of service but was not so blatant in its meaning.
“As is the custom, anyone who retires from the Yellow, the class of officers, gets a pension and a plot of land. He was the first in all his family to be landed.”
Kate clapped her hands. “I have always loved the story of Adras. He is truly the start of our family. And of our tradition.” She looked at the large coat of arms over the fireplace. It had red, yellow, gold, and even black stripes on it. Once someone in the family served honorably in the Order, their colors could be added to the coat of arms for the family.
“And Fulin, there,” she said, pointing to a large man with a shaggy mane of red hair and a great sword in his hand, “attained the Black, so he got a pension, more land, and a title to go with it.”
Next to the picture of Fulin hung his deathmask, a rigid thing made of hammered steel. It was painted like a skull with blood running down from the eye sockets. It had scared Kate terribly when she as a child, but her father explained that it had been worn by Fulin to scare demons and that it held no danger for her, the descendant of the man.
“Yes,” her father said. “And I remember seeing my grandfather, your great-grandfather, Drascom, in his uniform with that huge, swirling gold-colored cloak around him.” He pointed toward another portrait, several frames down. The man looked amazingly like her father. “He attained the rank of colonel, so his retirement brought another pension, more land, and raised his title from count to duke. He is the reason we have the position in court we have today, not to mention why we have a gold stripe on our coat of arms.” Kate’s father winked at her.
“But that was it,” Kate said, dropping her eyes to the rug under their feet. It was an intricate design of ropes and chains of embroidery in reds and blues. “No one since has joined the Order.”
“Yes.” They let the word hang in the air for a moment, until the silence became too loud for Kate to bear.
“Why?”
Her father sighed and set his wine cup down. He took her hands. “Kate, I know you don’t like courtly things, and you don’t care about politics or business holdings. You have to understand, though, that there are responsibilities to maintaining a dukedom. There are requirements from the crown, expectations…”
“I know, Papa. It just seems as if our family has lost its…well, fire. Jonathan thinks the Order is silly, but I think his social interactions and chasing ladies is silly. I want more for my life than to just have a family. What about honor? What about legacy?”
“Yes,” he said softly, squeezing her hands. “What indeed?”
“Should I join the Order?” she blurted out, nearly causing him to drop her hands in shock. She herself didn’t even know where it came from.
“What? You would ask such a question now, after years of insisting you would do just that?” He looked into her eyes, his blue meeting her green. “What is wrong, Kate?”
Kate looked away, then met his eyes again. “I just don’t know what I should do. It all seemed so clear, but now, I’m confused. What should I do?”
His laughter surprised her, but he kept hold of her hands as if to prevent her from fleeing. “Kate, your mind has always been so firm on this. When you were a child, you would not let up, telling everyone you could that you would be in the Order. Even after I subjected to you to Dante’s training, you would not quit. In fact, your will to join the Order got even stronger.” He brought her hands up to his face and kissed them. “My dear, beautiful, sweet, and amazingly skilled daughter, confusion is part of life. Ride it as you would a wave in the sea, but do not let it impede your journey. I have always respected your strong will and sense of honor. Though I hoped you would give up for selfish reasons—I want you safe at home with me—I never for one moment believed you would.
“Your brother does not know much of the world, and so you must take his opinion with that in mind. I have but one thing to say to answer you.”
She gazed deep into his blue eyes. “Yes?”
“When you take the test, and when you pass, you must make sure you live up to your family name.” He gestured with her hands still in his. “When you retire with accolades and commendations to put these fine gentlemen to shame, we will commission a painting to go right there.” They were pointing to a blank section of wall next to her great-grandfather Drascom. “What think you of that?”
She wrapped him in a hug until he grunted.
“Sorry,” she said. “Training with Dante. You know.”
4
Kate was up before the sky even started to lighten. She did her warmup exercises and practiced with her sword for half an hour before bathing, eating breakfast, and dressing to attend the trial.
“You are going, then?” Charlotte asked as Kate was preparing to leave.
“Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t go after preparing all this time?”
“I had hoped you were simply carrying on an elaborate ruse. I dreamt that you did not go, and instead you and I went shopping for dresses.”
“Oh, Charlotte.” Kate put her arms around the woman. “I am sorry it’s so hard for you to understand my motivation, but I want to be part of the Order. It’s something burning inside of me, something that will burn me up if I don’t do as I know I must. I want to serve like others in my family have served. I appreciate your companionship all these years, and your friendship. This will not be goodbye. I will have leave occasionally and will come visit.”
The lady in waiting sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I know, my lady. Of course you will come back and see me. We will catch up on the news of our lives then.”
Kate leaned in, kissed her friend on the cheek, and headed out the door. She couldn’t dally. Her nerves wouldn’t allow it.
“You are going through with it?”
Kate jumped. She hadn’t seen her mother leaning against a doorway in the hall.
“Yes.” Kate looked down at her feet.
“You would make a mockery of this family and of the Order itself?”
“No, Mother. It is quite the opposite. Our family was built on honorable service in the Order. I only want to be part of that tradition. I want to bring honor to the family. And I want to help. No one in two generations of our family has joined the Order.”
“Are these estates and this family not sufficient for you?” Cheruse Courtenay asked. “Must you continue with this foolishness? None of those in our family who served in the Order were women. The Courtenay women stayed where they belonged, at their estates, performing necessary social functions and managing the household while the men were off fighting demons. But that grand tradition is not enough for you. You want only to shirk your family responsibilities and do whatever your childish heart desires.”
Kate felt the pressure of tears welling up in her eyes, and her mother’s face shimmered in front of her. She clamped down her will and gritted her teeth. She would not cry. She would not.
“It’s not like that, Mother, and you know it,” she said when
she trusted herself not to break down. “I appreciate what the Courtenay women did, what you do, but I am not made for such things. The Order is the place for me. Perhaps past Courtenays found the Order a more welcoming family than the other people living in their estates. I plan on finding out for myself.”
Her mother’s mouth dropped open, but Kate didn’t wait around for a response. She turned and fled, something she never did when fighting. But this she couldn’t battle with a sword and a shield. She allowed herself one tiny sobbing breath, and then she applied her warrior’s will and cast the conversation—and her mother—out of her mind. She needed to focus on the trials.
Kate opted to walk, instead of taking a carriage, from the estates to the main square of the city where the trials would be held. Her father’s estate was on the lands bordering the city, so the trip wasn’t more than a mile or so. The activity would do her good and allow her to clear her mind before she was tested.
Dante waved at her from the grounds as she passed through their training area. He was performing his own daily exercises and didn’t come to talk to her. Just as well. She wanted to ask him about the testing, but he couldn’t say anything. She knew that now. Better to leave it at a wave.
When Kate came around the temple building in the city, she stopped in her tracks. She was still more than a quarter mile from the main square, and a line of people stretched off to her left toward the city gates. She couldn’t see the end. How long had these people been waiting there?
There was a temporary stage at one end of the square with several tables set up around it. More than a dozen men in livery with the Order insignia—a flame in front of a gate—on their chests were still setting up chairs behind the tables.
Order of the Fire Box Set Page 3