“Well, my brother talked about his wedding night for weeks afterward,” Dalen said. “I guess that’s worth a four-day trip for anyone.”
I cringed. Of course boys were going to talk about things like this. I tried hard to laugh with the others.
“So, your brother’s here somewhere?” I said, hoping to change the subject.
“He’s already a soldier,” Dalen said. “He was called to duty a week ago. His wife’s living with my parents while he’s gone.” He grinned. “Guess her bed feels empty these days.”
Fortunately, it was Dalen’s turn to receive his gear, so I was spared having to think of something else to say. I looked at Forest, relieved to see that he wasn’t sharing Dalen’s fascination with wedding nights.
“Good thing we don’t have to worry about any of that,” I said.
Forest’s brow tightened. “I’m betrothed.”
Immediately, I wanted to suck my words back into my mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Forest shrugged. “You didn’t know. Anyway, I haven’t even met her yet.”
“Ah. It’s the same for my sister,” I said, glad to be able to offer empathy. “It’s bad timing for anyone recently matched.”
“It’s easier than being recently married, I’m sure,” Forest said. “Assuming you actually like whoever you’re stuck with.”
The bitterness in his words caught me off guard. “Not all brides and grooms dislike each other.”
“No,” Forest said. “But, honestly, what are the odds that you’re going to actually want to be together?”
“My parents are happy.” It sounded like a flimsy defense.
“Maybe that’s what happens when you realize nothing’s going to change. You learn to be happy.”
“Well, my sister was really upset,” I said. “She wants to be married more than anything.”
Forest snorted. “Most girls are like that.”
My jaw tightened. Most girls, maybe. But not the one standing behind you.
“Next!” The voice was sharp as a blade, and Forest stepped forward quickly.
When it was my turn, I stepped up before anyone had to shout for me. I signed my name on a gear roster and, after being quickly eyeballed, was handed pants, two linen shirts, a leather belt and scabbard, and a neatly folded blanket.
“Next roll call is at sundown, and two men per tent,” the rough-voiced soldier said. “You’re with the man in front of you.”
I looked over at Forest, who held a slip of parchment in his hand along with his pile of supplies. Then I nodded at the soldier. “Thank you.”
He had already started to shout “Next!” to whoever was behind me, even before the words were fully out of my mouth. Reminder number three hundred: be careful not to use too many manners.
Forest held up the slip of parchment. “Tent seventy-seven.”
I didn’t want to share a tent. Not with Forest, not with any boy. But it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been Sedge.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Long rows of sand-colored tents stretched before us on the trampled field. I cupped my hand over my eyes, assessing.
“Looks like twenty tents per row,” I said.
Forest pointed. “That’s our row.”
We made our way to the tent with the number seventy-seven painted roughly on one side. The peak of the tent reached my nose, and its width seemed barely enough for two to sleep side by side.
This was going to be more challenging than I’d allowed myself to imagine.
* * *
“Storm L’nahn!” The recruiter’s voice clipped my name like a scythe to grass.
“Here!”
Over a hundred fifty new soldiers stood in a haphazard line, answering the roll call. Others had arrived at the camp after me, but tomorrow would see the final influx. When the last names had been called, the recruiter stepped forward.
“Welcome to the high king’s army. Tomorrow the last of you will arrive, and formal training will start the following morning.” He stepped aside, and a tall, broad-shouldered man was suddenly visible. His skin was sun-darkened, his hair almost as black as mine.
The recruiter gestured to him. “This is Commander Jasper Dane.”
Everyone bowed, hands spread on their hearts, as the commander stepped forward—I was half a second late, but I bowed, too. When I rose, the recruiter had retreated, and Commander Dane stood alone on the low platform in front of us, shoulders straight, hands behind his back. I stared.
He was a boy. Fully grown, to be sure, but he had definitely seen fewer than twenty summers. His smooth brow and long lashes gave him a look that was so boyish I almost laughed.
How could he possibly be a commander?
“New recruits!”
I jumped at his voice, which was deep and fierce, with a raw edge that didn’t match his youthful appearance. I held my breath, and it seemed that the others held theirs, too.
Commander Dane took a step forward. “Tomorrow our ranks will be filled, and I will address you as a unit. Even so, you are from this moment a soldier in the high king’s army. Once training begins, you may not leave the camp. You will obey all orders. You will serve the high king with life and limb, and your families will receive your honor.”
Everyone waited for more, but Commander Dane stood there, surveying us and saying nothing. When his eyes swept in my direction, I shrank inwardly, even as I stood taller. Fear coiled tightly in my stomach as I waited for him to sense that I wasn’t what I pretended to be.
Nothing happened. He regarded me no differently from everyone else in the line of soldiers.
“Your evening meal will be served shortly,” he said. “Dismissed!”
I watched him as he turned to talk for a moment with the recruiter. He frowned, which made him look like a petulant child. Even if he had been recently promoted, he seemed so young. Maybe I was wrong, though. Maybe he was one of those men whose faces belied their age.
“Want to get our places in the food line?” Forest asked. “Maybe it’ll taste better if we get it nice and hot.”
I grinned. “Doubt it.”
I was right. The barley was hot but dry and overcooked, the cabbage mushy. My stomach was hollow from having missed lunch, though, so I ate every morsel in my bowl. I couldn’t bring myself to taste the ale—not yet—so instead I filled my tin mug with water from a leaking barrel and sat beside Forest in the meal tent. The ground was hard and packed beneath the long, low tables—it felt strange not to have a bench to sit upon or a water bowl with which to rinse my hands.
Dalen slapped his third ale on the table and sat across from me. “No second helpings on the food, but at least the drink flows freely.”
I sipped my water and refrained from commenting that Dalen could stand to skip the second helpings. When I put my cup down, he looked at it and frowned.
“What are you drinking?”
I regarded him with what I hoped was a bored expression. “Water.”
“Water?”
“You know, the clear stuff that falls from the sky sometimes,” Forest said.
Dalen shook his head as though I were a complete mystery. “I’ve never seen anyone turn down a good ale.” He drank deeply.
I glanced at Forest and gave him a tiny nod of thanks. He nodded back, then tipped his own cup to his mouth.
Already, he felt like a friend. It was the last thing I had expected.
* * *
I sat in the grass by one of the campfires, watching the men return from bathing somewhere beyond a thick grove of trees, until I summoned my courage. My breasts ached from the tightness of my binding, and I stank. Probably there would be a lot more stinking in my future, but tonight it would feel good to wash the several days of soot from my body.
I slipped through the trees, following the sound of water and aided by the light of the almost-full moon reflecting on the water. Subtle sounds of splashing came from somewhere up ahead; I averted my eyes when I suddenly stepped in
to a clearing and saw three men in water that reached only to their thighs.
Oh, Great God. May my eyes never fall on anything I don’t wish to see.
I crept around a bend in the small lake, close to where it was fed by a burbling stream. No one was near, and I was neatly hidden from view by the bend and the trees.
Heart pounding, I peeled off my shirt and untwisted the strips of cloth from my chest, breathing deeply of the cool night air as my breasts spilled free. The dull ache I’d been enduring left immediately, and a smile crept across my face.
There was something satisfying about the exquisite danger of being discovered. And also terrifying.
Hastily, I wriggled from my pants and undergarment and stepped into the water, my toes sinking in squishy mud. I waded quickly, my stride as wide as I could make it, until I reached water that came up to my waist. It was delightfully cool, the water—holding still a hint of the sun’s warmth, but freshened by its own depths and the spring water feeding it. I unknotted my hair and ducked beneath the surface, then came up for breath, my face streaming.
I scrubbed the grime from my hair as best I could without the benefit of soap. After retwisting my bun, I swam into deeper water, relishing the freedom of bathing in my own skin, naked beneath the moon. Three more minutes, I told myself. Only three, and I would return.
Rain.
I froze in midstroke, terror lacing through me like a heated lance. Then I ducked beneath the water until only my head wasn’t submerged, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. And I listened.
Even the splashes from around the bend had ceased. I was alone in the lake. But who was on the shore? Where had the voice come from?
Who knew my real name?
I stayed in the lake until I began to shiver, my eyes darting back and forth from trees to brush to the surface of the water. No one was there.
After allowing fear to immobilize me far too long, I talked myself into coming out. I bound my breasts as quickly as I could and pulled my clothing over my damp skin, all the while looking around in every direction, eyes spread wide to the night.
Whoever had said my name was nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps I’d imagined it.
I walked back to the campfires, easing my breaths and willing my heart to stop racing. By the time I found Forest, I’d convinced myself that my own fear of being caught had played with my imagination. I sat beside him, careful to emulate the way his legs were spread and bent at the knees, forearms resting upon them. I didn’t want to be accused of sitting like a girl.
Forest had just acknowledged me with a nod when a long, low horn sounded, signaling curfew. Men at adjacent fires stood immediately and began to douse the flames, so I stood, too.
Two other boys took care of the fire. I walked with Forest to our tent, fighting the awkwardness that welled up as I thought about sleeping beside him all night. I reminded myself once again that I was the only one who knew I was a girl. Nothing would feel strange to Forest.
I pulled off my boots and stood them in my corner of the tent. While Forest busied himself with spreading his blanket over the grass, I pulled the small pouch from my satchel and took a pinch of the powder. Too late, I realized I didn’t have any water to wash away the taste. I would have to deal with it.
The same warmth coursed through me, and I closed my eyes and savored it. Whatever was in that powder was certainly doing something each time I dissolved it under my tongue. I only hoped it would do what it was supposed to.
“What’s that?” Forest asked.
I tucked the pouch hastily into my satchel, scrambling for an answer. “Just a tincture.”
“Are you ill?”
“No.” I had to change the subject—quickly. “Do you miss home?”
“I haven’t been gone long enough to miss it.” He settled onto his back; I could barely see him in the darkness. “What about you?”
I swallowed the emptiness that curled through my heart. “I guess so.”
“My mother was more disappointed about having to postpone the wedding than seeing me off to war, I think.”
“Surely not.”
He half-chuckled. “Maybe equally disappointed.”
“She’s pleased with the match?” I lay down, careful not to brush against him.
“We’ve never met her,” Forest said. “We were supposed to meet a week or so from now. My mother was sewing a new dress and everything.”
I smiled sadly, thinking of Willow and Mama. “Weddings are more exciting for the women.”
“Especially for my betrothed,” Forest said. “Apparently her father wasn’t able to afford her dowry when she was eighteen. So she’s actually a year older than me.”
A slow prickling sensation gathered in my stomach and began to spread. “Is she?”
“Yes. And I’m told she’s pleasing to the eye, as well. Although that’s what every bridegroom is told before he meets his bride.” He shifted onto his side. “Maybe you know her. She’s from Nandel, like you.”
“There are a lot of girls in Nandel.”
But there was no denying what was clearly the truth. Forest was betrothed to my sister.
7
“I might know who you mean.” I fought to keep my voice calm. “There’s a girl in Nandel who wasn’t betrothed when she turned eighteen. Some people whispered about it.” That much was true, though I’d never told Willow.
It was too dark to see Forest’s expression. “I’m not supposed to know anything about her until we meet, but…” He sighed. “Never mind. I don’t need to know.”
“She’s beautiful,” I said. “Only an idiot wouldn’t think so.”
“There’s more to life than beauty.”
His answer surprised me. “I guess that’s true.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Forest asked. “The way our wives are chosen for us?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’d rather not get married.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to get married. I’d just rather not get married now.”
“Well, who knows if we’ll even make it home.” I clamped my mouth shut, realizing how negative I sounded.
If it bothered Forest, I couldn’t tell. “It’s better that we never met. If we ended up liking each other, it would’ve been harder.”
I wanted to tell him how hard it already was for Willow. I wanted to tell him he had to come home, that my sister’s dreams hinged on it, and that she would be unbearable if he didn’t. But I’d already said too much.
“At least you don’t have to worry about it for a while.”
“Plenty of other things to worry about instead.” He shifted on his blanket. “Good night, Storm.”
I wished him good night and breathed a prayer to the Great God that Forest would live to be my brother-in-law. For as much as Willow loved me, I was certain she would be happier knowing that her future with Forest was secure.
* * *
Words, dovetailing one another, rising and falling, but making no sense. And in the middle of them, my name, clear as the first trill of the lark.
Rain.
Swirls of light and color without form, and a sweet-scented wind stealing my breath and nudging at me from every corner. And still the words came, whispers and statements and singsong phrases, but I couldn’t understand any of them, except one.
My name.
Over and over, near, then far away. Gentle, coaxing, sometimes admonishing.
Rain. Rain. Rain.
I sat up in the dark, my breaths coming sharp and short. Forest lay sleeping beside me, unbothered. I pressed my hand against my bound chest and willed my heart to calm itself.
It was only a dream—a jumbled confusion of thought that could have meant something but probably didn’t. I lay down again, telling myself that the latter was true—that the dream meant nothing. That it was merely the nightmare of a girl-turned-soldier during her first night in training camp.
But my words rang false. Because the voice that had spoken my name in
the dream was the same voice I’d heard in the lake.
* * *
The final swell of new recruits arrived throughout the next day, so that by sundown our ranks had topped four hundred. We were all measured for boots and helmets—which was easy, except for the fact that my feet were apparently “small for a man’s”—and for leather breastplates, which was terrifying.
Fortunately, the recruiter in charge of chest measurements seemed only half engaged with his work, as though he had measured the girth of so many chests that he’d long since stopped actually looking at anyone. He did pause to double-check my measurement before writing it, but other than that one moment, there was no difficulty.
We’d have to wait for the breastplates, but the boots were already available, piled by size into baskets. I took mine thankfully; the rags inside Papa’s boots didn’t keep my feet from sliding, and I was certain I couldn’t train in them without tripping. My new pair was strong and supple and fit me so much better than Papa’s, though it was still a size too big.
Once I was wearing my armor, I would blend in better with the rest of the soldiers. Perhaps I wouldn’t even have to bind my breasts so tightly, which made me ache and restricted my motion. I would have to experiment with that until I got it right.
We stood at attention after dinner, rows of untrained soldiers from all over Ylanda. Commander Dane stood in full armor, the purple braid of his rank stitched onto the left side of a fine, canary-yellow military cloak. He placed his hands behind his back and scanned the ranks once from left to right before tilting his head back and addressing us in the same confident voice he’d used the night before.
“Soldiers of Ylanda!” Once again, his tone didn’t match his boyish face. “Tomorrow your training begins. The horn will sound at sunup, and you will have ten minutes to report to the eastern field.”
Ten minutes? I would have to be sure to get up before the horn so that I could take care of my morning business. The latrine would be quickly overrun with men who would question why I wasn’t standing with everyone else.
“You honor your families by being here,” he went on. “You honor your towns, your underkings, your kingdom, and your high king. And you honor yourselves. Always, we will expect ten times more from you than you think you can give. In this way, we will train you into the kind of soldiers that are worthy of representing His Majesty in battle.”
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