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Meg stood nervously in the yard lined up with several of the other men, the wooden sword held tight in her hand. Kiam nodded and she stepped forward, the weight on her good leg. She tried not to grimace at the sharp pain in the leg she tried to leave behind. She reached forward as the others did with their swords held straight out in front of them, but she wobbled and fell awkwardly to the side.
She had expected Kiam to baby her a little, but he nodded in her direction and watched as the others stood straight, their feet together. Using the sword to steady herself, she climbed back to her feet and sighed. She stepped forward with the others, with her bad leg forward, but she didn’t step out quite as far as they did. She wobbled again as she held her sword out, but she didn’t fall down, and she grinned at her small success.
She eased herself back to standing and copied the actions of the others as they swung their swords around them, thrust them forward and then pulled them back. Their feet moved in perfect time with them, stepping out, then back, to the side and then in. She wasn’t quite sure if she had the same movements down, restricted by her long skirts and lack of stability.
She stopped to watch their feet and looked at Kiam, his eyebrows drawn in as he looked at her feet, unmoving in the dirt.
“I’m not sure if I am moving my feet in the same way,” she said quickly.
“I can’t tell how you are moving,” he muttered.
“Perhaps I need trousers,” she said.
Kiam paled as he opened and closed his mouth.
“How does she do?” Brent asked, appearing beside Kiam.
The men continued with their exercise as Meg walked towards the two. Kiam took a step back.
“I’m a little sore. I don’t know if I’m moving my feet correctly.”
Kiam shook his head.
“This was your idea,” Brent said to him. “You know my feelings. If you are sure the exercise will help. Is she moving correctly? I don’t want to risk any further injury.”
Kiam took a large breath. “I can’t see her legs,” he whispered hoarsely.
“I could wear trousers,” she said quickly.
Brent sucked in a deep breath and then let it go. He nodded slowly. “Richard,” he called, and a young man stopped his movements and stepped forward. “Fetch a pair of your trousers for me.”
“Yes sir,” he said slowly, looking over Meg before disappearing into the barracks.
“He’s small,” Brent said, looking Meg over himself. “Fetch a shirt,” he said to Kiam, who stared blankly back at him. “She can’t wear trousers alone.”
Kiam made a small choking noise.
“You wanted this,” Brent said sternly. “The least we can do is do it right.”
Kiam nodded and followed Richard into the barracks.
Meg walked into the yard the next morning with her cane, but she didn’t need to lean on it so much. As she approached the small group of men shaking out their limbs before their exercise began, she smacked at Kiam with her cane.
He turned to say something and stopped, his mouth hanging open and his face paling more than she had imagined possible before it turned deep crimson.
“Is this not right?” she asked, certain that she had made a mistake in dressing despite Lora’s constant checking from the window that it was how the men dressed.
She wore a loose-fitting white shirt tucked into surprisingly well-fitted tan-coloured trousers. The collar was higher than her dresses usually were around her neck and billowed around her, and yet she didn’t quite feel covered. The trousers clung to her legs, strange against her skin, and yet gave her far more freedom than a dress ever could. The close fit gave away the shape of her legs, and she couldn’t help but run her hand over her thigh.
“You should be able to see my legs moving in these,” she said, looking down and then back to his face, which seemed to grow an even deeper red. “Am I wearing them incorrectly?” she asked, wondering if she could have put them on back to front.
“Well,” Brent said, his voice strangely gravelly as he approached. He coughed and looked at Kiam. “Do you think you can work with this?” he asked, not looking at Meg.
Kiam shook his head quickly.
Meg was surprised by the angry tears that welled quickly, and she sucked in a deep breath to delay them and looked around the group, now standing and staring at her.
“You wanted to see my legs,” she snapped.
“I can see them,” Kiam replied, his voice strained, his eyes focused on something above her head.
“Then what is the problem?” she asked.
Brent turned his back. “I can see you,” he whispered.
Meg froze and then slowly looked down over herself. She ran a hand over the collar of the shirt and held the material out from her chest. She had a thick undershirt on and was sure they couldn’t see anything through it. She ran he hand over her thigh again, checking the buttons at the front of the trousers and then turned, trying to see the back and turned slowly in a circle.
One of the men groaned.
“By the gods,” Kiam muttered.
“Oh, Meg,” Raf said behind her, and she turned to see him staring at her. “What a wonderful shape women are,” he murmured, then blinked at her and turned the same shade of red as Kiam. “Forgive me, Your Highness.” He turned on his heel and walked quickly away.
Meg looked slowly around the group as the men either stared or turned their backs so as not to look at her. Their shirts were not so loose, and for those that didn’t wear leathers over the top, she could make out the shape of the chests beneath. The muscle definition in their legs was also apparent and she slowly realised that her legs—and backside, as she looked at Brent’s back—were usually covered well beneath layers of skirts.
Meg sighed and tapped Kiam with her cane, making him flinch. “You win,” she said. “I’ll go back to the front room.”
“You need the exercise,” Brent said, his back still to her.
“Then I will exercise there. Or in my room where I can see the yard.”
Kiam shook his head slowly. “Line up,” he said, his voice barely a whisper and his face still red.
Meg took her place amongst the group and lunged forward as they did, holding her cane out before her. Without looking at her, Kiam took it from her and handed her a wooden sword. She managed not to wobble as much, stepped back and then stepped forward with her other leg. Again, she didn’t reach as far, not wanting to put too much pressure on the leg, and just when she thought she could stand it no longer, she stood with the group to attention. They repeated the moves several times, and although she ached from the exercise, her injured shin didn’t give her as much trouble as she had expected.
When it came to the other moves, she had a better idea of where to put her feet, but she wasn’t quite keeping up with the others, nor moving as smoothly.
“I can see what you are doing,” Kiam said softly, tapping her on the shoulder.
She nodded as she stood still.
“Watch and then we’ll go through each one together.”
He stepped into the first move, talking her through where her weight should be, then repeated it with the arm movements included. “Let’s start with the legs,” he said, his voice quiet and his face less red than it had been.
“Thank you,” she said softly as she placed her feet in the same position he did and then repeated it with the arms.
“Not bad,” he said, ignoring her words. “Let’s try the next one.”
They moved slowly together through the moves, the other men working at a different rhythm. “Enough,” he eventually said, and she looked around the empty yard.
“Thank you, Kiam,” she said, noting that he still wasn’t quite making eye contact. “When can I learn to use a sword?”
“Not yet,” he muttered, walking away from her. She tucked the wooden sword under her arm and, leaning into her cane, she headed back for the house.
Despite her concerns, Meg was the first in the yard the following morning. She had left her cane in the house, hoping that she wouldn’t need to use it for much longer. She took up her position, shook out her arms and legs and stretched her head from side to side.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and stepped into the first movement Kiam had shown her the day before, working her way slowly through the steps, trying to feel the movement rather than watch her feet.
She smiled at herself, opened her eyes and found Brent standing before her. He nodded once and then turned to the group that had formed around her, Kiam beside her.
“I think you could move a little faster now,” Brent said, and she nodded once.
The group moved as one through the sequence, and Meg could only smile as she kept up with them.
Meg sat by the fire and watched Kellin at the window. “Brent continues to say that there is little threat to us here,” she said, and Meg nodded. “They patrol the area, but I think the men grow weary of watching us.”
“Really?” Meg asked, and Kellin looked at her seriously.
“We have been here for so long already and there is little to occupy us or them.”
“I have my training,” Meg offered.
“Do you really think that a princess should spend her time swinging a sword? And you have only been shuffling your feet around; I don’t think you can call that training.”
“You won’t even let them call you Princess. Should we worry what we are here? It is all out of order as it is.”
“We can do nothing but wait for something to happen or our sister to call us home,” Kellin said.
Meg sighed. Her leg still pinched, but it was much better than it had been. Her head at least had stopped aching and the strange memories of her fall had disappeared with the pain.
“Do not tell me, Meg, that you, oh wise and industrious one, are also at a loss to our current situation?”
Meg nodded slowly. “It would appear that I am.”
“Let us have some fun,” Kellin said, leaning over the back of the seat Meg occupied. “Let us plan something or walk out to visit with the world.”
Meg smiled at her enthusiasm. “I doubt Commander Brent will let us have too much fun,” she said.
“Those commanders are too serious,” Kellin said. “Please Meg, I long for diversion. You are clever; think of something.”
“A picnic by the river?”
“Not very exciting but an outing all the same, and away from all this noise.” Kellin looked back out the window.
“Is something happening?” Meg asked.
Kellin shook her head. “It always looks as though it is,” she said. “And yet nothing ever seems to.” She turned back with a sad sigh.
“A picnic it is then.”
She called the scullery maid and gave the instructions, and they dressed in cloaks and collected a blanket, and were surprised to see Rainger appear with the basket.
“I am recommending against this,” he said loudly.
“Noted,” Kellin said, taking the basket.
“It may not be safe,” he said.
“You sound more like Brent every day.”
He scowled at her.
“We are only going down to the river,” Meg said. “Not far and within sight.”
He looked stern.
“Come with us then,” she sighed.
“Meg,” Kellin chastised. “It was to be just us.”
Meg shook her head. “He can stand on the bank and glare at us. Come along,” she said, and headed for the door. She was quite excited to be heading away from the Keep.
“Meg,” Kiam said with a grin as they walked towards the path to the river. “Do you hunt ducks?”
“Never again,” she said. “I have had my fill of ducks.”
“Do you travel far?” he asked, glancing down at her skirts, and Meg tried not to show her annoyance.
“I’m tired of the Keep. We needed some air, some time away.”
He nodded and looked at Rainger. “They are going to picnic by the river.”
Commander Brent raised his hand from across the yard. Meg felt suddenly hemmed in, surrounded by soldiers for too long, and she hurried along the path as best she could towards the water.
“Wait,” Kellin called after her. “I do not want you to trip.”
Meg wanted to scream, but instead tried to adjust her gait so that her limp was less obvious. When she made it to the water she stopped, noticed the yellowing of the leaves on the trees on the opposite bank, and wondered how far away winter was. She enjoyed the sun, but thought perhaps it should have been colder by now.
“Here,” Rainger said, pointing to a flat spot by the water.
Meg shook her head. “Let us walk first,” she pleaded. “It has been so long since I have walked.”
“Not far,” he said.
“Follow us then,” she said, taking Kellin’s arm. She walked quickly at first along the banks of the river, taking in the trees and the sounds of birds, then glanced carefully back at the chapel, nestled in green. “Are you well?” she asked Kellin, who watched the ground as they walked.
She nodded slowly. “I wanted it to be the two of us,” she said softly, glancing over her shoulder at the commander. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“I would like to come here again,” Meg said.
Kellin gave her a little smile. “If you are well enough.”
“I am well,” she said, stepping away from her. Kellin glanced back at Rainger. “Don’t look at each other like that,” she snapped. “I know my mind; it is well. I cannot have you think everything I want to do is strange,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.
Kellin stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Meg. “I know,” she said softly. “I worry. I know you are well.”
Meg smiled and wiped at a tear. “Good,” she said, and turned back down the path. After a little while, they entered an opening in the trees where the sun shone bright and small, white flowers grew between the blades of grass.
“It is perfect,” Kellin cried, clapping her hands together.
Rainger sat the basket on the ground and then, taking the blanket from Kellin, he spread it out across the grass. She sat quickly on it and opened the basket to see what treasures were inside. Meg watched as Kellin focused on the food and the plates. Rainger took his position behind her, hands behind his back, and watched her work. Something did not sit well as Meg watched them—that he was not looking where he should perhaps—but he had always watched her. And for the first time in an age, Meg wondered whom he watched her for.
“I wish to pick some flowers first,” Meg called, backing into the trees. He nodded and Kellin smiled at her, then back to the basket. As Meg was quickly lost to shadow, the pair before her changed. Kellin seemed to relax more, leaning back on her arm, looking into the sun. Rainger squatted down behind her and slipped a small blossom into her hair.
Meg’s hand flew to her heart. He watched her for himself. But then concern for them overwhelmed her. This could not end as either of them wanted it to, and there was far more to their interaction than there should have been.
Meg turned and walked into the trees. Poor Kellin, she thought. Longing for someone to love her, and it was a man she could not have. They needed to return to Rocfeld sooner rather than later, before anything happened that could not be undone. She hoped her sister wiser than that, but Meg wondered what she would do herself in such a situation.
Meg wandered through the trees and breathed in the sweet scents of the world. The flowers grew in small clumps, and the further Meg walked the thicker they became, until she stood in a soft sea of purple. She lowered herself down and sat amongst the blossoms. She plucked one and raised it to her nose, then let the gentle wind blow it from her hands.
The wind picked up a little more and tugged at her hair, pulling strands from their knots, and she put a hand up to stop them whipping across her face. She sat content for some time before the whispers started. Distant voices carried on the wind, and initially she thought it was Kellin and Rainger calling to her, but the voices were different—higher, lighter—and she stood to listen.
“The raven returns,” whispered through the trees. Meg stepped forward slowly, trying to see if someone was there. A butterfly passed her ear as she walked, stepping over branches and towards the sound of water.
“You did not kill her then,” another whispered.
Something familiar pulled at Meg.
And then it all stopped, and other than the river she couldn’t hear anything. The trees opened up and the river rushed by, suddenly loud, and she took a step back. The wind picked up again, pulling at her skirts and moving her across the ground. The whispering was louder and closer, and she swung around to see who was with her amongst the trees as the wind seemed to pick her up and she fell into the water.
She was quickly pulled away from the shore and under the waves, and the world became quiet again, a strange hum in her ears. The water swirled around her, pulling her about, and she felt warm hands in hers. The image of a woman appeared, and Meg gave up her fight against the current, worried that she had lost her mind completely. The woman smiled, and overwhelming peace and calm washed over her.
“Little one,” the woman said, the words resonating through the water and Meg’s whole being.
“You are Water,” Meg said as the realisation struck her, and was surprised to find herself talking beneath the murky surface. A small fish swam between them and then through the woman, and they both laughed easily at the strangeness of it.
“I am sorry, little raven,” Water hummed.
“I’m not a raven,” she said.
The woman smiled, and every concern left Meg. She had never felt so calm in all her life. “Am I dying?”
“No, little raven.”
“Did you whisper in the chapel?”
She shook her head, the image blurring somewhat. “They are a troublesome pair.”
“Who?”
“Air. They wanted to look at you, see you as you are and not as we think you will be. They did not mean to startle you.”
A range of questions came to Meg at once. What did Air want to look at? What was she to be? The soothsayer had made a prediction of her being Queen.
“Have I lost my mind?”
Water smiled again, and the concern floated away. “Did you know that ravens come in different colours?” she asked.
Meg shook her head, completely confused by what she could mean. “What do you need from me?” she asked.
“The time will come when we will ask too much of you. But now we try to give you what you need.”
“What is that?”
“Recently, it has been the Keep. You need this time with these men, as does your sister. It is a burden, but there will be more sacrifices made before you find your rightful place in the world.”
“There is a place for me?”
Water nodded slowly and then Meg was pulled away, the woman’s face rushing away from her as she was pulled towards the surface, and she wondered if she was going home this instant.
The air was cold around her and it was only once she lay on the soft soil that she could focus on those around her: Kellin, her hand over her mouth, Rainger’s concern, Brent’s anger and Raf, on his hands and knees beside her, coughing up water and looking as wet as she was.
“Are you cold?” Brent asked, but she shook her head.
The soft soil beneath her was warm and comforting, holding her safe. Just as Water had. And despite their whispers, Air appeared to watch over her as well.
Kellin wrapped around her shoulders the blanket that she had been sitting on not long ago. As the air continued to cool around her, she doubted her senses and her experience in the water. That the gods may not want to keep her safe, that she had upset them by blaspheming in the chapel, by stepping up to touch the gods when she was not worthy. Perhaps they were punishing her.
“Are you well?” Raf asked in a husky voice.
She nodded mutely and took him in. Still wet but clearly worried. She gave him a little smile.
Brent pulled her up and into his arms and Raf stood in his way, shaking his head and motioning for him to hand her over. Both men looked to her and she nodded, somehow more comfortable in the wet arms of Raf. They made their way slowly back to the Keep, Kellin walking silently beside her. Meg couldn’t watch her and buried her face in Raf’s wet leathery chest, allowing his strong arms to pull tighter around her. Behind them, Rainger and Brent argued.
Meg wondered if the friendships formed and the progress made in the yard was undone.
Raf sat Meg before the fire in the front room. “Are you sure you do not want me to take you up to your room? You are wet through.”
“I will dry soon enough,” she said. “It is only water.”
He nodded but stood back, and she realised he was shivering.
“You should change,” she said.
He nodded but did not move.
“I am well,” she said, holding her hands out towards the fire.
“I worry, Meg,” he said.
“How did you know I was in the water?” she asked.
“Did you fall?” he asked slowly.
She nodded. “I got too close and slipped on the edge. But how did you know?”
“Brent and I were walking. We came across Rainger and Kellin, and Brent worried that they did not know where you had gone. I followed the flowers and saw your footprints on the riverbank, and when I got closer I saw your dress beneath the surface.”
“And you jumped in without hesitation?”
“I worried that you had jumped in,” he said.
She looked up at him seriously. “Why would I jump in the river?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“You think my mind is not as it should be,” she said, looking back at the flames as a shiver of gooseflesh covered her body at the realisation.
“I do not mean offence.”
She shook her head. “I understand,” she said. “I wonder if I will ever be thought of as capable again.”
“Please do not think that my words have any meaning.”
“Go and change, Raf, before you catch your death, for I would not want to be responsible for such a thing.”
He bowed and left the room. She looked at the closed door, wondering if the soothsayer had been right, that death would surround her, death and darkness, and she wondered how responsible for those deaths she would be.
Meg drew a deep breath and moved to the mat before the fire. She pulled the damp blanket around her and stared into the flames. She hoped these men wouldn’t die for her, or because of her.
She lifted her hand and reached for the flames. They reached forward to meet her, but although she could feel their heat, the flames moved around her. Without hesitation, she reached in and watched as the fire seemed to reduce and the flames moved between her fingers without touching her.
At the squeak of the door, she drew her hand back and watched the fire flicker back to what it was. She breathed in the warmth of it as her wet dress cooled against her skin.
“Do you want to change?” Kellin asked.
She nodded but remained looking at the flames.
“Lora has prepared a bath for you. I was not sure if you could face more water, but it is hot.”
She nodded again.
“Meg?”
Meg lifted herself slowly from the floor, her leg aching more than she wanted Kellin to know. She realised from the look Kellin wore that she was thinking the same as Raf, but Meg didn’t want to go through it again.
“A bath would be comforting,” she said, giving Kellin a smile. She gently kissed her cheek and then walked past her even more slowly up the stairs to her room. Lora curtsied when she opened the door.
Meg nodded and allowed the girl to help her out of her dress.
“You can leave me to soak,” she said.
The girl bobbed another curtsy and disappeared. Meg lowered herself slowly into the bath and breathed. She felt the same calmness envelop her as it had in the river, but she did not submerge her head beneath the surface.
As she closed her eyes, strange images flashed through her mind—Water standing on the riverbank and the soldiers of the Keep lying dead at her feet. Brent and Raf topping the pile of dead.