Say I Have a Soul (A Novel)

[Talvieno]

Chapter Ten

    I awoke in sudden terror, heart drumming away in my chest, and sat up quickly.
    Or I tried to, anyway; my right horn cracked hard against something above me and I winced, whimpering as I collapsed back into my blankets, staring at the underside of a bed.
    I'm in his room, I recalled. He came home late. I dressed his wound. And, I told him no.
    That last shouldn't have felt the strangest.
    I sat up again, taking care to avoid injury this time. The light of early afternoon filtered into the room through the slats in the shutters, and rain pattered on the roof above.
    Then I realized I couldn't hear him breathing.
    My world narrowed to panic as I hurled myself to my feet and rushed to the side of his bed.
    Everet was still lying exactly where I left him - head to one side, arm in the sling, mouth slightly open. The hard lines of his face were softened by sleep in a way I wasn't familiar with. He was also very pale. And too still, I thought, panic clawing at me. What are you doing? Check his temperature!
    Obediently, I reached for his forehead and felt relieved when I felt a normal, gentle warmth.
    His eyes snapped open and roved for a moment before settling on me. "Miren," he said with measured patience.
    I jumped back, startled, and said, "I'm sorry," I blurted. 
    His voice was a little hoarse. "Why are you in my room?"
    "I was afraid you were -"
    "Dead?" he guessed.
    I swallowed, mortified. "Yes."
    "Not yet," he huffed. He started to move to sit up - moving the bad arm.
    "No! Stop!" I cried, jumping forward and almost putting my hand on his chest before horror stole across my face, ears flattening at myself.
    Everet stared at my hand, then me, just as shocked as I was.
    Again?? my mind squeaked. Again?? What is wrong with you? But aloud, all I could squeeze out was a whisper: "Please don't move your arm."
    The man stared for a moment longer, and then softened, weakly scooting upwards on the pillows. "Water, then?"
    I nodded quickly. "Right. One moment." I spun on my heel, hurrying downstairs.
    In the afternoon's light, the downstairs was a disaster - rags, filth, blood, old soup. I'd used all our clean water last night, so I hurried outside into the rain, my toes sinking into the muddy grass, and filled a bucket with rainwater from the barrels.
    Back inside, I filled a pot with water and set it boiling, then filled and carried a pitcher and mug upstairs. "Everet," I called softly as I entered his room. 
    His eyes opened, groggy and unfocused. "Right, water," he muttered. When I passed him the mug, he drank from it eagerly until it was empty.
    "More?" I asked.
    He nodded and I refilled it from the pitcher. He drank until he was satisfied; I cleared a spot on top of his cabinet to place everything down.
    "Be careful with my stuff," he muttered.
    "I'm being careful," I assured him, setting the water down. "If I'm going to care for you I need you to trust me."
    "You won't need to care for me for long," he grumbled, sinking back into the pillows. "I've got a contract for tonight."
    When I looked at him sharply, he smirked. "That's not funny," I said in a soft voice.
    "It was a little funny."
    I frowned and shook my head at him. "I need to check the injury."
    This made him sigh heavily. "That's less funny."
    With his help, we removed the sling, the twine, and the bandage. He hissed as the rag stuck to the wound as I pulled it away, revealing ugly, swollen, pink skin, with drainage leaking through a gap in my uneven stitches near the bottom. I vaguely remembered that Rurik always had padding on his leg - always dry and clean.
    "Well, healer Miren?" he asked, looking up at me. "I'll be ready to go tomorrow, won't I?"
    I frowned. "I don't know," I admitted. "I was in the room when Rurik got his stitches because he forgot I was there. He sent me out of the room most of the other times the healer visited. And he didn't walk for two weeks, and only then with a crutch." I gently touched the area around the wound and Everet jerked away.
    "It's tender," he grunted. "Careful."
    I frowned. "It's very warm."
    Everet nodded, tired and unconcerned. "It's just healing." Then, after thinking for a minute, "Is there any food?"
    "I was going to make porridge."
    He closed his eyes and settled back into the pillows. "Sounds perfect."
    "I'll be back soon," I said softly, and hurried back down the stairs.
    The porridge was quick to make. While it cooked, I took the clothesline inside from the rain and strung it up on a couple nails on the wall, using it to dry the boiled cloths from the night before.
    Once the porridge was done, I scooped it into a bowl with some berries and a spoon, and brought it upstairs.
    He was asleep again. "Everet?" I whispered.
    His eyes snapped open immediately, and I handed him the bowl. "Mm," he grunted sleepily. "Thank you." He took the bowl carefully with his good hand.
    While he ate, I sat on the floor and cut the clean linens from the chest in my bedroom into usable squares of fabric. He observed me with a soft, quiet interest. "You're tired," he finally murmured. "Were you waiting awake for me the whole night?"
    I couldn't meet his gaze. "Yes," I admitted. "I lit a candle and I prayed for you, even if the gods don't listen."
    "You're too anxious," he managed around a mouthful of food. "Even now. I'll be up tomorrow, you know."
    "I hope so." He didn't seem to notice that his words stung.
    "I'll be fine. Do I have a fever?"
    "No," I said cautiously. "That's true. But why is the Church trying to kill you?"
    He hesitated, then sighed. "I'm tired and my shoulder is throbbing, Miren. Ask me some other time. I want to finish eating and go back to sleep."
    I nodded and fell silent, wrapping his arm carefully with clean linens as he ate. When he was done, he handed me the empty bowl, and I took it without question, heading downstairs.
    "Miren," he called, before I left the room. I turned; he looked exhausted but peaceful. "Thank you, Miren. For everything."
    My tail gave a shy little swish. "Of course, Everet." I lingered at the doorway for a moment, watching him, then turned and slipped away.
    I cleaned his bowl, and got to work on the battleground downstairs. The soup went out to Thira straightaway, and she fell upon it excitedly. Then I came back inside and started scrubbing and cleaning. From time to time, I went upstairs to check on him. On occasion, he would wake - to ask for more water, or to relieve himself, or ask for something else to eat. When at long last the main room was clean, I took one of the kitchen chairs upstairs with me, and his brigandine, and I began stitching it back together with my best thread.
    Slowly, the day passed, the murky afternoon passing to dusk, then darkness. I lit a candle on his cabinet, curled up in my blankets on the floor, and slept.
    
    Once, in the night, he awoke. "Water," he rasped, voice so hoarse I could barely recognize him. I rose obediently, pouring it for him. He drank half of it and refused the rest. I tended his arm again and fell asleep.
    I slept longer than I should have. By the time I awoke, the sun was higher in the sky than it should have been, and the rain was pouring harder on the roof. When I untangled myself from my blankets, he was still asleep, but he awakened when I stood next to him and undressed his wound.
    "It's getting warmer and swelling more," I murmured, his wound bare and ugly in the light. I delicately touched the inflamed skin. "I don't think you're getting out of bed today."
    "You think?" Everet grumbled. "I feel… exhausted. Like I just fought a whole colony of woodwights."
    "You'll still be okay," I said, trying to sound confident. But I wondered.
    
    As the day passed, I checked his wound more and more frequently. He stopped wanting to talk. He stopped asking for food. By evening, he no longer wanted water, but I made him drink anyway.
    The first spike of true fear came that evening as I changed his dressing in the dim light of dusk, the angry, swollen flesh of his shoulder puckered and oozing slime.
    "Everet," I whispered. "You're - you're feverish." I wiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead with the fur of my forearm, then pressed a gentle palm to his head again. I bit my lip, tail curled. "Everet, I don't know what to do."
    He lowered the cup of broth he was drinking and looked up at me. His eyes were dull; it took him a moment to focus on me. At long last, he nodded. "Fever," he mumbled. His eyes closed heavily. "Fuck. Well… what do you usually do when you have a fever?"
    I shook my head. "Nothing. At the farm they let us sleep. Sometimes that worked." And sometimes it didn't. "Rurik treated it the same."
    He nodded, swallowed. "Right. Keep my forehead cool. Keep the wound clean. Make sure I drink water. And…" hesitating, he added, "Pray."
    "The gods don't listen to stock," I whispered, voice tight. "We don't have souls."
    He smirked, eyes still closed. "They sent me home, didn't they?"

[Talvieno]

Chapter Eleven

    It was a terrible night for sleep. I woke regularly, caring for him and making him drink. He didn't speak apart from mumbled thanks.
    But the third day was enveloped with a strong and growing dread. The fever had him fully in its grasp. His wound was soured, swollen, straining at the stitches and oozing thick, foul-smelling fluids tinged with blood and gunk.
    It smells like Maialen, I realized, my heart gripped with fear. It smells exactly like her leg.
    I was a nervous wreck. I barely functioned; every scrap of energy I possessed went towards him, changing him, cooling him. Everet was weak; he barely spoke, and whenever he tried to get out of bed to relieve himself, I had to help him to the pot in the corner because he could barely move.
    It felt mechanical, like a distant, twisted nightmare. My hands were stained from washing dirty rags, my fingers burned from putting out too many candles in the night. My dress was stained with blood and slime - and vomit from when I tried to make him eat. His blankets were even worse off, and I cursed myself for my stupidity. When I tried to pull the blankets away to clean them, he began shaking violently, his teeth chattering together so loudly I feared they would shatter.
    For a brief moment I froze in terror, remembering Maialen, remembering the way she shivered on the floor of the stall as we tried to warm her with our bodies.
    I twisted my mind away from that grotesque image and hurried to put my own blankets on his bed, and while they helped a little, he still shivered. I went to my room, stripping my bed and carrying every spare blanket back to him, layering them thick.
    I barely remembered to eat, and when I did, I was afraid to. We were due a trip to the market and there wasn't much remaining - enough for a handful of days if I ate, and more if I didn't.
    So I didn't.
    
    That night, I pulled my chair close to his bed and sat, watching, listening to his breathing as I took care of him hour by hour. I was hungry, ragged, and exhausted.
    His body temperature cycled. He would shiver violently, even under all the blankets, and then the next moment he would be drenched in sweat, his linens soaked and dripping.
    I did all I could, but more and more it felt like even my very best wasn't nearly enough.
    The next time he awoke, I had to force him to drink water. When I tried to help him sit and drink, he actually pushed me away.
    "You have to drink, Everet!" I insisted, almost crying. "You told me to help you drink."
    His head lolled towards me, eyes vacant. "Nerea, I can't," he slurred in a rasp. "I did all I could."
    I stared for a moment, my brows knitting together in confusion. "Nerea? Who is she?" When he didn't respond, I felt his temperature. His forehead burned like fire. "Everet, I'm Miren," I whispered. "Miren. Everet, please, I need you to drink this."
    There was a pause before he shook his head, staring past me. "I can't do any more. They won't change."
    I choked back tears and raised the cup to his lips anyway, and he drank - haltingly, the water spilling down his chin. He choked into it, weak, and eventually collapsed back onto the pillows, mumbling words I couldn't understand.
    I only stared. He doesn't know who you are, my mind whispered in that awful voice. He's talking like Maialen before the farmhands took her.
    That small realization finally broke me, thoroughly and completely. I fled from the room, stumbling through blurred vision, and barely made it to my bedroom before I broke down in full sobs, kneeling on the floor with my arms around myself, rocking forward.
    "It's not fair," I choked out in a whimper. "They gave him back and now they're going to take him away. Why give him back at all?"
    I curled on the floor in a ball and cried, loud and messy and ugly, until I felt numb.
    Then, after there were no tears left to cry, I wiped my eyes and forced myself to stand, staggering back to Everet's room to change his dressing again.
    
    I was up all that night, through the morning, and into the afternoon of the fourth day, trying to keep his forehead cool, cleaning the wound, and forcing him to drink water whenever he awoke. He called me Nerea twice more, mumbling half-formed sentences about how he was proud of me - or her. Another time he spoke to someone named Lucen, seeming tense or angry, but it dissolved into murmurs. I held firm, settled into grim determination.
    I cried again that evening, dizzy and almost unbelieving, when I realized his forehead wasn't as hot. It was the first time since he fell ill that I'd seen any positive change at all. It gave me hope - enough to fuel me to keep going. 
    Through that night, I kept vigil, tending him and catching little naps in between, sitting in the chair where he could see me if he woke.
    I would have given anything to see him wake.

[Talvieno]

Chapter Twelve

    On the fifth morning, I awoke to a soft, hissing whisper. 
    "Everet?" I asked, lifting my head from my chest, eyes blurred, chest tight with fear. Please don't be hallucinating. Please don't say Nerea. Please not again.
    "Water," he rasped, barely audible.
    I choked out a disbelieving sob and almost fell out of the chair as I stood.
    "Miren?" he whispered, his voice hoarse, and just the sound of my name in his mouth again made me collapse into tears. "Miren, what's wrong?"
    I bit my lip and shook my head, eyes burning. "Nothing," I whispered, pouring more water into his mug and lifting it for him to drink. I sniffed and wiped my nose on the back of my arm.
    He drank, slowly, then leaned back and looked at me properly. "You're a mess," he said.
    I choked out a laugh, or a sob. "You're not one to talk."
    "Your eyes are bloodshot. Have you even slept?" he asked, glancing over at the chair. "Or changed your clothes?"
    I shook my head at both. "No. But you're still here."
    "I am." A long pause. "It was bad, wasn't it? I still feel feverish."
    "Very bad. And you're not better yet," I agreed, setting his mug on his cabinet. Then, softer, looking back at him, "And you're probably hungry."
    "A little," he admitted, closing his eyes. Then, opening them again, "What do we have?"
    "Not much," I said carefully. "We have a bit of food I could use to make a broth, and we have some fruits, and some oats and grains. But… not much of any of it." I turned away, happy to begin a friendlier task. "I'll make you oats."
    "Miren." His voice was like a command; I halted halfway to the door and turned to look at him. There was just the barest hint of his old sharpness in his gaze. "Have you eaten?" he asked.
    I frowned at him. "Don't start that," I murmured flatly.
    He snorted. "I'll start what I want," he muttered, but a faint smirk curled at his lips. "So I guess we're past the whole 'Miren is quiet and obedient' stage, then."
    My face flushed warm and I looked down at my toes in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Everet," I whispered, though my tail flicked slightly. "I got used to taking care of you, I think."
    "And I got used to it, too," he returned. "But you're still going to eat."
    I looked up at him through the curtain of my hair and saw him smile. A warmth I didn't understand spread through my chest. "I'll get you food," I told him, tearing myself away. "And then I need to sleep."
    But I cried again in happiness when I got downstairs, ears perked, tail swishing. I almost danced. It was the first time I'd cooked without a deep sense of dread in days.
    There was a lot to do, now that the crisis had passed. The downstairs was a mess again - discarded pots and dishes that I hadn't bothered to clean. Tasks for later, I decided. Not for now.
    I filled a new pot with water, stoked the fire, and got it boiling. The movements were automatic, my mind swirling with hope. All I could think about was that he was alive. You kept him alive, Miren. You. He's going to survive and it's because you took care of him.
    And that thought put a shameful little thunderbolt of pride into my chest.
    I decided I'd add the last of our honey and dried fruit to the oats to celebrate.
    
    Limbs aching, I climbed the stairs with his oats in one hand, and mine in the other. When I pushed open the door, his eyes opened and he smiled faintly. "You listened. Two bowls."
    I nodded. "Two bowls. One for each of us. But -" I paused. "We really are almost out of food."
    He grunted and reached for his bowl with his good arm, setting it in his lap. "We'll have to go to market soon. And you'll have to wear the leash again."
    I huffed and sank down into the chair. "This past week has been so strange I'd almost welcome the 'normalcy' of the leash," I murmured, using his word as I poked at my oats. I scooped out a spoonful and lifted it to my lips. "Though… I'll admit, there's something nice about…" I paused, chewed, and waved my spoon between us. "This. Eating together." I felt embarrassed by the admission, and my face warmed. "Not that I ever want you bedridden again!" I added quickly.
    Everet laughed in soft amusement, but paused after he took his first bite and looked down at the bowl, examining it curiously. "These are good," he murmured. "Very good."
    A small warmth rose to my cheeks. "I added honey and dried berries. I wanted…" I paused, suddenly ashamed that I was celebrating his change in health. I tilted my head forward and instead said, "I'm happy you didn't die."
    I glanced up through my hair and he was watching me, a little concerned. "Was I really that bad?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
    I nodded. "You were vomiting and you wouldn't drink water. And you were saying strange things."
    "I recall… a little of that," he said slowly, like he was remembering through a fog.
     Cautiously, I continued, "You talked about someone named Lucen. And… someone else named Nerea. You spoke to her a lot." I hesitated, then went on, "At one point, you forgot who I was and thought I was her."
    Something like alarm moved swiftly across his face: fast, but not fast enough to hide.
    I held his gaze. "Who were they?" I asked.
    He was silent for a time and took a bite of oats that he didn't seem to taste. "People I used to know," he said at last. Then he yawned and sank back into the pillows. "Talk to me, Miren. Forgive me for giving orders, but talking feels tiring."
    My ears lifted and I looked down at my bowl, huffing away a smile. "You're awake again, Everet, and for that I can forgive anything." I looked back up at him, my own eyes burning, and then at his cabinet. "I'll read to you," I said suddenly, rising from my chair to retrieve one of the books.
    Everet lifted a tired eyebrow. "You can read?" It was more disbelief than question. "Show me."
    I nodded, then opened the book to a random page near the beginning and began to read aloud - a little halting in places.
    "We made the hill by noon and saw Lethmark above us. The lower road curves through cherry orchards before taking the eastern climb, but Deren drove his horses up the steeper western lane to save a bit of time, wanting to arrive before the bells at Saint Orun's struck the quarter. It's a prettier town than Raukenhall. Raukenhall, faintly visible to the north, has dignity and weight, but Lethmark has light. Its Conduit, a great monument like a tower, shone like a gossamer beacon beneath the sky."
    I looked up from reading to ask about the text and saw him staring at me dumbfounded. "What is it?" I asked, feeling a sense of unease.
    "You can read," he said in surprise, letting his spoon rest in his oats. "How? Surely they don't teach sto- half-humans to read in Kesselgard."
    Though I caught the word correction, I still hesitated. "I… stole primers that used to belong to Rurik's son. Then I would steal his books and try to read them at night. I did it for years until Rurik caught me."
    A smile stole across his face. "That's wonderful, Miren," he said, seeming impressed. "Completely wonderful. Please - keep reading."
    I blushed, hiding my face in my hair, and kept reading.
    "Its glass shines even in daylight. The streets fall in ordered ripples around it: stairways, arch-walks, tiled courts, and little channels wherein clear water runs cold. Every fourth house is wrapped with vines, a multitude of birds chirping from little nests in the eaves."
    I looked up at Everet. "How long ago was this written?" I asked. "Horses and birds…"
    He made a noncommittal grunt. "Less than three hundred years. Before the Dimming at least." He scraped his bowl for the last of his oats. "The bulk of the book is about the Lucent March - from before it became known as The Wound."
    "The Wound is just southeast of Falkenbruck, but I've never heard of Lethmark."
    He set his bowl aside and closed his eyes. "It's gone. It died with the old world during the wars."
    I let that sink in for a moment, and then kept reading. It seemed to soothe him, comforting him even more than the oats. It wasn't long before he was asleep.
    Rising quietly, I put away his bowl, took a blanket, and curled up at the foot of his bed, exhausted. Sleep took me quickly, peaceful and well earned.
    
    The next two days passed gently. I stitched up his brigandine. I cleaned downstairs. I read to him more. His wound gradually closed, the redness going away, the smell mostly past. Looking at it no longer gripped me with fear.
    On the eighth morning he awoke panting, with Nerea's name on his lips again. I said nothing until he was eating his breakfast, but then I couldn't hold back my questions any longer.
    "Nerea," I said carefully. "You said her name again when you awoke. Did you… love her?" I felt ashamed for asking, but some small part of me felt like I needed to know.
    This made him laugh - a weak, tired sound. "No." Then, amending it, "Well, yes, but not like you might think. If you're imagining romance, you're wildly mistaken."
    "I did wonder," I admitted. "You reached for her when you were at your lowest."
    Something gentled in his face. He leaned back against the pillows, studying me. "Would you like to meet her?"
    I frowned. "How? Does she live here?"
    "No."
    At my confused expression, his mouth pulled into that maddening, mischievous little grin of his.
    "I want you to come with me to Valen."

[Talvieno]

Chapter Thirteen

    He seemed to expect a jubilant response. I tried to give him one. I really did. My ears alternated between happy-up and flat-suspicious, my tail didn't really know what to do, and in the end I only sank into the chair by the bed. Different emotions warred inside me: happiness, fear, confusion, suspicion it would be taken away.
    "Miren?" Everet asked softly, looking a little confused. "Did I break you?"
    I huffed. The suspicion won out. "Why now?" I finally asked. "Everet, I've wanted you to take me to Valen ever since you bought me. Why now?"
    The question seemed to puzzle him. "I mean… you saved my life?" he said, looking at me strangely.
    I frowned. "You said there was no way to take me with you because it was too dangerous."
    "Ah. Right. Well, no, that was before. You're what I need." Then he seemed to reconsider his answer, and added, more carefully, "Quiet, obedient Miren was fine for Rurik, but as I've said before, she's not what I need. Brave, determined Miren Hartfell, on the other hand - the one that ordered me to sit and dressed my wound, the one that took care of me for the past five days -"
    "Seven days," I corrected quietly, looking down at my lap.
    For a moment he only watched me, measuring the weight of the missing days. "Seven, then. The Miren that kept me alive for seven days. The one who made decisions. The one who didn't collapse when she was frightened." His gaze sharpened. "I would be proud to have that version of you with me, if properly prepared." 
    My tail twitched and I realized that now my ears were standing up like little wings. Completely betrayed. My voice was soft, hopeful, as I blurted, "So you mean to keep me? In Valen?" It was everything I wanted.
    He smirked. "No."
    I winced, confused, ears dropping slightly.
    He went on, "You'll come to Valen and I'll free you as a second-class citizen. Then you would live your own life."
    My mouth opened but I couldn't do anything but stare at him, completely stunned.
    "Now I broke you," he murmured.
    I swallowed, eyes wide, but the room felt strange and far away. I could hear my pulse in my ears. At last I managed in a timid voice, "Is that even possible?" I knew for certain it wasn't possible in Kesselgard.
    A smile. "Yeah, it is. I was Nerea's owner in Valen, before I freed her as a second-class citizen."
    "Owner?" I whispered breathlessly. "Not -" Not lover?
     "In Valen, second-class citizens still have restrictions," he continued. "It's not the same as being a human - but she can live in her own home, and work, live, and marry."
    I let out a small, disbelieving sound that was almost a laugh. "Marry," I repeated. "Stock can't love, Everet."
    He seemed mildly offended. "Is that what they teach in Kesselgard, Miren?"
    At his change in tone, I shrank back a little into the chair. "Everet, if you said otherwise in front of a priest they would call it heresy."
    He rolled his eyes and took another bite. "The priests can say what they want. They have no reach in Valen. Besides, there's a skill I'll need to teach you on the way, and they won't approve of that either."
    My stomach twisted. He only had one skill I knew of. "Swordsmanship," I murmured.
    "Good guess."
    "Everet, that is heresy," I hissed softly. "Stock cannot be armed in Kesselgard. You would be hung and I would be burned alive just for a scabbard on my hip."
    He smirked. "You held swords for me at Rurik's."
    I frowned, unamused. "That is completely different and you know it."
    A brief grin flashed across his face and vanished. “You're right. Which is why I’m explaining this instead of throwing you a blade and telling you to catch.” He leaned forwards and his voice grew stern. "Listen to me, Miren. Western Kesselgard is dangerous. More dangerous than you understand. I need you sharper. Faster. Harder to frighten, harder to corner. Sword drills will help with that, even if you never draw steel in earnest. I can't have you panicking every time someone tosses you an apple."
    I blushed to my ears with shame and tilted my head forward, but there was a small scrap of amusement under it. "So your plan," I said slowly, trying to keep up, "is to travel across the entirety of Kesselgard while you teach me a skill that will get us both killed if anyone finds out."
    "Yes."
    "And when we reach Valen…"
    "I will free you as soon as I can."
    I could hardly process it. "You're completely mad," I blurted.
    He laughed. "Maybe. But it will happen." There was not a flicker of doubt in his voice.
    I shook my head at the enormity of it. It was terrifying. Horrifying, even - it felt impossible. It felt as if someone told me to leap from a cliff and promised I would float to the bottom. But Everet's face was calm, serious, and I couldn't imagine him telling a tale. It slowly sank in. This is real, I realized, a chill running down my spine and arms, fur standing on end. He really means it.
    And all at once, an image blossomed in my mind.
    I saw a vision of my bare neck, bereft of collar. I saw a little house, a loaf of bread in my hands, bought with money I earned by myself, from a marketplace where no one held my leash.
    Then the vision came in full, so sudden and bright it hurt: standing on a hill at sunrise, collarless, with a sword at my hip, looking down over a city and a castle washed gold by the morning light. Wind in my hair. Open land behind me. A road below. The whole world spread out in front of me like something that might, at last, belong to me.
    Free to walk down to the road. Free to turn away to the wilderness.
    Free to live.
    My eyes filled with tears.
    Everet saw it, of course, and drew a deep breath. "I'm offering it as a choice," he said slowly, sitting up a little straighter in the pillows. "You can come with me, learn sword drills, and risk the Church's wrath, or you can ask me to sell you to someone relatively kind in Falkenbruck, so you can live in safety."
    "Safety," I echoed. 
    "Yes."
    "Owned."
    The tears spilled over and I wiped them away with a furry forearm, angry at the tears, angry at the shape of a world that could make the word 'owned' sound so reasonable. "You don't understand," I whispered. "This isn't even a choice."
    "It is, though."
    I shook my head sharply. "Not for me. Everet." I paused and wiped my eyes uselessly, sat up straighter. "At the farm, the girls in my stall - we used to whisper about what kind of owners we hoped we would get. We would talk about the kinds we thought we would actually end up with - someone neglectful, or someone who would work us hard, or someone who would use us as their pleasure pet. We would talk about how we thought we would die, be it in our owner's house, or a field, or in a darkened shed. None of us - not even once - not a single time - ever thought that there was even a chance of freedom someday. We never spoke of it. We never even considered it - it was never even one of the choices."
    He was silent.
    "So yes, Everet. I will do it," I whispered fiercely. "I will go with you to Valen, and if I die on the road or in the Church's hands, that is still a better fate than dying as someone's pet, because then at least I can look back and say that I saw the road to freedom."
    Several long moments passed in silence. My last words seemed to echo in the room, as Everet considered them - considered me. Was I too forward? I wondered. I want to be what he needs.
    But finally, he spoke, smiling softly. "If you're coming with me, you had better eat something. I can't train a girl who hasn't eaten in days."
    I frowned, looking up at him from the chair. "We don't have much food, Everet."
    The smile faded into a frown, and he sighed. "Then we should go to the market. But, Miren - I haven't changed or bathed in over a week."
    Nodding, I stood, headed for the door. "I'll get the water ready for you."
    "Thank you. But - you bathe first."
    I hesitated, then murmured in disbelief, "You - you want to use my dirty water to bathe in."
    "Which of us is dirtier?" he pointed out. "My water is going to be filthy." He nodded towards the door. "Go on. Tell me when you're done. And don't let the water get too cold."
    Nodding quickly, I hurried to my room to fetch clean clothes.
    "And eat something!" he called after me.
    
    My bath was quick. I got water boiling in the pots above the fire and carried it to the little tub we bathed in. I mixed in cool water, and once it was the right temperature, I stripped down and climbed in. It was the first bath I'd had in… well, before the bullwolf night.
    It felt luxurious, just as it always did. At Rurik's I washed myself with a cloth in a bucket of hot water. At Wash Day on the farm, they stripped you in a moving line in a shallow pool and splashed water at you with buckets. A tub was a private luxury I'd only adopted since Everet's. It felt almost sinful.
    Not wanting to let the water get too cold for Everet, I hurried and washed my body, then my hair, my ears, my horns. When I felt sufficiently clean, I climbed out of the water and dried myself off with rags, shivering and dripping. I hurriedly put on a clean shift and my new dress, wiped the water off the floor, and hurried up the stairs.
    Everet was standing in his room, steadying himself on his cabinet, holding a pile of clean clothing - a shirt, a doublet, clean trousers. When I entered, he straightened. "My turn?"
    I nodded. "It should still be warm."
    He pushed away from the cabinet and started to cross the room, but almost lost his balance. I rushed to him and caught him, and he almost took me down, too. "Careful!" I gasped in alarm. "You'll cut something else open!" Without waiting for permission, I took his clothes out of his arms and clutched them to me, wary of the razor he'd set atop the pile.
    "Right," he muttered, leaning against me as he regained his balance. "I think I'm just going to need a little time getting used to walking again."
    And I'm going to be intensely anxious until you do, I thought. "Can you walk downstairs?"
    "Maybe."
    I furrowed my brow and looked up at him. "'Maybe' is dangerous, Everet."
    "No it's not." He smirked. "Got you with me, don't I?"
    I softened at that, feeling warm. I looked down at my toes, and then up at him through my bangs, a little smile on my lips. "Yes, you do."
    I walked ahead of him on the way down the stairs, as though there was much I could do if he suddenly fell forwards. He smells terrible, I thought, trying not to wrinkle my nose. Sweat and urine. I need to wash his bedding - all of it. We made it down safely and over to the tub near the fire. It still radiated heat.
    He sat down on the edge of the hearth. "All right. Safely down. You may go, Miren."
    "Yes, Everet." I placed the clothing on the table and retreated up the stairs, then began stripping his bed. Soon after, I heard the soft splash of water. I busied myself with changing his bedding.
    A good number of minutes passed before I heard a loud thump. "Miren?" his voice floated up from below. "I hate asking for your help, but… if you could…"
    I dropped the linens at once and flew for the stairs. On the final step down I froze; it suddenly struck me that I had no idea what I was going to see as I turned the corner. But the command lingered in the air, and my feet moved.
    Everet was standing near the tub, leaning on a chair and wearing nothing but his trousers. The grime of sickness had all but washed away. His hair was damp, falling untidily about his freshly shaved face. His chest and shoulders no longer looked frail; they visibly belonged to a man who could fight three bullwolves and live to stagger home. The sight of it made my stomach tighten in a way I did not care to examine.
    He lifted his shirt from the table and held it out. "I don't want to ruin your stitches," he explained, almost an apology. "Help me with the shirt?"
    I swallowed and stepped close to him, then hesitated like I'd hit a wall. This is wrong, my mind hissed at me wildly. Everet half-naked in the kitchen, you less than two feet away.
    "Are you all right?" Everet asked with a hint of concern. "If it's too much…"
    I flushed but shook my head. "No, I… I'm fine."
    Liar.
    I forced myself to focus on his shirt instead of him, gently putting his injured arm into the sleeve and sliding the loose fabric up to his shoulder. Then his other arm - which he helped me with. Then I buttoned the front.
    The doublet was next - thick wool, more presentable than his normal brigandine. Arms first, then the rest.
    With all of that done, Everet walked to the wall where his sword, cloak, boots, gloves were all put away. He was a little steadier on his feet now. He took the boots and started to awkwardly tug them on.
    "If you rip out your stitches I'll be very upset," I whispered, almost ashamed I was stating it aloud.
    He stopped short and looked up at me. "Well, I don't want that." It was only said plainly, as a fact, and it knocked me a little off balance. Ducking my head slightly to recover, I stepped forward and helped him with the rest of his gear.
    Once he was fully dressed, he looked properly himself again. He's really back, my mind whispered in warm disbelief. Even though the Church tried to take him away. But out loud, I only said, "I'll go get my leash."
    I made up my mind to keep my eyes down as he put it on.

[Talvieno]

Chapter Fourteen

    We left for the market.
    Out in the winding dirt roads near his house, he leaned on me to walk, but by town he was managing a steady pace, if not his usual brisk stride. Only because I knew his moods, I could tell he was out of sorts. Probably about how weak he is, I thought uncomfortably. If the Church tries to attack him now, he'll barely be able to defend himself. I could only hope we wouldn't stumble into danger.
    I followed behind him. Obedient, quiet Miren - the version of myself that he didn't like, but the one he needed in public. Head down, ears flat, tail stilled. 
    Except he didn't lead me to the market. He led me to the Artisan Quarter, near Rurik's smithy. I wanted to ask why, but could only follow in silence.
    
    The leatherworking shop was old and smelled strongly of tannin. Morning light filtered through its open windows, setting the place quietly aglow. The owner - a vaguely familiar, wrinkled woman with a stern face and an accent that implied the southern coast of the continent - was arguing with a nobleman dressed in finery about a pair of gloves; something about stitching. I listened curiously; it quickly became obvious the nobleman, dressed in a fine doublet, had no idea what he was talking about and simply hadn't taken good care of his gear. The shopkeeper pointed it out, too, soon after I realized it.
    "You left it in a muddy pack for a month, what did you think would happen?" she scoffed, unimpressed. "It doesn't matter how good of quality they were, nothing survives that. I can sell you another pair but don't get uppity with me about rot in the stitching if you didn't even take care of them."
    The man huffed, face contorted with the effort of fighting a scowl. "Such disgraceful treatment of a valued customer, Madame Branka. I will be sure to inform the merchant's guild of this."
    Everet tugged my leash, and I realized I was staring. I looked down at my feet and shuffled after him; he was inspecting leather bags and waterskins over in a far corner.
    "And I'll be sure to inform them that you don't understand basic care for your equipment, Fenwald."
    He ground his teeth, then schooled his expression, counting out coins. "Fine." He slammed them on the counter. "Good day, Madame Branka."
    "To you as well, Fenwald," she said calmly. Then, after he stormed out and closed the door behind him, "Idiot."
    Everet seemed to come to life, turning over towards her with a grin. "Diplomatic as ever, Branka."
    She smirked as she raked the coins off the counter. "I work with animal corpses for a living, Everet. And sometimes I prefer them over company." She examined him with a sharp, piercing eye that seemed to see more than she let on. "And you don't look too far from it yourself, today."
    "An injury," Everet explained, walking to the counter with me close behind. "Bullwolves. Three."
    She nodded. "Rumor was that you were dead." Then, leaning over the counter, her eyes fell on me; our gazes locked for a moment before I looked down in shame. "So. A half-human. You finally found one that made the cut."
    One that made the cut? I glanced up at Everet, curious.
    He frowned. "I need her outfitted for the road. Fast, and quietly."
    Her attention turned back to him. "The three years are up, I take it. Heading back home?"
    "With haste."
    Branka straightened with a sigh, back to business. "Tell me what she'll need."
    Without skipping a beat, Everet began laying out an overwhelming quantity of items: leather jerkin, leather overskirt, leather belt, two cloaks - one for weather, one for warmth - and more. I lost track after he got to the boots; it was dizzying. I'd never owned shoes in my life. I'd never worn shoes in my life, and here he was, suiting me up for some grand journey when I'd never even set foot out of Falkenbruck.
    "She looks faint," Branka interrupted him, pointing at me. "You sure she's the one?" I snapped out of it, eyes wide.
    "Very." No hesitation. That alone warmed me in ways I didn't understand. "She just needs to eat more. Branka, look." He leaned against the counter. "Aurelac is a thousand kilometers from here. You know what she would need without me telling you."
    "And you expect me to find everything for you?" She frowned deeply. "I'm a leatherworker, Everet, not a broker."
    A nod. "I'm aware of that." He pulled something out of his pouch and leaned over the counter, sliding it towards her. "But you're also the only one in all of Falkenbruck that I trust."
    Quietly, she pulled the papers out from under his hand and stared at them in the light of the window. "These are ownership papers to your house, Everet," she said slowly. "That's absurd. That's at least six gold crowns, right there. Even if I fit your girl out with a nobleman's finery, it would be worth less than half of that."
    Girl, I noted. Not stock.
    "I'm aware," Everet said flatly. "I can't take the cottage with me."
    Branka considered this. "No, you can't." There was a long pause. "Well, if I'm going to be a broker for a week, I might as well do this properly." She turned her gaze on me and gestured for me to follow as she walked towards a door near the back of the room. "Come on, girl. To the back. We'll get you fitted."
    I glanced up at Everet, uncertain. He placed the leash in my hand. The weight of his palm at my back felt encouraging and comforting. He started to follow, too, but Branka noticed immediately.
    "Just the girl," Branka said firmly, glaring at Everet. "She's getting fitted, not saddled. She doesn't need an audience."
    Surprised, I looked up at her for just a moment before returning my gaze to the floor. Privacy is not something humans usually consider regarding stock. On the other hand, being alone with her without Everet felt unnerving. But I followed all the same.
    She closed the door behind me and turned, facing me at eye level. "Do you have a name?"
    I looked at my feet and swallowed. "Miren."
    "Look at me when you answer."
    I locked my gaze, lips pursing before I forced the syllables out with a scrap of grit and rebellion. "Miren Hartfell."
    "Ahhhhh." A slow smile twisted across her face. "I see why Everet chose you." She started to walk around me slowly in the little room, the walls cluttered with measuring tapes, fabric, leather rolls and scraps, instruments I didn't understand. "You'll need to remove the dress if I'm going to measure you, Miren."
    I hesitated, tensing, but her expression was gentle. Slowly, I peeled the dress off over my head, and she took it from me, leaving me in just my shift. Then she took a key and unlocked my collar, setting it on a nearby table with the dress.
    As she circled, I tried to hold her gaze. It was difficult and frightening. Without the collar, I felt completely naked and unsafe.
    "Left or right handed?"
    I swallowed. "Left handed."
    "Can you carry much?"
    "I worked at a smithy. Rurik's."
    This made her glance up quickly. "So you're Rurik's girl. Thought you looked familiar. Did he let you keep the needle and thread?"
    "That was you," I whispered, realization crashing over me. I glanced over at my dress - at the curling vines and flowers on the sleeves. "Thank you, Miss Branka."
    Branka smiled, just a little. Then her face set again. She began to talk to herself. "Narrow shoulders," she muttered, biting her knuckle. "Feet almost human, perhaps a little narrower. Tail is a problem. Fur on forearms… fur on calves and shins. A little on the backs of your hands, tops of your feet… Horns are probably the biggest issue. Hood will need to be wider, and the neck of any upperwear."
    She continued muttering, too quiet for me to hear. I remained still.
    "Arms out, please," she said after a moment.
    I held my arms out at my side. She stepped close and pulled the back of my shift tight for a moment, watching how it fell, then stepped back to grab some paper. "All right. I'm going to get measurements."
    And she did, one after another. Sometimes she would ask short questions, or give me short commands for how to stand; I followed them to the letter, but what stuck with me above all was how she treated me: like I was anyone else getting fitted.
    And then, suddenly, she was done. "Get dressed," she ordered, putting my dress in my hands. "Wouldn't want to keep Everet waiting."
    "Miss Branka," I asked at last, as I pulled the dress on over my head. "Was Everet looking for… for stock?"
    She frowned as she locked my tarnished silver collar back around my neck. "That's not my business to talk about. Now go on. I'll stop by Everet's cottage with your gear in a few days."
    Without another word she ushered me back to the main room where Everet stood, waiting and leaning against a table. He looked exhausted already.
    "Well?" he asked. "To market?"
    I nodded. "To market. And then you need to rest."
    He smirked and pushed himself off the table. "As you wish, Healer Miren."

[Talvieno]

Chapter Fifteen

    I'm leaving Falkenbruck soon, I told myself, over and over. My mind refused to accept it. I'd lived here my entire life. I knew nothing else.
    But the world was changing around me whether I was ready for it or not.
    That evening, I stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of stew. The smell of broth and herbs filled the kitchen, savory and warm. I felt at peace.
    The peace didn't hold for long.
    "Smells good," a voice said over my shoulder.
    I jumped and nearly upset the entire pot. "Everet!" I cried out, whirling to face him. My heart was beating like a drum. "I thought you were upstairs!"
    He looked confused. "Did I… scare you?"
    "Yes, you scared me!" My face had gone incredibly warm, which made me even more indignant.
    He frowned and then shrugged. "Thought you might like some company down here."
    I wasn't really sure how to respond to that. Maybe best not to. After hesitating for a moment, I walked around him and got bowls out of the cabinet.
    "You're not used to company," he observed, leaning up against the wall. "I'm guessing Rurik never spent time with you."
    Spent time with me? What owner does that? "He did when I was younger," I said, filling the bowls with stew. "He took me to the river to play, once."
    That brought a deep sigh. "So, no, then. And thank you," he added, when I passed him his bowl. He went and sat down at the table. "How many owners did you have before him?"
    "None. He bought me when I was 13 at my first auction." I stared, watching him begin to eat. Then, because I couldn't help myself, "You're eating downstairs?"
    He hesitated. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
    "You never have before." When he didn't answer, I added, "Usually you're upstairs within three minutes of getting home."
    A flicker of unease passed across his face and disappeared. "Well… yeah. It's because I didn't work today."
    I sensed it was a lie. "And because you're not leaving me behind anymore," I suggested softly. The little tug at his lips said I was right. Warmth spread through my chest.
    He glanced back, then nodded at the chair across from him. "Sit down, Miren."
    "Sir, I -"
    "Miren." He looked up at me sharply. "Don't call me 'sir'. You're allowed to sit at the same table as a human if I say. Now, sit."
    Chest tight, I nodded and slid into the seat across from him. This is wrong, my mind hissed. Stock sit on the floor, not with their owners. "This is why everyone in Falkenbruck thinks Valen is full of heretics," I whispered.
    Everet burst into laughter, his eyes twinkling. "They can think that."
    His grin made me feel bolder. "Everet, you said you'd tell me about the Church," I prodded, looking up from my bowl. "You took all those contracts to kill beasts from the Wound and the Church still wanted you dead."
    The grin faded slightly. "Wasn't always a beast hunter," he murmured between mouthfuls of stew. "Used to serve in the King's Army."
    "Valen's army," I echoed blankly, processing it. "So you're a soldier. That's still not enough reason to ambush you with three bullwolves."
    He tilted his head and sighed. "True. I was one of the louder ones, though." He ate another bite. "Caused a diplomatic incident and pissed off Kesselgard."
    Gears whirred in my mind. "Is that what Branka meant when she talked about the three years?"
    He looked up at me. "You're very sharp," he said with quiet admiration. I almost beamed at the praise, and he continued, "I was exiled from Valen for three years. Now I'm going back home."
    "What was…" I swallowed. "What was the incident?"
    His lips pursed, and he shook his head. "I took an Oath of Counsel as part of my terms of exile. There are… a few different things I'm forbidden to speak of."
    I tried to hide my disappointment. "Even in private?"
    He stared like I'd just asked something stupid. Then, slowly, "To a man of Valen, an oath is binding, Miren. I do not break my oaths, whether it's to keep secrets or to keep from touching you in want." The faintest trace of a smile tugged at his lips.
    My face warmed; I looked down. "I… I understand," I murmured, but still felt confused. "So… you made Kesselgard mad, and then you moved to Kesselgard?"
    He shrugged. "Could've gone to the Serravian coast. Sun and sea, luxury, pretty girls. But I wanted to see the Wound for myself. Maybe reach one of the old universities or libraries of magic."
    Pretty girls, my mind echoed, feeling faintly strange about it. "Did you reach any?"
    The man frowned. "No. I didn't make it far - too many beasts and chasms and impossible cliffs. I saw smoke without fires, the sky fractured like a broken mirror. But no path forward." He shrugged, seeming tired. "I guess that's the point. The mages were trying to protect their secrets from the enemy."
    "The enemy," I echoed, staring into my bowl. "You mean half-humans."
    A quiet hesitation. "I wasn't going to say that, but yes."
    I sighed. "So you got exiled from Valen for making Kesselgard mad, fled into Kesselgard, and then made it your mission to learn more about magic while the Church was already watching you." I glanced up at him, watching his face.
    "Well…" he tilted his head, fighting a smile.
    I huffed softly, a smile flicking at the corner of my lips. "And now you want to train a half-human to wield a sword."
    A mischievous smirk finally spread across his face. "I'm not very good at staying out of trouble."
    I smiled into my stew. "No, you aren't." But that might be one of your best qualities.
    
    The next day I was folding laundry in the kitchen when Everet came down the stairs with a rolled paper. My eyes caught on it curiously, but I forced myself to look away. "Good afternoon, Everet."
    He snorted. "Good afternoon, Everet," he echoed, imitating my voice as he waved the roll. "I saw you eyeing this. Why don't you ask about it?"
    My ears pinned and I frowned. "It's not right to."
    "By whose rules?" Sharp. Immediate.
    I opened my mouth to say "mine" but hesitated, trying to untangle where the impulse actually came from. After several moments, I murmured, "It's one of the things they taught us at the Farm."
    Everet grunted. "They taught you a lot of bad habits. You'll need to unlearn those before we reach Valen. We're on the same level, you and I, so if you are curious, you ask."
    "We are not on the same level," I huffed, recoiling slightly. My fingers moved, tugging my collar pointedly. "Everet, you are my owner."
    "Not when we get to Valen," he retorted with a smirk, glancing between my collar and my face. "You'd better start practicing now." As he spoke, he started flattening the parchment on the table, the sound loud and crackling.
    I stepped closer. The yellowed paper was covered in words and strange, squiggling lines, and little pictures of buildings, with Kesselgard printed in sweeping letters across the center. "It's a map," I realized. My eyes roved and found the borders of the land before the ocean. "Is - is this the entire Continent?"
    The man nodded. "I want to show you where we'll be traveling. And before you say something like 'the Farm taught me to follow humans blindly' I want you to try thinking like a human and see what route we'll follow."
    My ears flattened. That was rude, I wanted to say. In more ways than one. Like some part of you still thinks half-humans are inferior. But I couldn't bring myself to say it, and I bent over the map instead, eyes wide. I'd never seen a map of the entire continent before. Rurik's maps only showed the area near Falkenbruck, and with much less detail.
    "So, here's Kesselgard," he said, circling a large block in the center of the continent. "It's most of what's left of the Old Kingdom. To the west against the ocean, we have Valen," he said, pointing.
    "There's the Wound," I murmured, pointing at a dark-shaded corner in the southeast. "Where's - Oh!" My breath caught with a beat of warmth and I couldn't help but point. "There's Falkenbruck!"
    "Well spotted," Everet said, sounding pleased.
    The distance between Falkenbruck and the Wound looked so minute it seemed like I could step over the border in moments, though I knew it was a few days of hard travel from the talk of the soldiers who visited Rurik. And that made me realize how vast the map really was. "Everet," I whispered. "Kesselgard is enormous."
    "Yeah, it is," he said with a little laugh, pulling back. "Now go on. See if you can trace the path. Falkenbruck to Aurelac."
    I placed my finger on Falkenbruck and traced it slowly westward over the roads in a mostly straight line, through forests and little towns, through the walled capital of Raukenhall, over the tangled western roads and past the Crownwall mountains to the artfully illustrated city of Aurelac. "There's so much water."
    "Kesselgard's lowlands are gradually flooding," Everet explained impassively. "Have been since the Dimming."
    I nodded. "How far are we going?"
    "Maybe a thousand kilometers." A shrug. "We'll be traveling for a few months." 
    My ears flattened. I looked up at him, mildly disturbed. "Everet, it's almost Midautumn already."
    "I want a slower pace so I have time to train you," he explained nonchalantly. "But don't worry. We'll arrive before winter gets into full swing."
    "So we'll arrive at the start of Midwinter," I murmured, tracing the little roads in Valen with my eyes. I glanced up at him. "Do we have winter gear?"
    Everet shrugged. "As long as there isn't any early snow, we'll be fine."
    He's very reckless, I thought, before realizing something. My eyes lifted in surprise. "You'd be there before winter if you hadn't decided to take me."
    He gave me a cocky smirk. "What's another month?"
    
    As the next two days passed, my old life felt increasingly distant. We were starting to talk more - he was sitting at the table to eat, and inviting me into his room when he wasn't. It was so different from everything I was used to that it felt dizzying, forbidden, and addictive. I couldn't get enough of it - or enough of him. I felt drawn to him in ways I didn't really know how to describe or process - warm and eager and, strange as it seems, happy. 
    "Miren," he would call. "Come up to my room!"
    "Yes, Everet!" I would call back, dropping my housework and hurrying up the stairs.
    My mind still tried to rein it in. There's no promise he won't change his mind, and the Church could still take him away. You might be terrible with swords and he'll leave you at Raukenhall. Rurik was safer. This is dangerous. You need to be careful.
    "I don't care," I'd whisper back. "What caprine gets to be friends with her owner? What if I never get this again?" My heart grew bolder. "I'll enjoy this while I can."
    He sat on the edge of the bed and talked with me about his homeland, the vineyards of his hometown of Solenne, and the joyful festivals of the Sun. It sounded like an entirely different world. He told me about the castles in the wheatfields, the little babbling brooks, the forests and vast fields of grass - things I could hardly imagine, but wanted so desperately to claim as my own.
    Hours passed like minutes as we talked on and on, until I realized with horror that we were well past sunset. Eyes wide, I gasped out, "Oh! Dinner!" I leapt from the chair by the bed, tail curled tight in panic. "I'm sorry - the stories - they were lovely, and I forgot to make you dinner!"
    But he interrupted me with a laugh, warm and deep. "I'm not mad, Miren! You always act like you think I'm going to yell at you or something." He laughed again.
    I ducked my head, pausing at the door. "Well -"
    "Making dinner for me was something you started, Miren," he pointed out, smirking. "I'm just grateful when you cook. I could cook too, you know."
    "That's called burning things in a pan." As soon as the words left my mouth I caught myself in horror, face so hot I could feel the tips of my ears. "Oh, Everet - please forgive me! I'm sorry - I was warm from our talk, and -" 
    But he was laughing, open-mouthed in shock and grand amusement. "Miren!" he choked. "I can hardly believe you said that!"
    "I'm so sorry, Everet, I -"
    "Don't be sorry!" he interrupted, still laughing. "That was magnificent. And yes, you're probably right! I will happily admit your cooking is better than mine. Go on and cook, Miren."
    Before he could say anything else embarrassing, I closed his door behind me and slipped down the stairs. I cooked us dinner - eggs with vegetables and cheese, which I knew he loved. He came down and watched me cook, warm and amused, and we ate together.
    My heart sang. If the girls at the Farm could see me now - could know what this man from Valen planned, know how he treated me almost like a human - how I could say what I wanted without fear - they wouldn't have believed it. No matter how many times I insisted it was true.
    And I barely believed it either.
    
    That night, I stood beside him at the table under the oil lamp, removing his stitches with the tip of a knife. My hands felt small on his arm.
    "You did a fine job, Healer Miren," he said warmly. "Are you planning to be a doctor when you're free?" His voice was lightly teasing, but there was a note of seriousness under it.
    I snorted softly, fighting a smile. "Certainly not," I whispered, leaning close as I plucked out another stitch. "Everet, have you seen the scar? It's ugly and twisted and raised. And besides, who would trust a half-human with their injuries?"
    "I would," he pointed out, looking up at me.
    When our eyes met, something twisted in my chest; I couldn't hold his gaze. It took me several moments to manage a quiet, "You're different, Everet. You're my owner and you've known me for two months."
    He tilted his head to the side, trying to come up with a good response, and then shrugged.
    I frowned. "Hold still. I'm holding a knife to your arm. You can't move your shoulders."
    Out of the corner of my eye I saw a broad smile spread across his lips. "You're a puzzle, Miren Hartfell," he chuckled. "One moment you're talking about stock and ownership, the next you're giving me orders. Maybe wait to see the shape of the world in Valen before you make up your mind."
    I smiled, embarrassed, but my ears rose anyway. It's unfair when he calls you Hartfell. He makes it sound so real. Aloud, I only said, "Almost done."
    He sat still and I finished removing the last stitches.
    "Done," I announced, gathering the bloody little scraps of thread off the table. "Now it can finish healing."
    "Still very sore, but it holds," he said, gently testing his arm. "Well done."
    But as soon as he stood, there was a knock at the door.

[Talvieno]

Chapter Sixteen

    I froze in panic, accidentally dropping the knife. It clattered to the floor loudly in the frightened silence. Everet looked alarmed, too, which made it worse. All the old instincts came back at once: shrink, disappear, stand by the wall, eyes down. My body moved before I could process it, pressing against the wall next to the stairs. What had they heard? What did they know?
    Everet lifted a hand to quiet me as he walked slowly to the door. "Who's out there? Name yourself!" he called, strong and commanding. I'd never heard him speak like that before.
    But the voice that answered was harsh, quiet, and feminine. "It's Branka, you dolt. Are you going to let me in now that she's done with the stitches?"
    I relaxed immediately, heaving a sigh that expelled the remnants of my horror. 
    For his part, Everet seemed to relax a little too. He opened the door, and there stood Branka, a large sack over her shoulder and tight-knit brows. "Branka," he muttered. "Could you not have scared the shit out of me? And maybe visited during the day?"
    She didn't reply immediately, instead entering and heaving the sack off her shoulder; it landed with a heavy thud on the table. "Given what I've found out about you over the last two days, Everet of Solenne, meeting you at night while the Ashen Vow patrols sleep is safest. And you should leave tomorrow." Her eyes narrowed at the man. "Early."
    The name Solenne caused him to tense immediately. "How much do you know?" he asked in a tight voice, leaning closer to her with a sharp glance back at me.
    "I know enough," Branka said, brows knit. "More than I should. And I know perfectly well why the Church is after you." She glanced over at me. "Taking her is going to make your life very difficult and I think you're being stupid. But I've acquired the best gear I could for her anyway."
    Branka opened her sack and started pulling out supplies: a backpack, belts, boots, a jerkin, a leather skirt, a waterskin, a bedroll, folded fabric items, and more I didn't recognize. "Good for autumn and winter travel. Boots should last a few months and fit her properly. Shouldn't blister if you have to move quickly. I had to ask some favors to pull all of this together in three days."
    "Why only three days?" Everet asked, clearly confused. "I was giving you a week. You didn't have to rush this, Branka." He stepped close to the table, examining the goods.
    "I'm rushing this for you. Falkenbruck hates Valen and the Church wants you gone, Everet," Branka grumbled, dumping out the bag. "They thought the bullwolves got you at first, and for now, they don't know that you're leaving. If you want a mob to raid your house, all you have to do is give them a reason. Like having her," she nodded at me with annoyance and I shrank, "remove your stitches in full view of your front window while you chat with her like an old friend."
    I swallowed, glancing up at Everet, hoping he had a comeback.
    He did not. Clearly uncomfortable at his lack of discretion, he went over and closed the window shutters.
    "You need to leave quickly," Branka went on, a little quieter as she arranged the items on the table. "Local tension will fade, but I wouldn't be surprised if they send someone to follow you. I took out a southwards mossfiend contract in your name for tomorrow and that should work as an early cover."
    Everet frowned. "Thank you, Branka."
    "Don't thank me," Branka muttered. "Just be gone by morning." Then, "Now, stop talking and go upstairs. I've got to fit Miren and I doubt she wants you gawking."
    He turned and went upstairs without another word. I almost wouldn't have minded if he stayed, I thought. It would've felt safer.
    Branka's focus fell on me and her eyes narrowed. "Well, Miren? Are you going to keep hiding in the corner or are you going to try on your new gear?"
    
    She went slowly, step by step, showing me the proper order of dressing and how to fasten all the straps.
    The gear fit wonderfully - more than that, it was far beyond the quality of anything I'd ever owned by so much it felt like I'd stolen it - like it couldn't have possibly been made for me. She had bought me a new travel dress, and also real, beautiful boots. I'd never worn shoes and I could tell it would be difficult to get used to, but they fit and didn't pinch, and the wool stockings made them comfortable. The leather jerkin was snug, the leather overskirt heavier than my dress, and when she fitted the backpack and the belt, I realized there was a loop on the right hip for a scabbard.
    I looked up at Branka in surprise as I put my finger through the loop. "How did you know…?"
    Branka snorted, checking the sizing on the jerkin, making sure it didn't pinch my chest. "Everet is a very predictable brand of stupid," she muttered.
    "Everet means well," I offered, defending him.
    "He means well, yes," giving a final tug to a strap and stepping back to examine her work with a stern expression, hands on her hips. "But the world is not ready for him, or for you." Then, brusquely, "Turn around."
    I spun slowly. My boots thunked awkwardly on the floor as I moved. "I feel like I have hooves," I whispered.
    She snorted. "You'll get used to it." Grabbing the backpack and bedroll, she went on, "I'll show you how to carry these next."
    When I was finally fully suited out like I was ready to start the long journey, I felt like I was carrying the world. All the travel gear - the provisions Branka had pre-packed in the backpack, the bedroll, the blankets, the spare clothes - it was so much.
    "It's heavy," I stated quietly.
    She frowned. "You worked at Rurik's. You can handle it. You want Valen, don't you?"
    Without a moment's hesitation, I nodded. "I've never wanted anything more," I said truthfully.
    "Then this will be your life for the next three months, starting tomorrow morning. Better get used to it." Then, raising her voice, "Everet!"
    Everet's footsteps soon sounded on the stairs, and I turned. When he rounded the wall and saw me, he slowed his approach, seemingly taken aback. "Amazing," he whispered in awe, his eyes taking me in.
    I was so embarrassed I could barely stand it. I stared at the floor as the man circled me, his eyes lingering. I'd never felt so exposed, even though I was wearing more than I ever had.
    At last, he spoke. "Branka, you did an outstanding job."
    "Thank you," Branka said. "And now, if you're satisfied, Everet, it would probably be best if I take my leave. I still have to open my shop early tomorrow." I heard her scoop the empty sack off the table, and I glanced back at her, watching her gaze flick between us. She sighed, her hand on the door. "Best of luck on the road."
    "Branka!" I called quickly, turning towards her and away from Everet. "Please take good care of Thira."
    At her confusion, Everet quietly explained, "Thira is the goat." I could hear the smile in his voice.
    Branka smiled, then shook her head at both of us with a heavy sigh. "Try to stay out of trouble, you two."
    And with that, she was gone.
    I barely slept that night, alternating between anxiety and excitement. I only managed to fall asleep after I opened my door wide so I could hear Everet's soft snoring from the next room.
    
    Early the next morning in the dark, Everet and I packed and dressed quickly. I made sure to say goodbye to Thira, giving her a hug.
    Before the sun even rose, we had already left his cottage behind.
    The road was all but dead, and we only passed a few early risers on the way. It wasn't long before we stood on the last bridge outside Falkenbruck, looking back towards the town. The trees and bushes were already closing in around us, the dawn's cool light dappling through the softly rustling leaves.
    "I've never been outside Falkenbruck," I whispered to him, chest tight. I was so tangled with emotion that I could barely process it.
    "You'll probably never see it again," he said after a moment. "But is that so bad?"
    I glanced up at him - caught his eyes, looked away. "Perhaps not," I conceded. "But it's still… wild, and strange, and different."
    Everet chuckled softly, turning away towards the woods and giving the leash a gentle tug. "Your life can only get better from here," he said simply. "Come along, Miren Hartfell."
    And with that, I followed, taking the first steps towards my new life, not having the faintest idea how wrong the road would prove him.

[Talvieno]

Chapter Seventeen

    I was leaving my old life behind, marching towards a foreign land where I would be a person instead of stock, and yet my body resisted every step of the way.
    The first day was strange in ways I didn't have words to explain. For a while, I slipped in and out of dizziness, like my mind really couldn't process being outside Falkenbruck. My feet dragged; only Everet's steady hand at the leash kept me moving forward as we quietly passed priests, foragers, and merchants traveling between nearby villages. These gradually thinned as we ventured further into the wilderness, and after several hours, Everet came to a halt.
    "Is something wrong?" I whispered, glancing around us.
    He shook his head. "Nothing wrong. We're decently far from town," he said, stepping close to me and reaching for my collar. "Out in the wilds, the Church cares less about leashes and talking, which is good, because your leash is starting to annoy me."
    I looked up at him as his fingers brushed my throat, raptly watching his face as the sunlight caught in his dark, messy hair. But it was over too quickly, and he stepped back, coiling the rope and tying it at his waist. "There. And we should eat something, too."
    He swung his pack to the ground. His was a lot heavier than mine - swords, extra blankets, more gear. My body was faintly starting to hurt, but I felt like I had no right to complain. After a moment, he pulled out a couple pieces of rye bread and handed one to me. "Come on, Miren." He shouldered his pack again and kept walking.
    I followed obediently, adjusting my straps and taking small nibbles from the dense bread.
    Really, the forest was overwhelmingly lovely. I'd heard Rurik's customers talk about the forests, of course - trees so thick you couldn't see houses past them - but seeing it in reality was so much different. Everywhere I looked were trees and bushes, their branches meeting over the road in a way that felt to my heart like a warm embrace. Sunlight dappled through the soft green of their leaves, casting rippling shadows on the ground.
    "It's so beautiful, Everet," I breathed, slowly twirling as we walked, drinking it in. "When you talked about it before, you always made it sound so grim."
    "It is grim, compared to the old world," he muttered, following me with his eyes. "There could be an oakshade hiding within any of these trees. Especially away from the main path. The world is dangerous and cruel. You should be on your guard."
    That made me snort. "Surely I can enjoy it a little too." My eyes roved the canopies, mesmerized by how they swayed in the wind. "Do you not see how wonderful it is? The way the branches meet above the road, and the little gaps that filter the light above?" I glanced back at him.
    A smile crept over his face and he turned away. "Maybe I'm just too used to the forest."
    "Maybe," I murmured, lost in the ambiance. Then, softer, "If so, that is tragic."
    
    We carried on for a long while as the sun drifted lower in the sky before Everet called us to a stop, slowing beside a small, barely-there trail that split off the main road.
    "Here," he said in a decided but soft voice. "We'll head off the road and camp here for the night."
    As I followed him off the road, I let loose a little sigh of relief. Finally, I thought. My feet hurt, and my legs hurt, and my back hurts everywhere.
    "Shhh," he whispered. Without looking behind him, he gave a hand motion to follow and keep low.
    Does he hear something? I wondered, perking my ears as I lowered into a crouch, moving silently behind him. He wouldn't ask me to follow him into danger. Right?
    He glanced back at me once as we crept along the long, winding trail, his eyes flicking to my feet, and then my face. The look he gave me was something like surprise, or intrigue, but I barely had time to read it before he turned away, creeping towards a larger clearing far ahead, slightly above us.
    And there, in the center of the clearing, golden with the setting sun, was a family of animals I'd never seen before: graceful, sleek, built vaguely like a cow but with less weight. They were beautiful, and I couldn't stop a small "Oh!" that escaped me, as I clapped my hands to my mouth.
    The animals heard; they turned in my direction immediately, heads up, and I saw that one of them had tall branching horns - just like Maialen's antlers. "Deer," I whispered through my fingers, overwhelmed with awe.
    Everet nodded silently.
    I stood slightly to try to get a better look and the entire family immediately bounded away into the trees. "Oh!" I whimpered. "Oh, no!"
    Everet laughed at me and stood. "Looks like the clearing is safe. I wanted to make sure we wouldn't end up with any other travelers." He motioned for me to follow. "Come on, let's set up camp."
    I couldn't pull my mind away from it as we entered the clearing and started taking off our gear. "Have you ever seen something so beautiful, Everet?" I asked, my heart feeling full and light. "Did you see them? So graceful! And the ears, and their little tails!"
    "I did see," Everet acknowledged, though I got the feeling he didn't truly understand. "Now, come on."
    He hastily showed me how to set up camp - clearing an area, how to gather kindling and wood for a fire, calling me to focus even as I kept trying to watch the woods for the deer. My legs and back ached from walking with the pack all day, but I stayed quiet, carrying wood, kneeling, placing it as he said.
    "You're in pain," he murmured, the faintest trace of disappointment in his voice. "We'll train some other day. Tomorrow, maybe."
    I almost dropped the wood. I flew to my feet, wounded by his tone. "Everet, no! I want to train today."
    The man sighed and shook his head. "You're not used to travel."
    "I can do it," I insisted, standing straight, ears flat. "I won't disappoint you." Yes you will, the voices hissed in my ear. You've never swung a sword and he's going to regret bringing you along. I silenced the thoughts and furrowed my brow, staring at him, fists clenched determinedly.
    For several long moments, he watched me in silence. Then, slowly, he walked to his pack and drew a training sword from it.
    My body relaxed. I placed the wood on the stack with the rest, wincing at the movement, and then turned. "Will I be able to fight beasts by Valen?" I asked.
    He pressed the sword into my right hand, wrapping my fingers around the hilt. "It's not just about the fighting," he said, taking a step back. "By Valen, if you can hold your own against an untrained bandit, I'll be pleased. Either way, you can't earn citizenship without swordplay."
    I looked down at the sword, moving it to my left hand and turning it. I'd never held a sword like this. Not really. I'd carried them to customers, but never brandished one. It feels deeply sinful, I reflected. I can almost feel the heat of the pyres already.
    Everet sighed. "Miren, that's the wrong hand."
    I looked up at him. "But I'm left-handed, Everet."
    He looked sharply surprised, then confused. "Really? Oh. I - I never noticed." He stepped close to adjust it.
    While he gently moved my fingers, I asked doubtfully, "How does my knowing swordplay earn my citizenship?"
    The man stepped back and began circling me. "To pass the citizenship exam, you need a sponsor and three uncommon, marketable skills. Your embroidery is excellent. Your reading is… not bad. Especially for rural Valen. And… that's all you have."
    "What about my cooking?" I asked, a little hurt.
    He frowned. "Too many people can cook."
    I let out a soft "Hmph," flourishing the sword in a slow, awkward circle. "So, do you want me to swing it?" I pulled it back into a pose, trying to act like the Ashen Vow soldiers who tried to impress the ladies of Falkenbruck.
    Everet snorted a laugh. "No, you're going to put that down before you hurt yourself. But remember how your fingers are placed on the hilt."
    I looked at my fingers, memorizing their position.
    "Put it down now, Miren," he said, his voice stern.
    I glanced up. I hadn't realized he was serious. I knelt and set the training sword carefully on the ground.
    "Good." Everet nodded, then put himself in front of me. "We're going to do some stretches. Do exactly as I tell you. If it hurts too much, we'll stop for the night."
    It did hurt - a lot - but I bit my lip and imitated his stretches and poses as best I could. I let the ambiance of the forest wash over me as I followed his lead. The rustling leaves, the setting sun, the cool breeze - it felt like an entirely different reality from my life only three months before.
    It was refreshing. I felt determined, ready to meet my new life head on as I bent and flexed, eyes locked on Everet as we moved together.
    And then, just as I was really starting to enjoy it, Everet was standing behind me, pressing a sword into my hands.
    "Hold it like I showed you," he instructed.
    I straightened and held it tightly, lips drawn. I'll make him proud.
    "Not like that," he muttered immediately, his fingers over mine as he readjusted my hand. "You can't hold it too tightly. If you grip it wrong, everything else will be wrong, too. Here." He gently moved my hand, and then my arm, fingers sinking into my fur as he demonstrated how to hold the blade. "Now, position your feet. You need to be stable and ready to move. Like this." He knelt and tried to move my feet for me.
    I could barely think with his hands on me, but I missed his touch when he backed away. Stay focused. Don't disappoint him, stupid, I chided myself.
    "Good," he murmured, and my tail swished. "Now, step forward three paces."
    I obeyed. The sword felt strange and wrong and dangerous in my hand, blunted though it was. I didn't like it at all.
    "Back. Then to the left, then to the right."
    As best I could, I followed his instructions, keeping the blade up where he'd shown me. Holding it felt strange. I kept my eye on the sword as I moved. "Is that right?" I asked. But he didn't respond right away.
    Everet seemed puzzled when I glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. "Hmph," he grunted. "Okay, let's try something else. Forward, then turn right at an angle." He circled me, his eyes narrowed.
    "I'm trying," I whispered, wincing at the pain in my legs and trying to ignore it.
    When I started to comply, he barked at me, "Stop and back up." I'd barely moved a few steps when he said, "Turn all the way left. Keep turning." Then, moments later, "Stop and jump right, land facing me."
    I obeyed, jumping wide, starting to feel nervous. "What am I doing wrong?" I whispered.
    He didn't answer right away. "That's irritating," he muttered. "This is going to mess up my whole routine."
    My heart sank and I bit my lip, lowering the sword. "Everet, I'm sorry," I whispered. "I can do better - I can - I'm just new to holding a sword."
    But Everet shook his head. "No, your footwork is… strange. Your balance isn't what I'd expect. Did they teach you dance at the farm?"
    I hesitated, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. "Dancing at the farm?" I echoed, incredulous. "Of course not! We got in trouble for laughing. For smiling, even, on chore days."
    "Hmph. Well, then, how are you so instinctive with your feet? You're not even watching where you step and you're finding the right terrain and positioning like I've been training you for a month."
    Suddenly it dawned on me. "Everet, I'm caprine," I reminded him, warming slightly. "Caprines are bred for balance and stability."
    He was visibly delighted. "Ahhhh! That's how you were so quiet when we approached the deer! That's very useful, Miren. I was expecting an untrained, awkward peasant girl, but what I actually have is something closer to naturally athletic but technically blank. It puts us a month ahead of schedule."
    I looked down, staring at my boots, secretly pleased.
    Or not so secretly. "Miren… Your ears are up." I could hear that teasing smirk. "That means you're happy, right?"
    My face exploded with heat, and I looked up in stunned surprise, almost backing away. "You notice that?" I whispered before I could stop myself, shielding my face with a hand.
    He laughed. "I've lived with you for two months now, Miren, so yeah, I've noticed how you act." A pause. "Does that… bother you?"
    After a confused hesitation, I shook my head and swallowed, lifting the sword back. "It's just… different." And kind of endearing, my mind added unhelpfully, but I clamped down on that thought before I could dwell on it. "Rurik sometimes got annoyed when my ears moved but he had no idea what it meant."
    "Rurik had the intelligence of a swamplander," Everet muttered distastefully. "You're not difficult to learn."
    "You're the only one who ever figured out my ears," I pointed out, quietly.
    "Or that you're naturally gifted with your feet," he added. "But since we're not doing as much footwork, I'm going to start drilling you on stances." He stepped forward to adjust my arm. "Balance is not the same thing as discipline."
    We trained for a couple more hours, until the sun finally set and the twilight dimmed. It was deeply painful and humbling, but less unpleasant than I expected. By the end of the session, Everet had decided on a few different things: my footwork was excellent, but my arms were weak where they needed strength, my structure was inconsistent, and whenever I rushed, I ruined everything.
    By the time we ate and went to bed by the fire that night, wrapped up in blankets on our bedrolls under the gentle moonlight above, I was in terrible pain and very thoroughly exhausted.
     Late that night, half asleep, I heard a distant sound like growling. Shortly after, it was followed by a noise like the slash of a sword through the air, a rushing sound like wind, a shriek, and then silence. I was almost asleep when I heard Everet's footsteps; I saw him climb back into his bedroll across from me before I was lost again to darkness.
    
    I awoke reluctantly the next morning to light on my eyelids and the sound of Everet rustling around near me. My body burned. With an aching whimper, I sat up and groaned, putting my head in my hands.
    Everet was putting out the fire. "Good morning, Miren," he said, giving the ashes another kick. "Just cleaning up camp. I don't want any embers left behind." He looked up and gave me a bright smile that it was entirely too early for. "Hope you slept well."
    "Hardly enough," I whimpered, massaging my arm. "Everything hurts."
    "Told you it would," he agreed. "Don't worry, though. We'll skip sword training today."
    The words went through me with a jolt. I started to stand in a hurry but squeaked as my aching legs protested. "No! I can still train," I gasped out. "I can do it."
    "I'm not letting you," he said firmly. "I'm training you in deportment instead."
    I frowned, unsure. "And that's… what?"
    He grinned. "You're going to learn how to act like a proper lady of Valen."
    
    It was a pretty day, the sky wide and bright blue above the trees. The wind was out of the south, bringing the faint, familiar smell of ash and metal from the Wastes. My entire body ached from the day before, but Everet didn't push me too hard. For his part, he seemed tireless.
    We passed fewer people on the road, mostly small groups that gave us a wide berth. They seemed to want to appear unthreatening, and for our part, so did we. The sole exception happened late afternoon, when we were passed by a horse - a real one. I was awed - horses were so rare they were only owned by great lords - but Everet treated it like any other passerby.
    The rest of the day passed without note - one beautiful road fading into the next as we passed by tiny villages and over babbling streams.
    Late that afternoon, Everet found a new place for us to make camp. 
    "All right," he said, after we had the campfire ready to light, our packs and bedrolls arranged on the ground around us. "Remove your jerkin and overskirt. Let's have you in just the dress and boots."
    "Deportment," I murmured, tasting the new word. As I unfastened the jerkin enough to pull it over my horns, I whimpered; everything in me screamed for rest. I unfastened the skirt and stepped out of it, then laid both pieces to the side and stood in front of him. "I want to be a lady of Valen," I said, trying to will energy to my sullen limbs.
    "And you will be," he assured me. "Now, stand straight. - Straighter. You have a natural slouch, and we need to get rid of that. Back straight like a board, shoulders back."
    I tried to follow his instructions. "Shoulders back," I echoed.
    "Less tense in the shoulders." When I couldn't fulfill that request, he added, "Breathe deep and try to relax."
    I closed my eyes, opening and closing my fingers as I tried to shift to a state of peaceful calm.
    But all of it was wrong. "Eyes open. Ladies don't close their eyes," he said, walking around me. "Keep your hands still, in front, clasped just below your belt. No fidgeting."
    I frowned at him, my ears flattening. "This is very strict," I murmured.
    "It is," he agreed. "And don't frown. Keep your face clear so people can't read your emotions. And pick a single position for your ears - probably up like you're happy."
    That made me recoil a little. "I can't move my ears?" I asked. That felt personal. "The women in Falkenbruck show their emotions all the time!"
    "I'm not taking you to some backwoods town like Falkenbruck," Everet said slowly. "I'm taking you to Aurelac, the capital city of Valen, home of the Palace, the King and Princess, and the three Wraithtrees."
    I tried to control my ears, trying to force them to perk up. It felt unnatural. "This isn't easy like footwork," I murmured.
    Everet nodded. "I know, Miren," he said gently. "But I want to give you the best chances I can - so that even if you were to present yourself in a courtly setting, you'll be treated with respect. Half-humans get less respect than humans anyway. I need you to look worthy of it, even at a glance."
    That stung somewhere inside me, but I understood. I took a deep breath and sighed, trying to straighten, holding my head up, shoulders back, chest out. "All right," I murmured, clearing my face. I quickly brushed some hair out of my eyes and put my hands back in front. "Like the noblewomen in Falkenbruck," I murmured, imitating them.
    He looked at me quizzically. "When did you see noblewomen?"
    "On the Night of Cinders, every year," I said, standing prim. "Rurik always took me to watch ruined stock burn for their corruption. Many people did. Sometimes the noblewomen came with their husbands. I watched them because they wore such lovely dresses."
    Everet frowned. "That's barbaric," he said, voice flat. "Corrupted how?"
    "Theft, sometimes," I said, glancing up at him as he stepped closer. "Sometimes murder, or running away, or seducing their owners. They would announce their sins to the crowd."
    With a disturbed sigh, he shook his head and stepped back. "Well. Just try to imitate the noblewomen, then. From now on, on any day I don't teach you swords, we'll learn curtsies, how to address people, how to walk, and all the rest of it."
    "Yes, Everet," I said with a tiny, clumsy curtsy. "I think I'm starting to feel a little more like a lady already."
    He chuckled and stepped back several paces. "Just wait until we're done, Miren. Now - walk towards me like a noblewoman would."
    As I would learn over the next several days, Everet really wasn't that great of a teacher. In swords, he was undoubtedly very skilled, but I wasn't sure he'd ever taught anyone before. His knowledge of deportment was shaky, which was frustrating, but as the days went on, walking and standing like a noblewoman grew simpler. So too did my sword training. He was mostly teaching me structure - how to hold the blade, how to hold my fingers, how to adjust my stance.
    Every day, we walked for miles, until my feet were sore and my thighs ached. Whenever we passed an Ashen Vow regiment, I would keep my head down as before and they would ignore us. Mostly, it felt like I was already almost free.

[Talvieno]

Chapter Eighteen

    "Welcome to Altenrast," Everet said, as we crested the largest hill I'd yet climbed.
    Below us was a little hollow, all but swallowed by the forest twilight. It was a town of ruins - sagging houses, some roofless, others empty shells of rotted wood around stone borders. There, in the middle of town, was the only surviving building - a large inn and tavern that looked like it had slowly grown in size, with extra rooms tacked onto the side and a third floor as an obvious recent addition.
    But what drew my eyes wasn't the ugly town, but the tall, distant shapes on the horizon. 
    "What are those?" I whispered, pointing westward over the trees. "Everet, look!"
    He followed my gaze, seeming confused. "What, where? …wait, you mean the mountains?"
    I flushed, feeling stupid, but nodded. "I've never been out of Falkenbruck," I reminded him, eyes locked on forested peaks. "The town is ugly, but oh, those mountains -" There were stony gray stretches, but most of them were covered in a blanket of green, lightly specked with orange, and I suddenly realized - it was land like anything else, and I could climb it. "Oh! Everet," I turned to him excitedly. "Can we travel there? Is that on our way?"
    Everet laughed and shook his head. "No, that's beast country. Besides, we're headed northwest, to Steinmost, and then to Kreshalt beyond that. Although -" He paused, glancing down at me, a quizzical look in his eyes. "Wait. Miren - you just asked for something."
    A soft warmth flooded my face and I looked down. "I did."
    "Without being prompted." He watched me for a moment, and I glanced up at him through my lashes, ears perked, in time to see him smile. "All right, that settles it - we're climbing it. We'll have to gather extra supplies at the Altenrast inn, but we'll make it work. It'll keep us off the main road, too. Might have to skip a day or two of training to keep pace, but that shouldn't be too bad…"
    I watched him intently as he pondered the change in logistics.
    His eyes flicked back to me and he uncoiled the leash from his belt. "All right, Miren. Let's go find something fresh to eat, shall we? And maybe a proper bed or two." 
    I tilted my head back and let him tie it to my collar, and my little ears were perked, excited about getting an early taste of my vision of freedom-on-the-hill.
    As we walked down towards the ruined town, I shifted my pack off my shoulders, carrying it beside me and rolling my tired shoulders in relief.
    That relief wouldn't last long.
    
    The tavern set me on edge the second we set foot inside - it had the scent of a place where social rot had been allowed to ferment far too long. The central room was crowded with tables and crudely hewn chairs and stools, with a bar and pantry on one side. Behind the bar stood a burly innkeep who clearly cared naught for the goings-on of his own establishment.
    A charming silver-haired gleeman in an elegant wine-red coat sat in the center of the room, loudly wrapping up what sounded like a fairytale, and near him, a number of men sat and listened. Beyond that it was scattered chaos - drunken men singing into ale, Ashen Vow soldiers scowling at the riffraff, and a few mysterious travelers in the far corners.
    "Just follow my lead," Everet muttered under his breath. "Head down."
    I complied, tilting my head forward, hands clasped, as Everet led me to the bar.
    "Any room for the night?" Everet asked the innkeeper.
    He and the innkeeper started to haggle over rooms, food, and provisions, while my attention strayed to the table of a half dozen drunkards in the corner. They were ragtag, dressed like commoners, but carrying weapons crusted with dried blood - curved swords, axes, maces. It didn't take long for their attention to stray to me.
    "Lookit this," one of them slurred. "Goat girl over by the bar - check that hair!"
    "Auburn, is it?" one of them chortled back. "Or closer to blonde? Nice body on her, eh?"
    "Dressed up all pretty, too. Wouldn't mind wetting my cock in that one," another added.
    Then one of them got to their feet, and the others cheered, "Go get her, Braskar!"
    I looked down immediately and pressed a little closer to Everet. Everet was still arguing with the innkeeper about provisions, but my mind was entirely on the man approaching me. My mind swam; I felt dizzy and slow. I clung close to Everet.
    "Oy! Good sir!" said the man named Braskar, sidling up next to us. A few silver marks clinked on the counter and I shuddered at the sound. "My fellas and I would like to buy your goat for a night."
    "She's not for sale or rent," Everet said firmly, not looking over his shoulder. 
    His accent was met almost immediately with jeers. "Oh, we got a Valener with us!" Braskar laughed. "Look. Valen. Let's be gentlefolk about this, eh? The boys and I have been traveling along Nassenmere from Weihenmark for a month now and we need a good lay." A few more coins fell with the others and my stomach churned until I felt sick. I couldn't look up. "We'll get her back to you in the morn, eh? Bright and early, none the worse for wear."
    "Maybe a little worse for wear, Braskar!" one of the other men shouted out, and the table erupted into laughter.
    "Come on, goat," Braskar said, grabbing my arm as I yelped.
    Everet's hand clamped onto Braskar's immediately, squeezing like iron until Braskar let me go. "Get your hands off my property," Everet growled. "I said she's not for rent."
    Property, I thought distantly, reeling. Why does that hurt so much?
    This was met immediately with angry gasps from the table; I heard boots. "Oy! You get your dirty Valen paws off my boy!" one of them shouted.
    Like the snap of a lute's strings, the tavern fell into an uncomfortable silence. Several of the patrons and the gleeman moved to get a better view as humiliation and shame washed over me. I shrank away from them.
    Braskar rubbed his wrist, scowling like murder. I looked back down quickly. "All right, Valen," he hissed, spitting out the name. "Maybe you're new here, maybe not, but I take it you've never been shown a little East Fens hospitality."
    Suddenly there was a strong arm around my waist - I yelped in fear and horror as someone behind me yanked me away from Everet, a hand squeezing my breast through the leather jerkin until it hurt. As Everet shouted, I gasped out a sob, hyperventilating. This can't be happening. How is this real? The world started fading at the edges; fearing their weapons, I didn't dare do anything except cry out, "Everet!"
    The groping hand clamped over my mouth instead.
    "There's six of us and fuckin' one of you, Valen," Braskar growled out. "The marks were a note of thanks. Not an intent to haggle. You'll get your goat back in the morning - for now, she's ours."
    Everet's voice was darker than I'd ever heard it. "No. She's not." And his hand closed around the grip of his sword.

[Talvieno]

Chapter Nineteen

    Don't do it, Everet, I wanted to shout, but the hand was clamped too tight. I tried to twist free, but my dizzy attempt amounted to nothing. Everet please, don't be stupid - don't do this over me - not in front of Church soldiers!
    It took the drunkards from Weihenmark a few moments to process Everet's hand on his sword. All at once, they roared, filling the tavern with angry shouts. The man groping me suddenly flung me aside as he pulled his mace; I hit the floor, dazed, my ears ringing with their shouts.
    "You're really drawin' steel, Valen?" Braskar yelled, his voice slurred, unhooking a curved sword from his belt. "Over a fuckin' goat?"
    I started scooting back towards Everet across the floor - breathing fast, shivering, numb. I didn't stop until I was under the lip of the bar.
    Back in the corner, one of the Ashen Vow soldiers belched, fully unconcerned.
    Everet's eyes flicked to me in concern, then hardened as they settled back on the ruffian. "Don't be stupid," he barked back. "Regardless of where I'm from, you can't touch her without my permission, by the Crown's own laws."
    As soon as the words left his mouth, half of them erupted into laughter. "By the Crown's own laws," one of them mocked. "Valen, do you see any Crownsmen out here?"
    Braskar seethed, his voice dropping lower. "Callin' us stupid? You think you're better'n us, eh, Valen?" At his tone, the rest of them drew their weapons and stood ready. "That what this is about? Thinkin' we're too base to touch your pretty pet?" The man's jaw clenched, he turned his head slightly to the side, eyes still on Everet. "Karsen, get the goat," he ordered quietly.
    Everything happened at once.
    The man with the mace stepped towards me, and in the same instant Everet's sword flashed free with a hiss. The men from Weihenmark roared at the audacity of it. For one awful heartbeat, everyone froze. Please don't, I thought - but before my hope could strengthen, they all surged forward together. Distantly, I heard myself cry out in terror as I squeezed my eyes shut and curled under the bar.
    "Gentlemen!" a voice like authority thundered. "All this over stock? Truly?"
    Footsteps slowed. I didn't dare look.
    "Understand this," the voice went on. "If blood is drawn tonight, everyone will remember who first drew steel, and why." At this, I dared a quick glance - the old gleeman was stepping into the middle of everyone, calm and assured. He leaned on his silver-topped walking stick, his eyes gleaming with wit and too much understanding.
    Braskar scowled. "Valen thinks he's better than us, Corradin. His hand touched steel first."
    "But you drew it," the storyteller continued calmly, his voice like silk and stone. "As men of Kesselgard, we have more culture and sense than to follow our urges into bloodshed and death. Better it remain as a drunken argument, minor and forgettable, than have the deed spread through the East Fens attached to your name. And I assure you, I will personally see that it does."
    At this, the men quietly glanced between themselves, hesitating. Their weapons lowered a notch - all except Braskar.
    "Fuck you, old man," Braskar muttered, swaying slightly as he gripped his blade tighter. "Wouldn't be telling any stories if I gutted you."
    But the gleeman didn't flinch. "And you wouldn't do that, because you know me well enough to know I have the protection of the Crown and Church."
    The man hesitated. Just enough.
    "You've had a lot to drink, Braskar," Corradin said, softer, perfectly timed. "You're not yourself."
    For a horrible moment, it seemed like Braskar wasn't paying attention; he took a step towards Everet, sword up, and then another. Everet kept his sword at guard, poised and balanced, but Braskar only stepped past him and scooped the silver marks from the countertop. "Get the fuck out of Kesselgard, Valen," he muttered, and then turned away.
    As the men retreated to their corner, I let out a deep, shaky sigh that almost turned to a sob. They'll be back, I thought. This isn't the end. It's not over.
    From my vantage point under the bar, I could see a lot of the tables were losing interest. The gleeman was turning away, too, straightening the white lace at the end of his sleeves with the nonchalance of a man who had just finished chatting about the weather.
    I glanced above me and saw Everet motioning for me to stand. He watched me for a moment to see how well I was holding up, and then turned back to the innkeeper.
    Though I stood steady and obedient next to him, inside I felt hollow and violated in ways I'd never felt from Rurik's customers, and I barely understood it. The contrast between the Altenrast tavern and the past month was so sharp it was sickening. I could still feel the ghost of the man's hands on me. You let it happen, I heard in my head. You could've fought back, but you're just stock after all. I shut my eyes tight, squeezing away the tears.
    A bowl of stew pressed into my shaking hands. Dazed, I looked up and followed Everet to a table in an empty corner of the room. He slid into a chair, and I took a seat on the floor next to him. For his part, he seemed deeply annoyed and discomforted, but made no attempt to remove me from the floor - probably because he didn't want to attract attention. "You can sit at the table" clearly only held up back in his cottage.
    I scooted closer to his chair until I was almost leaning against it, and stared into my stew, trying to summon the willingness to eat. Every burst of laughter in the room made my heart flinch.
    "Miren," Everet whispered, his voice hardly more than a breath. "Are you okay?"
    I looked up at him, but found I couldn't speak.
    "I'm so sorry, Miren." I could see the pain in his eyes. "I should've… I don't know. Something - anything. I wouldn't have let them take you. I hope you know that."
    I swallowed and looked down. "I know," I whispered back. Then, timidly, "It hurt, Everet. The hands. 'Property'."
    He drew a short breath before he whispered back. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. And… we'll go to our room as soon as it's safe."
    Looking back up, I tried to give him a faint twist of a smile, though my ears stayed pinned. With a shaky sigh, I began to eat.
    At least, until a soft, familiar voice interrupted us.
    "That was an unpleasant situation indeed," a man said, sliding smoothly into the chair beside Everet.
    Everet sighed. "Gleeman," he said in acknowledgement. "You didn't have to help."
    "No, I most certainly did not," the old man agreed. "And please. Call me Corradin."
    Everet shifted in his chair to face him more squarely. "Corradin, then. And I'm Everet. I'm grateful, but why are you at my table?" It came out as an accusation.
    Corradin chuckled. "Blunt and a bit rude for a man of Valen!" he said warmly. "And all business, of course. Very well. You're a swordsman, and a highly trained one at that."
    My master hesitated and narrowed his eyes in suspicion, like a rat before a trap. "Do you know of me, Corradin?"
    The old man shook his head. "Not a single word, my dear sir, only that you draw your sword like lightning and stand with confidence and stability against a group of six."
    Everet grunted and turned back to his food. "If you're wanting a bodyguard, you have the wrong man."
    But Corradin was patient. "Quite the contrary, my dear friend. I sense that I have found exactly the right one." When Everet glanced back at him, he went on, "A man of honor, care, and precision, clearly accustomed to long journeys, heading westward as I might surmise by how you're traveling with your stock…" he spared a glance at me, "and with the dark-eyed seriousness of someone who has seen war and yet lived to tell the tale."
    War? That's new. I saw him tense, uneasy at how readily the gleeman read him.
     "I have no need of your coin," Everet eventually muttered.
    "I am not offering marks," Corradin said plainly. "I am offering a diplomatic voice to unlock doors and defuse situations with common rabble that cannot be solved by martial means. And, as your dear girl might attest," he added with another glance, "diplomacy is something you might find advantageous. I believe tonight's events affected her deeply."
    I looked up and met the old man's eyes - kind and understanding - and then looked back at Everet plaintively. The old man was right - being groped was no longer something I felt I could suffer through. I didn't want to repeat the experience ever again.
    Everet met my gaze, for just a moment, and seemed to understand. "We're travelling west, to Aurelac. We're skipping Steinmost and taking the southern road up the Blackspine mountains, but we'll rejoin the main road at Kreshalt."
    "Interesting choice," Corradin grunted, his eyes sharp. "Into beast country. You are either reckless or very confident in your abilities."
    Both, I thought. Definitely both.
    "We'll be fine," Everet said. "I could use you at Raukenhall, and perhaps Veligrad beyond that. How far are you traveling?"
    "Rudenmark, two weeks past Veligrad. So I would be able to travel with you the full distance, unless my services are required along the way. And of course," Corradin added with a playful smile, "I'm a gleeman, so you can both expect tales and songs all along the way."
    Everet glanced down at me and I gave him the tiniest nod. "All right," he said decidedly. "We'll be leaving tomorrow morning at dawn. Make sure you're ready."
    The old man nodded. "I thank you. And you can be quite certain I will be."
    
    That night, after we undressed in our room - him to his trousers, me to my shift - I sat down on the bed beside Everet. The room was cramped and mildewed, but compared to the tavern downstairs, it was a sanctuary. "Thank you," I whispered in the dim light. "You were stupid to pull your sword, but… I'm glad you did."
    "Probably would've been the end of our journey," he muttered, getting under his blanket. "If I spilled blood the Ashen Vow would've stopped slouching and done something about it."
    "I know." I sighed. "At least it was more than you did when the soldier hit me at the market, back in Falkenbruck."
    "Things have changed a little since then. Corradin being along will help."
    "I'll have to be quieter, though."
    I saw a faint hint of a frown cross his lips, but he said nothing, only getting comfortable. Then, after several moments, "And don't you dare sleep on the floor. Not tonight."
    I froze; my face bloomed with warmth in the dark. "Everet," I choked. "I'm - I'm used to it. And, being on the bed…"
    His eyes opened. "Miren. I hated making you sit on the floor while we ate. You deserve to sleep in a bed tonight." When I hesitated, he added, "I won't touch you, Miren. You know this."
    A soft breath escaped me, almost a laugh. "I'm not afraid of you, Everet," I whispered. And with that, I blew out the lamp and climbed under my blanket.
    Being by his side - in bed, no less - felt embarrassing, shameful, wrong… but also safer than I'd ever been. Before I could examine that thought too closely, I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.