Chapter 2

"How are you, shieldsister?" Warm words from the Squire that knew her best, sitting across from her at their preferred dining table, the murmur and din of their classmates all around.

Jess winced and looked downward, staring intently at her admittedly tasty bowl of fish stew even as her familiar of starry midnight hue contentedly lapped the bowl Jess had placed in front of him, knowing that he was in no danger of being spotted. Indeed, whenever anyone looked dead on at her cat, they tended to go glassy-eyed, shudder, and immediately look away. Yet whenever she jumped on it, almost making a game of their reaction, they would always frown and give her the most curious of looks, utter sincerity writ across their features when they swore they had seen nothing at all.

"Jess, you're woolgathering again," Malek teased, gentle brown eyes filled with worry he couldn't quite hide.

It was then that Jess noticed the concerned looks of Raphael diOnni and Josie de Lakere, two friends dear to her heart, much like Malek, who had forgiven Jess her eccentricities long ago.

Jess looked down once more at her bowl of soup, contents splattering ever so slightly from her trembling spoon.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to still.

"Jess?" Josie's clear blue eyes stared deeply into her own, and it was Jess who flushed and looked away, even as Raphael flashed her the gentlest of smiles.

"It will soon be time then, I take it?" Raphael's quiet words, calculated so that no one outside their small circle at the corner of the grand table they sat at could hear.

Malek chuckled softly, dressed in the standard Highrock school uniform of dark blue doublet and hose, with a white linen shirt worn underneath. The outer attire was most often wool, though cotton, linen, even silk might be worn. Since so many of the students were themselves of noble decent, the cut of the cloth and even the coloring were flexible, so long as one stayed true to the design.

"If anyone would know what was to come, it would be you, I suppose." Malek's teasing gaze turned hard as steel. "And some things are to be discussed not at all. Under any circumstances."

Raphael, himself wearing a silken uniform of deep burgundy red, blanched at Malek's expression before offering an almost apologetic smile. “You know the value I place on both friendship and trust, Malek. Neither one of which I would betray. That being said, I am no fool, and rumor abounds like fruit on a summer vine. My only concern is for your safety. Both of you.”

He turned his gentle gaze to Jess. “Are you all right, my friend?”

Jess grinned. “Of course the son of the savviest trader in all of Erovering would weave finest cloth from the wisps of innuendo floating about this school.”

Josie, healer in training, flashed Jess a teasing smile. "That, and you died your hair black as night. None of us are stupid, Jess. We all know what that means. We just want to make sure that, well, you'll be okay."

Jess swallowed and gazed at her soup once more. “I know what's coming,” she said, voice suddenly raw. “I'll be damned if I turn tail and run. Not now. Not... when I'm useful. When I'm needed.”

Malek gently nodded. “The first time's always the hardest. That's what Neal said. Rowan as well.”

Jess squeezed her trembling hands into fists. “And we will not flinch, falter, or fail... no matter how badly we make fools of ourselves on the training grounds.”

Malek reached out, gently squeezing Jess's hand with his own.

Her heart raced despite herself, though she did naught but nod solemnly at her shieldbrother's words. “We will be ready, shieldbrother. Though I did make a disaster of today's lesson. Not only when I gave point, but when I cut as well.”

Malek shrugged. "Boiled rawhide is a hell of a lot tougher than most people realize. It isn't leather, tanned and treated for suppleness, easily pierced by dagger or arrow. It's boiled in glue. The average spearman can't pierce it more than an inch, and any arrow shot at range or poor angle won't penetrate worth a damn. It's tough, cheap, durable if properly maintained, and most of the continent's front line infantry are equipped with breastplates of that very material. Leggings as well, if they are lucky. Topped with simple iron helms baked in ash and quenched, those armaments serve as cheap, solid defense against the average pikeman, or against arrows shot at range."

Jess nodded. "For all that limbs and neck are vulnerable to slashing blows, one still has to get close enough to deliver the cut. And a forest of pike three to five men deep means that few commanders are worried about sabermen breaking enemy lines and slashing their soldiers apart, as all of them are taught how to brace their weapons against charging cavalry."

“Exactly,” Malek said. “And few save us Squires are trained how to cut through such armor in any case, and even with our specialized sabers...”

Jess flushed and looked away. “Everyone was staring at me, Malek. And Eloquin... I knew, even though he said nothing, that he was disappointed. I've been able to cut through cuir bouilli since we started this semester. But today?”

Malek nodded. “Today, with everyone staring, knowing what was coming, you lacked the focus to cut and slice with speed and power sufficient to bite cleanly through while on your mount. It happens, Jess, and when it did happen, you knew just what to do.”

Jess smirked. “Yeah, flip saber to armored shield hand, draw out my war hammer, and pound away like a madwoman on that dummy's helm.”

Malek winked. “And dent it all to hell you did. Not even Eloquin could complain.”

"Yes. Because a frenzy of fury and brute force is all I have going for me when I can't focus worth a damn."

Malek shrugged. “Survival and victory forgive any number of sins of technique.”

Their conversation flitted on to happier topics, Raphael and Josie both sensing a sore subject best avoided, and before long Jess's brooding had been replaced by the warmth and camaraderie of good friendship and banter, and Jess flushed only a little bit when she felt hands both soft and powerful massage her shoulders before lustrous midnight tresses and the most beautiful ebony eyes Jess had ever seen suddenly filled her view.

"Rowan," she said at last, earning a smile from the olive-hued beauty gazing so intently at her. Rowan's coloring and the exotic tilt to her gaze evidenced her mixed heritage, as did her height, the tallest female Squire of their band, though not willowy by any means. Her body was as lusciously curved as any woman could desire, her limbs near as strong as any man. She was a year older than Jess, and loved to tease, declaring them exactly the same, save for coloring and height.

At that very moment she was shaking her head as she brushed back Jess's hair. “You are going to have to try harder, Jess, if you really want to be Eloquin's favorite little hellion.”

She chuckled throatily as she said it, and Jess felt her cheeks flush hotly, even as Rowan teased Jess with her brilliant smile. “I've fenced with you any number of times, my sweet little shieldsister, and normally you give me a run for my money, but twice I beat you in the bind today, and longswords are your strength.”

She shook her head and tisked, soft fingers playfully stroking Jess's throat. "So vulnerable, to let a cut like that get through. And normally it is you marking me," she said, gently clasping Jess's trembling hand and poking her own chest with it. "A thrust right through the heart, when you shift my sword off line, running me through."

Jess swallowed, staring grimly at her soup, even as her friends laughed.

“I think you should take Rowan's tips to heart, shieldsister,” Malek winked. “You're quick and unpredictable, but Rowan's very good at feeling you out, when your blades kiss in the bind.”

Jess grimaced at her friend's choice of words, noting the mischievous twinkle to Rowan's absurdly beautiful kohl-lined eyes, filling up Jess's world and leaving her speechless, as always.

“I look forward to our next match, little sister of the blade.” Rowan winked and sauntered off, and Jess couldn't help but note how more than a few of the powerfully built scions that inhabited their grand dining hall gazed after her like a pack of hungry wolves. And no dress did Rowan wear, but tight, formfitting doublet and hose, much as was Jess herself, though Rowan, both lush and muscular, filled it out in ways Jess could only dream of. Not that Jess hadn't blossomed herself this past year, but talking to Rowan? Never easy, her tongue always tripping over itself and her dreams always restless, if she thought of her sister-in-arms too frequently.

Josie grinned. “I think she likes you, Jess. I really do.”

Jess laughed. “She likes to tease me, you mean. She has half the boys wrapped around her little finger. She wears the Highrock uniform because she likes the way it makes her feel, she said. But she can carry off a dress as well as any student that went to finishing school, and I know for a fact that two boys have already proposed to her.”

“But you like her.” Josie, eyes peering way too closely at Jess for her own comfort.

“Well of course I do,” Jess whispered. “But I know she just likes to tease me, like I'm her little sister-in-arms, and it's her job to take care of me.”

Malek gave her dyed locks an affectionate rub. “Of course. It's our job to watch your back, sister, just like you ward our front.”

And thankfully there was no more talk about Rowan as Raphael entertained them with his father's latest exotic trade venture, and the way his father negotiated past the shark-filled waters of duplicitous factors and trade consortiums, slipping a fantastic fortunes in precious artifacts past crooked inspectors, all brought for a song, Jess almost felt as transported into the story as she did any tale of high adventure. Yet what truly made her smile was the way Josie hung on to every word, gazing at her beau with a look of sweetest adoration. A look Raphael returned, and Jess knew exactly where they would be going as the lunch bell rung.

Jess sighed, walking beside her shieldbrother to their next class. “They make a cute couple, don't they?”

Malek blinked. "Josie and Raphael? Come to think about it, I guess they are a couple now. For all that Raphael made it sound like they were Krona sophisticates just weeks ago, mutual admirers establishing a strategic alliance to wile away lonely hours together, I never saw Josie as the type to love with anything less than all her heart."

Jess nodded. “And the way they were gazing at each other, laughing over lunch... I don't think she's the only one feeling a spark... and he better not break her heart, or there will be hell to pay.”

Malek chuckled softly at that even as Jess suddenly groaned, gazing at the anxious countenances of a number of her fellows rushing to their etiquette class as the sonorous notes of the bronze bell gently echoed through the massive keep. "I completely forgot about etiquette."

Malek shrugged. “Since when did you care so much about etiquette, let alone any other class?”

Jess smirked. "I don't. But madam Putrice seems to have it in for me whenever I attend her class, ever since she got back from her family estates, intimating that fixing me was to be her pet project this year.”

Malek winced. “That lady has it in for any girl who doesn't look like she just came from a finishing school.”

Jess shuddered. “Please don't even say that word. If I'm not damn careful, Putrice will see me in a dress before the year is out.

“Somehow, Jess, I just don't see that happening.”

Unfortunately, Jess did, finding class to be every bit as bad as she had feared. Their professor, though beautiful in a cold, elegant sort of way, wore a perpetual frown, never quite happy with any of their half-hearted attempts at mastering the social niceties of Court, and more than willing to put any student on the spot and lecture them before the entire body, whatever their social rank. Jess, for all that she was herself the daughter of a named lord, was spared not a wit from her professor's caustic gaze or words calculated to humiliate or intimidate. If anything, Jess's very heritage would be used against her, as she found to her chagrin that day.

"Now I expect you all to have diplomatic Velheim protocol memorized in its entirity by the morrow. Class dismissed." Jess sighed with relief, sharing a smile with Malek, as more than a few frustrated sighs were emitted their teacher's way.

“Calenbry. You will stay.” Cold eyes bored into her own.

Jess swallowed and retook her seat, receiving a final sympathetic glance from her friend as Malek slowly parted from the room.

"Your grasp of protocol and etiquette is appalling, Jessica. And though scholars can be forgiven a certain degree of social naivete, your understanding of diplomatic treaties between Erovering and her neighbors is no better than a child's."

Jess frowned. “That's not true, professor. I have a fair grasp of Velheim's military...”

A silken glove smacked Jess's table.

Startled, Jess jolted back, immediately stilling her tightly wound battle instincts as Putrice's cold gaze locked upon her own. "This is not a course on military doctrine, nor is it about waving around your pretty sword and pretending you are a knight. You are a lady, Jessica, born to rank, with title and responsibilities. It's high time you stopped playing games and started living up to them."

Stunned, Jess blinked, at an utter loss for words.

Professor Putrice let the silence build for some moments, looking both elegant and deadly in her silken dress, hair done up in a sophisticated weave, showing off her milky smooth neck to exquisite effect. Yet beautiful as she was, Jess saw only coldness in the woman's eyes, gazing back at Jess.

Jess had to fight not to look away.

If anything, the professor's gaze grew more disapproving. "Insolent as well as slothful, reckless, and poorly mannered, with absolutely no sense of family duty or loyalty. Your mother, dear Jessica, will not be pleased."

Jess blanched. Her heart raced. “You know my mother?”

Lush lips curved into the coldest of smiles. “Indeed I do. Agda and I are quite close. And I do not mind telling you that she is worried. Exceedingly worried about the well-being of her eldest daughter. And considering the quality of your studies and your absolutely inappropriate, even reckless focus upon pursuits suited only for the most brutish of lords, I must say that her concerns are well founded.”

Jess swallowed, her heart now beating at a furious gallop, as if she was truly about to engage an enemy with live steel. Taking a deep breath, as if finding herself upon a precipice, she forced herself to speak. "I do the best I can, professor. But... academic subjects tend to stick to my mind no better than flour through a sieve. If it's tactics or military history..."

"I don't give two damns about military history!" Putrice snapped. "And frankly, save for assuring your future husband's interests are secure, neither should you!" She shook her head disapprovingly at a suddenly speechless Jess.

“I've talked with your other professors, Jessica. We have come to a consensus. Your talents as a scholar are appalling, and your focus on military pursuits is blatantly inappropriate for the daughter not only of a noble, but of a named lord at that.”

Jess blinked, at an utter loss for words. Whatever she had feared would come of her professor's lecture, never did she think it would turn as bleak as it had.

Her familiar, curled up upon her desk, open one sapphire blue eye and winked at Jess. “It is so nice when serpents reveal their true colors, particularly when they end up being puppets of your mother, who does pull so very many strings.”

Putrice, of course, hadn't heard a word, though she looked, if anything, even more displeased. "Quit woolgathering, Jessica. If you were any more distracted, I would think you mentally impaired!" She took a deep breath, pinning Jess with her calculating gaze.

"I am well aware of the fact that your armsmaster convinced Echobart to allow you to stay on, despite your appalling academic performance last year. You may rest assured, however, that if you do not turn yourself around and cease risking your bloody neck prancing about on your horse as if you were anything other than a child at play, and comport yourself as a proper lady and apply yourself to your studies, I, along with every other professor suffering the grave misfortune of having you in their classes, will make the case before Dean Echobart that your appalling academic performance is completely unforgivable, and an insult to the deserving scholar that could be studying in your place. We shall insist that you be expelled at once and remanded immediately into your mother's custody, where you can attend a proper finishing school, as I suspect should have been your lot all along!"

The foulest words Jess could imagine buzzed about her ears. She was stunned, blinking in disbelief.

To have any professor so coldly disparage her, to know not only that they disapproved but would actively seek to get her expelled, to separate her from the only band of friends and fellows who understood her or her fierce desire to fight and serve as a future protector of Erovering, consigning her instead to a lot no better than that of a second tier lady-in-waiting whose well-being depended upon slavish devotion to her mistress or future husband... the horror of it left her absolutely speechless.

“My mother put you up to this, didn't she? She compelled you to organize all my professors against me. What does she have on you, I wonder?”

Jess blinked, as surprised to hear the bitter words slip past her lips as Lady Putrice was to hear them.

Lady Putrice's open palm cracked against a startled cheek.

Jess's eyes teared.

Her hands trembled in fury.

“Get out of my class!” Her professor hissed.

Surprised to find herself shaking, Jess did just that, fists clenched to her side, doing everything she could just to make it to the door.

“Jessica.”

She forced herself to turn around. Surprisingly, there was no malice from her professor's gaze. Only an icy coldness. Whether contempt, disappointment, or disgust, Jess couldn't quite tell.

“Wash that damned dye out of your hair. You are a Squire no longer. You are a noble lady, and it's high time you started acting like it. And if you challenge me in this? You can expect to find yourself expelled. Now leave. I have nothing further to say to you.”

The walk back to her quarters was both surreal and strange. She did her best to hide her face, shamed to be so marked, horrified by what her professor had revealed.

“By the gods, Twilight, by the gods!” She shook, stumbling into her quarters with only two curious stares sent her way, the door opening immediately to her touch, before shutting quietly once more.

Her cat flowed off his favorite perch, having spent the entirety of their dizzy walk back to her own private quarters softly licking her cheek, as if to comfort her.

“I commend your remarkable show of restraint, my mistress, considering the depth of the machinations in play against you.”

Jess dropped to her bed, head in hands, wincing only slightly at touching her cheek. "By the gods, Twilight, how dare she!" She trembled with frustration. "How dare she hate me so much that she would deliberately align all the pieces so as to see me struck from the board!"

Twilight flowed to her table, nodding his head sagely. "Indeed. She never favored you, and always enjoyed putting you on the spot, but no more so than the boys who couldn't give two figs for etiquette, any more than you do." Sapphire eyes locked upon her own. "You and I both know what this is really about."

Jess grimaced and nodded. “Mother. It was so hard even to get permission to attend Highrock. And when I went home for the height of summer before this semester, the way she would gaze at me, how she frowned whenever I practiced Eloquin's techniques on the training dummy and the salted pork and rawhide I purchased with my own coin, thank you very much..." Jess shuddered. "I could tell even then, for all that I didn't want to face it. And when I had the savvy to make my preparations to head back here weeks before the semester started, pinning Mother with a promise she had made to let me go back early, she had merely nodded her head, as if I had moved a piece in some great game we were playing."

Twilight flashed a cool grin. “Well do I remember that look. I knew it would be an interesting year then. Oh well, at least your father and brother gave you a warm farewell.”

Jess nodded. "That they did. We shared wine and laughter, yet even then Father was trying to wheedle me into making certain promises that I could just taste were traps, for all that I know he loves me, and, well, you accidentally poking me just so, whenever he would ask his leading questions... such that I had to call it a good night and left the next morning, dreading what they might have cooked up if I had dared stick around for even one more day."

Twilight nodded solemnly. “It was probably wise for us to head out with what food we could steal from the cook, ordering the seneschal to send your luggage ahead at the earliest convenience. Your Squire armaments are stored here, and if denying you clothes or books sent was to be your mother's counter, well, far better we let her vent her ire on something harmless.”

Jess sighed. “Yet everything arrived as expected, with additional cuttings carefully packed for me to transplant to the gardens here. Oh Twilight, she was too graceful in her letter of apology to me. I should have known it was merely silk over a steel fist, still intent on grabbing whatever it wants.”

Twilight smirked. “Your destiny. For you to be yet another adorable little doll upon your mother's board.”

Jess chuckled at that. “Pretty much, Twilight. Pretty much.

She bit back bitter tears. “By the gods, Twilight, what am I going to do now?”

Twilight said nothing at that, merely gazing at her quietly.

Jess shook her head. “That's right. When it comes to decisions this big, you always leave it to me to decide.”

"This affects you and you alone, my mistress. And it is your destiny that you shape now. The choice must be yours, the path you take. Any move I make at this point in time? Would be ill-advised."

Jess frowned at that. “What do you mean by that, Twilight?”

Her cat just flashed his enigmatic grin, before curling up and, apparently, falling right to sleep.

"You're not fooling anyone, cat."

Her familiar made no response, and Jess thought his idea a sound one, falling asleep as well.