Leah ends up resting in the candle-lit study for the remainder of the dreary morning, following the sensible advice to take it easy until the life-threatening wound in her abdomen has finished healing. Funny how things that would have sounded ridiculous a month ago are so mundane now. She holds a hand over the wound, feeling the rough scab through the linen of the shirt.

She flips through a book on Volst, looking for mentions of the Jun province; everything she finds is dated and vague, except for one passage about the war.

“The Treaty of Cayta was signed in the old capital of Jun, between the generals and monarchs of both nations. It lifted and redrew the new borders of ‘East Devad,’ which encompassed all of Jun and a portion of Valerin, reducing the latter to three quarters its original size. It also outlined the transition of populace in the region, determining who among the locals would be permitted to seek refuge in Volst’s lands and who would be permitted to remain. Some fled to Welleslass rather than remain to accept Devadiss rule, and once Welleslass joined with Volst they were again recognised as citizens, with all rights and titles returned.”

Leah looks up from the book. Interesting point. Who populated the Enterlan? Before things like ‘Volst’ and ‘Devad’…before ‘Cheden’ and ‘Grey…whatever-it-was.’ Were these lands empty? Unlikely. How can an entire continent’s worth of countries agree to hate usurpation, when they spread out and conquered these lands, and fought over them?

Did something change, at some point? Did something happen that made them decide to stop conquering, stop advancing, stop invading? And if it did happen, was it before or after the Contested Lands were taken over?

I could spend a lifetime researching this place. Leah raises her eyebrows at that thought, struck. I could, couldn’t I? And once I’m more fluent in Olues, I’d bet there are interesting answers in all these other books.

Priorities: learn Olues, learn magic, or learn the real story behind these wars? How am I supposed to choose?

She takes a break from her hobby research and goes back to her assigned reading, working more on the runes. She traces them out with a fingertip in practice, mouthing the words but not saying them, still somewhat worried about accidentally breaking something with uncontrolled magic.

Finding herself fascinated by her assigned reading, she takes the book with her down to the mess hall, for lunch. Most of the guards and militia seem to still be on active alert, taking their meals to their posts, and the tables are largely empty. Leah enjoys the opportunity to sit alone at one of the large tables and read, eating the stew slowly.

Not long after taking her place, someone sits across from her. She looks up; with all the empty seats, being so close feels like a pointed request for attention. The person sitting in front of her wears the armour of the militia, and watches her carefully.

“Hello?” Leah says, tentative and quiet.

“Deu yu remembẽ my?”

“I don’t speak Olues,” Leah says, but frowns in thought, trying to parse the words. “Remember you? No, I don’t. When did we meet?”

The man seems as unable to follow her as she had been to understand him, though he listens carefully. “En th farms, carryeng th messev. Yu kell’ uon of mi closes friens.”

His tone is formal and stiff, and his eyes are a little dark. Leah hesitantly shakes her head. “The farms…the missive…I don’t – ”

The man mimes whirling a swing and letting it loose, then reaches out and traces a finger along the side of Leah’s neck, where a faint pink mark still shows where she’d been hit by the stone from the slinger, outside the orchard so long ago – Oh Jesus he got away. There was a survivor. The rest died. Oh shit. The slinger got away.

He seems to read her face clearly enough, and he nods in satisfaction. “Yu remembẽ?”

Leah freezes up. “I remember. I didn’t understand, at the time…”

The man holds up a hand, and Leah falls silent, hands tensed against the table. The people around them seem to have noticed something is happening, and are watching.

“I wan’ teu know ui yu kell’nau my. Yu cou have, b yu dednau.” His face is neutral, but his hands are as tense as Leah’s are – and shaking a little, she notices. “Ui?”

“I remember the day, very clearly, but I don’t understand what you’re asking me,” Leah says, trying hard to convey sympathy and confusion in her tone and expression. “I was afraid, and I didn’t understand the situation in the Enterlan, and – ”

The man scoffs at her tone, and gets up to go. “I wantnau yõ explanasions ef yu ã goeng teu brus auf ua yu de. Explain teu e my.” He leans forward with this last sentence, hands on the table. Leah flinches back. “Uethou appolozy. Explain ui.”

“Beleron?”

The man flinches. Leah turns at the familiar voice, and sees Adan approaching, hands clasped behind her back.

“Lutenan, I – ”

“Go.”

The man hesitates, then drops his eyes and leaves, spine straight. Leah does not relax.

Adan sits down next to her, pulling up a costrel and taking a sip. “Hy fas fon of aữ mos promeseng spis, an hy fen tfis ento Valren. Ju fau hem, an hes tym. Hy fas th’only survivõ.”

Leah looks at her sadly and shakes her head. “I know who he is.” She rubs her neck, remembering the sting, and the chaos of the sudden attack, and the pain of her ribs. “I think I was awarded a medal for killing his comrades. Not sure where it is now…probably been revoked. I’m glad if it has been.”

Adan listens without understanding, but still nods along. “Some hỹ fel nevẽ forge heu ju fẽ, befõ.”

“Never forget,” Leah repeats. “No. I won’t either. Don’t think I could.”

Adan pats her on the back a few times, gets up to fetch her meal, then leaves without another word. Leah follows a few seconds after, smothered by the tension in the room.

*

Leah retires to the study, reading through the rune book but only half-heartedly. She toys with the spent charms on her bracelet; a little tarnished, but otherwise unchanged. The beacon charm still has a bit of shine, but she doubts it has many uses left. She remembers the tingle from when she’d used it, the nagging feeling that someone was noticing the magic and listening in, like picking up a phone in a different room of the house to eavesdrop on a conversation. For a moment she’s tempted to try it again, just to see if the person is still listening.

No…Eschen’s too far away, and if it was anyone else they’d also be too far. I’m not even sure now it was Eschen; there was too much he should have overheard that he was still ignorant about during the questioning.

Another mug of hot chocolate sits at her elbow, almost empty. She can’t decide how to feel about enjoying something nice when her friends are in an occupied city.

Well, ‘friends’…I used the word with Eschen, but do I mean it? I care about them all, but they have no reason to care about me, now that they know I’m not Leah. I just…haven’t found any new friends yet, as ‘fake Leah.’ Well, I guess maybe Solace…hard to tell how she feels, though. I should ask her for her story some day; whatever happened to those teammates she’s mentioned? What was her heyday of adventuring? Pfft, she’s not much older than me, it can’t have been long ago.

So what happened so suddenly to change it?

She pulls her wandering mind back to the book, tracing out the familiar runes and mouthing their names, committing them to memory. She takes another sip of cocoa and runs over the ones on the next page, working through the basics bit by bit.

I haven’t been a beginner at anything for a while. Well, fighting…language learning…but not something as foreign as this. I’ve at least already gone through the motions of learning a sport, and learning a second language, but this…it’s like learning Chinese characters. Hopefully easier to pronounce. I should ask for a pronunciation guide, I’m sure bad things could happen if I mispronounce these.

A faint noise rises up from outside; a steady tone, high, repeating, like a bell being struck. Leah puts aside the book.

“That’s new,” she mutters to herself, getting up to go look into the hall.

There is no-one nearby, and Leah pulls on her suede vest – uncomfortable against the scab, but she ignores this – and heads to the ground floor, hoping to intercept someone. Faintly, the sound of horses whinnying reaches her. She turns her steps towards the west gate, and the stables.

When she opens the doors, she finds the gates closed and the archers on the walls above firing along the walkway, towards a scuffle in the middle. The bell above the gate is being rung by a cadet, who shouts something in Olues to those below. A faint pattering of rain has just begun to fall.

Guards are heading up the wooden stairway to the parapet, met half-way by a number of fighters in dark brown and green clothing, dappled to aid in camouflage.

Leah ducks back into the hall, watching nervously, aware that she would only be in the way if she tried to help. The stable-hands and gardeners have already all taken cover inside the barn or the Hold; the braver ones watch from windows, while the rest hunker down in corners and behind doors.

Ten, at least, Leah thinks, watching the fight carefully. And all gathered around the gate. They scaled the wall? Not easy, but not impossible. Or they got in through the gate and climbed the stairs on this side? That makes no sense. They came along the wall? No, nobody seems to be paying attention to the rest of the wall; they wouldn’t be ignoring it if the group came from the sides.

Wait. Nobody’s paying attention to the sides.

What a perfect diversion this is.

Leah looks away from the fight, checking the visible stretch of wall to either side, peering through the haze of misty rain. To the right are the gardens, to the left is Seffon’s tower. She just catches sight of someone shifting under the pathway attaching the tower to the Hold.

Urgh, Seffon, the architecture is beautiful, but that arched path is really such a security flaw…

Narrowing her eyes and leaning as far as she dares out the door, she watches the patch of shadow where the figure had disappeared. After a few more seconds, it moves, climbing one of the columns leading to the raised passage.

Footsteps thud behind her. Turning, she sees Adan and a number of others rushing in to join the fight; Adan sees her and frowns.

“Ju souldnau by hỹ,” Adan says, resting a hand against Leah’s injured side. “Go ba ensi.”

Knowing words would be futile, Leah pulls her forward by the shoulder and points to the figure scaling the passage. Adan’s eyes flit to it almost immediately, and her face hardens. With a gesture, she redirects her team and half of them set off towards the figure, the other half circling back through the Hold, heading towards the passage.

Leah shrinks back inside and watches, heart pounding. The bells are clear and loud, and surely Seffon knows what they mean. I don’t need to warn him. He knows. He might not even be in the tower right now.

One of Adan’s team throws a spear at the climbing figure, hitting it in the left elbow and causing it to drop. The climber whirls like a cat midair to land in a crouch, steadying itself with its good arm.

Others melt out of the shadows, weapons drawn – two or three, Leah can’t see through the rain and the press of people to be sure – and a fight begins. A pair of servants next to her comment in awed and fearful voices, eyes glued to the fighting. Leah checks the original skirmish on the walls; most of them seem to have fallen or fled, dropping back down over the wall. The archers shoot at them as they retreat. One of the invaders has fallen the four or so metres to the dirt ground around the stable, a broken splatter of a person, motionless.

Under the tower, the fight is highly unequal; Adan and eight guards are splitting off and capturing or killing each of the four invaders. Figures lean out of windows on the second story and aim bows and crossbows down at the fight, ready to pick off any who try to flee. The tower itself is silent and dark.

Adan is facing off against the one Leah initially spotted, she thinks; the armour looks familiar, and the person seems to be favouring one arm. Even injured, the fighter is quick, and Adan is keeping up but only barely.

She’s blocking more than she’s hitting, Leah realises, watching. That fighter’s good. And they’ve got a much narrower sword, so if ever Adan did get the chance to swing, they wouldn’t be able to block it. They’re putting her on the defensive as their own defensive. They’re a damn good fighter.

She needs help.

Leah slaps herself mentally, reminding herself of the countless instructions she was given to ‘rest’ and ‘take it easy.’

Yeah, well, those were from before we were being attacked.

She takes a step out almost at the same moment as the fencer taunts Adan into an overextended swing, then stabs forward with their own blade. No sounds can be distinguished amidst the calling of voices and clanging of metal, but Leah swears she can hear a gargling choke.

She breaks into a run.

The fencer has already turned aside to help one of their fellows, and is shouting in Ched, gesturing back to the gate. One of the fleeing invaders has opened the gate and is calling to them, backlit by the setting sun; an arrow catches him in the throat and he falls into the mud.

The fencer is one of the last still fighting by the time Leah arrives, having sent all the rest of their comrades back through the gate. Leah picks Adan up by the shoulders and starts pulling her away, a careful eye on the fighter; the fighter watches her go, face obscured by a visor, but the sword in her hand looks disturbingly similar to Kain’s.

“You’d better not be,” Leah says, as one of Adan’s teammates comes to help carry her out of the fray. “God help him if he sent you after us.”

The fencer raises the sword and points it at her, then darts out and through the gate with incredible speed, vaulting the bodies of their fallen comrades effortlessly. The guards on the wall fire down arrows, but the invaders melt into the woods within seconds, and the fight is over. After a few more uneven clangs, the bell stops ringing, its rope jittering as it settles.

Leah and one of the guards carry Adan back inside and up to the hospital. A few others are already there, and more are arriving.

They deposit her on an open cot, and the guard begins removing layers of armour, checking the severity of the wound. Leah’s hands fly over the now-familiar clasps, helping. By the time Sewheil arrives they have exposed the dark red puncture, which seems to pass clean through Adan’s chest, between the lowest ribs.

“Ue’ll ny teu parlel spells,” Sewheil says, looking at the wound. Adan’s breathing sounds frothy. Sewheil calls for an assistant, and they begin setting up two of the splinter-and-sinew spells. “Hol hẽ ’,” she says to Leah, gesturing to Adan’s uninjured shoulder.

Leah takes up position next to the cot, Adan’s bare torso slumped forward over her, her breathing ragged in her ear. Leah keeps her steady while the doctor and the student set up the spells then light the sinew.

Adan’s body slumps a little bit, and then abruptly tenses as the water is applied. Sewheil’s hand makes a series of gestures, and she frowns in concentration. Leah watches the wound knit closed from the inside outward, until finally the muscles visibly reattach, the thin fat layer seals shut, and the skin closes over what was once a life-threatening wound.

How can any nation refuse to use magic? Leah wonders indignantly. What I wouldn’t have given to have Sewheil in the Valerin hospital. And the Chedens probably have this too…how in the Hell can any nation be anti-magic?

Adan takes a deep breath, arms tensing, holding on to Leah. Leah gives her a tentative pat on the back, muttering reassuringly. At first Adan seems to lean into it, but only for a second; then she sits bolt upright, looking around in confusion, eyes finally landing on Leah. A bright blush rises over her cheeks. She takes the shirt her teammate offers her without looking and pulls it on.

Leah feels herself blushing back. What? No, it was just for the surgery. It didn’t even register in my mind that she was topless.

Another injured militiaman is brought in, and Adan gets off the cot before Leah can say anything, picking up her gear. Sewheil is lecturing her to rest – an Olues phrase which Leah has by now learned quite well – but Adan shakes her head, insisting on speaking with every one of the guards who were brought in injured from the fight. Leah watches her go, then pulls her eyes away.

I’m in the way here. Better to go. Yep. Better to go.

She’s out the door before anyone can talk to her. She wanders the halls and finally ends up near Jeno’s rooms, the door guarded by a single guard.

Leah knocks gently, and hears Jeno’s voice calling “Enter,” very softly.

Jeno does not react to her entry, a book in her lap, her face taught, eyes fixed on the rain-speckled window. “What was the bell?”

“It was an attack. A small one,” Leah adds, seeing how Jeno tenses. She sits down on the edge of the bed, a distance from Jeno, and tries to figure out what she came to say.

“What’s the situation? In Valerin, and here?”

Leah shrugs. “I haven’t had any updates since we left Valerin, but there’s a ceasefire. No-one is getting killed in Valerin. The attackers who came here, they spoke Ched.” She shifts a bit, and the bed creaks. “Seffon is working on an idea, that might bring the other nations in to Volst’s defence. There’s not much he can do without actively going against Devad, which would be…” Probably extremely bad, since it would bring the usurpation to light, and then people would think Volst was the one usurping, not Cheden and Devad. But I can’t tell her that, not with how strongly Seffon reacted to the insinuation.

“Why is Lord Seffon going against Devad? Even if only by withholding his support,” Jeno asks, still looking out the window.

“Because Devad conspired with Cheden to start this war, and we feel that makes it…suspect. Unjust.”

Jeno thumbs at the pages distractedly. “And Eschen?”

“Did you know about his part in this? Before the arrest, before it all went downhill.”

Jeno shakes her head, then pauses. “I’ve known him all my life, and I’ve always disliked him. But he is loyal. To a fault, my father sometimes said. I’ve been trying to think why he might have chosen to do something like this, without my parents’ knowledge…or if they maybe did know…”

Leah inhales sharply. “He said something to me, while I was in Valerin. He said he’d had a mission, to start this war, but that your death was not a part of that mission. I’m not saying he was honourable or just following orders or any of that, but he…I think he didn’t want you to die. And I don’t think your parents had the faintest idea that his mission involved you, if they even knew about his mission at all.” The Baron’s words intrude upon her mind suddenly, and she grimaces. Leah dries her palms on her knees. “Lord Valerid mentioned that you were…engaged, before.”

Jeno’s tension fades slightly, replaced by melancholy. “I was.”

“And that he died in a duel.”

“He did.”

Leah nods slowly, waiting. “Who was he?”

“Adhie Khoidav. He was a Count’s son from Abv-Tel. Had a bit of a temper.”

“Oh?”

“Got in a fight with someone from the navy, challenged her to a duel. She won.”

“Oh.”

“It was a bit of a relief, actually,” Jeno says with a flicker of a smile, though her eyes don’t lose any of their sadness. “He was quite controlling, and his home estate was along the north coast, which is frigid and windy all year long. It was a political match, and one I wasn’t thrilled about.”

“So then, the Valerids…”

“Mum heard mention that they had a son. She decided that it was a good match, and I had no right to dispute it.” Jeno smiles a fraction more. “But he was so much nicer than Adhie. And then you took over for Eschen, so I got to be free, for a bit.” The smiles fades. “It’s all gone much more wrong than I could ever have feared.”

Leah nods, not sure what to add to that.

“Will you stay?” Jeno asks, turning back to her. “They’ve been very kind, bringing me books, but this is very much a lonely place for me. Having you would be…” She blushes a bit. “Well, not even ‘having;’ just your company is all I want.”

Leah flashes back to her dream, and tenses. “I’m not sure I’m in the right place, emotionally,” she says, not meeting Jeno’s eyes. “Also, I’ve got a pretty serious injury that can’t be healed with magic. Long story,” she says, cutting off Jeno’s wide-eyed question. “But it’s not a dangerous thing, just…inconvenient.”

“Can I see it?”

Leah raises an eyebrow. “I thought you disliked blood and violence?”

“It follows me wherever I go; I had better get used to it.”

Leah accepts that quietly, and lifts her shirt, showing the faint red mark and the scabbed line, not quite two inches long, along her waist. Jeno kneels to examine it, feeling the skin at the sides.

“How did it happen?”

“Eschen.”

Jeno’s fingertips flinch back. “With what?” She measures the wound with her fingers, eyes sharp.

Leah can see her come to the realisation, but says it anyway. “He’d stolen back his dagger from me, the last time we fought. He used that. Hidden bright side: that means I have the dagger back now.”

Jeno stands and wraps her arms around Leah’s neck; Leah belatedly returns the hug, uncertain.

“He’s going to kill everyone I care about the same way,” she mumbles into Leah’s shirt.

Leah frowns in thought, lost. Who else has Eschen killed? He wasn’t the one who duelled her last fiancé, was he? No, Jeno said ‘she.’ Then – oh. The memory of Samson’s murder, Jeno acting as the puppet, springs to her mind, vivid and yet removed. She remembers how the magical-force dagger had stabbed up into Samson at more or less the same spot. Leah holds Jeno a little tighter.

“Not just yet, he’s not,” she says, rocking back and forth. “He’s not killing me yet. And I’ve made this promise before, but I’ll make it again now.” Leah pulls out of the hug and holds Jeno’s hands. “I promise that I won’t seek him out. I’m not going to let him goad me into any more fights, unless I’ve got a whole army at my back to help me.”

Jeno snickers a bit and nods. “Okay. I’m glad to hear that.” She looks down at their hands, and rubs her thumbs over Leah’s knuckles. “Can you stay?”

Leah hesitates. “There’s been one attack today, and who knows what will come next. I can’t fight, but I still ought to be – ”

“Of course,” Jeno nods. “Go take care of what needs to be done.”

Leah lays a hand against Jeno’s face, stroking her cheek very softly. She leans in and kisses her, just a peck, but letting it linger.

“I’ll visit you more often, if I can,” Leah whispers against her mouth, eyes closed. “And if they try to keep me too busy, I’ll break out and find you anyway.”

Jeno giggles and pushes her away. “I’ll hold you to that promise, too.”

Leah leaves to find Seffon, passing by the mess for an early supper as she goes, though not lingering – the confrontation from lunch was uncomfortable enough, and Leah isn’t sure she could defend herself without someone to sweep in and back her up.

Passing by the library, the tower, and the dining room, she still does not find him. Well, if he’d wanted to talk to me, he’d have found me by now. He’s got enough on his mind without entertaining me.

Leah ends up in her rooms, stretched out on the bed, playing over the fight in her head. The way the fencer moved – the way they held the sword – the way they’d climbed the stonework – all seem to point to their identity being Kain. Or maybe that’s pride talking. Maybe there’s someone on the Cheden side who is equally skilled at fencing and sneaking. Surely there’d be at least one.

Well, if there’s at least one, then there’s at least two, because Kain is definitely on their side, for now. That was definitely her, in the waterworks…and it was definitely the same sword as today. At least it wasn’t the same move; I don’t know how I would have reacted if Adan had been stabbed through neck while I just watched from the sidelines.

Hmm. That promise not to fight is going to be hard to keep.