A Throne for Sisters

Thomas nodded. “I know. That’s why I want you to spend the rest of the day trying blades and carving one that you think would fit you best. When you’ve done that, we’ll work out what you’ve done right and what still needs work.”

“Why carve it?” Kate asked. “Why not just forge it?”

Thomas looked at her expectantly. “You already know the answer to that, Kate.”

“Because wood moves easier than steel,” Kate said.

“Exactly.” He handed her a whittling knife. “Now, get to it, and we’ll see what you come up with. If it’s good enough, I’ll even let you forge it.”

That prospect excited Kate more than the rest of it put together. She would do a good job with this. She couldn’t remember her father, but right then, Thomas almost felt like one to her.

She was going to make him proud of her.

***

Kate spent the rest of the day learning that wood didn’t move quite as easily as she’d thought it did. It certainly didn’t move in the same way that steel did, and the skills she’d been learning from Thomas weren’t of much use when it came to carving her wooden weapon.

Wood didn’t flow like water when you heated it. Wood didn’t bend the same way. It didn’t stretch into new shapes. All you could do with it was shave from it, taking off more material to see what was left behind. That took some getting used to, and Kate found herself considering each stroke of the knife as she sought to construct a weapon that was perfect for her.

In the corner of the yard, her stolen horse whickered. To Kate, it sounded far too much like amusement.

“It’s easy for you,” she said. “Nobody has ever made you design a sword.”

It needed to be slender and light, of course, because she wasn’t as large or as strong as a boy would have been. But it still needed to have strength down toward the hilt, so that Kate could parry with it without it snapping. It would need a hilt that would protect her hand, while still being light enough to keep the balance correct. It couldn’t be too short, because Kate didn’t want to fight taller opponents with the added disadvantage of a blade shorter than theirs.

She whittled and she considered, shaping and reshaping, until finally, she had a blade that she thought might be good enough. It reminded her of a rapier more than the other kinds of blades, but just with the most delicate of curves to it to allow it slash effectively. It was the kind of weapon that might have resulted if a saber had been designed for fighting duels, rather than hacking from horseback.

Kate lifted it, and the grip felt right in her hand now, shaped perfectly for her fingers. The weight of the sword was exactly what she’d hoped it would be, light enough that it flowed as easily as breathing as she cut with it through the air.

She tried to imagine foes in front of her, and cut at them, practicing thrusts and slices, parries and binds. In her mind, she battled the boys from the orphanage and foes from a dozen lands. She struck out and leapt back, guarding against imaginary blows.

Kate could feel the need for revenge rising in her then. She found herself picturing all the people she wanted to strike down with that sword, from the boys who’d attacked her to the masked nuns who had kept her and the others virtual prisoners. Given the chance, she would hack them all down, one by one.

In the middle of it all, she found herself daydreaming about a different time. About her sister lifting her and running through a house where there were enemies she hadn’t understood. Kate had a glimpse of flames…

She stumbled, tripping on the grass of the forge’s small front yard.

“Are you all right?” a voice called out, and Kate sprang up, embarrassed, looking around with hostility at the thought that someone might have seen her fall. Almost on instinct, her wooden sword came up, leveled at the newcomer.

“I’m quite glad that isn’t a real blade,” he said.

He was taller than Kate, with blond hair cut short in a style that suggested it was to keep it out of the way. He couldn’t have been much older than Kate was, his body just starting to fill out with the muscle it would have when he was older. For now, he was slender, with a sense of wiry sense to him that Kate liked.

He was wearing the uniform of one of the mercenary companies, with a gray surcoat that had obviously been patched after some bout of fighting. Kate wasn’t sure whether to be worried by that or not.

She wasn’t sure what to feel about him at all, because right then her heart seemed to be trying to feel about a dozen different things at once. For what had to be the first time in her life, Kate felt herself feeling nervous around a boy.

“You don’t look as though you’re here to rob my father,” the boy said.

“I’m not,” Kate said. “That is… I mean… I’m Kate.”

What was wrong with her? This was closer to the way Kate expected her sister to react around a handsome boy. And just the fact that she was thinking that this boy was handsome said all kinds of things that Kate wasn’t sure she was equipped to think about.

The nuns in the House of the Unclaimed hadn’t even tried to teach their charges about love, or marriage, or anything to do with it. The assumption had been that if the girls there ended up with a man, it would be because they’d been bought for it, and nothing more.

“I’m Will,” he said, holding out a hand for her to take. Kate just about managed not to drop her wooden sword while she did it.

“I thought that you’d joined one of the mercenary companies,” Kate said. “I mean, obviously you have. You’re wearing a uniform.”

How had she turned into something so foolish? Kate didn’t know, and she didn’t like it. She could see this boy’s thoughts, though, and they weren’t helping.

I like her. She’s kind of… spiky.

“I have joined,” Will said, “but we’re back training and looking for more recruits. The wars over the water are getting more serious. It’s good to meet you, Kate. Are you helping my father out?”

She nodded. “He’s letting me stay here while I help with the forge. I’m learning from him.”

She saw Will smile at that.

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “I was worried when I joined up. I thought he wouldn’t be able to do it all. I should go in now, but… I’m glad you’re here, Kate.”

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Kate said, and then cursed herself for saying it. Who said things like that? Thankfully, Will was already heading for the house. Kate watched him go, trying not to admit to herself quite how much she enjoyed doing it, or what she felt about him then.

She liked him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Judging by the light, it was later than Sophia had intended when she woke, and it took her a moment to remember that she wasn’t on the streets, or in the hard beds of the House of the Unclaimed.

The sight of Sebastian beside her reminded Sophia of exactly where she was, and for a moment she tensed at the scale of the deception she’d undertaken last night. If she had any sense, she would creep away and not come back.

The trouble was that she didn’t want to. Right then, Sophia felt better than she had at any point in her life. The night before had been everything she could have hoped, and more. It had been sweet, it had been passionate. It had been loving, and that part at least had caused Sophia more than a little surprise.

On instinct, she reached out to brush Sebastian’s cheek with her fingers, just enjoying the sensation of him where she could touch him. Sophia felt as though she’d learned every inch of his skin the night before, but even so, she wanted to touch him again then. She wanted to be sure that he was real. That was enough to make Sebastian’s eyes open, and he smiled at her.

“So it wasn’t all some beautiful dream,” he murmured.

Sophia kissed him for that. Well, that and the fact that she wanted to. She wanted to do a lot more than that, but Sebastian pulled back.

“Did I – ” Just in time, she remembered the accent that was supposed to be hers now. “Did I do something wrong?” Sophia asked.

“No, definitely not,” Sebastian assured her, and right then, Sophia could feel his thoughts as he looked at her. She expected desire, but instead, there was more than that. She could feel love. “I just need to check the time.”

Sophia saw him look over to a clock in the corner of the room, its hands making it clear just how long they’d slept.

“Goddess,” Sebastian said, “it’s that hour already?”

The servants didn’t wake me. Obviously they guessed what was happening.