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Authors: Alex Lidell
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Three”—he pointed to a weapon standing beside his—“you will carry that blade and not the club you’ve strapped to your hip.”
Her heart sank. It was a junior sword, the kind carried by young cadets not strong enough to wield the real thing.
* * *
Half an hour before the appointed time, Renee pulled herself up on a practice court fence to await Savoy, who still spoke with parents and students. It was odd to hear his voice blending with dozens of others. Usually, when Savoy spoke, no one else did.
She stood to stretch her shoulders and froze. Walking beside two well-dressed nobles was her father. His gaze passed through her as if she were fog. She waited a few moments, but the group continued toward the main courtyard, quickly leaving the practice courts—and her—behind.
“Father!”
He walked on.
She called out again, starting toward him.
One of his associates pointed in her direction. Her father hesitated before turning. She slowed her step. This was her world, not his study.
They halted two spans from each other. Just two large steps, but it could have been a league. Renee didn’t expect hugs and smiles. Neither did she expect him to look as if he had swallowed a leech.
She bowed formally at the waist, like an officer. “My lord father. Gentlemen.”
Her father pursed his lip. “Cadet.”
One of his companions cleared his throat. “Forgive my manners, my lady, I did not know to expect you.” A smile spread over the man’s face as he turned back to her father. “Why, my lord Tamath, I believe I understand how you were able to secure passage onto these grounds. And why you insisted we come today.”
Understanding gripped her stomach. Her father wasn’t here to see her at all. He was here to call upon the administration, likely in an attempt to sell the estate’s crops. Lord Tamath had not so much as told his colleagues of Renee’s existence.
He scratched his mustache. “My time is spoken for today, Renee. I do not wish my presence to distract from your training.”
A chill settled over her.
The other of his companions, a short man with a trimmed goatee, rubbed a finger down the side of his pointy nose. “Tell me,” he said, peering toward the practice courts behind Renee, “is it true that they allow commoners to enroll?”
She bowed to him. “Yes, my lord. No distinction is permitted among Servants.”
He huffed. “Gods help me, Tamath, if the lady insists on playing soldier, why did you not simply purchase her a commission as befitting your station?”
Renee blinked. The man compared a purchased commission to an Academy education? A Servant
earned
her place. Not that the mustached tree trunk would value that. Very well. She would speak his language. “The two positions are not identical, my lord. Consider the Crown’s top advisors, for instance,” she said. “How many non-Servants do you see in their ranks?”
“You will use your . . . great knife . . . to cut a path to the Crown’s favor, my lady? Your strength must be scarcely matched.” He nodded at the junior sword Savoy had insisted she wear and chuckled. “Let us forgo today’s business, my lord Tamath, for your daughter’s grand plans will surely bring good fortune to our estates.”
Lady Renee knew better than to enter into spitting matches with idiot lords. Unfortunately, Cadet de Winter, who happened to inhabit the same body, could not hold back. “I believe one can do more to protect Tildor’s land by attaining a Servant’s post than by rubbing gold into criminals’ palms.” She turned her face toward her father. “Although I understand opinions on this matter differ.”
He slapped her.
Renee touched her tingling cheek, then made her hand drop away. It was her fault; she had gone too far. Now she struggled not to disgrace her uniform with tears. She felt the eyes on her, curious people waiting to see whether she would meekly accept the humiliation, or run off like a child, or start a
Her heart sank. It was a junior sword, the kind carried by young cadets not strong enough to wield the real thing.
* * *
Half an hour before the appointed time, Renee pulled herself up on a practice court fence to await Savoy, who still spoke with parents and students. It was odd to hear his voice blending with dozens of others. Usually, when Savoy spoke, no one else did.
She stood to stretch her shoulders and froze. Walking beside two well-dressed nobles was her father. His gaze passed through her as if she were fog. She waited a few moments, but the group continued toward the main courtyard, quickly leaving the practice courts—and her—behind.
“Father!”
He walked on.
She called out again, starting toward him.
One of his associates pointed in her direction. Her father hesitated before turning. She slowed her step. This was her world, not his study.
They halted two spans from each other. Just two large steps, but it could have been a league. Renee didn’t expect hugs and smiles. Neither did she expect him to look as if he had swallowed a leech.
She bowed formally at the waist, like an officer. “My lord father. Gentlemen.”
Her father pursed his lip. “Cadet.”
One of his companions cleared his throat. “Forgive my manners, my lady, I did not know to expect you.” A smile spread over the man’s face as he turned back to her father. “Why, my lord Tamath, I believe I understand how you were able to secure passage onto these grounds. And why you insisted we come today.”
Understanding gripped her stomach. Her father wasn’t here to see her at all. He was here to call upon the administration, likely in an attempt to sell the estate’s crops. Lord Tamath had not so much as told his colleagues of Renee’s existence.
He scratched his mustache. “My time is spoken for today, Renee. I do not wish my presence to distract from your training.”
A chill settled over her.
The other of his companions, a short man with a trimmed goatee, rubbed a finger down the side of his pointy nose. “Tell me,” he said, peering toward the practice courts behind Renee, “is it true that they allow commoners to enroll?”
She bowed to him. “Yes, my lord. No distinction is permitted among Servants.”
He huffed. “Gods help me, Tamath, if the lady insists on playing soldier, why did you not simply purchase her a commission as befitting your station?”
Renee blinked. The man compared a purchased commission to an Academy education? A Servant
earned
her place. Not that the mustached tree trunk would value that. Very well. She would speak his language. “The two positions are not identical, my lord. Consider the Crown’s top advisors, for instance,” she said. “How many non-Servants do you see in their ranks?”
“You will use your . . . great knife . . . to cut a path to the Crown’s favor, my lady? Your strength must be scarcely matched.” He nodded at the junior sword Savoy had insisted she wear and chuckled. “Let us forgo today’s business, my lord Tamath, for your daughter’s grand plans will surely bring good fortune to our estates.”
Lady Renee knew better than to enter into spitting matches with idiot lords. Unfortunately, Cadet de Winter, who happened to inhabit the same body, could not hold back. “I believe one can do more to protect Tildor’s land by attaining a Servant’s post than by rubbing gold into criminals’ palms.” She turned her face toward her father. “Although I understand opinions on this matter differ.”
He slapped her.
Renee touched her tingling cheek, then made her hand drop away. It was her fault; she had gone too far. Now she struggled not to disgrace her uniform with tears. She felt the eyes on her, curious people waiting to see whether she would meekly accept the humiliation, or run off like a child, or start a
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