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Chapter Text

“No. Absolutely not.”

Coram glared at the two children in front of him, one hopeful and the other sullen. Apart from their expressions, most people would have had a hard time telling the twins apart. Both had short-cropped flaming red hair and bright purple eyes that stood out against faces pale from a long mountain winter. Both wore brown travelling cloaks, emblazoned with the black and red emblem of Fief Trebond. Both were small for their age, one slumped down into his pony and one sitting up as tall as possible. Someone who didn’t know better would swear they were Lord Alan of Trebond’s identical twin sons.

Coram did know better, and he fixed his glare on the second twin, doing everything in his power to remain unmoved by the pleading in her gaze.

“It’ll work out,” Alanna said. “Maude saw it for us in the fire.”

“I don’t care what that witch thinks she saw,” Coram snarled. The witch in question said nothing, watching the scene unfold before her. “Yer turning around and yer going straight to the convent. What would yer father say?”

“He doesn’t care a thing about either of us,” Alanna snapped. “I’m sure he’s forgotten we exist already.” Her brother, still staring sullenly into his pony’s mane, scowled. Alanna took a breath. “I can do this, Coram. You know I can. You’ve said yourself I’m a better shot than boys twice my age, and I can hunt and track as well as anyone. And there are more raiders every year, everybody knows that. Trebond will benefit from having two knights to protect it.”

“It’ll never work,” Coram said. He was trying not to let himself so much as consider her words, lest he be tempted. Thom was never going to be a good knight, they all knew it. He was too much like his father, preoccupied with his books and his studies. Thom hated fighting, with a depth of feeling that would never be truly unlearned. It would be a miracle if the training masters at the palace could turn him into an even passable knight, much less a good one. Alanna though. Alanna loved the fighting arts as much as her brother hated them. She’d learned everything Coram could teach, with single-minded determination, and she would have learned far more if Coram hadn’t been held back by having to teach both children together. If she’d been a boy, there would have been no question about which twin should go to the palace. But she wasn’t, and nothing in the world could change that. “Ye’ll be found out, and it’ll be all our heads. Lying’s serious business.”

“No one will find out,” Alanna insisted. “If you help me. Thom’s already promised to keep it a secret.” Her eyes were huge in her pale face. “I promise I won’t let you down.”

It was madness. If Alanna was discovered she’d be sent home in disgrace and Coram might well be strung up on Traitor’s Hill for lying to the crown. Trebond would be stained for generations, known only as the fief that tried to defy the gods and the laws of nature. Coram glowered at Maude, who knew all this as well as he did. Maude should have stopped this foolishness in its tracks, not encouraged it.

She met his glare evenly. She’d made her decision. Now it was up to Alanna to convince her other teacher to go along with the plan. If Coram refused her, Maude would not stand in his way. Her visions in the fire had been confusing, a string of images and emotions she did not understand. Thom’s future she had seen, at least enough of to know she’d have to break his heart and send him to the palace after all. But Alanna’s was as much a mystery to her now as before. In the end, she’d looked into her heart rather than her Gift for answers, and realized she couldn’t bear to send Thom off to his fate alone.

“Lass,” Coram said, his tone already shifting from furious to sorrowful. “It’s a noble dream. But a dream’s all it can be. Yer a lady, not a knight.”

“There have been Lady Knights before,” Alanna said, as she did every time someone made this objection. “None of them were weak. The Goddess never turned Her back on them, or on Tortall. If they could be both, why can’t I?”

“That was the past,” Coram said. “It’s different now.” He resisted the urge to rub his temples, resenting how the wounded look in Alanna’s wide eyes made him feel like a monster.

“It’s stupid.”

Both Coram and Alanna looked at Thom, who was still scowling into his pony’s mane. The poor beast, the most patient horse the hostlers at Trebond could find, fidgeted unhappily at Thom’s stiff posture on its back.

“What is, lad?” Coram asked, hoping he sounded more patient than he felt. Arguing with Alanna was one thing. She was quick to anger and quick to forgive, easy to deal with once you knew her. She was the type to explode on you in the morning and apologize by nightfall. Thom, on the other hand, held his temper inside him. He let his anger simmer, spilling out as biting words and days of sullen silence. You never knew where you stood with Thom, what secret insult he was holding inside for you to step into and earn his sulking anger.

“I have to be a knight because I’m a boy. Alanna can’t because she’s a girl. It’s stupid. I’m not better at fighting or getting dirty or whacking things than she is, but I have to put up with it anyway, just because I’m a boy. She likes all that stuff, and she’s not allowed to do it, just because she’s a girl. Does the King want knights who can fight his wars or not?”

Put like that, Thom almost had a point. It was foolish, from a tactical point of view, to waste a talent like Alanna’s in favor of someone like Thom. But the laws of the land didn’t care about tactics.

“Thom’s going whether I do or not,” Alanna said, unconsciously pressing at Coram’s sorest spot. “Wouldn’t it be better if we were both there? Thom can be a credit to you in his booklearning – I know knights have to study, Father said so – and I’ll show everyone that Trebond can fight. Please Coram?”

Coram looked away. He’d barely been able to sleep last night, dreading what would happen when he and Thom arrived at the palace. Thom couldn’t shoot, couldn’t track, could barely ride. He tired easily and complained quickly and nothing Coram had ever done had changed those facts. But it had been Coram’s responsibility to prepare Thom for page training, and all the other servants at the palace knew that as well as Coram did. With Thom for a master, Coram would be a laughingstock. With Thom and Alanna, Thom’s failings would reflect on the boy himself, not his teacher, not when Alanna had had all the same teaching and turned out so differently.

But Alanna was a girl. Girls didn’t become knights, not anymore. And it was Coram’s head if they were found out.

Alanna could sense his hesitation. She pounced. “Let’s ride on for the rest of the day,” she said. “You can think about it. If you still don’t want me to go in the morning, I’ll go back home.”

Thom and Coram fixed her with identical suspicious looks. It wasn’t like Alanna to give in so easily about anything, much less something she wanted this badly. Alanna gave them her best expression of innocent earnestness in response. It was a good attempt. Someone who didn’t know her might even have been convinced. Neither Thom nor Coram bought it for a second.

Still, she’d given Coram an excuse to put off putting his foot down for just a little longer. He scowled at her. “Ye’ll just be giving yerself further to ride back, in the morning.”

It was a concession, for all his scowling, and Alanna knew it. She grinned. “I don’t mind riding,” she said, and Coram sighed.

“And ye?” he asked Maude. “There’ll be talk if ye get home so soon, and I imagine ye’d like to avoid that.”

“I thought I’d visit my sister for a time,” Maude said. “Meet my niece’s new baby. Poor thing came out a month too soon and her ma’s still in bed over it. Lucy’ll be glad of the help, I’m sure.”

Coram was outmatched and he knew it. He reached for his wineskin and drank deeply. Brandy slid down his throat instead of wine, smooth and sharp. Maude’s doing, for sure. She knew how to handle his temper.

“Fine,” he growled. “We’ll make for the wayhouse. If we only stop once on the way we’ll be there by nightfall.”

Without waiting for an answer, he started his horse down the road. Let Maude get the twins started behind him. It was her fault they were in this mess to begin with.

By the time they stopped for lunch Thom ached all over. He hated riding. He could never sit right, or be comfortable, and even the patient horses found a way to throw him sooner or later. Patch had tossed him twice already this morning, and Thom knew from experience it would only get worse as the day wore on and he got more tired. And this was only the start. It was five days ride to the palace, longer if anything happened, and the only thing that would greet them when they arrived was eight awful years of knight training. Thom has never liked Trebond, with its imposing stone walls and dour villagers, but just now he’d give everything he had to go back and never leave again.

Coram passed out bread and cheese to the twins. He gave Alanna her share first. He always gave Alanna her share first. Everyone knew she was his favorite, the twin he actually liked. He only put up with Thom because he’d been ordered to. Thom glared at his bread resentfully. Everyone liked Alanna better. Even Maude did, for all that Alanna was so afraid of her magic that Maude had to beg her to try even simple spells. Thom picked spells up quickly and well – everyone said the potions Maude let him help with were the strongest they’d ever seen – but Maude liked Alanna better anyway. Late at night, Thom used to let himself dream of the City of the Gods, where he would be in the company of other mages, where finally his talents would be appreciated. He’d let himself think about what it would be like to study magic all day next to other people who liked it as much as he did. A place where he wouldn’t be outshone by his sister for once. A place, thanks to Maude, that he would never see.

“Are you all right?”

Thom looked up to see that Alanna had scooted over to him, frowning.

“Are you tired?” she asked. “I can give you some strength.” Her hand was already starting to glow purple with magic. Thom turned away.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly.

“Are you sure?” she said. “You’re not eating anything.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Thom,” she said, and he scowled.

“I said I don’t want to talk,” he snapped. “So leave me alone.”

Her face closed. “Fine,” she said tightly. “Have it your way.” She picked up her portion and rose, walking over to where the horses were staked. She’d be cooing over them, no doubt, probably even apologizing to Patch, as if it was Thom who’d thrown Patch off his back and not the other way around. Even the horses liked Alanna better.

Coram wasn’t in any better of a mood than Thom. He stared straight ahead, drinking deeply from the wineskin. He wouldn’t fall off his horse, no matter how drunk he got. He’d just get angry and red-faced and start talking about when he’d been in the army and all the things he’d done. Alanna ate his stories up, imagining herself in his place, riding at the head of the column and doing daring deeds in battle. Thom just found them boring. What was so interesting about whacking people with swords anyway? Being a soldier sounded awful, and being a knight was just all the same stuff but wearing armor, which sounded even worse.

By the time Coram declared that it was time to head out, Thom’s aches had turned to stiffness. Coram had to help him back onto his pony, and Patch fidgeted so much that Thom almost fell right back off. It was Alanna who soothed the pony, feeding him a bit of bread and patting his nose until he calmed down again. Then she swung herself into her own saddle, as easily as if they hadn’t already ridden half a day. If she wasn’t his sister, Thom thought he might have hated her for it.

Neither Thom nor Coram noticed the snake that almost killed them. Coram was deep in his cups, letting his horse guide them down the road. Thom was too tired to pay attention to the road around them and too busy trying not to fall off yet again to notice movement in the brush.

Alanna did spot it, and a moment later so did Coram’s horse. Before she had the time to cry out a warning, Coram’s horse bucked and shied back, nearly throwing his distracted rider. Patch, startled by the commotion, started backwards and tossed Thom to the ground in the process. Thom, whose one martial skill was the ability to fall without seriously hurting himself – a skill reluctantly won from years of being thrown by horse and man alike – rolled gracelessly away and stayed on the ground, watching as Coram fought to regain control of his panicked mount. Even if Thom had wanted to help, there wasn’t anything he could do.

Alanna decided otherwise. Guiding her own pony with just her knees, she lunged for Coram’s reins and used all her weight to try and get the horse back onto all fours. Thom watched, frozen, as Alanna ducked the horse’s wild kicks, any one of which could easily knock her down or even kill her if it connected.

Suddenly, a hiss sounded near Thom’s head. The snake that had caused all the trouble stared up at Thom, agitated by the commotion. Thom stared back at it, sweat forming on his palms. What had Coram taught them about snakes? Thom couldn’t remember. Alanna would know, would be able to tell at a glance if the snake was venomous or not, but Alanna was busy trying not to get killed by Coram’s horse and he couldn’t distract her. Maude had left them after lunch, turning off onto the smaller road that led to Giant’s Keep Village where her sister lived. Thom was on his own.

The snake hissed again, and it started to coil, rising closer to Thom’s face. Thom scrambled away as the snake lunged, its fangs striking the spot where only moments ago Thom had lain. He didn’t stop to think. He called on his Gift, purple fire gathering around him, and pointed at the snake. A streak of violet lightning jumped from his hand to the creature and a moment later the snake lay dead. Thom stared at it, fear trickling out of him and leaving in its place cold exhaustion.

By the time Alanna managed to calm Coram’s horse, Thom’s knees had given out and he was on the ground again, still staring at the snake’s body. He jumped as Alanna came up next to him; tired as he was, he hadn’t heard her coming.

“Rattlesnake,” she said, looking down at the corpse. Her face was very pale, her hair sweat-soaked and wild. “It’s good that you killed it.”

“It almost got me,” Thom admitted, and Alanna shivered. She reached down to help him up. When he took her hand, he saw that it was red with burns from holding Coram’s reins. “You’re hurt,” he said.

“It’s fine,” she said reflexively. “Barely even stings.” From the way she gritted her teeth together when he gripped her hand to stand up, he knew she was lying.

“Let me see,” he ordered.

For a moment he thought she would refuse, petty payback for Thom’s own behavior at lunch. But slowly she showed him her hands, both marred with ugly red welts. Again, Thom called on his Gift, shaping it to heal this time, rather than to hurt. He set his hands on top of Alanna’s and let his magic seep into her, soothing and repairing the skin. It wasn’t as neat a job as a real Healer could do, but it would keep her from ending the day with her hands bloody and raw.

She grabbed his wrists when he went to let go, and an instant later he felt her magic start trickling into him through their joined hands, her violet fire meeting his and filling him to the brim. The exhaustion faded and even the aches and throbbing of fresh bruises dimmed, pushed out of his awareness by the vitality flowing into him.

When she judged him as strengthened as he was going to get, Alanna ended the spell with a whispered, “So mote it be” and broke their grip.

“Thanks,” Thom said.

“You too,” Alanna told him. She looked back at where Coram was watching them, miraculously still on his horse. His face was deathly pale despite his drinking. Whether it was fear of what might have happened to him or fear of the twins’ magic, Thom couldn’t tell.

“Let’s go,” Alanna said. “In case there’s more of them around.”

Thom shuddered. He could still see the glistening fangs snapping closed inches away from him, the creature’s triangular face exactly where his own had been only a breath before.

Strengthened with Alanna’s magic, Thom was able to remount Patch on his own. For the best, probably – Coram didn’t look to be in any kind of state to help, had Thom needed it. Given what had just happened, Thom was almost willing to forgive him for it.

By the time they reached the inn, Thom’s attempt at forgiveness was long gone. He could barely stand, he was so tired and sore, and Coram was so dunk that he had to be helped off his horse and into bed by the innkeeper. Thom found himself fussed over by the inkeeper’s wife, a red-faced woman who cooed over the “poor wee lads”. Thom hated her immediately. It was Alanna who got them their rooms for the night and arranged for dinner and breakfast the next morning, and Alanna who explained to the innkeeper about the snake that had almost ruined their trip before it even started.

Thom stayed awake long enough to eat the dinner, which was warm and filling and otherwise completely unremarkable. Alanna had gotten them one bed to share, with Coram already snoring away in the other one. The twins were well accustomed to sharing a bed, especially while travelling. There’d been mutterings that it was improper, what with Thom being a boy and Alanna being a girl, but Coram never seemed to care and their father didn’t remember they existed long enough to even know they were doing it. Thom had no compunctions kicking off his boots and stripping down to his underthings in front of her, and she didn’t bat an eye in turn. He crawled into the bed, which any other day he would have called serviceable at best. But tonight it was clean and not on a moving horse, and there was nothing else he wanted in the world. He was asleep by the time his head hit the pillow.

Morning came late this far north, the darkness of winter only barely banished for the freshness of spring. Alanna awoke to pre-dawn grey. Real daylight wouldn’t come for an hour at least. For a moment, she lay in bed, considering. She didn’t think Coram would send her home, not after yesterday afternoon. He hadn’t thanked her for saving his neck, but he hadn’t said anything about her leaving in the morning either, and that had to be a victory. But would he still feel that way now, in the cold grey of dawn, with the aftermath of a day of drinking pressing down on him?

Alanna nibbled on her thumbnail. Her best hope, she decided, was to prove to Coram that it would be easier to have her around than not. Coram and Thom didn’t get along, and Coram wouldn’t be able to strengthen Thom when he started flagging. If she could make the trip easier, then it would show Coram that he should let her stay with them at the palace, instead of making Thom start his training alone.

With that in mind, she rose, cat-quiet so that she didn’t wake her sleeping twin. Thom hated mornings anyway, and he’d be doubly cranky today, after all the riding yesterday. Even Alanna was sore as she stretched, and her seat was much better than Thom’s.

A bath, she decided, putting her traveling clothes back on. A hangover cure for Coram and then a bath for all three of them before breakfast. She fished Coram’s purse out of his things and slipped downstairs to make her request to the innkeeper.

Her preparations paid off. Coram woke first, tender-headed and wincing, and she pressed the potion on him before pointing him to the still steaming bathtub in the corner. By the time Coram had scrubbed himself back into feeling human, Thom was up and waiting, his stiffness soothed by Alanna’s magic and his temper held in check by the promise of food and a bath of his own. Coram surveyed the two, then sighed.

“So yer Alan, are ye?” he asked Alanna, and it was all she could do to keep from shouting with joy.

Chapter Text

The capital sprawled out as far as Alanna could see, extending for miles in every direction. Buildings stood crammed together, more than Alanna had ever seen in her entire life, shops and workshops and homes of all sizes. A huge marketplace sat immediately in front of them and even that held more people than Alanna had ever dreamed existed. She saw nobles in rich clothes, tended to by servants and guardsmen, saw hard-faced merchants haggling with vendors from out of town, saw common folk of all shapes and sizes browsing and staring and fighting through the crowds. The vendors too were a feast for her eyes, a wild mixture of Tortallans and Bazhir tribesmen from the Great Southern Desert and traveling merchants from every country in the Eastern Lands. She saw copper-skinned Carthakis and bejeweled Marenites and even some Scanrans selling furs and weapons, their blond braids done up far more neatly than any of the raiders she’d seen back home.

In doorways and alleys she saw women in tight dresses eyeing the crowds. Young men and women juggled and sang for coins on corners, while children scampered through it all, lifting purses or bits of merchandise when no one could see them. Alanna thought she could spend a hundred years just looking at the market and still have more to see.

“Stay close,” Coram warned the twins, and she hurried to bring Chubby up next to him. Thom, too tired to be excited, was already trailing close behind. “Don’t let anyone near ye, less you want to lose your purse.”

He was surveying the crowd with narrowed eyes, his instincts as a guardsman overriding any wonder he might have felt at the scene. When Alanna followed the direction of his gaze she saw a young man with short-cropped brown hair and lively hazel eyes leaning against a nearby building, watching them. He grinned innocently when he caught Alanna’s gaze. A large man shoved his way past, blocking Alanna’s view, and when he had passed them by the young man had vanished as if he’d never been.

Alanna shook herself and kept close to Coram. Although she looked for him, she didn’t see the man with hazel eyes again as they worked their way through the market.

Coram led them down Market Way, making straight for the Royal Palace they could see in the distance. They passed through richer and richer districts, filled with sumptuous homes owned by rich merchants, and then into the Noble’s district, made up of elegant townhouses that made the merchants’ houses look positively gaudy in comparison. Never in her life had Alanna seen this much luxury all in one place. Trebond was not poor, but they were isolated, a mountain fief whose role for generations had been to protect Tortall’s northern border. In Trebond, luxury meant hot meals and warm furs, new clothes instead of cast-offs and a dagger made of strong steel forged by Coram himself. Trebond Castle was made of thick stone walls and sturdy wooden doors, thicker than Alanna’s arm and so heavy they had to be opened with ropes turned on a wheel. Safety itself was a luxury, and Alanna had grown up all her life knowing to be grateful for it.

Here in Corus, Alanna saw marble pillars and airy windows, each made of more glass than she’d ever seen in her life. Intricate carvings of wood and stone adorned every door, brightly painted to draw attention to the details. She caught glimpses of elegant gardens behind high walls, ponds and pavilions and paved paths to nowhere bordered by exotic flowers, all with no purpose save to amuse the nobility to whom they belonged. Safely away from any borders, Corus could afford to concern itself with pleasure rather than security.

They crossed into the Temple District, the nobles’ homes giving way to homes for the gods, as many and varied as the people down in the market. Alanna had read that more gods were worshiped in Corus than in the City of the Gods itself, and looking at the temples around her she believed it. She recognized some – the Temple of the Goddess, protected by armored women wielding double-headed axes, the Temple of Mithros, with its orange-robed priests, the Temple of the Black God, unassuming and open to all. Most she couldn’t name at all, shrines and temples to gods from across the entire world, adorned with flags and banners and built into spires and towers and shapes Alanna had never seen before.

Here, in the home of the gods, the road was quieter. The din of the marketplace had long since faded away and most of the traffic had petered out as they passed through the richer housing districts. The only other people on the road were priests, doing the bidding of their gods, and those who, like Coram and the twins, had business at the palace.

Palace Way took them through the Temple District and up a steep hill, away from the city and towards the palace. Before them loomed the City Gate, huge and ornate and trimmed with gold. Royal guards waited before it, arms at the ready, ordered to inspect every person who passed through to make sure they had legitimate business within the palace walls.

“Thom and Alan of Trebond,” Coram told the guard who motioned for them to halt. “They’re here to begin their service at Court.”

The guard glanced over the three travelers. Alanna could hear her heart beating in her ears, so strong it must be visible through her clothes. This was the first test. Would the people at the palace see through her? Or would they, like the innkeepers on the road, see short hair and a boy’s name and not think further?

The guard stepped back. “Welcome to the palace,” he said, and let them in.

Inside the gates things were almost as overwhelming as outside of it. The palace was far from the only building within its walls – an entire second city lived at the palace’s feet, with stables and barracks and storehouses. Temples too, dedicated to almost as many gods as outside, but reserved for noble worshippers only, and workshops for the artisans working directly for the royal family. Coram led them confidently through this maze, making for the stables where servants waited to meet guests and direct them where they needed to go.

Alanna barely heard as Coram talked with one of the hostlers. She had passed the first test. It was far from the hardest one, but she had still passed it. The guard at the gate had not looked twice at her, had simply seen two boys and not questioned further.

She dismounted and let the hostler take Chubby’s reins. Next to her, Thom slid to the ground, groaning. A second hostler gave him a distinctly unimpressed look as he took Patch’s reins and pet the pony’s nose. Alanna wanted to stick up for her brother, wanted to mention that they’d been riding for a week straight, but there was no time. Coram had found another servant and was beckoning for the twins to follow.

“Ye’ll show His Grace proper respect, both of ye,” Coram growled to them as they caught up with him. The servant led them away from the stables and towards the palace itself, taking them through one of the side doors into a stone hallway. “A wizard with a sword he is, and he’ll not be impressed with witchery.”

Thom scowled. Alanna only nodded. Her palms were sweating, and she felt a little sick. The guard hadn’t guessed, but what if Duke Gareth did? What if he already knew that Lord Alan didn’t have twin boys and was just waiting to catch her?

In front of them, Coram’s shirt was wet. He was nervous too. Thom, catching the mood, reached out and grabbed Alanna’s hand, clenching it tightly. Alanna squeezed back and took a deep breath. She stuck her chin out and stood up as tall as she could. Maude had said that she would make her own destiny. Whatever happened next, Alanna would see this through.

In the end, they’d all worried for nothing. The Duke barely glanced at them, just recited a speech about what page training would be like and talked to Coram. Alanna listened to him closely, but Thom didn’t care. He already knew what page training would be like: long and hard and stupid. After the Duke came the palace tailors, who measured the twins with a knotted rope and practically threw clothes at them before shoving them back out the door. The servant who’d been assigned to them showed them to their new home: two tiny rooms, each with an even tinier one connected to it for servants. After a brief conference, Coram declared that he’d room with Master Alan, and the servant promised to bring his things to the right room.

Thom would have liked to stay there, to close the door and lie down on the narrow bed and, ideally, never get up again. Everything hurt, worse than it ever had after a camping trip in Trebond. He could barely walk; at this point the only thing keeping him alive was Alanna’s magic. But instead they had to follow the servant some more, had to see the kitchens and the dining rooms, the guest quarters and the classrooms. They saw the library, which was the only interesting thing in the entire building, and the practice courts, which were the least. The only reason Thom didn’t just turn around and go back to his room was that he didn’t think he could get back on his own.

“You’ll know your way in no time,” the servant assured Thom and Alanna, neither of whom believed him for a second.

By the time they were finally allowed to go to their rooms even Alanna looked tired. But they weren’t allowed to rest. Instead they had to dress for dinner, to put on the impossibly large uniforms they’d been given and report to the dining room where all the pages waited on the adult nobles. Thom didn’t see the point of that. There were plenty of servants in the palace. Why make the pages wait on the adults instead?

“It’s yer duty,” Coram informed him, which explained nothing and just made Thom want to throw something at him.

“We’ll have to meet the others at some point,” was Alanna’s opinion, which would have made Thom want to throw something at her too except that he could see that she was terrified. She noticed him noticing and stuck her chin out, putting on a brave face that didn’t convince anyone.

“Fine,” he said instead, and went into his room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Once alone, the temptation to just lie down on the bed and never get up was almost overpowering. What was the worst that could happen? He’d get sent home in disgrace? He didn’t want to be here anyway. At least if he got sent home now no one could make him come back. Boys who’d been rejected from training didn’t get second chances.

But then he’d be abandoning Alanna. She’d been so excited, when Coram finally agreed to let her come, had spent the whole ride to Corus talking about how she and Thom would get to be knights together and ride off and do great deeds. Thom had gotten tired of reminding her that he didn’t want to do great deeds. Not great deeds of knighthood, at least. Thom wanted to learn magic. It was all he’d ever wanted, and at every turn he was denied his dreams. His father hadn’t let anyone train the twins’ Gift, and when Maude finally did it secretly, after Thom tried a spell he’d read in his father’s library and set his bedroom on fire, all she could teach them was herbcraft. Thom didn’t want to heal. He wasn’t good at it, and he hated dealing with sick and injured people. He wanted to be a sorcerer, not a Healer. But even training to heal would be better than being here, at the palace, being forced to wear a horrible gaudy uniform three sizes too big, to go wait tables for noblemen who’d never done a thing for themselves in their lives, and there wasn’t a spec of magic anywhere.

As ever, Alanna got what she wanted and Thom was just dragged along for the ride.

Reluctantly, he took off his clothes, his muscles screaming as he bent and stretched. He was so tired it was making him dizzy, and he had to stop and breathe for a long moment after bending over to untie his old shoes. It would be a miracle if he made it through even one night at this rate, even if he didn’t just give up right now.

A bath might help wake him up, but it looked like he wasn’t going to get that either. So on went the hose and the shirt, blazingly scarlet both, and on went the gold tunic over them. On went the new shoes that pinched at the toes, and on went the belt to keep the shirt from swallowing Thom alive completely. A stranger stared back at him in the mirror when he finished dressing. Thom of Trebond wore sturdy wool in drab brown and green. The boy in the mirror was clad in crimson and cloth of gold. Thom of Trebond’s clothes were battered and mudstained from hard wear and long days of travel; this new Thom’s uniform was pristine, as if it had been made new just for him. Well, for a much bigger him, at least.

It looked good, he had to admit. Sure, the brightness of the colors made the pallor of exhaustion on his own face stand out all the more starkly, but if he didn’t look too hard at anything above the neck he could almost think he belonged here.

Not that he wanted to belong here. Thom reminded both himself and the boy in the mirror that he didn’t want to be here in the first place and, before his reflection could get any ideas, stepped out into the hallway.

Alanna was already there, dressed in her own uniform. She grinned at him. He smiled weakly back. He was starting to get nauseous as well as dizzy, exhaustion and nerves fighting for which had the honor of making him feel the most miserable.

Word traveled fast that there was new blood in the page’s wing. When the other boys caught wind that there was not one but two new boys, and that they were twins at that, it seemed like every single page in the palace emerged from out of the walls to get an eyeful of them. Thom, who hated being on display, scowled at the floor. Alanna stuck out her chin and kept her head up, daring anyone to say something.

It did not take long for someone to take her up on that dare. An older boy, blond and gangly, sauntered over and grabbed Alanna’s arm.

“I wonder what this is,” he said, sneering at her. “Probably some back-country boy who thinks he’s a noble. And look, there’s two of them.” He pushed Alanna away and grabbed for Thom instead. Thom ducked out of the way.

“Don’t touch me,” he said.

The boy’s face contorted into a snarl of anger. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” he growled.

“Leave them alone Ralon,” one of the other boys said. “They didn’t do anything to you.”

“That one disrespected me!” Ralon snarled. He grabbed for Thom again.

Later, Thom thought that maybe, if he’d been less tired and sore, less angry with the fact that he was here at all, maybe he’d have handled the situation differently. As it was, he lost his grip on his temper and his Gift. He shoved a wave of violet fire at Ralon, slamming the boy across the hallway and into the stone wall behind them.

Everyone turned to stare at him as the magic faded. Thom, already exhausted beyond his limits, swayed, his vision going grey around the edges. A moment later he felt a burst of warmth and energy – Alanna had grabbed him before he could fall and fed him the last of her magic. It wasn’t much, but he wouldn’t collapse right then and there.

“What is this?” A voice cut through the silence. Everyone turned away from Ralon, who lay stunned but awake on the floor, towards the far end of the hallway, where a group of pages was advancing on the group. In the lead strode a boy with raven-black hair and a thunderous expression on his handsome face. Alanna gripped Thom’s hand tightly.

“Ralon started it, Highness,” the boy who’s spoken out earlier said. He glanced over at Thom, fear clear on his face. “But the new boy finished it.”

The boy called Highness and his companions made it to where the rest of the pages were standing. His bright blue eyes swept over the scene, taking in Thom and Alanna, who had a wide bubble of space around them, and Ralon, who had yet to rise.

“So I see,” the blue-eyed boy said. “Tell me what happened.” He was looking straight at Thom and Alanna, his expression unreadable.

“We were looking at the new boys, waiting for you,” the first boy said. “They were just standing there, minding their own business, and Ralon started in on them. Talked to that one first-” the boy nodded to Alanna “-and grabbed him. He tried to grab the other one, and the boy said not to touch him. Ralon got mad, said he’d been disrespected, tried to grab him again, and the boy used magic on him. Threw him into the wall. Almost passed out himself, by the looks of it.”

Thom scowled. Had that last part really been necessary?

“I see.” The blue-eyed boy regarded the twins, no hint of his thoughts on his face. “Well Ralon can’t say he wasn’t warned, and maybe he’ll think twice about bullying the new pages now. But using magic on other nobles isn’t allowed, and it’s not a good way to earn friends.”

“I don’t care,” Thom said. “He shouldn’t have tried to grab me.”

“You’re blunt, at least,” the blue-eyed boy said. “What’s your name?”

“Thom of Trebond,” Thom said, meeting the blue-eyed boy’s gaze.

A murmur went through the crowd at this. A moment later, one of the blue-eyed boys’ friends said, “This is the Prince, lad.”

Oh. Thom dropped his eyes again and bowed, digging his nails into the palm of his free hand so that he didn’t get dizzy and fall over in the process.

“And you?” Prince Jonathan asked Alanna.

“Alan of Trebond,” Alanna said, bowing herself. “Your Highness. We’re twins.”

“We can see that,” the prince said, sounding amused. “You’ve made quite the entrance, I must say.”

“I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness,” Alanna said. She bowed again. Thom wondered how many of the other boys noticed that she had yet to let go of his hand. Did they think she was holding him back from doing more magic, instead of keeping a grip on him to make sure he didn’t collapse?

“Don’t be,” the prince said. “From the sounds of it, you didn’t do anything. A knight doesn’t apologize for the deeds of another noble, unless he ordered the actions himself. I assume you didn’t set your brother on Ralon?”

“No, Your Highness,” Alanna said. Then, because she was his sister and she loved him, she added, “But he did tell Ralon not to touch him first. Your Highness.”

Thom knew he was expected to apologize next, since he had cast the spell. He kept his mouth shut. He didn’t regret his actions, and if it made the other boys too afraid to pick on him then all the better.

“Well then,” the prince said after a beat, when it was clear that Thom wasn’t going to say anything further. “Now that we’ve had our excitement, we need to find sponsors for our newest pages or we’ll be late for dinner. Who will sponsor Master Alan?”

Several of the boys raised their hands. The prince considered the choices for a moment then nodded at one of his own companions. “Gary can show you everything you need,” he said, and a brown-haired boy who had to be related to Duke Gareth smiled.

“Gareth of Naxen,” the boy said, confirming the relationship. “A pleasure.” Alanna bowed.

“And Master Thom?” the prince wanted to know. The assembled boys glanced around nervously. No one raised their hand.

“I’ll take him,” one of the prince’s other friends said, as Thom’s face started to burn. The boy grinned at Thom. He was the one who’d given Thom the prince’s name earlier. “Anyone who takes a swing at Ralon is a friend of mine.”

“So Raoul will sponsor Thom,” the prince said, nodding. “Excellent.” In the distance, a bell rang. “That’s our cue. Stay close to your sponsors, you two, and listen to what they tell you.”

“Shouldn’t we do something about Ralon, Highness?” one of the boys asked.

“I suppose we should,” the Prince said. He glanced around the assembled pages. “Simon,” he decided. “You’re assigned to wait on Duke Baird, aren’t you?”

A boy with reddish brown hair and dreamy grey eyes nodded.

“Tell him that Ralon of Malven had an accident in the Page’s wing and might need some assistance.” The prince paused. “But wait until the second or third course. Duke Baird works hard, he deserves his dinner.”

Simon bowed, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “It’s important that His Grace keep his strength up.”

The group started off. Alanna tugged at Thom’s hand when he didn’t move. “Come on,” she hissed. “We’ll get left behind.”

“Just leave me to die,” Thom mumbled.

Alanna rolled her eyes and tugged at him again, harder this time. Thom stumbled forward to keep from being knocked off his feet completely. Now that she’d gotten him moving Alanna trotted off after the other boys, towing Thom along behind her. Their service as pages had begun.

Chapter Text

Page training, as it turned out, was not about preparing to do great deeds. It wasn’t even about learning to fight or to serve her liege lord as a knight. Life as a page, as far as Alanna could figure out, seemed to be about bells. A bell woke her in the morning and another sent her to breakfast. Bells dictated when classes began and ended, when she was expected to drop everything and move somewhere else, when she was released to the cruel joke that was the portion of the day called “free time”.

In between the bells, she worked. Mornings were spent in classes, endless hours of droning instruction from interchangeable Mithran Masters, each of whom seemed determined to make their subject the dullest one possible to their pupils. The Reading and Writing Master, upon discovering that Alanna and Thom were proficient at both, gave Alanna a long and exceedingly dull poem to read and report on and made Thom work on his handwriting for the entire hour. The Mathematics Master assigned them both to something he called “algebra,” which Thom seemed to understand but Alanna couldn’t make heads or tails of. The Deportment Master took one look at their bows and declared them both embarrassments to the very concept of nobility and thrust an enormous tome at each of them with orders to memorize the first chapter and report back the next day.

“I got that one,” Raoul said when Thom showed him the book. “I have nightmares about it sometimes.”

“He was in a state over you,” Gary said. Gary, who seemed to have grown up at court, had no trouble with Deportment. “Goldenlake,” Gary said, mimicking the Deportment Master’s diction perfectly. “Your posture is an affront to your ancestors and a disgrace to your king. Take up dancing immediately!”

Raoul and Alanna laughed. After a moment, Thom offered a weak chuckle. He was still recovering from the journey, and he’d already been told off twice for falling asleep in class. Raoul, seeing this sign of life, gave Thom an encouraging grin.

“Did you do it?” Alanna wanted to know. “Take up dancing?” The Deportment Master had been very insistent about something called a lap-harp.

“For about two days,” Raoul said. He shuddered. “Give me a tilting field any day.”

“Raoul’s scared of talking to girls,” Alex said. Alexander of Tirragen, along with the generally quiet Francis of Nond, made up the rest of Prince Jonathan’s circle of friends, into which Thom and Alanna seemed to have been adopted.

Alanna opened her mouth to make a joke. Just in time she snapped it back shut. She had just been about to reveal her secret! Never mind anyone finding out, she’d almost just given herself away on the first day!

She kept her mouth firmly closed for the rest of the time it took them to get to the next class.

The next class was history, or perhaps tactics. Alanna wasn’t quite clear on which and she wasn’t sure anyone else was either. It was taught by a jovial old knight named Myles of Olau and it was by far the most interesting thing to have happened that morning. Myles of Olau was a fascinating mixture of unkempt and observant, and he had very peculiar ideas about the code of chivalry.

“Being in a room with him every day is going to give me a headache,” Thom muttered as they headed to lunch.

“I liked him,” Alanna said.

“You’re a generous soul,” Alex said dryly. “Myles of Olau is the court drunk, and he’s only still in his position because His Majesty think the Mithran Masters glorify warfare too much.”

“Myles and Alex don’t get along,” Gary said, stating the obvious.

Thom fell asleep over lunch, which he barely picked at despite Raoul’s insistence on filling his plate, and both twins nodded off in philosophy, where the droning Mithran Master barely seemed to notice. Or at least Alanna didn’t think he’d noticed until the end of the hour when he assigned Thom and Alanna – and only Thom and Alanna – a report about the long-dead philosopher whose theories he had been summarizing. For the next day, of course.

“Sorry, I should have warned you,” Raoul said apologetically. “But you looked like you needed your sleep.”

“What happens if we don’t get everything done?” Alanna wanted to know. The amount of things she had been assigned “for the next day” were accumulating frighteningly quickly.

“You get more work,” Gary said. He shrugged philosophically. “You get used to never catching up. Sometimes I think that’s what they’re really trying to teach us.”

“They’ll know if you don’t try though,” Alex warned. “And then you get reported to His Grace for punishment and extra duty chores.”

Alanna, who had been just about to mentally consign the etiquette book to the furthest corner of her room, winced.

Before they could go out to the practice courts and learn any of the skills they’d actually need as knights, one of the palace servants came for Thom. Duke Gareth, apparently, wanted to see him, and wanted to see him immediately. When Alanna tried to follow, Gary stopped her.

“It’ll be about last night,” Gary said. “Father won’t let you go in and you’ll just get in trouble for missing lessons.” Anxiously, Alanna watched Thom follow the servant away. He looked dreadful, deathly pale and stumbling every few steps, like he was actually sick instead of just tired.

“Come on then,” Gary said, not unkindly, when Thom and the servant had turned a corner and vanished from view. “Let’s get some fresh air.”

Outside, Alanna learned that nothing in Trebond had even remotely prepared her for what being a knight would be like. She knew how to hunt and how to track and how to shoot with a longbow. What she did not know was anything about how to fight. When she’d dreamed of knighthood, none of it had involved sweaty practice armor and being hit with a stick every time she misjudged where her shield was. Back home, she’d beaten Thom at play-fencing every single time until he stopped playing with her. Here, every single boy was better than her and it wasn’t even close.

Thom rejoined the rest of them partway through the second hour, which at least meant he hadn’t been kicked out. Although by the looks of him, he probably wished he had. Alanna had barely any Gift to spare, having spent almost all of it on just getting Thom to Corus, but she longed to go to him and give him what little strength she did have left. She could get through this on sheer determination. Thom, who hadn’t even wanted to be here at all, wouldn’t. But he was at the very far end of the practice court and the training instructors were already barking at her to stop lazing about and there was no way she’d be able to reach him without being stopped.

The cursed bell signaled the end of their time with stick and shield and Gary led Alanna to the archery court. She tried to go to Thom, but Gary held her back. “Raoul will take care of him,” Gary said, steering her firmly forward. “You worry about getting yourself through the day intact.”

Alanna scowled, trying to pull out of his grip. Gary held on, not tightly enough to bruise, but far too firmly for Alanna to pull away, tired and stiff as she was from the long ride. With four years and at least fifty pounds on her, trying to overpower Gary was like trying to overpower a wall, or a stubborn horse. She felt completely powerless in the face of his firm grasp on her shoulder.

“Knights have to trust each other,” Gary said as he steered her towards the archery butts. “One day, we’ll all be in an army together and you’ll have to trust every knight in the army to look out for you just like they’ll have to trust you. Better to start practicing that now, when the worst that can happen is a broken bone or two and the Healers are right here.”

Alanna was in no mood to listen to reason, not when all she could see was Thom’s exhaustion and misery. The twins had always looked out for each other. Alanna had strengthened Thom when they went hiking or hunting and Thom had coaxed Alanna through trying new spells, testing them first so she always knew what to expect. The thought of being separated from Thom had always made the looming specter of the convent so much worse, just as she knew that having to face the palace alone had given Thom nightmares he refused to discuss. It seemed inconceivable to her that they should still be kept apart, even with both of them here at the palace together.

The archery lessons did nothing to improve her temper. The guardsman who taught the pages to shoot made Alanna string and draw her bow, then shoot at the target. When she hit it first try, instead of congratulating her on her skill, he made her work on how she stood and how she held her bow and didn’t so much as let her look at another arrow for the entire hour. When Alanna snuck glances down the row she saw that Thom, who couldn’t hit a target two feet in front of him, had been given the same orders. What was the point of even letting her shoot, she thought rebelliously, if she was just going to be treated like a useless beginner who’d never seen a bow before?

The final hour of the day saw them on horseback. Neither Thom nor Alanna had proper horses, Trebond needing all the good mounts they could get to fight the Scanran raiders, and so they had been assigned mounts from the palace stables for this lesson. Alanna scrambled awkwardly onto hers, which was far too large for her. Her toes barely reached the stirrups, and it was impossible to use the spurs to guide the horse into doing anything. Worse, the horse’s mouth was hard – likely from years of being ridden by pages far too small for it – and so Alanna couldn’t use the reins to much effect either.

Thom was even worse off. Alanna, at least, felt reasonably comfortable on horseback, most of the time. Thom hated riding at the best of times, and even the placid ponies that Coram found for them found a way to throw him eventually. The palace horse, far less tolerant than Chubby and Patch, wasted no time tossing him to the ground.

Alanna’s horse, sensing its rider’s distraction, jerked suddenly and she clung to its neck to avoid falling off herself.

“Sit up straight,” the horsemaster barked, and Alanna wanted to scream in pure frustration. Didn’t he see she was trying to stay astride at all?

Grimly, Alanna sat straight and tried to guide her horse in a circle like the horsemaster wanted. The horse did not care in the slightest what the horsemaster wanted, and when Alanna tugged at the reins to try to get it to cooperate, it tossed its head hard enough that it was her turn to go flying.

Across the training yard, Thom too fell off. He screamed when he hit the ground. In an instant, Alanna was on her feet, her aches and angers forgotten, pushing through the training yard to get to her brother. He was curled on the ground, still screaming, his wrist sticking out at an unnatural angle that made her sick. Broken, and badly so.

“He needs a Healer,” she snapped at the horsemaster, who had come over to see what the ruckus was about.

“I am the judge of that, not you,” the horsemaster informed her shortly. “Report to Stefan at the stables for extra duty chores every evening this week. A knight never leaves his horse unattended.”

“But,” Alanna began.

“No buts,” the horsemaster interrupted. “Or His Grace will hear about it.” He looked down at Thom. “Stand up,” he ordered. “Let’s get a look at it.”

Thom didn’t move. He’d switched from screaming to whimpering, clearly in too much pain to do anything else. The horsemaster grunted.

“I’ll help him,” a new voice said, and Alanna looked over to see Raoul, his reins looped over his arm, come join their little group. “I’m his page sponsor.”

The horsemaster nodded. “Take him to the Healers,” he said, sounding notably less angry. “You’re excused for the rest of the lesson.” Raoul gave him a deep nod, the formal acknowledgment that noble pages owed their commoner teachers, and crouched down next to Thom.

The horsemaster looked around the yard. “Stefan,” he boomed. Alanna jumped at the sudden noise. The horses, used to this, didn’t so much as flick their ears.

Raoul, also used to the horsemaster’s bellowing, was slowly coaxing Thom upright, supporting him easily. Alanna bit her lip, unsure of what to do. She wanted to help, to go with them, to do something, but the horsemaster stood between her and Thom.

“Why are you still here?” the horsemaster demanded, glaring down at her. “I thought I told you to get back to your exercises.”

“We’ll be all right,” Raoul assured her, glancing over his shoulder. He’d gotten Thom into a sitting position, which was more than Alanna would have been able to do in her exhausted state. Reluctantly, filled with rebellion, she went back to the horse she’d been assigned and achingly scrambled back onto its back.

By the time she got back to her room after dinner that night, Alanna had made up her mind. Thom had been right. All her ideas about what being a knight would be like were nothing but fairy stories. She strode into Thom’s room without knocking.

“We’re leaving,” she informed him. “You were right. We’re not learning anything here and the pace will kill us.”

Thom, his broken wrist freshly splinted and bandaged by the Healers, looked blearily up at her. “What are you talking about?” he wanted to know.

“We’re going back to Trebond,” Alanna said. She paced up and down the length of his tiny room, too filled with frustration and nervous energy to stay still. “Father won’t even notice we’re back. You can write more letters, and we’ll go to the City of the Gods. You’ll be a sorcerer after all, and I’ll join the Temple of the Goddess and be a shield maiden. Anything has to be better than this.”

“I can’t go back,” Thom said, shaking his head.

“Why not?” Alanna demanded, startled into stopping. “Is it because of what Maude saw? She said herself that she didn’t understand most of it. Maybe she was wrong! Or maybe the gods were! Or-”

“Alanna,” Thom interrupted. “Shut up.”

She blinked, staring at him. He was curled up on his bed, cradling his bad arm, his face still pale with exhaustion. The long trip and brutal introduction to the palace had sucked all the vitality out of him, leaving him looking more like her ghost than her twin.

“I can’t go anywhere,” Thom said. “I won’t make it. And the Healers said you aren’t allowed to give me any more magic, or it’ll just make everything worse.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide and pleading. “Don’t leave me here alone.”

Remorse flooded her. Of course Thom wasn’t in any condition to make the long ride home. What had she been thinking? He’d barely been able to walk this morning, and that was before he broke his wrist! She sat down next to him on the bed, mindful of his bad arm.

“I won’t,” she said. “We’ll wait until you’re healed enough, then we’ll go, how’s that?”

“I never thought you’d be the one giving up on anything first,” Thom said. Alanna scowled at him.

“I’m not giving up!” she exclaimed. “I’m… I’m protesting! You saw what today was like! How could this possibly be training us for anything?”

Thom gave a one-armed shrug. “I don’t know what you were expecting,” he said. “I told you it was going to be awful.”

“I was expecting to learn something useful! I want to learn to fight with a sword, not get hit with sticks and yelled at for not blocking fast enough!”

“You think you won’t get hit learning how to use a sword?” Thom wanted to know.

“No,” Alanna admitted. “But I thought…” she trailed off. She’d thought that, because she was more skilled than anyone her age at Trebond, that she would be equally far ahead at the palace. She’d thought – although she hadn’t even realized it until now – that the training masters at the palace would be like Coram, impressed with her natural abilities and willing to indulge her. Putting it into words, she realized how stupid and selfish of a thought it had been.

“Never mind,” she said shortly. “We can’t go anywhere until you’re healed anyway. Did the Healers say how long?”

“A few months,” Thom said. He yawned. “Two, at least, until they take the cast off.”

Alanna nodded. She could survive two months, for Thom’s sake.

For skipping her extra duty chores in the stables and doing no homework, Duke Gareth summoned Alanna to his office the next day after lunch. She explained that she’d been worried about her brother, who was hurt, and that it wouldn’t happen again. He gave her a searching look and a short lecture about duty in the face of hardship and sentenced her to a month’s confinement to the palace. Alanna, who hadn’t even been aware that she wasn’t confined to the palace during her training, accepted the punishment without complaint.

The afternoon’s lessons were somehow worse than the day before. Alanna gritted her teeth and pushed through. She reported to Stefan Groomsman at the stables for an hour of mucking out stalls before dinner and fought her way through as much of the book work as she could after dinner and reminded herself that she was doing it for Thom.

By the end of the first month, things were getting better. For all that she’d been certain the workload would kill her, Alanna adjusted. She went to bed every night exhausted and woke every morning screaming for more sleep, but she no longer felt like death itself during the in between hours. She found herself blocking strikes with the practice shield at least some of the time, and the archery master deemed her footwork acceptable and allowed her to practice actually shooting once again. Stefan gave her tips on how to control the palace warhorses, and Gary sent her to Alex for help with mathematics so that she didn’t keep falling further behind. In the evenings, she and Thom joined their page sponsors in the page’s library, or sometimes in the Prince’s room, where the group worked on their book work together and made jokes at the expense of the Mithran Masters. When Alanna timidly ventured a joke of her own one evening, she sent Gary into such a gale of laughter that he nearly choked on it and had to be revived by Raoul thumping him on the back and Prince Jonathan forcing him to drink a glass of water.

“It wasn’t even that funny,” she told Thom, on their way back to their rooms. Thom, who’d been deep in conversation with Francis and had missed the joke completely, only shrugged.

At the end of April, the Healers took the cast off of Thom’s wrist and replaced it with a splint and a long list of exercises he needed to do to strengthen it. Alanna found herself dragging her feet as she went to find him that evening. She’d promised they would leave when the cast came off. Two months ago, it had been a hard promise to keep because of how long a wait it seemed. Now that the time had come, she wished she’d promised to wait twice as long.

She hesitated in front of Thom’s door. She was wasting valuable time – the pages only had half an hour to wash and dress for dinner after the final lesson, and she smelled strongly enough of horse sweat that even Sir Myles, whom she had been assigned to wait on, would complain if she showed up to dinner without bathing. This might be the last night she ever saw Sir Myles; she didn’t want to leave him with a bad impression.

Steeling herself, her throat oddly tight, she knocked.

“Who is it?” Thom yelled through the door.

“It’s me,” Alanna called back. Figuring that was enough warning, she pushed the door open and stepped through.

Thom’s room was a mess. He claimed it was because he hadn’t been allowed to use his right hand for two months, but Alanna knew better. Thom’s room had always been a mess, ever since Lord Alan decreed that his children were old enough to pick up after themselves and had forbidden the servants at Trebond from doing more than washing the windows and cleaning out the fireplaces in the twins’ rooms. Every few months Gemma the head servant would insist that Thom pick everything up off the floor so that she could beat out the rug and scrub the paving stones, but most of the time neither rug nor stone was even visible, so filled was the floor with Thom’s belongings. Alanna was very used to tiptoeing her way through his mess whenever she needed to talk to him.

She found him stripping off his sweaty training clothes. His body, like hers, was littered with bruises in all stages of healing – the training masters had found plenty of ways to work around his bad arm during lessons.

“What do you want?” Thom asked, his voice muffled by his shirt.

Alanna took a deep breath. “I promised we’d leave when your arm was better,” she said. “It’s time.”

Thom tossed his shirt aside and frowned at her. He’d put on muscle, even in the scant weeks they’d been at the palace. He was skinny still, and just as short as Alanna, but two months of forced exercise had changed his body in a way ten years of coaxing from Coram hadn’t managed.

“Are you still mad they won’t give you a sword?” he wanted to know.

“No,” Alanna said. Gary, whose father was the best swordsman at court, had let her try his practice sword once. It had been heavy enough that Alanna could barely lift it, much less attempt to wield it. The strength exercises mandated by the training masters made a lot more sense after that. “But I promised.”

For all that she tried to keep her voice even, Alanna knew that Thom could hear her reluctance just as much as she could. He hesitated. Finally, he said, “Francis says his sister is in the convent at the City of the Gods. She says it’s freezing all year round there and the food isn’t very good.”

Alanna clenched her fists. “I’ll deal with it,” she said.

Thom bit his lip. “What if it’s even worse than here?” he asked.

Alanna stared at him. “Don’t you want to go?” she demanded. “You’ve always wanted to go!”

“I want to be a sorcerer,” Thom corrected.

“Which happens at the City of the Gods!” What was happening? Alanna almost pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming this whole conversation.

“That’s where Mithran Masters are trained,” Thom agreed. “But I don’t know that I want to be a Mithran Master. Just look at the ones we have here!”

“Those are priests though,” Alanna argued.

“They’re trained in the same place,” Thom said. He worried at his lip, which was about to crack open along old scab lines and start bleeding. “And there’s other ways to be a sorcerer. Roger of Conté, the Prince’s cousin? He’s the most powerful sorcerer in the Eastern Lands and he never went there.”

“He’s not here though,” Alanna said. “Surely you don’t want to stay here?”

“It’s not so bad,” Thom said, and Alanna actually reached out to touch his forehead and see if he had a fever. He ducked out of the way before she could reach him, his ears turning red. “I mean, I still hate all the running around and getting dirty and whacking at things, but the rest of it’s not as bad as I thought.” He hesitated. “And Raoul and Francis and Gary won’t be at the convent.”

Alanna stared at him. “You mean…” she trailed off, not quite able to believe what he was telling her.

He looked away, awkward. “I’ll stick it out if you will,” he said, and grunted as Alanna flung her arms around him in delight. Thom, who hated hugs, wriggled and poked her until she let go.

“Go take a bath,” he said, still refusing to meet her gaze. “You stink.”

“Now you do too,” Alanna said. She was grinning, smiling so widely her face ached with it. “And I’m not even sorry!”

Thom made a rude gesture at her. Alanna, still grinning, returned it before all but skipping from the room.