Page 14

Four Years Ago

Nina, Age Fifteen

The clang of dull swords ricocheted off canvas as Nina sparred with Eike, the only one of her father’s men who agreed to continue her training while on this latest tour. Nina convinced her parents just over a year ago to hire an instructor for her to learn sword fighting. For the fun of it , Nina had said, knowing her parents would have refused had she told them the true reason.

She wanted to know how to protect others with ways that felt right to her. And having a sword in her hand felt right .

She’d seen one too many men approach her sisters disrespectfully and sometimes outright maliciously, had heard of adults harming children, knew that people around the world faced hardships they never should have faced in the first place. Eike had taught Nina how to throw a punch shortly after she’d turned thirteen when he’d seen how much those facts troubled her. But it hadn’t been enough.

Nina resisted the urge to bring her left hand up to support the weight of the blade as she and Eike worked through what had to be the longest session she’d ever had. Even her swordmaster, Oleg, hadn’t deigned to go this long.

But she refused to take a break, for herself and those she wanted to protect, and Eike had somehow caught that she wanted this. Needed it. Hadn’t balked or backed down when she started sweating from exertion or nicked herself when she’d tried sparring with dual daggers. Instead, he’d shown her how to position both blades to her advantage.

If her father had seen, King Wilhelm would have scolded Eike like he’d done the day before, when Nina had almost thrown up from how hard she’d pushed herself.

It’s a simple hobby , her father had said. My daughter has no need to exert herself in such manners. He’d put a protective arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the tent she, Kat, and Bryn were sharing. The only reason she hadn’t protested was because she’d thought she’d truly be sick if she jarred herself too much.

But she’d sought out Eike again, and he’d handed her a dull blade to practice with.

He was, unequivocally, her favorite guard.

Ignoring her protesting forearm, she pivoted away from Eike’s next thrust, wishing she could see herself move. She’d asked for a lesson in a mirrored room for that purpose a couple months ago. She’d gotten distracted, catching a glimpse of what could only be called a warrior. Oleg had disarmed her moments later. She’d need to have another lesson in there so she could teach herself to be less distracted. She couldn’t get pulled out of a fight with an enemy because there was reflective glass around.

Not that her family, other than Bryn, knew she envisioned herself fighting off enemies.

Fenwald wasn’t particularly militaristic, not since the relatively small country had fended off invaders trying to seize the kingdom for themselves, and that had been centuries ago. Once their skills and worth were proven, land had been partitioned and invaders had backed down. Now, Fenwald kept up the appearance of the military without ever using it.

Useful soldiers did keep the peace within towns, though; Fenwald still had infighting and crime like other countries. Nina had heard the whispers of soldiers and court members over the years of thieves, murderers. Seen the fear in a woman’s eyes as she recounted being harassed for coin. Heard a man crying to the queen that his abusive wife would be searching for him. In every case, Nina had wanted to do something. She could join the town soldiers, she supposed, but who would allow a princess to have such a small job, even if she decided she wanted that?

Not that her parents would approve. It would be “too violent,” no matter the case.

At least Bryn knew Nina didn’t feel right in her current life; having her made it less lonely. She was grateful Bryn even understood why she wanted to find a new name, one that suited her and didn’t make her feel young every moment of every day.

Perhaps if she kept searching—

Eike knocked the blade from her hand and tapped the underside of her chin with his sword. “Dead.”

“Ugh.” Nina plunked herself atop a barrel, the scent of roasting meat and vegetables from the kitchen tent enveloping her. In a minute, it would smell wonderful; right now, it made her stomach roil. The break was probably needed, lest her father find her near passing out.

“Daydreaming again?” Eike teased. Nina blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Even so, you’re improving.” He wiped his high, flushed golden-olive brow with a rag. “You would have faltered a few months ago.”

She gathered her breath, clutching her side. “I’d like to not feel faint eventually.”

Eike chuckled. “That will come. You just need to practice stamina. Even that’s coming along well. We went longer today than yesterday.”

“Think we can convince Bryn to join us tomorrow?” Her sister had practiced sparring with her and Oleg, though Nina knew it was largely to keep her company and show support. Nina appreciated it, but Bryn seemed pained to hold a sword some days. But archery, that Bryn actually enjoyed. Unfortunately, Eike wasn’t a skilled archer, and no other guard was inclined to train their princesses under the watchful eye of their king.

Besides, Bryn, though trying her best, was worrying incessantly about a potential match their parents were trying to make for her. Since she’d expressed her interest solely in women, their parents had done their best to find a suitor, but had struggled to find willing parents. The recent match to a duke’s daughter sounded like it could be a good one, and Bryn’s hopes were high, which meant she was fixated on it. Even if archery were an option, Bryn’s usual bullseye-aim would go wide and strike a tent, or a keg, or an innocent bystander.

Nina sighed by way of her own answer. “I should wash up before dinner.” Make sure she had an acceptable glow of light exertion rather than be drenched in so much sweat her father would yell at Eike for pushing his sweet little girl too far.

She rolled her eyes as she made for her and her sisters’ tent, then smirked. What would her father think if he knew she was the one doing the pushing?

Her smirk dropped. He’d rage about how dangerous it was, especially for one “so young,” and how her dreams of protecting the innocent with a sword were improper. What would your mother think , he’d say, if she knew her little girl wanted to put her life on the line?

She threw the tent flap aside, startling Kat, her nose deep in a book, long brown hair neatly plaited. Bryn took one look at Nina and offered a quiet, understanding smile.

Behind the dressing screen, Nina shucked off her loose-fitting dress and wrist braces, flinging her boots into the corner. Dirt kicked up as they landed, her skin dusted with it from the ground she and Eike practiced on. An attendant had already filled a bath for her, and she slipped into its heat, willing the tension to dissipate from her muscles and her mind.

All this tour had done was prove she wanted to help people. The first instinct might have arisen years ago, but being surrounded by people who counted on her family beyond the capital made her dream feel more like a necessity.

They’d gone to the eastern parts of Fenwald and into the neighboring country of Corya for King Wilhelm to meet with Corya’s king. But between the outskirts of Fenwald and the first city in Corya, their caravan had driven through wretched villages on the verge of starvation. Nina pressed herself against the glass of their carriage, trying to see what she could, her heart crying out to the people.

“Don’t look out the window, my dear,” her father said. “There’s nothing you can do for them right now.”

“How can you say that?” she asked, indignant.

“Those on our side of the border are working with Duke Eisenberg to improve their situation, and I’m doing what I can to assist. They will be helped.”

“And those in Corya?”

“It’s part of why I’m meeting with King Sisco. They will be helped, don’t worry.”

But they needed help now, too. Soldiers did nothing when a woman was pushed to the ground and her food was stolen. Nothing as people walked barefoot before stores, staring at the displays they couldn’t afford.

“We can at least buy those people shoes.”

Her father glanced out the window and ushered her back in her seat. “We step outside and a riot will grow. It’s not safe for you.”

“We’re already here!”

He quieted her with a look that told her she didn’t understand. Couldn’t. She crossed her arms, mumbling, “We could at least get a guard to do it.”

From how Bryn was also staring out the window, biting a thumbnail, Nina figured her sister was on her side. Kat, too, from the frown on her face.

Then the fight broke out. Three men, daggers out, one frightened and on the defensive. Nina almost shot out of the still-moving carriage.

Her father banged on the roof of the carriage. “Guards! See to it.”

Five guards bolted past on their horses, going to break up the fight. Nina was glad something was happening and that the instigators were being dragged away, but she wanted to be out there, stopping the attackers and protecting the scared man.

“You know, I’m getting good with my sword.” She said it casually, hoping it sparked something in her father without actually saying anything.

His mouth twisted to the side as though chewing something bitter. “I never want to see you in a situation like that, regardless of how proficient you become. It’s not safe for you.”

Nina stopped talking, but struggled to shut out the wails she heard for the rest of the journey.

Even when King Sisco later announced, within earshot of an eavesdropping Nina, that the southern countries were going to war and the main country under attack was asking Corya for aid, Nina struggled to stay silent. Her father said he’d received the same request, and that they were sending supplies. No people, though, despite that being one of the pleas. Why not? They had soldiers to spare. She ground her teeth. One day, she’d fight for a greater cause. She’d do all the little acts she could and the big ones, too. She’d stand in front of the scared, lone innocents and brave armies alike. She’d help because she could. Because she had to.

Bryn had hugged Nina after she’d recounted it all, whispering, “One day, you will.”

Nina ducked her head under the bathwater, staying until her lungs screamed. One day better be soon.

Dressed in a simple turquoise silk gown and ready to go, Nina followed Bryn and Kat to the center of camp, where tables were spread with luscious meats, savory breads, herbed vegetables, and thick cheeses. Nina wondered if any of this food had been provided to the people suffering along the border.

At least some would be sent south. She might have been annoyed with her father for not sending soldiers and for not conceding she could be one of them, but at least he still wanted to help in some way.

Nina found a seat close to the large fire, smoke billowing into the sky, her father on one side and her sisters on the other. An older woman sat nearby, loose robes and long gray hair in a low ponytail, giving an air of wisdom.

“A tale for Your Royal Highnesses?” the woman asked.

Nina perked up. A storyteller. Others shifted closer, eager.

Her father waved the storyteller on with a grin, and she spoke so everyone could hear.

“Now, what to share. An old tale from Cunlaran, perhaps.”

Bryn nudged Nina, knowing full well how obsessed with Cunlaran history and myths Nina was. Nina giggled into Bryn, and the storyteller caught the action. She winked at them.

“Long ago,” the storyteller started, the orange glow of the fire highlighting the planes and ridges of her parchment-like face in the dark, “there lived a warrior. From childhood to adolescence, this warrior trained to be a protector of the people. But though she searched high and low, the warrior could not find a true calling. At least, not until Danna.”

Nina’s food sat untouched as she drank in every word. Stories from Danna’s time were some of her favorites, but she’d never heard this one.

“When Danna was searching for a team to help her protect the country, she happened upon a beautiful woman bathing in a lake, hair like raging fire. The woman, startled, rushed from the water and grabbed a sword, pointing it at the not-yet queen. Danna had found the Warrior Without a Cause.

“Danna and the warrior became fast friends, trading secrets and confidences, working toward the same goal. The warrior was always at Danna’s side, in diplomacy and in battle. She had a wicked way with words, a wicked way with swords, and an even more wicked sense of humor. But more than that, she finally had a sense of purpose. And with that purpose, she doled out justice and mercy for Danna, was the first to place a crown upon the Farmer Queen’s head, and was the last to hold her as the queen died.

“Lost to time, the warrior has become more legend than even Danna herself. So few stories exist of the warrior, and fewer still are consistent. But there are those who believe she existed”—the twinkle in her eye suggested she was one such person—“Danna’s steadfast right hand and a protector of the people. Without her, who knows whether Danna would have succeeded in her vision.”

“What was the warrior’s name?” Nina asked.

The storyteller smiled. “Morrígan.”

Upon their return to Bergspeer Castle, Nina excused herself and made for the library. Pulling a large tome from the shelf in the Cunlaran literature section, she fought off her arms’ protest to stay limp by her sides. The training with Eike had done a real number on them.

She sat heavily on a wooden chair—sneezing as she stirred up dust on a table that was hardly used, tucked away in the shadowy back as it was—and flipped to the middle of the book. Beautiful illustrations winked up at her, and she ran a finger down the flattened ink. She combed through the words, searching against all hope that the one name she sought would leap out at her.

She’d read more obscure books in this library than anyone in her family other than Kat, though Nina hadn’t yet made it to this one. She’d started with their own histories, legends, children’s tales, even texts from the Faith of Unity, all to find a name for herself. Nothing had spoken to her; much like the name Nina, she’d found pretty ones, ones fit for others, but none that said This is you!

Nothing that came close to what she’d felt during the storyteller’s tale.

At the next flip of a page, recognition thudded through her so hard she lurched. Nina had no idea if this legend had any truth to it—stories with Queen Danna were always so varied that it couldn’t all be true—but she didn’t care. This woman . . .

Morrígan was her .

Seeing the text and illustrations before her did something hearing it aloud hadn’t. The warrior’s snark, her strength, her loyalty. Her red hair . And she was all the things Nina wanted to be to boot—a protector of the people and a true warrior.

With every passing word, Nina felt a surety like never before. A kinship with a name.

She hugged the book to her chest and flew from the library, the sky a deep navy outside the windows.

She burst into Bryn’s room. “I found it!” Nina stopped short at the sight of their mother sitting on the couch beside Bryn. Bryn’s eyes were red rimmed and swollen.

“What’s wrong?” Nina asked.

“I’ll let you two talk,” their mother said. “Unless . . . ?”

Bryn smiled, too genuine. “It’s alright. You don’t need to stay. Thank you for the talk.”

Their mother touched each of her daughters’ shoulders before closing the door behind her.

“Bryn?”

“It’s nothing. What did you want to talk about?” She hastily dragged a hand across her eyes, forced smile still in place. Nina wanted to shake Bryn until she put herself before others for once.

“What happened?”

“Just suitor things.”

The book almost fell from Nina’s grasp. “The match didn’t pan out, did it?”

Bryn took a shaky breath, smile drooping. “No, it didn’t.”

Nina scowled, wishing not for the first time that they lived in a country with a nobility more open to love in all its forms. Like Cunlaran.

“What did you find?” Bryn patted the spot beside her. Nina hesitated, and Bryn stared her down. “I need a distraction. This is the third rejection in as many months. I wish Father would stop trying to find me someone with so much gusto.”

Nina obliged, plopping onto the cushion. “At least it’s not as much gusto as it was for the first of our sisters to marry.”

Bryn snorted. “The stories Lena and Sigrún tell sound so exaggerated, but I know they’re true. Still, he’s putting more effort into me than any of the rest of us who are unmarried.”

“It’s probably because all his other daughters are content with finding husbands, and he knows how to deal with that. This is new for him.”

Bryn laughed. “He can get flustered, can’t he?”

“It’s unfortunate, really.”

Bryn laughed again. “See, distracting me already. Seriously, what did you find?”

Nina put the book on the low table before them and flipped to the page she’d fallen in love with.

Bryn’s fingers lightly traced the illustration. “This is the warrior we heard about.”

“It is.”

“Morrígan.” A thrill shot through Nina at the sound. Bryn jerked her head up at the movement and beamed. “Does this mean you’ve chosen a name?”

Tears pricked at Nina’s eyes. Nodding was the most she could do.

Bryn stared at the illustration again. “I can see why you want this one. She’s perfect.” Bryn grasped her sister’s hand. “It’s perfect for you . It suits you.”

One pesky tear escaped. Nina’s nose started to clog from holding everything back. But damn it, she wouldn’t break down. Not right now. She wanted triumph.

A few more tears leaked out as Nina sniffled. “You can’t tell anyone about it.”

“I understand.”

“But I want you to call me this when we’re alone.”

“Of course I will.”

“But not the full name, the nickname.” Something she’d always wanted for herself. Bryn cocked her head. “Rígan.”

Bryn tested it out, smiling wider. She mirrored it with one of her own. It felt right, having her sister say it. Knowing it was her name, the one that suited her. The one that made her feel strong, like she could do anything.

Bryn enveloped her in a hug. “I’m so happy for you, Rígan.”

The onslaught of tears began, and Rígan sobbed into her sister’s shoulder.