Part III

6. Training (I)

13 years old

Nina never fooled herself into thinking that it would be easy, and it wasn't.

She was one of the youngest girls at the barracks. Her riding was par, but her combat was poor even among the newest trainees. Captain Cordelia almost hadn't allowed her to continue, had told her to find some other way to practice riding and to go to the academy to learn spells if she wanted to be useful as a warrior. It was the tone of her voice, so sure, that had made Nina start staying past dark – so late that an escort from the castle had to come to take her back – to practice with a dummy lance against one of the permanent targets. She trained alone, with no pressure or encouragement other than her own drive, her desire to become useful and strong in a way that she would be sure of to her bones. And the captain saw Nina leaving on a few of those late nights, and changed her mind.

She was trounced by the captain in practice combat shortly after she figured out how to use a lance from the back of a pegasus without falling off. Apparently, it was a rite of passage to be soundly humiliated in this way. It didn't matter. She fought the captain again, when she was a little better, and lost a little less terribly. She fought the captain again when she was better still. She fought the other trainees, and some of the actual pegasus knights, too. She fought trainee axe knights from the other compound. She asked Miss Sumia to honor her. At home, Father sparred with her. She learned even Mother was formidable with a sword. Once she pretended to fight Emma as a joke, and once she asked Abel if he wanted to pick something up and have a go at her, but he declined.

Fighting was her obligation; fighting, though it became satisfying, was still largely a means to an end. But flying was her pleasure. And she knew in the back of her mind that this was why she chose the pegasus knights as opposed to another branch, because nobody in her family flew.

It was the black pegasus she had helped to corral, Lehran, who took to her. Not all at once – he was as finicky as he was when she first met him, even when he hadn't been abandoned for an hour in the countryside; and for a full month there was a fair chance of him bucking her off whenever she wanted to ascend. But that was largely her fault, for not realizing that the signals she was taught had to be adjusted for his bigger frame. After she figured that out, the captain said she could stick with him, and told her she'd been waiting to see if Nina really could work with a black pegasus.

Nina didn't know if it was the magic in her blood, simple recognition from the time she'd confronted him, or something else; but whatever it was, Lehran assented to being her mount and companion. She flew with him the marathon flights the knights took in order to push their steeds the same way they pushed their own bodies. She took him on the field missions, when they would go out to an old fort or an abandoned farm in the countryside and pretend to either defend it or take it from the skies. And she rode him on patrols – first short trips above the city, then eventually longer trips to other towns and villages under the aegis of some of the full-fledged knights.

It was on these excursions that Nina saw her country, the lands she stood in some way to inherit but had hardly seen since the strange trip to Plegia in her youth. She saw small towns where the knights were all honored like nobility and others where people whispered nervously as they passed through. Villages that still lay half in rubble because their small population had sent them to the bottom of the priority list. Prosperous ports that had been little more than docks before the war. All this in Plegia as well – at least the more stable parts, where people still cleared out parts of the street in order to avoid the knights, but some spoke now of having been saved by Ylisse. She recorded crop yields and collected taxes and repaired bridges and met people, her subjects, many of whom were happy enough to not give a damn about the Exalt or his family – and this, her mother told her, was a wonderful sign. And there were just a few, in certain places, who would notice her hair or her eye and respectfully ask her if she knew anything about the Exalt's relative in Plegia who was said to be battling the remnants of the Grimleal there.

Nina ate at the barracks except on weekends. She didn't sleep there, but it wasn't as alienating as Abel had predicted, because it seemed half the trainees were "city girls" who went back to their homes at the end of the day anyway. (Then again, this technically being peacetime, the recruits were all volunteers – no scores of skilled or noble conscripts from far-off.) Nina knew others saw her fumbles and thought she was mocked for being an embarrassment of a princess – thought, because nobody would dare say it to her face. It didn't matter. She kept Lehran and his stable clean. She taught herself to scrub floors and cleared rocks from the courts. She did no more and no less than her given lot of chores, and by the time she had been brought into the fold closely enough to be an acceptable target, princess though she was, nobody seemed to have reason to mock her beyond what they usually gave to city girls. The traditional references to going back to so-and-so's Mommy's cookies at the end of the day became Nina's maids and nannies and, for the most part, that was that.

"Did your mother ever bake you cookies, though?" her friend Jeanette asked her once. "Do queens do that? My mother never did, but then again, she was never the type."

"My mother isn't the type, either," said Nina. "I remember her mending my clothes, though. She'd be annoyed because I always seemed to tear whatever she'd sewn last."

Jeanette was a city girl only in technicality. She lived full-time at the barracks even though her family was nearby. Her parents were noble, but Nina got the impression they weren't particularly influential or wealthy. Jeanette had indicated more than once that they'd seen the knights mostly as a respectable preoccupation for an unmarried young woman, but she was good with a lance and didn't seem to mind being there.

"I hope this doesn't sound fawning, but I really do like hearing about your family," said Jeanette. Her voice was always so warm and empathetic. "You make them all sound so normal."

"Well, if they aren't I wouldn't know," Nina admitted. "I'm assuming we do most normal things a more or less normal way."

"Oh, you know what I mean...you're never going on about maids or gowns or parties or the like. Although I suppose you did just mention clothes."

"Would you prefer that I go on about those things?"

"I don't know. You might make those sound normal as well, and then here I'd be down a whole lifetime of fantasies."

"Oh, stop it," said Nina, and Jeanette giggled. Though Jeanette was a couple of years older, Nina felt they got along exceedingly well. "You make it sound like you expect...I don't know...an actual fairy tale, or something. Besides, your family's noble – don't you have some experience with those sorts of things?"

Jeanette rolled her eyes. "What, like hired help? Hardly. And don't get me started on the merchant meetings that my father tries to drum up as though they're social events..."

"I really shouldn't tell you about what events at the castle are like, then."

They always finished their chores early on Friday so they could leave the barracks and have dinner together before Nina's escort showed up. Jeanette knew the whole of Ylisstol better than Nina did, and spent time showing her the stands and shops and delis at which she'd grown up eating. It turned out that the first time Nina felt truly out of place outside the castle was in simply ordering food. With no experience eating at restaurants, she found it nerve-wracking to try to follow the secret, slightly different procedures each place seemed to have. Luckily for her, Jeanette was there to whisper to her where to stand or how to order so that Nina would mostly avoid making a fool of herself, and in this way too Nina became able to act a bit more like a normal girl.

Once they went to a little cafe with dark red walls that was owned by a Feroxi couple. They were the only patrons, and the husband behind the counter recognized Nina immediately. This had happened before, and was usually not a problem – Jeanette seemed to like the attention (and better service) she received by proxy; though on one occasion there had been a woman who wouldn't stop asking Nina for some kind of special audience with the Exalt and, after Nina had repeatedly told her when her father took visitors, they'd decided it best to leave. But this time, the owner simply put an elbow on the counter and said, "This is supposed to stay within these walls, but the queen is in here all the time."

"Really?" said Nina. She stared down at her feet. "I didn't know my mother went to places like this. Er – by which I mean she didn't go out to eat often."

"My wife and I used to live in West Ferox, near the border. Apparently we're the only place willing to make acceptable Plegian coffee."

"Really," said Nina again. She glanced around the room, suddenly self-conscious. The man behind the counter was smiling kindly. Nina stopped herself and remembered her composure. "Then – um – I'll try that, please."

She allowed Jeanette to order food for both of them, and mulled this new information over – making an emergency plan should her mother walk into the place that very moment – as she sat waiting at a tiny high table against the wall of the cafe.

As they were waiting for their food to cool – it was rich stuff, a kind of thick Feroxi soup with vegetables and dumplings that Jeanette told her were filled with potatoes – Jeanette leaned over. "Now I'm trying to think back to all the times I've been in here to see if I can remember your mother sitting at the counter or something. Did you really not know?"

It had been embarrassing for the cafe owner to bring up her mother, but it was okay when Jeanette did it. Jeanette had dark hair and pale eyes, the opposite of the women in Nina's family. Save for Nina and Lucina, that was. Nina thought Jeanette's was the more striking combination, and allowed herself an instant of good-natured jealousy for her friend's golden eyes.

Nina, who had decided this month that she wanted to get used to coffee, tried the Plegian kind she had ordered. To her surprise, it was somehow strong without being bitter, and was much better than what she had been forcing herself to drink every third morning. "My mother's a bit of a private person. I don't think anyone other than my father knows where she goes half the time."

"Huh, I thought you would say even he doesn't know. I'm not sure if that's normal or not." Jeanette took a sip from her own cup, something cold and fizzy that Nina suspected was alcoholic. "Say...when you talk about your mother from your childhood, are you talking about your mother right now?"

"What?"

"I mean – are you talking about the mother you have right now, or the mother who gave birth to you?"

Staring back at Jeanette across the table, Nina felt a sudden, strange surge of insult. "They're the same. I only have one mother."

"Really?" Jeanette looked down into her mug, almost sheepishly. "It's just that my mother, you know, always told me that the first queen had died in the war, and the Exalt tried to keep his second marriage hush so there wouldn't be any big conflicts about succession."

Was this really what people said? Nothing reflected directly on Nina, yet she still felt ashamed that her birth was being called into question. But it wasn't Jeanette's fault; she couldn't have known. She was just saying what she had been told. "Well, tell her that's completely wrong," said Nina. "My mother survived whatever made everybody think that, and was living outside Ylisse until we found her." A moment passed in silence, without Jeanette looking up, and Nina realized that this might not be enough explanation on its own. "There were...reasons she wasn't able to get back."

"Oh...I see," said Jeanette. An icy feeling started to sink into Nina's chest as her mind played at the idea that perhaps Jeanette's reasons for spending time with her weren't purely friendship. Then Jeanette shook her head and smiled: "Sorry about that! I really must have gotten mixed up, haven't I?"

"It's all right," said Nina.

The conversation turned to other subjects. Nina, thinking back to how often Jeanette had asked her about her family and about castle life, continued to grapple with the lurking feeling that she was somehow being used.

It took a story about Jeanette's own family – she was complaining about her mother's excessive cleanliness, and how she unreasonably expected the same from Jeanette – for the topic to come back around.

"Oh, Nina," said Jeanette, "it's not that I don't understand her, it's that – I don't think half of it is necessary to begin with. And I don't know how to get her to see my side of it. After all, we're not going to be the same on some things, we're not even –" She made a line with her mouth.

"You're not...what?"

Jeanette looked down at the table. She moved her glass. "We're not even blood related. She's not my birth mother. So of course we're going to think differently."

"What?" said Nina, blindsided. "What does that have to do with cleaning?"

"It's not –" Jeanette's face was full of anguish. "It doesn't have to do with cleaning specifically, it has to do with –" She covered her mouth and mulled for a second. "It has to do with the fact that I don't think the same way she does, and she doesn't realize. She and my sister, it's like they have this one way of looking at things – all sorts of things – that I don't have. And they pretend that there's no reason for it, or that it shouldn't be the case."

"Wait," said Nina, "this is why you asked about my mother earlier, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Jeanette. "Yes, here I was, hoping that you could – relate to it, or something."

The dregs of Nina's offense faded. "If you don't mind me asking," she started, for she knew of such things but did not know anybody else her age affected by them, "what happened to your birth mother?"

Jeanette did not seem upset that she asked. Her words came easily, as though she had been waiting to confide this in Nina. "I don't know. My father says she up and left when I was born. The mother I talk about now is my stepmother, and she's the only one I remember. I know in one sense I'm lucky that she was here to raise me, but –" With her hands, she made a scooping motion, like she was trying to take a great large thought from her chest and put it on the table before her. "Even though she raised me, there's still something different between us, something I can't put into words. And I know it's there, because I don't see it in my sister. And the problem isn't that it's there, but that everybody pretends that it isn't."

"I think –" Nina let her spoon fall into her mostly empty bowl. "I think I do know exactly how you feel, but in the opposite way, if that makes sense."

It was Jeanette's turn to be confused. "In the opposite way?"

"It has to do with a different relative, not my mother," said Nina, her words picking up pace as well. "But I get what you mean, when people keep pretending they're not related to you the way that they are."

"Right!" said Jeanette. "Right! It's not that you're saying there's something bad about it. It's not that you don't love them –"

"Right," echoed Nina, "it's not theirs or anybody's fault –"

"– of course you do! It's just that there are some places where you won't think the same way –"

"Or where you will think the same way, with other relatives, whether you really want to or not –"

"And in order for those not to be a problem, everybody should just take them for what they are. Not pretend, 'oh, she's your only mother who matters,' or something like that."

"Or pretend that – the person you are related to doesn't matter. Right."

"Right," said Jeanette again, "although, if my birth mother were to show up now, I don't think I could be anything other than angry at her –"

And they continued to gripe about their respective families over empty dishes, Jeanette more directly than Nina, until they ended up talking about how Jeanette's sister was currently learning history. They compared the different stories they themselves had learned as children. Then they talked about taking care of pegasi, with Nina having the opportunity to vent about how obstinate Lehran could be; then they turned to their last mission with the knights, during which they had gone to some of the cities in the east. So they talked, for what felt like both a long time and hardly any time at all, until the Feroxi couple said that they were closing the cafe and ushered them out.

As they walked through the narrow streets at dusk, Jeanette leaned close to Nina. "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. For one, I didn't mean to insult your mother by implying that she wasn't your birth mother. But for another, I'm sorry if I got too...riled up."

"You don't have to apologize for that," said Nina. "I'm sorry I couldn't understand it, well, exactly the way you wanted –"

"No, you understood just fine!" Jeanette insisted. She sighed. "I don't tend to bring this up with people, because it typically isn't something that matters, you know? But I just – find you easy to talk to." Jeanette laughed. "It's not exactly what I expected from the princess!"

Nina's heart soared. "To be honest, I've told you a lot that I don't usually tell people, either. So you have to be careful."

"I see," said Jeanette. "I mean – I will, Your Grace!"

"Stop it!"

They laughed together before settling into a rare moment of silence. A couple of blocks down, Jeanette spoke again. "Hey...Nina."

"What?"

She laid her head on Nina's shoulder. "Do you ever think about what it will be like to ride off into battle some day? To go and face combat, knowing what might happen." Their footsteps echoed in the street. "I'm not sure I could ever do it."

"But isn't that what training is supposed to prepare us for?" said Nina. "I thought you enjoyed it."

"Oh, I do enjoy it, but...nothing worse than a wound's going to occur during practice, not unless you're foolish enough to fall off a pegasus. You're not taking the same risks as you would if you were really at war."

Nina exhaled. The risk of combat was not something she often thought deeply about. Growing up under veterans such as her parents, she accepted it as a matter of course. "But we might not even go to war. It might just be patrols and sometimes skirmishes with bandits."

"You don't think we'll go to war again with Plegia?"

"I don't know," Nina admitted. "It wouldn't be all of Plegia, because we govern it. It would be the remains of the Grimleal. And...hopefully, it won't even be that, if my sister's successful in her campaign there." She paused. She wasn't supposed to call Lucina her sister outside of the castle. But Jeanette didn't seem to be fazed – perhaps she didn't question how Nina's familial situation made sense at this point. "You know you'll be obliged to fight if we do go to war."

Jeanette nodded on her shoulder. "That's if I complete training."

"You might not?"

"I'm still thinking about it. I might find some bravery in me yet."

"Why did you join the pegasus knights?" Nina asked. "You've hinted at it before, but I haven't heard your own reason."

"I thought it would help to make me more disciplined and less silly," said Jeanette, her voice low. "Give me something to do in my maiden years so I'm not sitting around the house all day."

"You're not silly."

"Perhaps it's working, then."

Nina laughed. "Whatever the reason, I'm glad you joined."

"Whether I finish or no, I think I'm glad too."

And they continued on towards the barracks, arm in arm.