Hello again! We're back in Samn's perspective for this chapter. Enjoy it!

Chapter 7 - Samn

The forest isn't ever quiet.

I've noticed that in the past two years of being a squire. Watching the seasons change, stepping through every inch of the forest, it's the only thing that will never change.

The closest it ever gets to totally silent is in the winter, when everything's muffled and quieted. But there's always something. A rustle of an animal somewhere deep in the earth, the flutter and thump of snow sliding off a tree and thumping dully onto the earth, brittle boughs finally giving way beneath the weight of accumulated snow.

Stepping through the spring forest now, I can hear an extraordinary symphony of life bursting into the world. It's hopeful. And hope has been something running low for me lately. Ever since… Ever since Fiyr, ever since my father.

But in the aftermath and the chaos, the havoc inside me, I've made up my mind more fiercely than ever. No one will see me break down. And it's getting easier.

Suddenly, something catches my attention.

It's someone creeping through the trees, and someone not Thundrian. I take a deep breath, dipping into the fifth dimension and let it wash over me. Definitely not Thundrian… and not just that… Shodawes!

But I've barely come across this when I hear a yelp of surprise.

Carefully peeping out of the bush I'm hidden behind, I catch a glimpse of what elicited this cry.

It's definitely another person, and definitely Shodawes. And more, Fiyr, the newcomer upstart with far too much talent with the life force than was remotely fair, had just jumped the stranger, sword unsheathed.

I gape as he unabashedly engages a total stranger in combat.

His opponent is somehow familiar to me… but I just can't place it. It's a woman, old but not elderly, with early salt and pepper hair and a weathered face. Her eyes gleam with cunning and I'm not sure I trust her in the slightest. I've seen her somewhere before, I'm certain. If she's Shodawesthe Gathering, maybe?

She grins suddenly as Fiyr takes a slash at her, revealing scraggly yellow teeth. She may never have seen a toothbrush in her life. Cloaked in a ragged black cloak, stinking of Shodawa, and a broken smile barely visible in the shadowed face of this woman, she's a fearsome sight. Yet I watch as Fiyr crosses swords with her, again and again, undaunted by her unsettling grin.

I can tell pretty quickly that it's not a fair fight, though; Fiyr might be talented with the life-force, but this woman's viciousness can't be matched and he doesn't have any fire to manipulate. He won't be able to summon it on his own until he's a full knight.

Soon enough, the Shodawes woman has Fiyr knocked to the ground and despite her haggard appearance, pins him with deft precision.

"Squires make easy prey," she snarks, looming over him, her voice no less bristly and coarse than her silver-streaked hair. "Say goodbye to the last face you'll ever—"

The woman cries out suddenly as Fiyr punches her in the gut.

Ooh, that's gotta hurt, I think, wincing.

As she gasps like a beached fish, he shoves her off of him and springs to his feet with cat-like grace.

The Shodawes woman brandishes her sword with bravado, a cunning glint in her yellow eyes, and springs forwards only for her knees to give out under her. She crashes to the forest floor unceremoniously and groans with pain.

I open my mouth to shout out a warning to Fiyr. It's a trap!

But it's unnecessary, because even as the ginger-haired boy is heaving in breaths, he points Rusty at her.

"I won't fall for my own trick," he threatens.

The woman grunts. "It's not a trick. Just finish me off, will you?"

From my vantage point, I don't exactly have a clear look at Fiyr's face, but I can tell he's conflicted as his shoulders tense and his sword doesn't sink into her throat.

"What's wrong with you?" she demands, inching closer to him and trying to push herself to her feet. "Can't finish me off? What are you, a coward? A god-toy?"

If I thought Fiyr's shoulders were tense, it's nothing compared to his posture now. He stiffens like ice flash-freezing and his grip on the sword tightens until his whole arm is shaking with the force of his grip.

The woman crows with malicious amusement. His reaction has not gone unnoticed. "Is Thundria so desperate that they're bringing in squires right off the gods' doorsteps?"

"I'm not a god-toy," he shouts at her, his sword still shaking.

"Then prove it and finish me off!" she hisses back.

Tension hangs in the air.

Will he really do it? He's been here long enough to know that knights don't kill… I tell myself, but a tingle of worry runs up my spine. How important is it to him to prove himself?

A moment later, with decisive movements, Fiyr sheathes his sword. The woman flinches and glares at him with unbridled fury.

"Wait here," he orders, undeterred.

What? Confusion runs over me. Of the possible outcomes to this situation, I didn't think running away would be the one he goes for. Where is he going?

But as he exits the clearing, I make up my mind. If this slippery Shodawes snake thinks she's getting away, she's got another thought coming.

I watch her but she doesn't even shift. It becomes clear very quickly that there's something seriously wrong with her. Not just physically—of course, her left leg is obviously deeply injured, but there's something more to it.

Her head's gone limp, like her neck abruptly lost all contents and is now sagging. Her shoulders are shaking, but I narrow my eyes. She doesn't seem like the type to cry in the middle of enemy territory…

But she's not crying is she?

She's… laughing?

Hysterical, hoarse rasps.

Has she lost it?

"My hope, wish, I'll—be with you soon…" she croaks softly, slowly leaning back and groaning in pain.

What in the name of the Starlaxi is she talking about…?

I stay in the bushes, legs cramping, my hand on the hilt of Bolt, but the hag doesn't shift from her prone position on the grass. It can't be comfortable, but she doesn't so much as a wheeze.

I've half a mind to just run back to the castle, but no matter how well the god-toy's been fitting in, I don't trust him as far as I could throw him.

I mean, I've thought about throwing him off one of the higher trees in Thundria a few times. Of course. Who hasn't?

The point is, if he thinks I'm leaving him alone with this creepy lady, he's got another think coming.

As I lose feeling in my legs, I'm starting to regret the life choices I've made in babysitting this freakish hag while Fiyr hopefully immediately reports the intruder like he's supposed to do.

"I've brought you some rations."

What in Thundria's good green forests is this imbecile doing?!

I stare, floored, as the impetuous upstart of a squire unloads one of the training reserves, small and well-hidden packs of fruit and meat, onto the ground of the clearing.

Stealing food?! To feed?! An intruder?! If I thought he was stupid before…

"Don't suppose you brought a change of clothes? I've been travelling for a while," she grunts, still lying in a heap of ragged black cloth (which I'm starting to question whether is actually black or just upsettingly dirty).

"Sorry, the luxury services go to those who use the front door," Fiyr shoots back wryly. Any residual discomfort from the 'god-toy' comment seems to have washed off in his impromptu scavenger hunt.

"Your thrice-damned castle's nestled between the ass-cheeks of enough trees to give an elf a headache," the woman spits between ravenous bites of jerky. "And force-protected too. Don't they teach you squires anything, or is that reserved for real knights?"

I choke back a snort at her vulgarity.

Fiyr takes her triple-pronged-jab of a comment in stride, barely blinking as he watches her eat.

"Well don't sit there like a dead owl, you must be hungry too," she says roughly, simultaneously eyeing the flavoured chicken jerky possessively. "And sit down for Shodawa's sake, before that bad knee gives you early-onset arthritis."

He cocks his head, and I react similarly from my bush. That's a weird—then it suddenly snaps into place and I do my very best not to make too much noise as I kick myself.

That's Yllowei Fennen, Shodawa'sblessed Starlaxi, I have to get someone before she strings up Fiyr's entrails! I realize suddenly, blood rushing to my head. How did I not recognize her sooner? Not every knight in the kingdoms is rampaging around with teeth bad enough for the sight to kill someone from across a moor.

And not just every knight…

It's Shodawes court healer.

Enough things are not making sense right now that I know I'm going to need the queen for it. She'll know what to do, she always knows what to do…

So as quietly and delicately as I can, I stand from my hiding place in the bush and slowly back away. But before I get far enough to feel even remotely safe…

Yllowei's head lifts, so slightly, and knife-sharp hazel eyes glitter at me, then she looks back at Fiyr and continues like nothing happened. Oh blessed Starlaxi above, she saw me, she saw me, shit—shit—shit…

Concentrating, I slip into the fifth dimension, and I clear the crunchy sand from my path on the forest floor, leaving silent, soft dirt, and I creep away.

I'm quite a ways away before I breathe again.

It's all I can do not to scream.

What is that Starlaxi-forsaken moron trying to do, win the award of quickest-to-be-kicked-out-of-the-court?! Because he's well on his damn way!

My hand still tightly gripped around the hilt of Bolt as I hurry through the forest to where Dune's tied to a tree, grazing. I mean, even if he's acting like a complete idiot, I'd rather he didn't… uh, die. Didn't Sir Strommer say that Lady Fennen trained as a knight? As much as a woman can, at least. And Fiyr's practically defenseless without his life-force and no matter how talented he is, he won't be able to summon fire out of thin air 'til he's a knight, and if Yllowei's gift has anything to do with draining life-force…

Usually, the gifts of important court members are a closely guarded secret. Of course, rumours always spread… I shudder, thinking of Braukkiniaum Star and all the horror stories that go with the whispers of his life-force. I haven't the foggiest what Yllowei Fennen can do, and given that she trained as both a healer and a knight, I can't narrow it down.

She's a total wild card.

And first impressions are worth anything, more dangerous than a cornered elf.

This thought makes me squeeze Dune's flanks a little tighter and I reach the base of the castle's trees in no time. I dismount and scale the side of the trees and charge across the leafy treetops and pavilion to the heavy doors of the castle.

I knock as hard as I dare, knowing from personal experience it's all too easy to scrape my knuckles on the heavy door.

"Enter," a voice emerges from within, easily identifiable as Willowamina Peilte.

"Samn," I supply, pushing open the door as I see the ash-blonde woman lower her sword. "Good afternoon, I need to speak with Queen Bluelianna Star immediately."

Willowamina gives me a short nod and waves me forwards. The queen is deep in conversation with Liyon Hartef, so I cough lightly to announce myself. Normally, I'd hang around awkwardly until she had a moment, but this isn't really something that I'm willing to delay.

"Samn?" Her head tilts in my direction for a moment, sharp blue eyes searching my face. "Is it urgent?"

"Yes," I stammer, dipping into a quick bow.

"Out with it, then," she says, waving her hand to dismiss the courtesy.

"Uh, there's an intruder in the eastern forests, and Fiyr's… um… feeding her," I mumble, suddenly aware that if this isn't handled delicately, Fiyr's about to be in a world of trouble.

"Of one of the other kingdoms?" the queen asks sharply, handing off the stack of papers to Sir Hartef without a second glance.

"It's Yllowei Fennen, Your Majesty." My throat constricts again but I forge onwards. "Fiyr caught her and engaged, but she seemed to be beaten so he left her there, then went and stole a bag of training rations to give her… and then, um, ate some as well…"

It's common knowledge among squires that training rations, without permission, are one hundred percent off-limits. They're only for quick lunches in the middle of hard days of training, and only allowed if you have express permission from a knight. Of which Fiyr had neither, I seethe.

The queen draws a sharp breath and her hands go to her temples in a familiar thinking pose. She rubs them lightly and then opens her eyes. "If what you're saying is true, this is… a very serious accusation against Fiyr."

"I can take you right to the spot," I offer, twisting my sandstone and sea-glass ring around nervously. "Lady Fennen doesn't look like she's going anywhere in a hurry."

"If her intent is harmful, then I wouldn't be certain of that," the queen says softly, still rubbing her temples with a pained expression.

I bob another bow and turn to head back into the throne room. A soft swish alerts me to the queen dropping her heavy ceremonial cape.

She takes the heavy medallion around her neck in hand and closes her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before pronouncing, "Sir Tigre Cawle and Sir Darriek Styrp, to me."

By my count, it's not even ten seconds before both men arrive in the throne room and bow sleekly to the queen. She purses her lips and turns back to me, flanked by them.

"Well, Samn, lead the way."

We hear them before we see them. Well, honestly, I smell Yllowei's rank before I even hear them.

It sounds like the court healer's been snarking at Fiyr for the entire time that it took me to go to the castle and get back. Well, maybe that'll teach him not to give out kindness and food to every damn person he sees, I think harshly, but Fennen's teasing doesn't seem to be cruel, just a bit rude.

The queen motions Sir Styrp back when the gray-and-black-haired man begins to advance. The gesture's clear; I'll deal with this.

Sir Cawle's displeased expression twists darker, but Queen Bluelianna's already turned back, ready to challenge the intruder. But before she pushes into the clearing, I catch a glimpse of her expression. Not hard or angry… contemplative.

What's there to contemplate?! Take Yllowei prisoner and throw Fiyr back to his gods!

"Well, Your Majesty, are you going to come out?" Lady Fennen calls out sarcastically. Fiyr's head snaps up and he stares into the trees.

With surprising dignity, the queen sweeps into the clearing, and I spot tiny patches of frost where her boots tread.

"I think I'll be asking the questions," she says, her voice already slipping into a cold, measured tone that makes me feel embarrassed at my own behaviour for no reason.

Fiyr drops the apple he's been biting into with a guilty expression. I feel vindicated.

"Yllowei Fennen, by the court of Thundria and under the watchful eye of the Starlaxi, I am arresting you for stealing and trespassing," Queen Bluelianna announces.

Yllowei chews on that and a piece of jerky for a minute, before spitting at the queen's feet.

"Doesn't sound like a question to me."

I watch as Sir Styrp and Sir Cawle join the queen in the clearing, flanking her and then, at her signal, tying Yllowei's hands in front of her.

Running my hand through my hair with a sigh, I wonder what the queen plans on doing with Fiyr. He's not getting off free, I know that much. Stealing's a pretty high offense. But she seems to favour him enough not to throw him out of doors, so I'm not sure exactly what it's going to be.

I just hope it's not kitchen duty, I think, wincing as I remember what happened last time he and Graie were cooking. Fiyr nearly burned down the castle. Graie's scones were good, though.

Lady Fennen tries to stand up after Darriek and Tigre release her now-bound hands, but her leg gives way under her and she falls back with a groan.

"Well, Fiyr," the queen says softly, turning back to him. "An explanation would be in order, although I doubt it will add any additional information."

"She was weak and hungry," Fiyr mumbles. "I was just—"

"Also feeling weak and hungry enough to eat stolen food?" The queen cocks her head and he deflates under the rhetorical question. "You've taken a most interesting prisoner though."

And with that, much to the surprise of everyone except Bluelianna and Yllowei, she takes the Shodawes healer's hands and pulls her to her feet.

"Captured the court healer of Shodawa, I see," the queen observes, glancing at Fiyr with a raised eyebrow. He's never been to a Gathering, he might not even know who she is…

"Not anymore," the haggard woman replies, her voice hoarse. "I travel alone now."

Sir Tigre Cawle snorts derisively, and when the queen turns to him with an inscrutable expression, he just shrugs and says, "Must've fallen on some pretty rough times to get beaten by a squire…"

Pretty clear to everybody that when he says squire, he's saying rather a lot more.

Sir Styrp sucks his teeth and says sourly, "I say we kill her and send Fiyr straight back to his gods. Clearly hasn't learned much in the last year."

The mentioned squire's eyes flash with panic, and the queen's expression is almost amused. "Well, I say we don't, and I have a feeling that's going to be the prevailing agreement. We'll take her back to the castle. Can you ride?"

It's directed at Yllowei, who snorts and narrows her eyes. "I'm hurt, not dead, of course I can. You don't have an extra horse, do you?"

"You can take Fiyr's," the queen decides, her gaze falling on the squire. "Fiyr will be walking back with Samn, who I dare say will set him straight on how a proper squire of Thundria should behave."

A thorny sigh drags itself out of my throat. Cover blown. I stand up from where I was crouching in the bushes. Ugh… I don't want to drag this idiot all the way back on foot. I mean… well, I have Dune and if Yllowei takes Blitz, then it's just a nice easy canter through the forest on horseback while Fiyr tries to keep up on his stubby legs. Despite myself, I feel a smile coming on. Hmm, actually, I've a feeling I'm going to rather enjoy this little walk of ours.

I move into the clearing, trying to keep the guilty expression off my face—Stay marble stay stone, stay cold and expressionless…

Yllowei Fennen's eyes land on me and her fearsome mouth spreads into a terrifying smile. "Hm, hm…" she hums to herself, her hazel eyes glittering like there's a private joke we're sharing, and I know instantly that she isn't fooled by short hair and a tight bandage around my torso. Instinctively, I scratch the front of my tunic, feeling the wrap barely shift under my shirt.

Since turning thirteen, it's been a constant fight against my own body. At least my cycles haven't started yet, thank the Starlaxi. Brindellia told me hers started at sixteen, so I'll be safe for another few years before my facade gains another facet of lies.

I don't think the queen misses it either, but there's a gleam in her eyes that assures me she won't let things crumble for me and I feel reassured.

"Let's ride," she announces, and the knights and Yllowei mount their horses, the Shodawes woman hissing uncomfortably as the too-short straps dig into her beaten body.

I can feel Fiyr's baleful stare on me, but I don't meet his eyes as the horses' clops fade away into the forest.

Here we go, I think, sighing as I mount Dune.

Thanks for reading chapter 7! Please follow and favourite this story and leave me a review with what you think!

~Akila