faded
It's an early morning, warm sunshine with just the right amount of breeze. Kel saddles up Peachblossom – he tosses his head and twitches his tail, eager to feel grass under his hooves and wind in his mane – and tells Merric he's in command until she comes back.
Owen wants to go with her. "It's not right letting you ride by yourself, Kel, what if something goes wrong?" If it were anyone but Owen, Kel would be upset at the words, but Owen is her friend and he cares – he doesn't think she can't look after herself.
"Knights used to ride alone all the time, not so long ago."
"They didn't have Spidrens or Hurroks or Giants so long ago," Owen huffs.
"I've got Jump, the sparrows, and Peachblossom with me, Owen, I'll hardly be alone."
He's not happy to let her leave, but she promises she won't go far from New Hope, telling him she just wants to get a feel for the land after a season away. "Don't forget Dom and his squad are due today."
It's not likely she'd forget, Kel thinks as she turns Peachblossom towards the small stream, but she pretends its not the reason she needs to get away for a while.
The inhabitants of New Hope – Kel refuses to call them refugees now, when this is their home – wave as she passes. One or two stop her to talk. She smiles at them politely and listens to their stories, their problems, and the work they've accomplished. Kel is proud of the lives these people have made.
She leaves Peachblossom untethered, reins and stirrups secured, and lets him graze and wander where he pleases. She trusts Peachblossom not to abandon her, though she wouldn't trust him with a million other things.
The ground is still damp from the evening dew, so she chooses a flat rock starting to warm in the sun. She plucks her boots from her feet and rolls her hose to her knees, letting her toes dangle in the icy cold water.
A myriad of fine white scars criss-cross her legs, some brighter than others, and fresh scratches with thin scabs threatening to leave more. It's not an easy life, being a knight, but Kel never imagined it would be.
Her body is scarred by battle; a map of history written with the blood of her wounds. Jagged marks on her fingers the legacy of a griffin; rough gouges in her left thigh marking the day when she beat her fear of heights. On her right calf there's an uneven lump of scar where an arrow grazed her in her second year as a page. She knows there are more marks under her tunic – blemishes in her skin of bruises never quite healed, and jagged reminds of each skirmish fought, mementos as though she might accidentally forget.
Staring at her reflection distorted by ripples and eddies, Kel muses she can see the bruising of her heart reflected in her eyes. Love, she thinks bitterly, is not as easy jousting or as tangible as war. It flickers and flutters and burns, doing what it pleases and leaving when it chooses.
Kel studies her reflection, and hopes that the scar on her heart has faded.
---
She's on the western wall with Sergeant Olenka, discussing archer's vantage points and whether blazebalm is feasible, when a horn blares in the distance.
"It's Sergeant Domitan and his squads, sir," the watch calls.
Kel watches them draw closer, relieved that the tightness in her chest doesn't hurt as much as it did before. When the gates are opened and the procession enters Kel smiles and nods at them, waving her hand in greeting.
Dom bows appropriately, snapping a salute. Her eyes meet with his; there's a little warmth in her belly and a jump in her heart, but it's feeble at best. She thinks maybe the fire burnt itself out and all it left behind are embers to be buried by sand and cast away.
She doesn't want to think that it's bitterness blunting her soul and dulling the hurt.
---
Dom's in the stable brushing his gelding. Kel watches as his arms move in long, even strokes, and remembers the feel of his hands on her skin.
"I was going to talk to you after dinner," he says, not looking up from his work, "but you disappeared."
"I needed to look at the letters you brought," Kel explains. "Need another hand?"
Dom grins at her, and for a heartbeat Kel thinks her breath will catch in her throat. The moment passes and she feels strangely empty. "I'm only brushing him again because Daine said he likes it, it's not something that needs to be done."
She was wondering why he was brushing his horse for the second time, and a smile touches her lips. "Then he'll like two people doing it twice as much."
The gelding snorts his agreement, his ears flicking this way and that.
"Well, find a brush."
She stands on one side and him on the other. They work in silence, only the sound of bristles through fur whispering in the air.
"I wanted to apologise," Kel says, repeating the words he spoke to her one night long ago.
"For what?" he asks.
"You weren't the only one who made a mistake. It was just as much my mistake as it was yours, only I laid the blame completely on you."
"You didn't," he starts, but she shakes her head to silence him.
"I did. I was angry at you for leaving without saying a word, and I was angry at you for being right, for treating it like a mistake, because it was a mistake. But I didn't want it to be a mistake."
The horse swishes his tail and she realises they've stopped brushing. Grimly, she tightens her fingers around the brush and starts again, her strokes long and deep and determined.
"You didn't?" Dom asks quietly.
"My best friend had just died, Dom," she says, her voice so quiet she wonders how he can hear it. "I was… I don't know. I wanted something. Something to remind me that I wasn't alone, even though it felt like I was." She frowns, annoyed by her stumbled speech. "I'm not making much sense, am I?"
"Nothing unusual about that," he says airily.
Kel sighs, lowers her brush, and presses her face against the horse's hindquarters. She breathes in the rich smell and feels the warmth against her skin. "I think I missed out on learning how to be a woman," she confides, scratching the gelding's belly with her scarred fingers.
"I think you were a very good woman." She can hear the smile on his voice. "You still are."
Her cheeks burn hot; she presses her face closer to the horse, trying to hide from Dom's eyes.
"You know, Mindelan, if I were a knight this wouldn't be a problem," he says casually.
"What do you mean?" she asks, looking at him at last.
"I can't… I can't leave the King's Own, Kel. Not yet."
But knights can get married, she thinks, and wishes it was that easy.
There's a painted horse and a lifetime standing between them. She stares into his eyes, so serious and sorry, and forces a smile to touch her lips.
"I don't really want babies now anyway," she tells him.
He smiles too, but it's as broken as the painted on her lips. "Then everything's fine."
The horse shifts irritably. Kel starts to brush again, not breaking his gaze. "Maybe one day it will be."
---
The smell of cinnamon fades from her dreams, and the bruise on her heart only aches sometimes when she feels his smile brush her soul or the faded ghost touch of his fingers on her skin.
---
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