Hello again! Sorry about the sixth month delay between chapters. This one takes place about 4 months after the last (in which Selena asked Fira to be her future squire, Vina and Karyna fought after a difficult mission, Rissa had an unexpected romantic supper with Basim, and Keith decided to begin courting Dalton's sister Arielle by letter) so baby Althea is now about 6 months old (for those who prefer keeping track that way). Setting and certain characters belong to Tamora Pierce, the rest stem from the mind of an overloaded grad student. Serious fluff ahead—happy reading!
Penelope was using her left foot to nudge Althea's cradle and her right hand to generate a supply list for the Own's upcoming training exercise when Dom called her name.
"It's almost finished," she assured him without looking up.
"Good," Dom said, "but I don't need it yet. I'm actually here because Kel's got some sort of conference with Wyldon and the king this afternoon and she asked me to invite you along."
"Oh," Penelope said, her mind instantly running through a list of people she could ask to watch her daughter. Dalton and Vina and Karyna were tackling a group of bandits, Neal would probably be at the meeting, and the smithy would be too far out of the way…
"Here." Dom scooped Althea up. "I would offer to carry your paperwork, but your baby has a better smile."
Selena was already there when they arrived and Penelope hurried to join her in an unobtrusive corner once she'd reclaimed her daughter from the adoring clerk Dom had passed her off to.
"I haven't seen you in weeks," Penelope said.
"Just one." Selena cast a rueful glance at her growing belly. "But it still feels like ages. We should sit down with tea after this, assuming the king isn't declaring war or anything."
"Even then," Penelope said. "Though Jason had better make an extra batch of those honey-ginger cakes if there's been a large-scale invasion."
Jon cleared his throat loudly, putting an end to their whispers.
"Good afternoon. Lady Knight Keladry and I are both delighted that you could join us here today in honoring Lord Wyldon's long and dedicated career and to wish him luck as he begins yet another endeavor for all of us."
Wyldon tilted his head in a discrete but definite sign of puzzlement.
"But perhaps," the king added hurriedly, "I had best turn matters over to our current training master."
Neal sat back in his chair, eyes wide as though he were watching a particularly fierce and entertaining duel. Kel swallowed and quickly cleared the bewilderment from her face.
"Lord Wyldon, I've always respected your abilities, but in the years since I've taken on your old job and discovered just how difficult and thankless it can be, I've come to admire your patience and wisdom. Your contribution to this realm has been invaluable."
"Are you rehearsing my eulogy?" Wyldon asked. "If not, please make whatever point our king has in mind."
Kel nodded, smiling very faintly, and then stubbornly continued her speech. "It has truly been an honor to have your example, and more importantly, your advice before me and I'm sure Queenscove would join me in voicing his appreciation," she added.
"Indeed," Neal agreed, after prompting from Penelope's elbow.
"You've worked through difficult, even radical times," Kel continued. "And you've always helped to preserve our best traditions while letting go of those that might have…hindered certain prospective students."
Wyldon nodded in begrudging acknowledgement.
"But there is one worthy tradition that you haven't turned your attention to yet. It is customary for distinguished knights to chronicle their accomplishments in memoirs or books…And you've done so much for the knights of Tortall that it would be a shame if—that is we feel we—"
"I've trained hundreds of pages and squires and won dozens of battles. And now you want me to write down everything I know about life, love, and proper jousting techniques before I kick the bucket," Wyldon said.
"Exactly," Selena chimed in, knowing that euphemistic beating around the bush would be worse than useless with Wyldon. "I'll even do the writing myself. You just have to dictate."
PDPDPD
An hour later, Penelope, Althea, Selena, and Wyldon were sitting at a spare table in the infirmary—which Neal had volunteered as a quiet workspace, probably for his own entertainment—and Wyldon was looking more uncertain than Penelope had ever seen him. The man who'd always had the right advice for her had no idea what to say about his own life. And she had no idea how to help him.
"Have you tried pacing, sir?" Neal asked.
"It doesn't seem to improve your work," Wyldon remarked, though he did shift in his chair, assuming an even more upright posture.
"hmmm," Neal said, refusing to take any offense, "perhaps drumming your fingers on the table."
Instead, Wyldon shot Neal the kind of stare he'd once used to make pages squirm and seemed to draw inspiration from the familiar act.
"At the end of my tenth summer," he began, "I accompanied my father on a journey along…" He shook his head thoughtfully. "That may not be the best place to begin."
"But you have to start somewhere," Selena said.
Fira staggered through the infirmary door before he could start again.
"What have you done this time?"
"Superficial abrasions and substantial bruising above the patella." The words rolled calmly off her tongue as though she had been waiting for him to ask. "No need to use your Gift or anything. You can just clean it out and give me some ice and I'll be good and sit still while the swelling goes down."
Neal narrowed his eyes at the young stoic. "And how did you acquire this glorified scraped knee?"
"I fell."
Wyldon's skeptical throat clearing was just loud enough to register.
"After I decided it would be a good day to try jumping over the log that's fallen across the pond."
"How so?" Neal said as he rolled her trouser leg over her knee.
"Well Jarif had just told me not to—"
"You might as well have stupid friends if you aren't going to listen to them." Neal glanced once at Penelope (who decided that just because she was somebody's mother was no reason to refrain from sticking her tongue out at him) and then squinted at the injury. "This has bits of pine needle in it."
"Also," Fira continued, " I figured that even if it didn't work out, this would be a good afternoon to spend in the infirmary." She fixed her gaze directly on Wyldon. "You used to tell the best stories when I was little, but I can't possibly have heard all of them yet."
"Plus twenty points for pluck and honesty," Selena said, grinning at her future squire. "She stays."
Wyldon put a hand to his chin and thought for a moment. "I once stole a horse because my cousin dared me to." His expression turned almost smug when he saw that he all of their rapt attention. "I was eight. He was ten. My uncle had taken us to a horse fair and we wandered over to look at some of the untrained animals…"
Althea had fallen fast asleep by the time he got around to describing his first year as a page. And, despite her interest, Penelope started nodding off towards the end of his page years. With Dalton away, she'd been up half the night with her teething baby.
"That might be enough for one day," Neal remarked, jolting Penelope back to the present.
"Quite," Selena murmured, hastily dropping her quill to massage her hand.
"Very well," Wyldon said.
"Shall we resume at the same time tomorrow afternoon, sir?" Selena asked.
"That will do if you have no other pressing commitments," Wyldon answered.
"None in the immediate future." Selena took her time packing up as the others left.
"Go get some rest then" Wyldon wrapped his fingers over Selena's, "but make sure that smith doesn't coddle you too much."
"Never, my lord." Selena grinned and squeezed his hand.
PDPDPD
"Think that's all of them?" Karyna asked after their dawn attack on a camp of bandits. It was midwinter's eve, they'd spent the last two weeks rounding up criminals, and they were all eager to be starting out for home.
Dalton surveyed the ten men they were tying up and the four that had been killed.
"Yes," one of the prisoners said. "All of us. I'd swear to it."
Dalton glanced at Vina, who nodded her agreement. He'd spoken too quickly, probably lying.
"Sweep the perimeter again, on foot," he ordered her, "make sure no one's been overlooked." He scowled at the knot he was tying to secure their prisoners. "Take Keith with you," he added.
Vina nodded and turned to find her usually cheerful neighbor already at her elbow, wearing a tired smile.
"Right," she said and they started into the woods.
"So," Keith said. "Is this nice bit of tedium some kind of warning to be careful courting Arielle or does it mean he actually trusts me?"
Vina thought a moment about the close attention Dalton paid to the letters Keith had been exchanging with his sister before deciding that she had no idea. "He is a protective brother, but then he also sent me on this—"she surveyed the thick snowy woods with distaste—"picnic, so maybe it's a sign of favoritism or—"
She was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek, the sound of a terrified child. She glanced at Keith and they both sprinted uphill towards the noise. Keith tripped over a hidden root and crashed to the ground.
Vina bent to offer him a hand up, but he winced the instant he tried to put weight on his foot. She hesitated until a second louder shriek decided the matter. Keith waved her on and she set off running again, reaching for her sword as she made it to a clearing at the top of the hill.
"One more step," someone barked, "and I'll snap his neck."
Vina stopped and saw that a tall bearded man had a small blond boy by the neck. Two more men stood behind him, though they were busy trying to tie two struggling children—so well bundled that Vina couldn't tell if they were male or female—on the back of a miserable looking donkey.
"Drop your blade," the bearded man added.
Vina assumed a neutral stance but kept a firm grip on her sword. Bandits had always been her least favorite thing to fight as a squire. One had left a long deep cut in her right arm that still ached in cold weather. She wasn't going to stand around weaponless and let them take away children.
"Now," he added, tightening his grip on the boy, whose cheeks glistened with silent tears.
"Wait—" Vina started, but her voice wasn't as loud and commanding as she'd meant for it to be.
"Silence," one of the other men growled, gesturing threatening with the child he was lifting. "We don't want you inviting friends. We've got ourselves some nice young hostages and we're going to leave with them."
"Drop it," the bearded man added, lifting the boy up by his neck.
Vina dropped her sword forcefully so that it fell deep into the snow where it would be harder for the bandits to grab quickly. She regretted it instantly and hated the fact that she'd had no choice.
The bearded man set the boy back down but did not release him. One of the others took a furtive step towards Vina.
She hesitated—deciding on the one bad idea that was slightly better than all the others—and then lunged forward, managing to free the blond boy from his captor's grip and shout the first half of Dalton's name before she had a hand pressed over her mouth and a knife hovering against her neck.
Luckily the little boy knew to run without her telling him.
PDPDPD
The child's shriek and Vina's shout echoed harshly through the bare trees.
"Mithros," Dalton spat.
"Putrescent pony shit," Karyna corrected, sprinting off in the direction of the sound.
Dalton tugged his last knot closed and checked to be sure Jess had an eye on the captured bandits before hurrying after Karyna.
PDPDPD
Vina cast her eyes downward and then wished she hadn't. There were a few drops of blood already on the snow. It was probably hers, though in the cold she could barely feel the sting of sliced skin on her neck. She was suddenly lightheaded, but she often felt that way after a battle, once everything stopped, so she hoped it was fear rather then blood loss. That was a nice rational thought, she told herself, not the kind of thing that occurred to people who were busy bleeding out. She started counting her inhales, making them slow and calm to keep herself from panicking. She reached twenty before Karyna and Dalton appeared.
"Any closer and I'll cut her throat," her captor growled.
"Cut her throat and I'll kill you," Karyna hissed. Somehow she'd already gotten an arrow nocked and aimed at his heart. But she and Dalton had also stopped in their tracks.
Vina tried to roll her eyes at Dalton or Karyna to show that she was alright, but it was hard to tilt her head in their direction without brushing against the knife.
"Then we'd both be dead," the man holding Vina said affably. "Personally, I think she makes a nice, attractive live hostage, though I'd be happy to exchange her for the men you've got tied up down there."
"Let her go," Dalton said, "and we can discuss a possible—"
The knife was pressed a fraction closer to Vina's neck. "Don't toy with me," the man snarled.
PDPDPD
Dalton took a step backwards and lifted his hands up as though in surrender. He ran his eyes over the Vina and the three men again, looking for a way to dissolve their stalemate.
"Alright," he said slowly, stalling, "I'll…send—"
He glanced at Karyna and realized he wouldn't be able to send her anywhere without getting a mutinous refusal. Nor did he want to—he was going to need her there with that bow.
Keith's pale, pained face emerged from behind a tree a few paces back from the man who had Vina. He sized up the situation and nodded at Dalton.
"Let me take the rest of the children downhill on my way," Dalton said as Karyna and Keith blinked significantly at one another. "Then—"he glanced at Karyna who lowered her bow slightly and looked up towards the sky while tilting her chin at the donkey—"we can—
"First you return—"
But the bearded man never finished his request.
Keith lunged forward and grabbed one of the men near the donkey. Vina drove an elbow into her captor's belly, giving herself just enough room to lean away as Karyna's arrow hit his shoulder. Dalton rushed to grab the donkey's rope and get the children safely away and by the time he turned back around, Vina was reclaiming her sword and all three bandits were kneeling in the snow.
PDPDPD
Rissa flung away the blankets and sat bolt upright, breathing hard.
"Vina," she croaked, knowing it had not been just a dream and glad that she had not chosen to stay the night with Basim. Aside from the fact that she'd come to enjoy having an entire tent to herself now that she was living truly alone for the first time in her life, she knew he would have noticed her nightmare. And then she would have had to explain how she knew it was real and Basim, who had a twin of his own, was probably one of the few people who wouldn't laugh. Which wouldn't help her shake off the dream…
She reached across the tent for her waterskin and downed its entire contents in one. Then she pulled back the tent flap and gazed for a while at the sunrise, searching herself for a sense of Vina. Eventually she decided that she'd have to be reassured by the absence of any feeling of pain or death since she only ever knew when Vina wasn't fine.
She sighed and pulled on her boots, resolving to walk off the rest of her uneasiness. Her tent was already at the edge of the village and it took her only a few minutes to make her way into the solitude of the nearby hills.
"Good morning."
Rissa turned her head but did not jump at the sound of Basim's voice. She'd gradually gotten used to his ability to move silently across the desert.
"Morning," she agreed, taking his outstretched hand.
He kissed her cheek but didn't say anything more, strolling silently beside her as she let herself by convinced by the sun and the breeze that Vina would be alright.
"This is your midwinter, isn't it?" he said after a long stretch when they had reached the puddles that were all that remained of an earlier watering hole.
"Midwinter eve," Rissa corrected automatically, though she'd been trying not to think of spending the holiday away from everyone she knew.
"How do you celebrate?"
"I don't know," Rissa said. "It depends. Gifts and holy and all that, of course, but it doesn't really feel like midwinter until I've thrown a few snowballs with Vina—or at her—"Rissa smiled and shook her head—"and eaten entirely too much roast and ginger cake and curled up by the fire to pretend to play chess while we doze off." She swallowed, suddenly aware of how much she missed the palace.
"Well then." Basim tilted his head at her and then started trotting back towards the village, tugging her hand.
"What?"
"I'm afraid we don't do snow here," he said, "but chess can be arranged and we're very good at feasts. And everyone loves a good excuse to throw one."
Rissa grinned. "You don't have to do—just because I'm—"
"And speaking of throwing things—"Basim stopped suddenly and scooped up a handful of clay, hefting it playfully—"let's go find my brother."
PDPDPD
"Kid?" Vina called shakily, climbing to her feet. She lifted a hand to her neck and wiped at the scratch there—the cut was nearly sealed over already, but a millimeter more and…
Karyna shot Vina a short stricken glance without losing track of the bow she had trained on the bandits.
There was a snapping of branches and the small blond boy emerged from the trees.
"It's alright," Vina said, glad to hear that her voice was somewhat closer to normal.
Vina's former captor moaned and prodded the arrow stuck in his shoulder.
"Well," Keith said, "not for this lot." He gestured at the bandits and then staggered over to lean against the donkey and rest his ankle.
The boy gave them a ghostly little smile and took the hand Dalton held out to him.
"Here." Dalton checked to be sure he had the child's trust and then scooped the boy onto his back.
Just watching the motion made Vina somewhat dizzy. She felt worse now than she had while she'd actually had the knife pressed to her neck. Her skin stung from the brush with danger, her heartbeat was a loud jangle, and all the colors seemed off somehow. The snow was too dark, the sky was too pale, and the donkey had an odd greenish tinge. She wanted to bury her face in Karyna's hair or Dalton's shirt or even a pile of snow and not have to remember feeling helpless.
"What next?" Karyna asked, her voice breaking the spell.
"Get those three downhill please, you two, and make sure she sees a healer—"he caught Vina's eyes—"just in case. And then get everyone saddled and ready. I want to leave as soon as I've gotten the prisoners to the local sheriff and the kids to their families."
"Will do," Karyna answered, instead of 'yes, sir'. She waited a few minutes for Dalton and Keith to get the children clear and then nudged Vina's elbow gently as she circled around the bandits.
Vina forced the corners of her mouth into a short alert smile. Thank you, she mouthed.
Always. Karyna nodded and then squared her shoulders to address the bandits. "Stand up all of you. Quietly. And start down slow and easy." She glanced at Vina to mouth, and that includes you.
PDPDPD
An hour later, Dalton found Karyna saddling her pony. She'd managed to get the whole camp—her riders and his men—ready to leave, but she was moving slowly now, her mind clearly elsewhere.
"Did she talk on the way down?" Dalton asked.
"Not much. Not in front of them."
Dalton nodded. "Daniel—the blond boy—was pretty chatty once Keith cracked a few jokes for him. He told me she just dropped her sword so they wouldn't hurt him and then charged straight in to knock him out of the way. Crazy."
"She is Rissa's twin. She just…" Karyna's hands trembled as she tried to snug up her pony's girth.
"Here." Dalton gently dragged her hands away and got it himself—with some difficulty as her pony proved to be a champion at sucking in air and blowing out her belly.
"Sorry," Karyna muttered, glancing down at her shaking fingers. "I can't stop…"
"You're one of those panic-after-the-fact people, aren't you?" Dalton said, squeezing her shoulder briefly. He was married to one and he could recognize another when he saw her shoot a target inches from her lover's head and then loose it over a saddle girth.
"Guess so." She glanced down at her slowly calming fingers.
"One of her many charms," Vina called from a few paces away. The healer had just finished cleaning and bandaging her neck. "I'm fine."
"No," Dalton snapped. "You were rash and reckless. You disregarded orders to stay with another knight and you almost jeopardized our mission with your risk taking."
Vina blinked in shock, too startled to protest. She'd already told herself the same thing, she just hadn't expected to hear it from Dalton. She stepped back towards Karyna, who frowned but didn't say anything.
"It also saved those children," Dalton conceded. "It was brave and necessary and…I just—"he sighed—"I am not missing my daughter's first midwinter's eve to watch you nearly die."
Vina swallowed and nodded slowly.
"So try to consider your own safety and our sanity"—he gestured at Karyna, who muttered "seconded"—"a little more."
Vina blinked again. "Yes, sir."
"And stop looking at me like a stunned deer or I'm going to come over there and ruffle your hair."
"Noble hypocrite," Vina muttered.
"That's better," Dalton said and Karyna reached out to ruffle her hair for him. He nodded at both of them and went to collect his horse.
"Vina." Karyna took Vina's shoulders and forced her to turn and meet her eyes.
"Sorry—" Vina started.
"We aren't going to fight over this," Karyna said slowly. "So you don't even need to apologize."
Vina swallowed and took a half step forward so she could press her lips gently to Karyna's.
PDPDPD
Penelope skipped the formal festivities in the palace in favor of a simpler (though no smaller, Jason claimed) meal in the smithy. She carried Althea out to the stable to meet Dalton as soon as she heard him arrive.
"Hey." He kissed their cheeks and then grinned when Althea grabbed at his cloak.
"Here." Penelope passed her over.
"Hasn't she just had a bath?" Dalton protested. Their hair smelled very clean and his clothes were a grubby mess.
"She wants her da." Penelope flicked a bit of dried mud off his shoulder and brushed her nose against his collar. "And most of the water wound up on Bandit anyway."
Bandit whined in agreement from the vicinity of their knees. Dalton bent to ruffle his (still somewhat damp) fur. "Sorry about that, fellow. But at least you're cleaner than I am now." He glanced up at Penelope, who'd been quietly scanning his movements and his clothes for any signs of injury as she pulled the saddle off his horse. "The nasty, oozy looking stuff on my elbow isn't blood. We cleared some raiders out of a village renowned for its raspberry jam and then they insisted on feeding us breakfast."
"The raiders?" Penelope asked cheekily as she took Althea back. "How civilized."
"The villagers." Dalton started brushing his horse. "How much of the last few weeks have you spent with Neal?"
"Quite a lot. We both seem to be on the unofficial team assigned to prodding Wyldon into writing his memoirs."
"Wyldon?" Dalton repeated. "Prodding?"
"Well, he isn't loquacious or boastful, so I think we've finally found something that's actually a bit of a struggle for him."
Dalton shook his head. "I'm sure he just needs a little—"
"For a hard-headed horse and a barrel of wine…"Keith sang as Karyna carried him pick-a-back through the stables. The Rider was nodding in time and simultaneously scolding Vina for not wearing a scarf.
"But it itches," Vina was protesting. "I'm sure the cold air's better for it."
Penelope studied the three of them and lifted Althea up to watch before turning to Dalton with raised brows.
"Keith twisted an ankle and Vina pulled a stunt," he said. "Clearly she's more your squire than any of us thought."
Vina paused and put her eyes level with Althea. "Remember this. It's always ours when you aren't surprising them and yours when you've got their attention with something unpredictable." She smiled and kissed Penelope's cheek. "You want to get a nice mix of the two."
Dalton continued as though Vina hadn't interrupted. "Or that was my assumption anyway when I realized she'd been taken hostage at knifepoint in the process of rescuing some children." Dalton gripped Vina's shoulder to stifle her shrug. "After which Karyna did some very impressive shooting and seems to have given Keith quite a bit of brandy during the ride home."
"It was from one of the bandits," Karyna added, "probably a little stronger than he's used to. Don't hold it against him."
"He can carry a tune," Peneloped conceded as Keith switched to a rousing midwinter carol. "And he does have a very uh… powerful voice."
"Just don't let him write Arielle until he's sober," Dalton said.
"I don't think he could pull paper from his desk drawer at the moment," Vina said. Then she frowned at Karyna. "Do we know where his key is?"
"No." Karyna drew a deep breath. "Jess," she shouted.
The former-thief-turned-rider appeared before them a moment later.
"I need you to pick a lock for us."
Jess had been a little in awe Penelope since the day she'd attacked Penelope and been taken captive with her brother and fellow bandits only to find herself being freed and encouraged to join the Riders. She glanced warily at Penelope, as though uncertain whether or not to publicly admit to this ability.
"Jess," Penelope said. "Don't disappoint George."
"Okay," Jess said quietly. She glanced from Dalton to Penelope and then back to Karyna.
"Soon please," Karyna muttered, shifting her shoulders. "I think he's just as heavy without armor."
Jess nodded and Vina kissed Dalton's cheek and ruffled Bandit's fur. Then the group disappeared in a chorus of goodnights and carols.
"I wish Jess would just…" Penelope trailed off.
"She's doing well." Dalton dumped oats into his horse's bucket. "Karyna and I trust her with everything out there. She just thinks, accurately enough, that you're amazing and she's a little intimidated by what you did for her."
"Hmmm," Penelope said. "And then I do want her to be doing well because I would feel responsible if she weren't and…Did they warn us that you can't ever actually be done saving someone or worrying about making sure they stay safe?"
Dalton frowned. "I think there might be an indecipherably messy scrawl in the margin of one of the books on the code of chivalry. Maybe—"
Jess rushed back, hugged Penelope, and murmured a happy midwinter.
"You too," Penelope said, though Jess was already dashing back to catch up with the others.
Althea giggled at the odd expression on her mother's face.
"Speaking of unfinished things," Dalton said. "Wyldon's memoirs?"
"They're going to make quite the bedtime story for Althea," Penelope said, "complete with daring rescues, deadly battles, loyal friendship, love triangles, horse theft, and, for comic relief, the accidental incineration of tents."
Dalton paused to consider the last three. "Somehow," he said, "I'm not entirely surprised." He thumped his horse's shoulder once more and then scooped up his gear. "Maybe Vina takes after him."
"Maybe." Penelope shifted Althea to her other side so that Dalton could wrap his free arm around both of them. "I'd need the full story to be certain."
"Tomorrow," Dalton promised.
Penelope smiled and kissed his cheek. "Happy midwinter."
PDPDPD
Midwinter morning saw only two aging warriors on the practice courts at dawn. They stationed themselves at opposite ends to warm up and then, as if by unspoken agreement, they each moved slowly and purposefully towards the middle court. There, they nodded and sized one another up.
"I don't suppose you've come to commiserate with me over the fact that our young people seem to think starting families gives them a reason—by which we mean excuse—for abandoning brutally rigorous training schedules." Alanna moved lightly from foot to foot as she spoke, keep her muscles warm in the icy morning air.
"No," Wyldon agreed. "In our case, small talk is so useless as to be dangerous." He took up a formal fighting stance. "And I trust they will be out by mid-morning," he conceded.
"Otherwise, I will be having a few words with some of them." She took up her own stance at the proper distance. "Shall we?"
Wyldon considered her offer briefly. "Very well. Single hands. No contact between blades."
"Agreed," she murmured, laying her left hand against her thigh.
They moved steadily up and down the court, their swords darting around each other with grace and speed. They barely noticed when Vina appeared and began stretching, though they were somewhat amused when Fira joined her and she gave up the pretense of stretching in order to watch. It was too cold to sweat much and they were both breathing easily thanks to years of long practice. It seemed their duel might go on forever, like a dance without a choreographed ending.
"I hear you have been persuaded to compose a memoir," Alanna remarked finally.
"That is correct."
"There's an old saying that those who cannot do teach instead."
Wyldon raised an eyebrow and traced an arch that passed just inches from her shoulder.
"I think it might be more accurate to suggest that those who cannot teach do instead." She took advantage of his very momentary distraction to point her blade an inch from the inside of his elbow. Then she darted neatly away, ending their duel. "I wish you the best of luck with the writing of it."
They nodded again at one another and put away their weapons. Wyldon glanced at Vina and Fira, who stood watching raptly.
"Advantages are almost always unexpected," he informed them. Then he smiled politely at Lady Alanna. "Happy midwinter to you and your family."
She took his hand briefly. "And to yours."
They nodded one last time and then started off once more to opposite ends of the practice courts.
"Do you think they did they just to confuse us?" Fira asked.
"mmmphf." Vina tapped her fingers against her temple as though this would knock some clarity into her thoughts. "No idea. I can't even tell if they enjoyed it."
That's all for now…with possible updates appearing this summer. Happy reading, writing, and procrastinating to all!