Irenis wakes late on her second morning in the Verith house to pouring rain. Of course. She does up her hair and sprints grimly down to the training yard.

She meets Sir Jacryn at the door. At least she’ll have company in her misery. Jacryn smiles down at her. “How are you this morning?”

“I don’t want to go out into the rain.”

“Neither do I.” Jacryn sighs and pushes the door open.

There is one person out there. Irenis blinks. “Are we that late?”

Jacryn frowns. “The clock in my room said that it was six in the morning.”

Hm. Irenis ventures out into the freezing rain.

The person doing drills is gorgeous in their skill. They fight with a brutal beauty. Irenis almost stops just to watch, but the rain is cold. “Excuse me! Um, would you like to spar?”

The person stops and runs up to her. Oh, no, it’s Margravine Bealuen! Irenis drops into a bow. The cold rain trickles down her neck. “I’m sorry for my impertinence—”

“Forgiven. What are you doing out here?!”

That startles Irenis enough to look her in the eye. “Training?”

Lady Bealuen taps her mouth. “That’s right, you’re new here. There’s a salle inside where the knights train when it’s terrible weather out.”

Jacryn jogs up. “May I ask why you’re out here, my lady?”

“It’s refreshing. I just came from the southern ramparts, and it’s humid down there.”

It’s freezing.

“And I’ve been reliably informed that I have insane temperature tolerances,” Lady Bealuen says cheerfully as she steers Irenis back inside by the shoulders. “But you two are only human, so go inside.”

Irenis obeys and wrings out her tunic on the threshold. Sir Jacryn wrings out his braid and tunic. Lady Bealuen takes off her muddy boots and leaves them on a little shelf at ankle height.

The indoor salle is a huge room, and loud with all the knights packed into it. And bright! Irenis sneezes at the magelight in the center of the ceiling.

Captain Bernsek is leading drills. Lady Bealuen leads Irenis and Jacryn right up to him. “Here, watch these two, make sure Irenis doesn’t catch a cold.”

Magic flashes off to the side. Irenis sneezes at it.

Jacryn frowns down at her and tries to feel her forehead. “Surely five minutes wasn’t enough time to catch cold?”

“I’m not sick. I just sneeze if something is bright and sudden.”

Lady Bealuen snickers. “Oh, my sister-in-law actually has that quirk as well.”

Wait, it’s not just a stupid Irenis problem?

“Though she sneezes twice. She finds if the sneeze just isn’t happening, deliberately looking at a light source will set it off.”

Irenis knows that trick! But go back to the part where it’s not a flaw on her end.

Lady Bealuen leaves to go train out in the rain again, because she really is insane. But this begets an Opportunity. Irenis picks out a knight who doesn’t seem very intimidating—short, stocky, and sweet-faced—and sidles up next to him. “Sir Caswellon, why does Lady Bealuen train out in bad weather?”

“Oh, hi, didn’t see you there!” Sir Caswellon puts down his sword. Irenis flicks her gaze at Captain Bernsek, but he’s occupied getting Gurstel to adjust his posture. Irenis stifles a giggle.

Sir Caswellon reclaims her attention by pulling off his cuisse to polish it. “Bealuen likes the rain, especially when it’s cold rain after a hot day. I kind of get it, but I’d rather just get in the cold bath to cool down.”

Irenis swallows. “You just call her by her bare name?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t have much of a stick up her ass about proper address. The only time we use a title with her is on a battlefield, and then she’s ‘Commander.’”

“So she really goes out to fight alongside you?”

“Yeah. It’s amazing.” Sir Caswellon gets a dreamy look on his face. “She’ll ride out and cast a shield and then blow away half the opposing monsters. And Maedis will be right beside her. Seeing them fight is a thing of beauty.”

Irenis nods. So that rumor is true. “Does she wear plate armor?”

“Yes, or scale mail. Is that rumor about the chain mail stays going around again?”

One of the female Verith knights shoots up, ash-gray hair bristling and ruby-red eyes gleaming with rage. “Not the chain mail stays again! I swear I’ll find whoever started spreading that fucking rumor and wring their shitty necks!”

Irenis flinches. She really hates yelling, and she didn’t know, please don’t hurt her—

Jacryn swoops in to save her. “What’s this about chain mail stays?”

Thankfully, it works. The knight turns to yell at him about stupid rumors. Irenis swallows and tries to make her heart slow down.

“It’s all right. Bactia doesn’t fight opponents who can’t fight back, and she’s one of our best. You’re not even on her dance card.”

Irenis wrings her tunic hem, still slightly damp from the rain. “I didn’t mean to make her mad.”

“She’s not mad at you.” Sir Caswellon takes a swig of water from the barrel. “She’s mad because the chain mail stays thing comes from lecherous old men who think a woman’s only worth is her looks.”

Ahh, Irenis gets it now. “I see. Do the rumors about her ladyship lusting after her husband in public also come from them?”

“Nah.” Sir Caswellon snickers. “That comes from them being a love match who genuinely adore each other.”

Irenis blinks baffledly at the opposite wall. Love matches have always seemed like fairy tales to her. Is she supposed to believe that fairy tales come true here?

—

It rains over the next two days, so training is confined to the salle. When not training or hiding in her guest room to read, Irenis tries to figure out how to learn where she’s going to be sent. So far she has located the servants’ quarters, found the entrance to the kitchens, and accidentally wandered into the mens’ baths (she saw enough to realize the pools weren’t perfectly mirrored before having to flee from the naked men and Gurstel’s jeers).

On the third day, the sun breaks through the clouds. And Irenis has decided that she needs to be brave.

Instead of going directly to the training grounds, Irenis diverts to the kitchens. Jacryn follows her, as he does, and Captain Bernsek walks backwards out of a hallway to join them when he sees them. “Where are you going?”

“You recall that I was trained by Calon of Druig?” Irenis is able to say that confidently, at least.

“I do, yes.”

“He insisted that I must have a snack before every training session. I am now accustomed to eating before training. I wish to ask the cook if he or she has a little jerky that I can have before training.”

Bernsek hums. “That does seem like an excellent idea. I will back you up.”

Irenis turns around to smile at him and catches Jacryn mouthing thank you at him.

—

As little Irenis battle-marches into the kitchens, Bernsek hisses to Jacryn, “Did Calon really make you eat before training?”

“The knights were given all the food they could ever need,” Jacryn says bitterly. Up close, the bags under his eyes have only gotten darker. “He was just trying to get food in her when no one believed she deserved to eat.”

That indicates horrible things about how the Casmenocs treated a little girl whose only crime was being born—Bernsek has heard Gurstel’s drunken jeering about uppity bastard children. He clenches his fist and vows to help the poor little thing however he can.

Irenis, meanwhile, immediately wins the cook’s heart. Probably due to being extremely adorable. Not only does she get her jerky, Tawayan starts preparing a light breakfast for all the knights each morning.

Bactia, mouth stained with the last strawberries of the season, declares to the knightage that they are keeping this damn kid. No one protests and her best friends cheer, “Hear, hear!”

The Casmenoc knights good and mediocre shake out over the week. Bernsek watches them train and he and Maedis hash out who’s getting assigned where. Gurstel is going to the North Sixth, the twins are getting split up, Asnathe is going to the South Third and Meitha to the South First. Irenis’s placement is still undecided.

On the last night before assignments are announced, the Verith knightage has gathered in their recreation hall to play cards. Bernsek has just played a perfect hand when the door slams open.

Bernsek looks up. Jacryn stumbles into the room and leans on the couch. “Captain. Could I ask a favor of you?”

He looks awful. The dark circles under his eyes are bruised-looking and his skin is pale. Bernsek puts down his cards. “Yes…”

“I can’t—Gurstel’s been drinking. And I can’t stay up any longer. Could you please put a guard—no, it’ll have to be two—who can be trusted with vulnerable children on Lady Irenis’s door tonight?”