These weeks were some of the best of my life. I was getting along well with Leo and Arden, and on the nights when I trained alone, I was able to test out other combat moves that I saw in my strange dreams.

These dreams happened often, almost every night. Sometimes they were like the first one on the night of the assassination attempt, where I was an adult running around pulling off epic fight moves, crawling on ceilings, and exploring strange worlds with those ugly white lights and all that metal. Sometimes those dreams were… frightening. People would get hurt, using strange weapons that made loud banging sounds, or small thrown weapons that would explode. Dream-me was awesome, though. She used knives like they were an extension of herself and she whirled through the air in hand-to-hand combat like a goddess. She never lost.

Other times, the dreams were strange and less exciting. Basically, it was dream-me doing non-combat things. That life didn’t seem so great for dream-me. While she seemed so free while fighting, she wasn’t the rest of the time. It wasn’t like how the soldiers and guards around the palace lived – people who stayed and trained but would go home to families some days and got paid money to live independently. These were concepts that as a child, I had only the faintest understanding of, but I knew things shouldn’t be like what I saw in the dream, where dream-me would sit in a dark room, alone, for hours. The only thing that seemed to make dream-me happy was when a person brought books to her tiny room.

This person was not a warrior, I don’t think. She was a small, kind-eyed woman who seemed to be dream-me’s friend. They would hug and sit huddled together on the bed, reading the books. The books were sort of interesting, usually a kind of adventure story and drama, often with a lot of romance. The last bit was less interesting to me, but the intrigue was fascinating, with court politics, war, and magic. Honestly, a bit like the world I lived in, but with adventures.

But more about those books later. I need to explain exactly how the training missions fell apart first.

It turned out that Captain Alea’s rules about not overtraining children were based in fact. I got sick about a month later, and the palace doctor called it something complicated that basically just meant I was exhausted. The doctor also noted that I had severe muscle strains and some bruises that were ‘in excess of what the current regime should cause’.

Rather than fuss over me like one is supposed to with a small, sickly child, Anne sat and stared at me suspiciously as I rested in bed. I refused to acknowledge her, knowing I couldn’t win a verbal battle and therefore choosing to try and avoid one altogether. She didn’t make it easy.

 “What did you do, Princess?”

I stayed silent. Anne was a tricky opponent, and silence was my only defense.

A heavy sigh.

“I know you didn’t get hurt like this working with the Captain.” I almost rolled my eyes but managed not to – while it was perfectly reasonable for Anne to say this, it is also worth noting that Anne admired Captain Alea so transparently that everyone knew about her crush. “The Captain”, as Anne called her, was incapable of doing anything wrong. Personally, I’d never seen or heard of Captain Alea doing anything wrong, so maybe Anne was right. Anyway.

When I stayed quiet, Anne huffed and stood up, looming over me. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you the rest of the time. So, Princess Gardenia, what have you managed to keep a secret that would result in all these injuries?”

I had no intention of answering.

“And you made yourself sick, too,” Anne said, looking upset. “It’s my job to keep you safe and healthy, and look what’s become of you.”

I almost answered but just managed to hold back. I hated it when Anne was upset.

The interrogation continued on like this, with dashes of emotional manipulation and plenty of guilt trips. I held strong. It wasn’t just me I was protecting this time, after all, but Arden, too. I refused to give up our secret.

There were other interrogators as well, besides Anne. My father was one, and his chosen method was to try to overwhelm me with his emotional outbursts. He was a kind-hearted man, but a bit melodramatic.

“Oh, Deena, Deena, are you alright? How are you feeling?” He used my nickname, back from when I couldn’t say my full name and mispronounced it Deena. It always made me happy when he did, although I’d never admit it.

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound stoic but probably sounding more stiff and irritated than anything.

Tears welled in my father’s pale purple eyes. “Look how brave she’s being, our little Deena!” My mother was standing behind him and nodded wearily.

“She’s brave, certainly, but she also has a lot of explaining to do.” My mother narrowed her gaze at me. The doctor had assured everyone I would be absolutely fine with a little rest, so the sympathy card was only working on Father – albeit without me actually having to play the card.

I didn’t have the words for it at the time, but looking back, I don’t think my father was innocent in this two-pronged approach, which I now know is called the ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine. My father’s excessive sympathy and worry were meant to relax me into sharing my secrets, while my mother’s stern demeanor was intended to pressure me by making me fear the consequences of continuing to break the rules by keeping the secret.

Neither really worked on me, but it was exhausting. By the end of my convalescence, I felt like a brittle leaf in the fall, drained of vitality. But I had made it through without spilling my secrets, and I was eager to get back to the training yard. If I were honest with myself, I was also eager to see Arden again – and Leo, for that matter.

I waited a week – which may seem like a short time to you, and indeed looking back I think it was ridiculous to go back so soon, but as a five-year-old a week felt like an eon. So, a week after I had recovered and returned to a normal routine, I risked sneaking back into the training yard. I made it down the wall, onto the paths, through the hedges, over the gate, and dropped down to find Arden waiting. She wasn’t alone.

One of the knights who worked as a guard, Geoff, was standing next to her. Arden looked absolutely miserable. I glared at her, sure she had somehow told them, but was interrupted before I could say anything by the gate opening behind me to reveal Anne, Captain Alea, and my mother.

Ah, ****, I thought, using a word that I’d once overheard a guard say on the night shift as I snuck by. The guard had just stubbed his toe and said the word with such relish that I’d remembered it until now. This seemed like a situation that warranted such a word. My mother looked as angry as I’d ever seen her, and Anne was like a storm cloud in human form. Even the even-keeled Captain Alea’s face was a forbidding mask of disappointment.

****, indeed.