Blair took a look at the room she was in. The walls had light colored wood paneling that matched the floor and looked aged, dust settled in the grain of the wood that couldn’t be reached by a cloth. Her bed was small, a twin, with a nice wooden frame and firm mattress. Next to the door was an old dresser, scuffed from use, that was littered with various hand made knick-knacks, a small hand held mirror, and had some clothing sitting on top of it. Across the room, there was a small desk, its matching chair having been pulled next to Blair’s bedside. A sword leaned against the desk’s side. It wasn’t fancy, it was sleek and practical. Blair frowned at it.
With a begrudging effort, Blair lifted herself from her bed, throwing what was left of the heavy comforter off of her legs. She swung her legs off the side and took stock of herself. Her limbs looked so much longer, Blair would have called them gangly if she hadn’t seen the well defined muscles that accompanied them. Once again, no freckles, just a healthy tan.
Blair made her way over to the dresser awkwardly, not quite used to seeing the world from so high up. Cordelia seemed quite tall, Blair hadn’t noticed when she was laying in bed. Blair eyed the mirror, face down on the wood. She wasn’t ready to see her face yet. She wasn’t ready to be confronted with a face she didn’t recognise. Blair reached for the clothes that had been laid out on the dresser. She took the bottoms, a pair of beige riding pants that laced up at the front and put them on, briefly wondering who had been changing her clothes before she woke up and hoping that it was Cordelia’s mother.
Blair pulled off her nightgown and looked down at herself. Yeah, she thought, it’s not mine. Blair shrugged on the button down shirt quickly before putting on the vest that was left last in the pile as she made note of the boots next to the door and put those on too.
Blair looked at the mirror again. It taunted her.
Blair turned away and walked back to the bed, pulling the chair away from its side and back to its rightful place at the desk. The desk was quite neat despite the thin layer of dust settled in with the books on the top shelf. She supposed Cleo hadn’t been much of a reader, though Seung-Eun and Mina seemed the type. Aside from a capped ink pot and a quill, which Blair already didn’t want to have to use, the only other thing on the desk was her belt harness for the sword. The leather was quite worn, belt holes stretched out awkwardly from years of use.
Blair opened the door to her new room and was greeted with a short hallway with a series of doors. At the end of the corridor was an archway and Blair could smell something savory coming from it, only undercut by the slight tinge of metal and oil. Just as she nearly made it to the archway, Laurence rounded the corner, causing Blair to jump slightly and hurriedly whisper out an apology.
Laurence laughed, “jumpy this time?”
This time? Blair thought before saying, “sorry,” again.
Laurence raised an eyebrow at her and Blair noticed that he was slightly shorter than her. “Mom just finished, I was about to get you,” he told Blair.
Blair let out a breath, “oh, thanks.”
Laurence rolled his eyes and turned back around, motioning for Blair to follow as he muttered, “this time is the weirdest,” under his breath before he looked back again, “oh,” he started, “Shawn is here too.” Blair didn’t know who Shawn was. Cleo would know wouldn’t she? Blair cursed herself for not asking. Her panic must have been evident because Laurence put a hand on her shoulder, “I told him you won’t remember, don’t worry,” he said.
Why did Laurence know she wouldn’t remember?
As soon as they entered the kitchen the smell of garlic hit Blair’s nose, it smelled amazing. Her stomach growled.
“Dame Klein!” A voice called, accompanied by a chair scraping across the floor from being pushed back suddenly. It sounded relieved.
A man in the same clothes that Blair had put on earlier was standing next to the kitchen table, hands splayed down on it. His dirty blond hair was tousled with worry and his brown eyes had an expression that betrayed his relief and his worry. Based on his clothes, the same as Blair’s with the exception of the blade on his hip, Blair assumed he must be a fellow knight.
“Sir… Shawn?” Blair tried. You called knights ‘Sir’ right?
Laurence burst out laughing, doubling over and smacking his knees. Blair’s face burned with embarrassment, thinking she did something wrong. “Haa–” Laurence wheezed, “even when she only knows your first name she still adds a ‘Sir,’” at this, he let out another boisterous laugh as he threw his head back.
Shawn pointedly ignored Laurence and walked over to Blair, stopping about a foot in front of her when he noticed how tense she was. “You really don’t remember me?”
“Um, no– no but I will soon, I think?”
“She always remembers after a week or so,” Laurence explained dismissively.
Shawn sighed and looked at Blair softly, “do you remember saving his Grace, Duke Bell?” He asked.
“I know about it, but uh– I don’t really remember it,” Blair answered honestly. She couldn’t look Shawn in the eye.
“Stop chatting and sit down,” Amenna’s voice called from the table, “you can talk while you eat. I’m sorry it’s only soup, Lord Shawn.”
Oh, he’s a noble, Blair thought.
Shawn gave a chuckle and turned to help Amenna finish setting the table, “I told you to just call me Shawn, Mrs. Klein.”
Blair eyed the two of them. Shawn must have been close with her family despite their gap in status. She wanted to assume it was due to her possibly being his colleague, but he and Laurence seemed to have known each other longer than a few years.
“Dame Klein?” Shawn called. Blair snapped her head up to look at him, he was holding out a chair for her.
Blair hurried over and said “ah, thank you,” as she took her seat and tucked her chair in.
Shawn beamed down at her, he seemed extremely pleased with himself. Laurence on the other hand was having a hard time trying not to laugh, already seated and pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle himself.
Blair turned her attention to the bowl in front of her, filled with what looked like minestrone if minestrone didn’t have any noodles in it. The smell of tomato and garlic danced at her nose and made her miss the little Italian bakery down the street from her work that sold minestrone. She would often go there after a bad day at work to get a hot meal and fresh bread. Maybe even some pastries if the day had been particularly rough.
If she hadn’t been shot, it would’ve been a pastry day. She would never have Mr. Slaviero’s cannoli again.
Amenna’s soup made Blair feel warmer, but she couldn’t taste it past her bitter longing for something else.
“Do you think you’ll be able to come by the training grounds to see everyone tomorrow?” Shawn asked.
When Blair didn’t answer right away, assuming wrongly that he was speaking to Laurence, her new brother nudged her shoulder. “Oh, uh, I may not remember them all.”
“That’s okay,” Shawn said kindly, “everyone’s been quite depressed since you’ve not been around, Dame Klein.”
“Okay,” Blair said, pushing another spoonful of the not-minestrone into her mouth and swallowing it without chewing. “For a little while… in the afternoon?”
Shawn looked relieved, a soft smile settling on his face, “I’ll pick you up at three.”
“I’ll pick you up at three,” Laurence mocked with a sappy voice before a loud thud made him yelp and jerk back in his seat, “What the hell!” He hissed at Shawn as he nursed his leg. Amenna laughed softly, earning her a glare from Laurence, “aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”
Shawn’s smile never faltered as he kept addressing Blair, “is three okay?”
Blair raised an eyebrow at him, “yeah– yes, yes that’s okay.”
Blair could recognize the way that Shawn was looking at her, she’d been on the receiving end enough times to know that the look he was giving her, soft and warm as it was, wasn’t the way someone looked at a colleague, even one they greatly respected.
“To be honest His Grace, Duke Bell, wants to reward you,” Shawn sighed, smile faltering, “I’d like you to rest longer, but he has to return to the Duchy by the end of the week. Would you be able to meet with him?”
“Tomorrow?” Blair squeaked.
“Ah, no, not tomorrow, but the day after,” Shawn clarified.
“What time?”
Shawn fiddled with his spoon, contemplating something, before he answered, “is ten alright?”
Blair could tell she didn’t have the room to say no. “Sure,” she replied, “ten is alright.”
Shawn let out a breath, “I’ll come get you at ten.”
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