“Lady Irenis, hide in here!” Talsa, a newer scullery maid, opens the linen closet door.

Irenis dives in and curls up behind a pile of folded sheets. Talsa shuts the door behind her.

The closet is dark and dusty and Irenis is definitely sitting on a nail. But she has to stay in here.

Her father’s enraged voice comes down the stairs. “Where is that worthless girl?! You! Have you seen her?”

Another maid quavers, “No, my lord.”

Irenis’s nose itches. She claps her hands over her mouth and nose.

“Move aside!” The closet door is flung open.

Irenis sneezes.

Her father hauls her out by the hair. Irenis bites her cheek, knowing that whining or crying will only infuriate him further.

“There you are!” He throws her onto the floor. “Do you know what you’ve done?!”

Irenis keeps her head down.

“Thanks to your interference, Clerient will have to delay his visit to the palace! If he fails to marry the princess because of you, I will drown you this time!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

Her father grabs her hair and raises her head to meet his eyes. “I don’t care what you meant to. All that matters is that you caused a problem.” He throws her back down. “Now go clean up your mess and go to your room. No supper for disobedient, problematic girls.”

Irenis drags herself to her feet.

Her father turns around and picks out two maids, Talsa and Melis. “You two are fired.” He turns around to chivvy Irenis up the stairs. “A servant’s loyalty must be absolute to their employer, not disobedient brats trying to escape punishment.”

Irenis bites her cheek to keep from tearing up as she’s shoved back up the stairs to the dining room.

One of her cousins, Bleiryn, meets them at the entrance to the room, smirking. “Got what you wanted, halfwit?”

Irenis sniffles.

Bleiryn is as stupid as he is cruel. He turns to her father and snickers, “Hey. We should have her eat her supper off the floor.”

Her father glances at the door. “Are the guests still here?”

“Uh… yeah? Why?”

“Then we can’t have her do that. They’ll ask questions.” He shoves a hair kerchief onto Irenis’s head. “They’ll already be asking why she ran off.”

“Just tell them the truth. She’s a little scaredy-cat who hates consequences.”

Irenis grabs a broom and goes to clean up her mess, swallowing back tears. She really didn’t mean to drop her plate. All she did was bump into one of the guests.

The party continues behind her, but once Irenis has cleaned up all the glass shards and food, she obediently retreats to her room. It’s a small closet barely fit for a servant, but perfect for a bastard daughter who can’t do anything right.

Irenis’s father Triolun is the youngest son of the Casmenoc margrave. Her mother, Esyn, died of illness when Irenis was two. Irenis has her creepily pale lavender eyes, but the signature Casmenoc sapphire hair. The hair is probably the only reason her father hasn’t followed through on his threats to drown her; if her body were found, it would put a stain on the family.

That doesn’t stop the Casmenocs from keeping Irenis out of the spotlight wherever they can, however. When Irenis’s half-siblings and cousins were seven, they were already in etiquette classes (girls) and swordsmanship (boys). Irenis is barely a maid. At parties and balls, the proper Casmenocs get to dress up befitting their rank and socialize with others. Irenis has to disguise herself as a young baroness and gather information to get into a party. All the nobles get large, spacious rooms with comfy beds and windowseats and lights. Irenis has a dingy closet, a mattress with straw in it, and only the window for light.

Irenis kneels on her bed and peers out the window. Her room overlooks the training grounds. Not a fantastic view, especially with the gathering gloom. She can barely see out onto the field.

But she can see a person out there. It must be the expensive battlemaster the margravine just hired to teach Aulan, her oldest cousin.

She’s not getting supper anyway, so she sneaks out of her room and to the training grounds.

Irenis watches the battlemaster go through his forms, huddled in a corner of the training grounds. He’s really, really cool. He moves with a steady sureness that Irenis wishes she had.

“You can come out now.”

Irenis jumps and tiptoes out to receive her punishment.

The battlemaster sheathes his sword and leans down to her level. “I didn’t see you in the introduction meeting earlier. Who are you, then?”

“My name is Irenis.” Irenis swallows. “The Casmenocs… say I’m not worthy to be one of them, because Mama was a maid. So they don’t like telling people about me.”

The battlemaster hums and looks her over. Irenis tries to smooth her old-fashioned, dingy blue dress and curls her toes in to hide the holes in her stockings. But what he asks is, “Are you going to be learning swordsmanship from me as well?”

Irenis blinks and shakes her head. “No. I’m a girl. It’s improper.”

“That ridiculous old tripe.” The battlemaster snorts. “Half the soldiers I’ve fought alongside were women, and they were just as good as the men around them.” He hums, then walks away. “Follow me.”

Irenis follows him to the armory, where he picks out one of the wooden training swords and holds it out. “Tell you what. If you want to take up the sword, I’ll train you.”

Irenis has never gotten a real choice before. But she’s always wanted to learn swordsmanship. It looks so cool. Slowly, wondering if this is a trap, she reaches out and takes the sword.

The battlemaster grins. His teeth are sharp and chipped, but the smile itself has no menace in it. “I’m Calon of Druig.”

Irenis hesitantly smiles back.

—

Irenis should have known better than to turn up on the training grounds the next afternoon. But she does, wearing a uniform that was thrown out for being more patches than original fabric and so was free for the taking.

Battlemaster Calon isn’t here yet. Her cousins and half-siblings are, though. Irenis is the only girl on the training field. She twists her hands in the hem of her tunic.

Bleiryn spots her after a little bit. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing here?”

Irenis shrinks away from him. “The battlemaster said—”

“Stop lying!” Bleiryn shoves her down onto the dirt. Irenis covers her head with her arms. “He’d never bother with you! You’re lower than dirt!”

His brother and cousin, Conzen and Seledis, wander over to see what the commotion is. Conzen snickers when he sees Irenis. “Ooh, if it isn’t the half-breed. What’s she doing here?”

“She thinks she’s gonna be learning swordsmanship!” Bleiryn kicks her. Irenis bites down a whimper. If she just lets them rough her up a little, they’ll be satisfied and leave her alone.

Seledis looks down his nose at her. “Father says we should have sent her away long ago. I don’t know why your father hasn’t listened to him.”

Irenis swallows down a protest.

“Because she’s ‘useful’ to Grandma and Great-aunt Bealead. Somehow.” Bleiryn kicks her again. Irenis squeaks, unable to stifle it.

“That was a funny noise! Make her do it again!”

Irenis chances a glance up and meets her oldest cousin Aulan’s eyes. Aulan is going to be an imperial knight as soon as he understands how to unlock aura. He’s always talking about honor and virtue. He would make a good head of the family if he were the son of the margrave-apparent, their uncle Westel.

Aulan breaks his gaze and walks away, leaving her to the mercy of her cousins.

Irenis makes the funny squeaking noise as Bleiryn’s boot hits her stomach. Of course he wouldn’t help her. There’s no reason to help the half-breed stain on the family name. She was stupid to hope otherwise.

Her youngest cousin, Carok, just barely old enough to pick up the sword, shouts, “The sword man is coming!”

Bleiryn snorts and kicks Irenis back out of the training grounds. “And stay out if you know what’s good for you.”

Irenis picks herself up and crawls away to hide in her closet. She doesn’t let herself cry until the door is safely shut. Figures. I should have known better.

—

Battlemaster Calon tracks her down at supper. Irenis, being no better than a servant, eats with the scullery maids and no one is allowed to give her seconds. Sometimes a new girl will sneak her a biscuit or even a cookie, but today isn’t one of those days.

As a valued teacher with priceless skill, Battlemaster Calon should get to eat with the knights. His appearance in the doorway makes everyone yelp, not just Irenis.

Irenis is the only one to drop her trencher, however. Soup goes everywhere, even on Battlemaster Calon’s expensive black boots. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t see you at swordsmanship practice today. Did you change your mind?”

He really means that. Irenis swallows and tries to wring broth out of her skirt. “No, um, my cousins. Reminded me that I’m not. Really one of them. And I shouldn’t act like I am.”

Battlemaster Calon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Get some more soup, and then follow me.”

“I was almost done anyway.” Irenis’s stomach grumbles right as she says that. She crosses her arms over her stomach. “And I’m not allowed to have more soup anyway. I’m expensive to feed.”

“Oh, but the stallions aren’t?” Battlemaster Calon gestures for Irenis to follow him.

Irenis obeys. “The stallions are useful.”

Battlemaster Calon takes her into one of the indoor salles, for training when it’s terrible weather out. “First, have some jerky. It’s not wonderful, but children need food to grow.”

Meat! She must be behaving spectacularly! Irenis eats the jerky he hands her.

“Second, here is where we’ll be training after supper. Meet me here every night, and I’ll make you a swordswoman to be proud of.”

Irenis beams. “Yes, battlemaster!”