attacked the cove and are within the palace.’
There was a thunder of shod feet on polished wood floors. Swords and axes crashed through the paper screens that formed the wall behind the altar. Scanrans – men already covered in blood and grime – burst into the room, fighting their way clear of the screens and their wooden frames.
An arm wrapped tight around Kel’s ribs, yanking her from her feet. The lady-in-waiting had scooped her up in one arm and the swords in the other. Faster than the raiders she ran to Ilane of Mindelan.
The lady tumbled to the ground. Kel slid out the door on her belly. Turning, too startled to cry, she saw the lady at her mother’s feet. There was an arrow in the Yamani woman’s back.
Ilane bent over the dead woman and took the swords. Hoisting them in one hand, she swung her weapon to her right and to her left. It sheared through the heavy cords that suspended five large oil lamps. They fell and shattered, spilling a flood of burning oil. It raced across the temple in the path of the raiders who were running towards them. When their feet began to burn, they halted, trying to put the fire out.
‘Come on!’ Kel’s mother urged. ‘Hike up those skirts and run!’
Kel yanked her kimono up and fled with Ilane. They skidded and slipped over the polished floors in their Yamani sock-shoes, then turned down one corridor and another. Far down one passage they saw a new group of Scanrans. Kel and her mother ran around a corner. They tried another turning – it led to a dead end. They were trapped. The walls that now blocked them in on three sides were sturdy wood, too. They could have cut their way through paper ones.
Ilane turned. Scanrans armed with swords or axes blocked the way out.
Ilane thrust the gold swords into Kel’s arms and pushed her into a corner, then stood before her. ‘Get down and be quiet!’ she said, gripping her weapon in both hands. ‘I think I can hold them off with this.’
Kel put the swords behind her and huddled. The men came at her mother, laughing and joking in Scanran. She peeked around the edge of her mother’s kimono. At that moment Ilane swung the bladed staff – glaive, Kel remembered as it swung, they called it a glaive – in a wide side cut, slicing one pirate across the chest. Whipping it back to her left, she caught another of them in the throat. Blood struck Kel’s face; even dreaming, she could smell it. Breathless, the sheathed swords poking into her back, she watched her mother lunge and retreat, using her skill and her longer weapon to hold the enemy off. Ilane killed a third and a fourth attacker before a squad of guardsmen raced around the corner to finish the rest.
When the pirates were dead, Kel’s mother turned and reached a hand down to her. ‘Let’s go to find your father,’ she said quietly.
Kel grasped the hand, and let her mother pull her to her feet. Then Kel gathered up the golden swords that had been trusted to them.
When they faced their rescuers, the guards knelt as one. They bowed low to the woman and the girl, touching their heads to the bloody floor.
Kel woke, breathing fast, her eyes shining. Her heart raced; she trembled all over. The dream was not scary; it was exciting. She loved it. She loved that it had all been real.
I want to be like that, she told herself as she always did. I want to protect people. And I will. I will. I’ll be a hero one day, just like Mama. Just like the Lioness.
Nobody will kill two kittens in front of me then.
Wyldon of Cavall nodded to Baron Piers, but his eyes were on Kel. He looked her over from top to toe, taking in every wrinkle and spot in her tunic and breeches and the fading bruise around her eye.
Kel met his gaze squarely. The training master was handsome, for all that he was completely bald on top. He wore what was left of his light brown hair cropped very short. A scar – so red and puffy, it had to be recent – ran from the corner of his eye across his right temple to dig a track through his hair to his ear. His right arm rested in a sling. His eyes were brown, his mouth wide; his chin was square with a hint of a cleft in it. His big hands were marked with scars. He dressed simply, in a pale blue tunic, a white shirt, and dark blue hose. She couldn’t see his feet behind the big desk, but she suspected that his shoes were as sensible as the rest of him.
Even the Yamanis would say he’s got too much stone in him, she thought, looking at the scuffed toes of her boots. He needs water to balance his nature. Peering through her lashes at the training master, she added, Lots of water. A century or two of it, maybe.
Wyldon drummed his fingers on his desktop. At last he smiled tightly. ‘Be seated, please, both of you.’
Kel and her father obeyed.
Wyldon took his own seat. ‘Well. Keladry, is it?’ She nodded. ‘You understand that you are here on sufferance. You have a year in which to prove that you can keep up with the boys. If you do not satisfy me on that count, you will go home.’
He’s never said that to any boy, Kel thought, glad that her face would not show her resentment. He shouldn’t be saying it to me. She kept her voice polite as she answered, ‘Yes, my lord.’
‘You will get no special privileges or treatment, despite your sex.’ Wyldon’s eyes were stony. ‘I will not tolerate flirtations. If there is a boy in your room, the door must be open. The same is true if you are in a boy’s room. Should you disobey, you will be sent home immediately.’
Kel met his eyes. ‘Yes, sir.’ She was talkative enough with her family, but not with outsiders. The chill that rose from Wyldon made her even quieter.
Piers shifted in his seat. ‘My daughter is only ten, Lord Wyldon. She’s a bit young for that kind of thing.’
‘My experience with females is that they begin early,’ the training master said flatly. He ran a blunt-tipped finger down a piece of paper.
‘It says here that you claim no magical Gift,’ stated Lord Wyldon. ‘Is that so?’
Kel nodded.
Lord Wyldon put down the paper and leaned forward, clasping his hands on his neatly ordered desk. ‘In your father’s day, the royal household always dined in the banquet hall. Now our royal family dines privately for the most part. On great holidays and on special occasions, feasts are held with the sovereigns, nobles, and guests in attendance. The pages are required to serve at such banquets. Also, you are required to run errands for any lord or lady who asks.
‘Has she a servant with her?’ he asked Kel’s father.
‘No,’ Piers replied.
‘Very well. Palace staff will tend her rooms. Have you any questions?’ Wyldon asked Kel.
Yes, she wanted to say. Why won’t you treat me like you treat the boys? Why can’t you be fair?
She kept it to herself. Growing up in a diplomat’s house, she had learned how to read people. A good look at Wyldon’s square, stubborn face with its hard jaw had told Kel that words would mean nothing to this man. She would
