While the years hadn’t made Geneve into a mountain like Israel, at ten she was taller than at her pint-sized introduction to the keep. Her memories of life before her arrival remained a mystery. When she’d talked to Israel about it, he’d offered a kind smile, saying only, “They’ll come back. Nothing that’s yours stays away for long.”
The Tresward fed the Novices well. Meat with every meal. Fresh baked bread, and fruits brought from the warmer north. It meant her ribs didn’t show anymore, and with Kytto’s help she’d got a little lean muscle on her frame. She’d asked why she didn’t grow larger like the older kids nearing their Trials, and Kytto had laughed. Stop reaching for it. It’ll come to you when you’re ready, was all he’d said.
It was frustrating. Despite Kytto teaching her how to fight with a brawler’s low-class tricks, bites and head butts mixed with arm bars and groin gouges, Wincuf still beat her. He was a lanky young man now, almost at his Trials, but the Valiants in charge wouldn’t allow him to take them. Geneve didn’t know why but wished they would. It seemed he got angrier with each passing day.
Kytto clicked his fingers in front of her face, drawing her back to the here and now. “Sorry.”
“No you’re not, but there’s good news here: I don’t give a shit.” The small, angry man gave her a pearlescent smile. “The problem with the twelve million patterns is they don’t teach you one important thing.” Kytto rolled his shoulders like he was readying to wrestle an ox. “How to hurt a man where he really, really doesn’t want to be hurt.”
“And you know this secret magic?” She tried to keep the smile from her face.
“Don’t joke about magic, kid. That shit’ll get you a Cage and a Judgment all of your own.” Kytto slapped his chest. “Come on. Let’s see what you’ve learned.”
Geneve narrowed her eyes. Four years hauling crap for Kytto left her stronger and harder than her classmates. The Knight’s training put her feet on the path of sword and shield. She could use a morning star more effectively than any queen’s man. Geneve knew all the parts that made up a person and how to swing her steel so they’d come apart fast, swift, and easy. They’d taught her unarmed combat too, and soon she’d learn to fight on horseback.
She still couldn’t beat Wincuf, though. The larger boy had the same training she did, and while laboring in Kytto’s forge made her stronger than any of her age, he had five long years on her, and the growth a young man gets. “I’ve learned strong people are strong.”
“You’ve learned a wise-ass’s tongue.” Kytto circled her, arms low and ready. She rushed him. Geneve was smaller and lighter, and definitely faster. She slammed into the Smith, and he tossed her aside with contemptuous ease. But rather than throwing her length on the ground, he used her momentum to turn her body in a summersault, setting her feet back on the worn stone floor. “What did you learn just now?”
Geneve backed away. “I’ve learned you’re strong despite your years.”
He shook his head, sourness coming to his tone. “Don’t sass me. We don’t have time for it. This Wincuf asshole going to wait for you to be his equal?” At the shake of her red locks, he cranked out a grim smile. “Right. So, what have you learned?”
She thought about what Kytto did. How he could have hurt her, really hurt her, but set her feet down nice and gentle. Geneve cast her mind back to her first sparring match with Wincuf, when he’d banged her fingers just because he knew it’d hurt. “We can choose how we fight.”
“You’ve got it in one. You know why they won’t let Wincuf take the Trials, right?”
“He’s not good enough?”
“He’s plenty good enough, kid. He’s kind of remarkable. No, don’t screw up your face. I didn’t give you lemons to eat, I gave you truth. Wincuf might be a great Knight one day.” Kytto shook his head. “But not anytime soon.”
“Oh great oracle of steel and wisdom, tell me your secrets.” Geneve gave a mocking bow.
He grunted. “How we choose to fight says a lot about us. It says what we’re willing to do.”
“To win?”
“No, just what we’re willing to do.” Kytto shrugged. “Plenty of assholes willing to make others hurt just because hurting can be done. There aren’t enough who are willing to hurt themselves to stop another going down. That’s the way the world is, and the way it’s always been.”
“You’re saying I shouldn’t hurt Wincuf?” Geneve scoffed.
“I’m not saying anything at all, kid. That’s between you and the Three. I’m saying why he’s still a Novice is because he wants people to hurt all the time. We need people who can turn their steel aside when it’s needed. Like that smug prick Israel.”
A handful of questions bubbled up. Geneve selected the first, choicest one. “What’s between you and Israel?”
“A woman.”
“That answer seemed to come too fast for it to be born by honesty.”
“Okay. Maybe it’s a woman.” Kytto shook his head, weary. “That’s enough for today.”
“There’s still breastplates needing—”
“I said it’s enough, kid.” Kytto’s tone softened. “Choosing how and when to hurt isn’t just done at war. We do it all the time.”
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