Stormrise

My breath froze in my throat as I waited for him to take the skin.

He took it, his eyes boring into me. “Good catch, midget.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak. I threw back my shoulders and gave him a short nod, as though he didn’t interest me much.

“Where have I seen you before?”

If my heart had beat any faster, it would’ve jumped from my mouth and into his face. “I don’t know you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Dragon’s blood, if I haven’t seen you somewhere before.”

The other boy sauntered up. He was tall with a pointed chin and high-arched eyebrows—like something from a fairy tale, overgrown. “We’d better get in line, Sedge.”

“Looks like we’ll be training with a midget.”

“My name is Storm.” I’d hit him once. I could do it again.

Forest stepped from behind Sedge. “We getting in line?”

“I’m River, and this is Sedge,” the tall boy said.

“Forest.” He nodded at River and didn’t acknowledge Sedge at all. “Storm and I met on the road two days ago.”

“Sedge and I are from Thistle Spring in S’dona Province.”

I hid my surprise; Thistle Spring was a two-day journey from Nandel, and Sedge had made it sound like Madam S’dora was used to his business. Willow was right—many people bought things from Tinctures and Cures.

“Isn’t that where the famous Grandmaster Marfen was from?” I hoped to deflect any questions about where I lived; Sedge might suddenly remember where he’d seen me before.

“Yes,” River said. “Our master was one of his last students.”

My heart quickened to know I was in the company of Neshu fighters. “You have no grandmaster in Thistle Spring?”

“He died this past winter,” River said.

“It’s not fair, the way the good ones go first,” Sedge said. “I’d have traded my father for Grandmaster Denerek in a swift second.”

I felt my jaw drop a little, but River didn’t seem to mind that Sedge had said something so horrible. They turned to make their way to the line.

Forest raised an eyebrow. “Midget?”

“Apparently I’m too short.”

“You’re the only one shorter than him.”

He shook his head and turned to join the queue, and I smiled at his back and waited for the line to move forward.

“Town?” The recruiter’s hair was pulled back so tightly that his eyes appeared stretched.

I shoved my voice as low as it would go. “Nandel.”

“Family name?”

“L’nahn.”

He flipped through a thick-paged book, then ran his finger down one side, reading. “Name?”

“Storm.” It came out effortlessly, though my lips tingled.

After the recruiter wrote my name, he gestured to the wooden stall where Forest already stood in line. “Head over there for your gear.”

I nodded and strode as confidently as I could to the line of boys. Forest bantered with the boy in front of him, who wore a thick braid in his hair.

That’s when it occurred to me that none of the other boys had arrived with army hair. I was the only one.

“This is Dalen,” Forest said.

Dalen, whose old-days name marked him as having come from Province Ytel, offered an awkward smile. His face was round, and so was his torso—like a barrel, only soft. I figured I could down him on a first Neshu round.

“Storm,” I said.

“Forest says you’re from Nandel,” Dalen said.

I nodded, wondering if perhaps I should have kept quiet about my hometown.

“A lot of people travel there to buy magic tinctures,” Dalen continued.

My heart flew into my throat, but I held my face still. “I don’t know about that.”

“Some little shop or other? My brother’s wife says she went there to buy something for their wedding night. Took her four days to get there.”

I shrugged as though none of this meant anything. “There’s a shop in some dark alley that people have mentioned. My mother would never let us go there.”

“Well, my brother talked about his wedding night for weeks afterward,” Dalen said. “I guess that’s worth a four-day trip for anyone.”

I cringed. Of course boys were going to talk about things like this. I tried hard to laugh with the others.

“So, your brother’s here somewhere?” I said, hoping to change the subject.

“He’s already a soldier,” Dalen said. “He was called to duty a week ago. His wife’s living with my parents while he’s gone.” He grinned. “Guess her bed feels empty these days.”

Fortunately, it was Dalen’s turn to receive his gear, so I was spared having to think of something else to say. I looked at Forest, relieved to see that he wasn’t sharing Dalen’s fascination with wedding nights.

“Good thing we don’t have to worry about any of that,” I said.

Forest’s brow tightened. “I’m betrothed.”

Immediately, I wanted to suck my words back into my mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Forest shrugged. “You didn’t know. Anyway, I haven’t even met her yet.”

“Ah. It’s the same for my sister,” I said, glad to be able to offer empathy. “It’s bad timing for anyone recently matched.”

“It’s easier than being recently married, I’m sure,” Forest said. “Assuming you actually like whoever you’re stuck with.”

The bitterness in his words caught me off guard. “Not all brides and grooms dislike each other.”

“No,” Forest said. “But, honestly, what are the odds that you’re going to actually want to be together?”

“My parents are happy.” It sounded like a flimsy defense.

“Maybe that’s what happens when you realize nothing’s going to change. You learn to be happy.”

“Well, my sister was really upset,” I said. “She wants to be married more than anything.”

Forest snorted. “Most girls are like that.”

My jaw tightened. Most girls, maybe. But not the one standing behind you.

“Next!” The voice was sharp as a blade, and Forest stepped forward quickly.

When it was my turn, I stepped up before anyone had to shout for me. I signed my name on a gear roster and, after being quickly eyeballed, was handed pants, two linen shirts, a leather belt and scabbard, and a neatly folded blanket.

“Next roll call is at sundown, and two men per tent,” the rough-voiced soldier said. “You’re with the man in front of you.”

I looked over at Forest, who held a slip of parchment in his hand along with his pile of supplies. Then I nodded at the soldier. “Thank you.”

He had already started to shout “Next!” to whoever was behind me, even before the words were fully out of my mouth. Reminder number three hundred: be careful not to use too many manners.

Forest held up the slip of parchment. “Tent seventy-seven.”

I didn’t want to share a tent. Not with Forest, not with any boy. But it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been Sedge.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Long rows of sand-colored tents stretched before us on the trampled field. I cupped my hand over my eyes, assessing.

“Looks like twenty tents per row,” I said.

Forest pointed. “That’s our row.”

We made our way to the tent with the number seventy-seven painted roughly on one side. The peak of the tent reached my nose, and its width seemed barely enough for two to sleep side by side.

This was going to be more challenging than I’d allowed myself to imagine.

“Storm L’nahn!” The recruiter’s voice clipped my name like a scythe to grass.

“Here!”

Over a hundred fifty new soldiers stood in a haphazard line, answering the roll call. Others had arrived at the camp after me, but tomorrow would see the final influx. When the last names had been called, the recruiter stepped forward.

“Welcome to the high king’s army. Tomorrow the last of you will arrive, and formal training will start the following morning.” He stepped aside, and a tall, broad-shouldered man was suddenly visible. His skin was sun-darkened, his hair almost as black as mine.

The recruiter gestured to him. “This is Commander Jasper Dane.”

Everyone bowed, hands spread on their hearts, as the commander stepped forward—I was half a second late, but I bowed, too. When I rose, the recruiter had retreated, and Commander Dane stood alone on the low platform in front of us, shoulders straight, hands behind his back. I stared.

He was a boy. Fully grown, to be sure, but he had definitely seen fewer than twenty summers. His smooth brow and long lashes gave him a look that was so boyish I almost laughed.

How could he possibly be a commander?

“New recruits!”

I jumped at his voice, which was deep and fierce, with a raw edge that didn’t match his youthful appearance. I held my breath, and it seemed that the others held theirs, too.

Commander Dane took a step forward. “Tomorrow our ranks will be filled, and I will address you as a unit. Even so, you are from this moment a soldier in the high king’s army. Once training begins, you may not leave the camp. You will obey all orders. You will serve the high king with life and limb, and your families will receive your honor.”

Everyone waited for more, but Commander Dane stood there, surveying us and saying nothing. When his eyes swept in my direction, I shrank inwardly, even as I stood taller. Fear coiled tightly in my stomach as I waited for him to sense that I wasn’t what I pretended to be.

Nothing happened. He regarded me no differently from everyone else in the line of soldiers.

“Your evening meal will be served shortly,” he said. “Dismissed!”

I watched him as he turned to talk for a moment with the recruiter. He frowned, which made him look like a petulant child. Even if he had been recently promoted, he seemed so young. Maybe I was wrong, though. Maybe he was one of those men whose faces belied their age.

“Want to get our places in the food line?” Forest asked. “Maybe it’ll taste better if we get it nice and hot.”

I grinned. “Doubt it.”

I was right. The barley was hot but dry and overcooked, the cabbage mushy. My stomach was hollow from having missed lunch, though, so I ate every morsel in my bowl. I couldn’t bring myself to taste the ale—not yet—so instead I filled my tin mug with water from a leaking barrel and sat beside Forest in the meal tent. The ground was hard and packed beneath the long, low tables—it felt strange not to have a bench to sit upon or a water bowl with which to rinse my hands.

Dalen slapped his third ale on the table and sat across from me. “No second helpings on the food, but at least the drink flows freely.”

I sipped my water and refrained from commenting that Dalen could stand to skip the second helpings. When I put my cup down, he looked at it and frowned.

“What are you drinking?”

I regarded him with what I hoped was a bored expression. “Water.”

“Water?”

“You know, the clear stuff that falls from the sky sometimes,” Forest said.

Dalen shook his head as though I were a complete mystery. “I’ve never seen anyone turn down a good ale.” He drank deeply.

I glanced at Forest and gave him a tiny nod of thanks. He nodded back, then tipped his own cup to his mouth.

Already, he felt like a friend. It was the last thing I had expected.

I sat in the grass by one of the campfires, watching the men return from bathing somewhere beyond a thick grove of trees, until I summoned my courage. My breasts ached from the tightness of my binding, and I stank. Probably there would be a lot more stinking in my future, but tonight it would feel good to wash the several days of soot from my body.

I slipped through the trees, following the sound of water and aided by the light of the almost-full moon reflecting on the water. Subtle sounds of splashing came from somewhere up ahead; I averted my eyes when I suddenly stepped into a clearing and saw three men in water that reached only to their thighs.

Oh, Great God. May my eyes never fall on anything I don’t wish to see.

I crept around a bend in the small lake, close to where it was fed by a burbling stream. No one was near, and I was neatly hidden from view by the bend and the trees.

Heart pounding, I peeled off my shirt and untwisted the strips of cloth from my chest, breathing deeply of the cool night air as my breasts spilled free. The dull ache I’d been enduring left immediately, and a smile crept across my face.

There was something satisfying about the exquisite danger of being discovered. And also terrifying.

Hastily, I wriggled from my pants and undergarment and stepped into the water, my toes sinking in squishy mud. I waded quickly, my stride as wide as I could make it, until I reached water that came up to my waist. It was delightfully cool, the water—holding still a hint of the sun’s warmth, but freshened by its own depths and the spring water feeding it. I unknotted my hair and ducked beneath the surface, then came up for breath, my face streaming.

I scrubbed the grime from my hair as best I could without the benefit of soap. After retwisting my bun, I swam into deeper water, relishing the freedom of bathing in my own skin, naked beneath the moon. Three more minutes, I told myself. Only three, and I would return.

Rain.

I froze in midstroke, terror lacing through me like a heated lance. Then I ducked beneath the water until only my head wasn’t submerged, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. And I listened.

Even the splashes from around the bend had ceased. I was alone in the lake. But who was on the shore? Where had the voice come from?

Who knew my real name?

I stayed in the lake until I began to shiver, my eyes darting back and forth from trees to brush to the surface of the water. No one was there.

After allowing fear to immobilize me far too long, I talked myself into coming out. I bound my breasts as quickly as I could and pulled my clothing over my damp skin, all the while looking around in every direction, eyes spread wide to the night.

Whoever had said my name was nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps I’d imagined it.

I walked back to the campfires, easing my breaths and willing my heart to stop racing. By the time I found Forest, I’d convinced myself that my own fear of being caught had played with my imagination. I sat beside him, careful to emulate the way his legs were spread and bent at the knees, forearms resting upon them. I didn’t want to be accused of sitting like a girl.

Forest had just acknowledged me with a nod when a long, low horn sounded, signaling curfew. Men at adjacent fires stood immediately and began to douse the flames, so I stood, too.

Two other boys took care of the fire. I walked with Forest to our tent, fighting the awkwardness that welled up as I thought about sleeping beside him all night. I reminded myself once again that I was the only one who knew I was a girl. Nothing would feel strange to Forest.

I pulled off my boots and stood them in my corner of the tent. While Forest busied himself with spreading his blanket over the grass, I pulled the small pouch from my satchel and took a pinch of the powder. Too late, I realized I didn’t have any water to wash away the taste. I would have to deal with it.

The same warmth coursed through me, and I closed my eyes and savored it. Whatever was in that powder was certainly doing something each time I dissolved it under my tongue. I only hoped it would do what it was supposed to.

“What’s that?” Forest asked.

I tucked the pouch hastily into my satchel, scrambling for an answer. “Just a tincture.”

“Are you ill?”

“No.” I had to change the subject—quickly. “Do you miss home?”

“I haven’t been gone long enough to miss it.” He settled onto his back; I could barely see him in the darkness. “What about you?”

I swallowed the emptiness that curled through my heart. “I guess so.”

“My mother was more disappointed about having to postpone the wedding than seeing me off to war, I think.”

“Surely not.”

He half-chuckled. “Maybe equally disappointed.”

“She’s pleased with the match?” I lay down, careful not to brush against him.

“We’ve never met her,” Forest said. “We were supposed to meet a week or so from now. My mother was sewing a new dress and everything.”

I smiled sadly, thinking of Willow and Mama. “Weddings are more exciting for the women.”

“Especially for my betrothed,” Forest said. “Apparently her father wasn’t able to afford her dowry when she was eighteen. So she’s actually a year older than me.”

A slow prickling sensation gathered in my stomach and began to spread. “Is she?”

“Yes. And I’m told she’s pleasing to the eye, as well. Although that’s what every bridegroom is told before he meets his bride.” He shifted onto his side. “Maybe you know her. She’s from Nandel, like you.”

“There are a lot of girls in Nandel.”

But there was no denying what was clearly the truth. Forest was betrothed to my sister.