The gate guards both nodded as she ran through, and she didn’t stop until she trotted beneath the archway in front of the Sanctum. Hands on hips, she walked around the inner garden cooling the muscles in her aching legs. For the first time, she noticed the spicy aroma of the dark red flowers of the sweetshrub bush as she worked to catch her breath. In fact, even though she and Isobel had come through the garden many times over the past two days, she realized she’d never even noticed the bush before.

  Looking around, she was surprised to see daffodils, tulips and peonies blooming in colorfully shaped beds scattered about. There was even a large pink dogwood tree blooming in the far rounded corner of the wall.

  She stared at the tree and at the immense sweetshrub, wondering why she’d never noticed them before. Sure, she’d seen hints of color over the tall block wall separating the inner courtyard from the Sanctum’s garden. But once again, that had been before the fight in the alley.

  It seemed her life at the Temple was now divided into two time periods. Before the attack, and after. After was a blur, and although the fog was beginning to clear, there were still times that she and Isobel would move from one place to the next with Ailith having no memory of where they’d been or where they were going.

  Sábria startled her when she quietly walked up behind her. “The gardeners do a beautiful job in here, don’t they?” When Ailith turned and stared dumbly at her, the Priestess continued, “That sweetshrub bush and the lilac in the Citadel’s garden are at least, let me see,” she did some quick math in her head, “thirty-three turns now. I remember they’d just planted them when I came here as a young woman. I was a little younger than you, had just turned sixteen, in fact.” She glanced around the garden. “Did you leave Isobel in your tracks?”

  A familiar, raw anger bit into Ailith’s gut at the question, but, for the first time, she didn’t understand why. A wrinkle appeared between her brows as she scowled at the Arch Priestess, but then, she cocked her head and looked away. Her puzzled expression increased the wrinkle two-fold. She tested the anger, poked at it in the same way she might use her tongue to sample the spicy heat of a new dish. Realizing Sábria was waiting for an answer, she shook her head slightly.

  “Did she get lost?”

  Crossing her arms, Ailith shook her head again. Remembering she was supposed to meet the knight in their room, she pushed past Sábria and headed inside.

  Sábria had begun seeing welcome changes in her young shiv. Ailith was still prone to angry outbursts, but it seemed she was somewhat aware of the anger now. Instead of blindly lashing out, she appeared more confused by her feelings than anything else. She followed Ailith inside and stood at the bottom of the stairs. An upper-floor door banged shut, and she realized Isobel must have ordered her to wait for her in their room.

  She’d been on her way to see Geller before the Prime began the pre-shift weapons practice for the dawning shift when she’d seen Ailith standing alone in the garden. That was unusual enough that she’d decided to check in to find out why. Hearing the drums begin the steady rhythm of Geller’s cadence, Sábria hurried to the practice courts and motioned the Prime over.

  Geller signaled for her assistant, Senior Guardian Sela, to take over before coming to join Sábria near the outer wall. “My Lady?”

  “I wanted to find out how Emlyn is doing on her own since she’s the only shiv right now left on deadnight.”

  “There’s no problems with that one, Milady. She’s polite and respectful and has no problems takin’ down th’ nobles who come to th’ lower quarter to find a lolli to bash around. In a lot of ways, she’s better than some of th’ Blades at taking care of th’ nobles, because she was raised among them. But th’ spark just isn’t there, yet. She doesn’t enjoy life like most of th’ Blades and shivs. And I think maybe th’ only thing that’ll help her there is time. I don’t think havin’ another shiv on deadnight will affect her one way or th’ other.”

  “I’m hoping to have Ailith back on duty soon. Even though they aren’t exactly friends, they were a good support for each other before….” Sábria absently rubbed a sore spot on the back of her hand. “Well, just before.”

  “Aye, Milady. If there’s nothing else?” Geller had noticed the shiv Ladin holding her staff wrong and was itching to go correct her.

  Sábria knew Geller very, very well, and she smiled and nodded. “Go on, Orsuna. Fix what you need to and then get yourself some rest.” She watched the short stocky Prime stride over to Ladin and grab the staff out of her hands.

  There were times when she enjoyed watching or participating in weapons practice, but she had a meeting with the Emperor later that morning and had to prepare her notes on why the city magistrate had sentenced a young nobleman to thirty days house arrest for beating a young woman who’d refused his advances. As far as Sábria was concerned house arrest was too good for the lad, but unless the crime was particularly egregious, that was the most she could hope for when it came to members of the nobility.

  As she turned to go, Isobel strode into the practice yard. She held Ailith’s upper arm in a vicelike grip and winked at Sábria as she dragged the shiv to the barrel containing the practice staves. Sábria decided to take a moment to watch, hoping Ailith had progressed enough that she’d participate in the group staff practice. Perhaps not willingly, not yet, anyway. So far, Isobel had confined their morning weapons practice to her and Ailith, but now it appeared she was going to push her into the next phase of her recovery.

  Walking close enough to hear their conversation, Sábria leaned against the Citadel’s back brick wall and crossed her arms to wait.

  Isobel pulled out a staff and held it in front of Ailith’s chest. “Did I ask you whether you’d ever learned to use one, or did I simply tell you to take the damn thing?”

  Growling quietly, Ailith jerked the staff out of Isobel’s hand. “What good is takin’ a stick to a sword fight?”

  Isobel studied Ailith a moment and then took back the stave she’d just given her. “How about I give you a small demonstration? I’ll try not to break any bones, but no guarantees. Draw your sword.”

  Ailith looked distinctly nervous as she stared at the knight. “What do ya mean ye’ll try not to break me bones?”

  “I mean, if you’re stupid enough to come at a warrior with a sword while the warrior is holding a stave without knowing that warrior’s skillset, there’s no guarantee she won’t break your neck or an arm or maybe even your stubborn head before she’s done. Now, draw your sword.”

  Ailith considered that, stepped back, and pulled her sword out of its scabbard. She held it down by her side, nervously tapping her boot with the tip, and not really sure she wanted to be part of this demonstration.

  From over near the wall, Sábria quietly said, “I’d rather you not break my shivs, Lady Knight.”

  Instead of responding, Isobel called out to Geller. “Weapons-Master, I need your yard. I’m not sure we can keep the demonstration away from the ranks of your trainees.”

  Geller had her back to them, and when she turned, she first looked at the stave in Isobel’s hand and then turned her head slightly and saw Ailith holding her sword down by her side. “All of ye up against th’ wall. Now.”

  The Blades and shivs hurried to put their backs against the wall. Most had seen stave-against-sword demonstrations before, but this one promised to be interesting, to say the least.

  Isobel strode into the center of the practice yard and turned to wait for Ailith to join her.

  Ailith hesitated, glanced back at Sábria, and then turned again to stare at Isobel. Deciding she might as well get it over with, she followed her into the center of the yard and set herself. “Maybe I should use a practice blade, eh? I think th’ Arch Priestess might get a bit toshed if I take yer skezzi head off.”

  “My skezzi head?” Isobel gave Ailith a wolfish grin and spun her staff expertly in front of her. “You’re going to wish you’d never said that.”

  Once more, Sábria spoke up. “Don’t break her, Isobel.”

  Ailith glanced over at Sábria, wondering what the Priestess knew that she didn’t. There was no way someone with a long stick could stop someone with a blade. Sure, a glave was a different matter. They had the equivalent of an ax blade on one end, and they were extremely deadly. But a long stick?

  Shaking her head, she held up her hand, letting the knight know she needed a moment, and began swinging her sword back and forth to loosen her muscles. Her body was still warm from the run, but she hadn’t used a sword since the previous morning, and she wanted to stretch and warm up her arms a bit. When she was ready, she glanced into Isobel’s eyes, scowled at the idiocy of the exercise, and attacked.

  She started out slowly, not really believing she had anything to worry about. There was no way a stick was better than a sword. That was her first mistake. After her second halfhearted dodge and slash, Isobel blocked the blade and immediately swung the end of the stave up and cracked Ailith on her elbow. The sword flew from her hands.

  “Ow! Fowk!” Ailith grabbed her elbow and flexed her hand open and closed, trying to regain feeling down her arm.

  “Pick it up.”

  When Ailith had enough feeling back, she shook out her hand and picked up the sword. Her elbow was still burning, and she glowered at Isobel.

  “Now, attack me like you mean it and move like you mean to move in a battle. If that’s how you’re going to fight, your first opponent will kill you before you even have a chance to swing a second time.”

  Geller muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. “Ain’t that th’ truth.”

  Ailith felt her anger ramp up at the Prime’s words. Isobel didn’t have to teach this lesson in front of an entire class of Blades. Tightening her grip, she rushed in, swinging hard, jumping back and twirling and spinning as she’d been taught by both Isobel and her weapons masters back in Dreyutha.

  Isobel deflected the sword by never really allowing the sharpened blade to come into contact with the wood unless absolutely necessary. If Ailith swung down from above, she cracked Ailith’s forearm and pushed the blade aside. If she lunged at her straight on, she used the superior length of the staff to jab Ailith in the stomach, doubling her over and driving the air from her lungs.

  Each time the staff struck, Ailith’s anger rose. She growled as the hardwood hit bone and muscle, and she began to see red as her emotions churned.

  Isobel let a blow slide down the length of her shaft and then whipped the stave around and cracked Ailith’s shin on the rebound.

  Rage throbbed to each beat of Ailith’s heart, and before long, her focus narrowed. Her attacks became more precise and deadly the longer she fought, and her anger continued to build.

  Isobel backpedaled, blocking or redirecting the blows. She didn’t have time to hit Ailith anymore. Her only focus was on defense now instead of offense. When she felt Ailith had gone past reason, she stepped to the side and swept her feet out from under her with the end of the staff. Before Ailith could react, Isobel moved her hands closer together on the stave, dropped to her knees, and pinned Ailith’s sword arm down with the hardwood.

  Ailith reacted by swinging her free fist at the knight’s face, but Sábria, who’d seen the change, was already there, grabbing the fisted hand and pinning it to the ground.

  Geller, too, trotted over, ready to lend a hand if necessary.

  Breathing hard, Isobel calmly said between breaths, “Easy, Lass. That was excellent. You did well. And now you see why learning to use the stave is so important, right?”

  Ailith had expected the Lady Knight to be angry because she, herself, was livid. Hearing Isobel’s words spoken without anger gave her pause. She blinked several times, looked at Sábria, and then down at her forearm where the Priestess was pinning it to the cobbles with two impossibly strong hands. Her anger began to cool, and she slowly closed her eyes and lay her head back on the hard ground.

  Sábria leaned in so the Blades against the wall wouldn’t hear. “Breathe in, Ailith. You did very well. Now breathe and calm that anger flooding through your veins.”

  As she fought to regain control of her emotions, Ailith’s voice broke as she opened her eyes and stared at her old master. “What’s wrong with me?”

  Isobel brushed some stray hair out of Ailith’s face. “A few more days, hon, and with the help of Clari’s potion, I won’t be able to push you over into rage anymore. We’re getting there, Chele Laghei. I promise. You used to trust me. Remember? Trust me now.” She took hold of the sword, stood, and she and Sábria pulled Ailith to her feet.

  A cheer rose up from the assembled Blades, and one woman called out, “If you ever switch out of deadnight, Ailith, you can be my partner any day of the week.”

  Another shouted, “I’ve got seniority over you, Prita, and I get first dibs.”

  Ailith stared at the Blades, amazed and confused. A blush spread into her cheeks, and she looked down at her feet.

  Slipping the sword into the scabbard, Isobel pointed at the barrel full of staves. “Now. Are you ready to learn?”

  Sábria rubbed Ailith’s back. “She’s ready. And I’m late for a meeting with Aloric.” She leaned in close to Ailith’s ear. “I’m proud of you, Ailith. Hang in there.” After a quick pat, she strode out of the practice yard and breathed out a long sigh. Not of relief, not yet, but of hope. For now, that was better than she’d felt in a very long time.

  That evening Sábria and Shirin walked the streets of Sarlogne with the deadnight shift. It had been too long since they’d been out, and they wanted to get a feeling for how the Blades were recovering from everything that had happened over the past several moons.

  Isobel and Ailith had been one of the major topics of their conversations and, indeed, that was what they’d spoken about with Soirin before she’d been called away to assist another Blade. They continued their rounds, and as Sábria nodded to a baker who bowed when they walked past, Shirin asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. I’ve heard Isobel call Ailith, Chele Laghei, a few times now. Do you know what that means?”

  “She told me it’s a term of endearment. It roughly translates into ‘my little one.’ I think Isobel grew quite fond of Ailith before she had to let her go. I also get the feeling this trip will go a long way toward helping her adjust to Ailith being here in the Temple instead of within the Dreyuthan borders.”

  They walked a bit more with both women thinking their own private thoughts. After a couple of blocks, Shirin said, “I hope the Lady Knight chooses to visit regularly after Ailith returns to normal. I think it would be good for both of them, and, I have to admit, I like her.”

  Sábria smiled, “As do I. She’s quite a force of nature.” Spotting two blades sitting in front of the Broken Tooth, Sábria headed that way to greet them while Shirin checked out a vendor selling ornately embroidered cloth. Surprising for a business so close to the Codpiece, but then, some of the finest artisans came from the poorest of the poor.

  They returned to the Sanctum late, about one in the morning, and Sábria could hardly wait to crawl beneath her covers and fall into a much-needed sleep. It had been a long day between worrying about Ailith and arguing with Aloric about that idiot young noble. She’d come back from that ridiculous, unnecessary meeting and had met with several senior Blades who had questions or needed counseling, and then the Temple Magistrate had wanted to discuss various cases she had pending. Sábria was already exhausted when the time came to walk the streets with her Blades, but she’d promised them she’d be there, and so she’d dragged herself out to patrol with her people.

  She’d just taken off her clothing and crawled into bed when she heard raised voices coming from somewhere nearby. She tried to ignore the disturbance, hoping that Shirin or someone else would hear the voices and check to see what the problem was. When the voices got louder, and she heard a thump, she moaned and lay her head back onto her pillow. Throwing her covers aside, she got out of bed, threw on the light robe she kept at the end of her bed, and went out into the hallway to see what she could discover. Only then did she identify the voices as coming from Isobel and Ailith’s room.

  “Ailith. It’s a dream. It’s just a ghost dream. It’s me. It’s Isobel.”

  Sábria knocked, and a harried “Come” came from behind the door. When she opened it, she found Ailith and Isobel sitting on the floor. Isobel sat behind Ailith and had her arms and legs wrapped around the shiv. Ailith was fighting her, crying and repeating that it, whatever “it” was, wasn’t her fault. “Ailith, it’s Isobel. You’re safe. It’s only a ghost dream.”

  Sábria saw Ailith’s knife lying in the corner and guessed Isobel had had to disarm the shiv before she could restrain her. She knelt and took Ailith’s face in her hands. “Ailith. Listen to me. It’s Sábria. You’re in your bedroom, and you’re here with Isobel and me.” She lightly slapped her cheek. “Ailith!”

  Ailith blinked several times and focused on Sábria’s face. It only took her a moment to know what had happened. She used to have nightmares in the camps in Dreyutha, and the other soldiers would make fun of her in the morning for calling out or yelling in her sleep. She covered her eyes and groaned, “Oh, fowk. Let me go.” When Isobel relaxed her grip, Ailith pushed to her feet.

  Isobel and Sábria rose at the same time.

  Ailith was facing the door, and when she turned, she swiveled her head back and forth between the two women. Her gaze traveled from Sábria’s face down to the sheer fabric that was not even remotely hiding her breasts and then back up to her face again.

  She turned and saw Isobel staring at Sábria’s shapely body, as well.

  When she looked back at the Arch Priestess, there was definite appreciation in Sábria’s eyes as her gaze traveled up and down Isobel’s naked body.

  Ailith rolled her eyes. “Oh, for fowk’s sake. Get a room.”

  When Sábria glanced at Ailith, something close to joy flitted through her when she saw a tiny spark of the mischief she’d come to know and love.