Steel clanged above Emysen’s head as she ducked, throwing up her blade to block Baylee’s attack and rolling out of the way of his next strike. Her knees slipped in the loose sand but she kept her bearings and found her feet. She’d barely regained her stance when Baylee was on her again. She blinked rapidly, trying to get the sweat out of her eyes as she parried his attacks.

  Just past Baylee’s broad shoulders she spotted Morin sitting on the long wooden bench that ran along the wall of the training yard, pulling her dark hair into a clean, tight braid.

  “Damn her to darkness,” Emysen cursed through her teeth, cringing as Baylee’s sword struck her shoulder. The blow bounced off, but it was still heavy and Baylee was twice her size. On top of causing her to sweat profusely in the Southern afternoon heat, the thickly padded sparring tunic she wore was supposed to keep her from bruising badly. Maybe it worked for the others, but Emysen’s waxen skin bruised from the slightest of pinches, and from this match alone she’d have more than her fair share of welts to look forward to.

  She was a good swordsman, but not the best, and she didn’t have Baylee’s size on her side either, but she wouldn’t quit. She’d let Baylee beat her into the ground before she’d quit.

  Unfortunately that came sooner than she’d anticipated.

  A tall man in flowing black robes entered the training yard, two Twilight Knights in their black armor following behind him. They must have been boiling wearing nothing but black and gold, but they didn’t show it. The man stopped at the edge of the square where Emysen and Baylee fought to quietly observe their match.

  With his back to them Baylee hadn’t seen him yet, but as Emysen spun to avoid his blade, leaning backward as the flat of his sword slashed just above her nose—a maneuver she mentally applauded herself for—he saw their new audience and abruptly went for the kill.

  His sword came down on her fast, she blocked but his strength out matched hers and she stumbled. He took the opportunity to kick out at her knee. Emysen gasped and went sprawling to the ground. Pieces of her long blond hair escaped her braid, dangling in her already sweat blind eyes. Cool metal brushed the back of her neck.

  Dark signs! Emysen spit up a mouthful of sand. “Yield,” she said.

  She waited to be helped up, but help didn’t come. Help was busy bowing to Master Alosrin who, although he just perceptibly nodded in Baylee’s direction, didn’t seem to pay much attention to their match..

  Emysen sighed and helped herself.

  She left her sparring sword in the sand while she pulled at the fabric belt of her tunic, trying to pry herself out of the horrid garment.

  Baylee’s hands were soon there to help, his fingers much steadier than her own. “Sorry, Em,” he said. And he looked it. He still had his boyish features, and though she wouldn’t be the one to tell him, she knew Alosrin, Master of the Twilight Knights, wasn’t going to so much as glance at Baylee before he looked like he might have shaved a day in his life.

  “I just saw Alosrin and, well… I got carried away.”

  “It’s fine, Baylee,” Emysen said. Finally free of the tunic she pulled her arms out of it and took a moment to enjoy the light silk of the white tunic she wore beneath. “You want to be a Twilight Knight someday and I want to read large books. I don’t mind taking a few scrapes if you want to look good in front of the Master.”

  But she did mind. She minded very much. She just didn’t blame Baylee.

  Emysen retrieved her sparring sword and leaned it against the wall next to a line of others of varying heights and weights. Only one had a sharp edge. She wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her own blade, Constance, and dragged it behind her unceremoniously as she marched toward the training bench.

  Morin was already walking to take her place in the sparring square. The girl’s dark eyes met Emysen’s and all manner of silent hostilities passed unspoken between them. Morin had made a grand speech the week prior on how the men shouldn’t go easy on the women. If they were all to be Knights they should all fight at the same capacity, and since then all the boys, even kind, courteous Baylee, had fought fast, hard, and dirty. Perhaps Emysen would have found Morin’s speech empowering had she not been the only other woman in training. However, she hadn’t gotten a say in the matter and, unlike Morin, she had no plans on keeping up her Knight mantle after training. She would go on to academia, to be a Timekeeper, Stars willing. But a military stint was mandatory for anyone looking to join the higher orders and she’d rather get through it without speeding week after week nursing sore muscles and black bruises.

  When Emysen had tried to explain that the men going a little easier on them was simply them being gentlemanly, Morin had laughed and told her she fought like a girl anyhow.

  “If you spent less time practicing pretty flourishes and more time actually learning to fight, you might end up on your backside less often,” Morin said as she passed Emysen to take her spot in the training square.

  Emysen said nothing, she merely hefted her sword into the air, twisting her wrist to perform one of the very flourishes Morin spoke of. Silver flashed, and for the briefest of moments Emysen could see Morin through the thin strip of translucent blue that ran from the hilt to the tip of the blade. Her swing was perfectly balanced, and perfectly in time with the swoosh of Morin’s braid, the end of which came clean off and landed in the sand behind her.

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  Morin spun, mouth gaping and hand groping behind her head to where her black hair was quickly unraveling. “You crone!”

  Morin’s own sword came out of her sheath in a flash. She was fast, but Emysen was prepared. She blocked the sword, hitting it low enough to thrust it out of her hand, then she stepped forward and kneed the girl in the groin before pushing her to the ground.

  Emysen planted her sword deep enough in the sand that it stayed standing, pommel up. She bent low and grabbed a fistful of Morin’s sparring tunic, her own discarded somewhere behind her, and hoisted her up until their faces nearly touched.

  “They go easy on us because they underestimate us. If your opponent underestimates you then you’ve already won.”

  Morin bared her teeth at Emysen, nearly spitting her words. “You win by cheating and faking, and by batting your pretty eyelashes.”

  Emysen brought her face half an inch closer. “I win by any means necessary. That’s how you fight like a girl.”

  She dropped Morin to the ground and had just enough time to catch the slack jawed expression from Baylee before tugging Constance from the sand and marching from the training yard.

  After sparring with the boys she had to then change with the boys. Emysen tossed her sweat drenched tunic into the barrel outside the barracks, but left on her long undergarments before entering. Another habit Morin liked to poke fun at. While Morin shamelessly stripped butt naked along with the boys—who, when Emysen was present, typically had the grace to do so quickly and discreetly—Emysen always kept her undergarments on and waited to get a hot bath in her own quarters rather than having one of the boys dump a bucket of luke warm water over her head.

  “We’re all equal under the sun and the moon,” Morin would always say.

  Well there's a pair of things I’ve got that say different, and I’d like to keep them between me and the stars.

  Still boiling from her confrontation with Morin, Emysen quickly found her peg and ripped her robes from it. The long white fabric was hemmed in midnight blue. All novice Knights wore it, though those chosen few who went on to become Twilight Knights or Time Keepers would exchange it for black and gold.

  Emysen knotted the tie at her waist and tucked strands of sweaty, white blonde hair back behind her ears as she hustled from the barracks.

  As she strode into the courtyard a bright navy blue robe fluttering in the warm breeze caught her attention and her spirits lifted.

  “Axilya!” she called.

  The Sister looked over her shoulder at her name, then her shoulders fell in an obvious sigh.

  Unperturbed, Emysen ran over to the Sister who oversaw the novices and who in many ways had been like a real sister to her.

  And, like a real sister, Axilya was often annoyed by her presence. “What do you want, Emysen?”

  Emysen took long steps to catch up but then had to walk backwards to stay alongside the shorter woman. Axilya’s black hair was cut in a perfect line across her forehead, her bangs the only visible hair beneath the blue scarf that covered her head and flowed down over her shoulder. She had kind eyes, even when glaring, and a pair of semi-circle spectacles she squinted through when reading.

  “I wanted to ask you about my mission,” Emysen said.

  Axilya huffed as they began climbing the long steps that led up to the top of the palace wall. “Emysen, I told you that when I have your mission I will tell you. I don’t decide. The Time Keepers do.”

  “I know, I know, but…” Emysen skipped around to walk on the other side of her. Halfway up the steps sword fighting and gruff laughter could still be heard from the yard below. “Maybe a nudge?”

  “You want me to nudge the Time Keepers?”

  “A reminder, then.”

  Axilya rolled her eyes.

  “Call it what you will,” Emysen said. “I can’t be a real Knight until I complete a mission and I can’t apply to be a Time Keeper until I am a real Knight.”

  They reached the top of the wall and even as intent as she was at harassing Axilya, Emysen couldn’t resist admiring the view. The palace, a complex construction of white stone, had been built across the lake from the great Southern Falls. The waterfall towered above the tallest turret and even from high on the wall the roar of the crashing falls could be deafening. The water rivaled Axilya’s robes in hue and vibrancy and at night turned the deepest of blacks. The lake was surrounded by cobble paths and luscious foliage, benches for young lovers, and ties for small boats painted gold.

  Emysen stopped and rested her elbows on the wall, looking down at the falls.

  “I could stay here forever. I want to stay here forever.” She turned back to Axilya who had stopped also, a pile of books held to her chest and a tired look in her eyes. “But I need to complete my mission.”

  “You just don’t want to be forced to spend your days with the boys,” Axilya joked.

  Emysen laughed. “Can you blame me? They are rough in manner and physique, they smell, and they don’t even bother to speak in full sentences.”

  “Barbarians, the lot of them.” Axilya turned to continue her walk. Emysen followed in silence, watching a hawk flying low, its wings appearing to kiss the water of the falls as the animal swooped by.

  They came to an arched door into one of the towers. Axilya was about to enter but Emysen stopped her with a touch on her arm.

  “Axilya, Sister...do you think I’ll get my mission soon?

  Axilya had a way of smiling and frowning at the same time, her eyes and her mouth at odds with which emotion to display. The sight made Emysen’s heart hurt. She could stand it when someone underestimated her, but pity she hated.

  “I don’t know, darling. Just…hmmm.” Axilya put a hand on her shoulder and nodded. What comfort that was supposed to bring, Emysen didn’t know, but it was likely better than the false words she could have replaced it with.

  Emysen let her go. The Sister opened the door and for a brief moment the familiar sight of the interior of the library made Emysen feel an ounce better, then the door shut and she was left alone, staring up at the white stone walls of the library tower.