“Lynne!” I raised my hand above the crowd and waved. There were still enough students moving through the courtyard that I wasn’t sure she could see me at first. Then her face lit up for about half a second. The moment her eyes moved down and saw how I was walking, her smile disappeared. She started running toward me. “Stop walking like that! You’re going to injure your leg more!” “It’s not that bad today.” I stopped once she reached me and shifted most of my weight onto my left leg. “I can walk on it pretty normally now.” “No, you cannot.” “I’ve been walking on it.” “Quite poorly.” She grabbed me around the arm and started guiding me toward one of the benches along the edge of the courtyard. “Lynne, I’m alright.” “If you continue putting weight on it, it will take longer to heal.” “I have to put weight on it eventually.” “Eventually. Not today.” I let her guide me toward the bench. She had a way of gently shutting down any protest until the only options left were doing what she wanted or feeling like an asshole. Especially when she was the one treating the injury. She made me sit and immediately crouched beside me. “Does it hurt?” “No. I’m fine.” She looked up at me. “No, really.” She kept staring. “...It’s still mostly my shin. And a little around the ankle.” I shyly admitted Her eyes narrowed. “What?” “Did you train today?” “No.” Her eyes narrowed further. “You answered rather readily,” she said. “What does that even mean?” “It means you prepared that answer.” “That’s usually how questions work.” “Did you do anything foolish with that leg today?” “No.” There was plenty of room for interpretation in the word foolish. Lynne stared at me. I stared back as innocently as possible. Lying to Lynne was becoming surprisingly difficult. Fortunately, creative precision remained available. Someone approached from behind her. “Hello.” I looked past Lynne. It was the red-haired girl from the fencing room. She was still wearing the same fitted white gambeson and leggings from earlier, although she no longer had the mesh helmet or sword with her. Her red hair was pulled into a neat ponytail behind her. Without the helmet covering her face, she looked younger than she had while fencing. But I recognized her immediately. “You’re the knight girl.” Lynne looked back at her. The girl’s expression brightened. “The knight girl?” “You looked like a knight earlier.” I motioned toward the ponytail behind her head. “Your hair was sticking out of the top of your helmet like one of those plumes.” She reached behind herself and touched her ponytail. “Oh.” A pleased smile formed across her face. “I like that.” Lynne smiled. “Cecily, this is Xu.” Cecily’s eyes dropped toward the tag on my uniform. Her smile was replaced by an incredulous expression. “Xu… Xiao Xing?” I knew that look. Her eyes moved from the name tag to my face. Then back to the name tag. I waited for the question. Instead, Lynne continued before she could ask it. “Xu, this is Cecilia d’Auremont, although she prefers Cecily. She is one of my closest friends.” “Nice to meet you.” I offered my hand. Cecily took it politely. “Likewise.” Then she looked at me again. “Wait.” “What?” “You were in the fencing hall earlier.” “Yes. That’s how I saw you.” “I saw you kicking that suit of armor.” I froze. Lynne slowly turned her head toward me. “You were doing what?” Her voice had become dangerously quiet. Cecily looked between us. “You told me you had not been training,” Lynne said. “It wasn’t really training,I was just…experimenting.” Cecily tilted her head. “You kicked it at least twenty times.” I looked at her. Why was she so determined to get me in trouble? Lynne folded her arms. “Xu.” “It wasn’t hurting my leg.” “You were kicking something.” “Yeah, with the injured leg.” Lynne stared at me as if I had just said something immensely idiotic. Which, now that I had said it out loud, I could understand why. The words sounded better in my head before I said them outloud. “It doesn’t hurt when I kick with that leg.” “That does not mean you should kick with it. Pain is not the only indication that you are making an injury worse.” “It seems like a pretty important one.” “You are still placing strain through the muscles and tendons around the injury.” “It only really hurts when I stand on it.” “Then you should not stand on it either!” “I have to stand and walk around and stuff.” “You are supposed to be resting.” “I rested for most of the day.” Cecily quietly looked between us. Lynne pointed toward my leg. “You were specifically told not to train until it healed.” “I wasn’t really—” “You were kicking an armored man.” “It wasn’t a man.” “You know perfectly well what I mean.” Cecily covered her mouth. I could see her trying not to laugh. I looked at her, she started this and now she's laughing? “Why are you a snitch?” “Why were you kicking armor?” Lynne sighed and pressed her fingers against her forehead. “What were you even attempting to accomplish?” “Can we talk about something else?” “No.” Cecily leaned slightly toward me. “No, truly. What was that?” “The kick?” “If that is what you call it.” “What else would it be?” She made a strange imitation of what I had been doing, swinging her leg stiffly outward and then down. “Whatever that was.” she said dismissively It felt like she was mocking my kick. I knew I shouldn't let that bother me, but that was my kick! “It was a kick.” “It looked terrible.” “It worked.” “You missed the armor.” “I didn’t miss.” “You fell into it.” “I tripped it.” “You appeared to miss whatever strange kick you were attempting and then crash into an unstable weapons dummy.” “I meant to do that.” Cecily stared at me. “Why?” “Because I wanted to see if I could knock it over.” “Why?” “It’s part of a plan.” “A plan to defeat the armor?” “No. Mamoru.” Her eyebrows lifted. “Mamoru?” “I want to beat him.” Cecily looked like she was trying not to laugh again. “Beat him?” “He beat me up.” Her amusement disappeared. “Mamoru?” “Yes.” “Mamoru beat you up?” “Pretty badly.” She looked toward Lynne. “He could scarcely walk yesterday,” Lynne confirmed. Cecily looked back at me. “But Mamoru doesn't do that.” “He did.” “No, I mean that he does not generally injure people.” I looked down at my leg. “I mean…” Cecily folded her arms. “I have fought him plenty of times. I always defeat him at fencing.” “You do?” “Of course.” She said it as if I had asked whether one plus one equaled two. “But if you are permitted to grab your opponent, he is horrible.” “Horrible?” “To fight,” she clarified. “He only needs to catch you once.” She grabbed the front of her gambeson. “Especially while wearing one of these.” “Why?” “He throws me.” Lynne smiled. Cecily frowned at her. “You were going to laugh.” “I was not.” Lynne protested, but she was hiding a laugh that poured out the moment she spoke. “You’re laughing now!” I looked back at Cecily. “So you beat him with a sword, and then he throws you?” “I hit him plenty of times before he gets the opportunity.” “How many?” “That depends.” “And then?” Cecily hesitated. “Then, occasionally, I find myself on the floor.” I laughed along with Lynne “Stop laughing! He is much larger than I am.” “You’re the one who said you always beat him.” “In fencing.” She emphasized every syllable. “If it is fencing, I defeat him. If I touch him with the blade first, I score the point. But if it is a full fight and he manages to parry me and come close enough to seize my jacket…” She made a disgusted expression. “He tosses me around like a rag doll.” “He slams you?” “No.” That surprised me. “He is very controlled,” Cecily continued. “That is what I mean. Mamoru does not injure people.” Her attention dropped toward my leg again. “He is competent at everything. Grappling, striking, weapons, magic. He is not the best at all of them, but there is nothing he is truly bad at either.” “That sounds annoying.” “It is, but why did he hurt you?” I shrugged before thinking back to the fight. “Maybe it was cause I fish-hooked him.” Lynne slowly looked at me. Cecily blinked. “You did what?” “I put my finger in his mouth.” “I know what a fish-hook is.” “Then why'd you ask?” “Why did you fish-hook Mamoru?” “He was on top of me.” “That—that's not what you are supposed to do.” “I didn’t know how to yield.” Cecily stared at me. “How do you not know how to yield?” “No one told me.” “You simply say that you yield.” “I know that now.” She looked toward Lynne. Lynne gave her a helpless little shrug. Cecily turned back to me. “Well.” She took a moment to think. “That might explain why he became angry.” “Probably.” “But even so…” She glanced toward my injured leg. “It does not sound like him.” “I kicked him before that too.” “That is generally what happens during a fight.” “No, I mean I actually got him.” Cecily looked at me, then at the way I was sitting, and finally down at my leg. I could almost see her deciding that this probably didn’t mean very much. Especially after watching me kick an armored dummy. “What?” “Nothing.” “What is that face?” “I am not making a face.” “You’re definitely making one.” Cecily crouched slightly and looked toward my leg. “Show me what you were doing.” “Lynne won’t let me.” I looked at Lynne. “He's correct, I won't,” she said immediately. “You can show me without standing or striking anything,” Cecily said. I lifted my foot from the ground, turned it slightly outward, and demonstrated the inward motion from the bench. Cecily stared at it. “That is awful.” “How?” “There is scarcely any range.” “I don’t need much range.” “It does not look strong.” “It feels strong.” “You cannot determine whether a technique is strong merely because it feels strong.” “I can tell whether hitting something with it would hurt.” “That is not the same thing.” “It would hurt.” “No, it would not.” “How do you know?” “Look at it.” “I am looking at it.” “Then you should be able to see.” “I see my heel hitting someone’s leg.” “And I see an ugly flail that accomplishes nothing.” I frowned. “You haven’t even been hit by it.” “I do not need to be.” “Then how do you know?” “Because I have eyes.” Lynne sighed. “Cecily.” “What?” “Do not antagonize him.” “I’m not antagonizing him.” “Thou art.” Cecily pointed toward me. “Tell her.” “She’s antagonizing me.” “Traitor.” “You called my kick stupid.” “Because it is.” “It would hurt.” “It would not.” “It would.” Cecily looked toward Lynne as if she could call me an idiot through eye contact alone. Lynne’s gaze briefly moved toward my leg. Then back toward Cecily wearing a sheepish smile. “Let us not encourage him to practice while he is injured.” I stared at Lynne in disbelief. “You think it doesn’t work too.” “I did not say that.” “You didn’t have to.” She looked faintly guilty. “I simply do not know enough about it.” “You think it looks stupid.” “I think practicing any kick with an injured leg is stupid.” “Naw, you think my kick is stupid!” Cecily smiled triumphantly. “She agrees with me.” “I did not say that either,” Lynne protested. Cecily stepped closer. “Kick me.” Lynne’s head snapped toward her. “What?” I stared at Cecily. “Huh?” She assumed an exaggerated stance and slightly presented the outside of her thigh. “Kick me there.” “I’m not kicking you.” “Why?” “Because I just met you.” “So?” “So I’m not going to kick you.” “If it hurts as much as you claim, prove it.” “Cecily, no,” Lynne said. Cecily ignored her. “Come now.” “No.” “Are you frightened your phony kick shall be exposed?” “No.” “You are.” “I’m frightened Lynne will kill me.” “I will,” Lynne said. Cecily grinned. “Only once. You needn’t strike hard.” “I don’t know how much it hurts.” “Exactly.” She patted the outside of her thigh. “Here.” “Cecily,” Lynne warned. “Lynni, he will barely do anything.” “Neither of you should be doing this.” Cecily looked back toward me. “See? Even she knows it will not hurt.” Lynne looked offended. “I said no such thing.” I looked down at Cecily’s leg. She was making it extremely tempting. Then I looked toward Lynne. “Do not look at me for permission.” “I’m not.” “You are.” Cecily smiled. “Come now, knight boy.” “You’re the knight.” “Then strike me, peasant!” She looked far too pleased with herself. She just looked so fucking antagonizing. And I was antagonized. “Fine.” Lynne gasped. “No!” I started removing my shoe. “Why are you taking your shoes off?” “I don’t want to hit her with my shoe on.” “Do not hit her at all!” Cecily laughed. “It’ll be fine.” “You don't know that,” Lynne protested. “I do.” Cecily’s tone was so haughty that it became infuriating all over again. “No, you do not!” Lynne looked ready to physically stop both of us, but it was too late. This was happening. I stood carefully and kept most of my weight on my left leg. “Just lightly,” I said. “Ha! Don’t insult me.” “Cecily!” “What?” “You said lightly.” “Oh. Right. Lightly.” Cecily made quotation marks with her fingers. I shifted my weight over my left foot. My injured leg moved outward and came back in low. It wasn’t a wide swing. I kept my knee slightly bent, turned my foot, and brought the hard edge of my heel toward the outside of her thigh. It wasn’t a hard kick. At least, I don't think it was. My heel struck her with a dull thump. Cecily’s eyes went wide. “Ah—!” She jumped away from me and grabbed her leg. “Fuck!” I froze. “Oh God.” She hopped backward on one foot. “What the hell was that?” “I’m sorry!” I stepped toward her. Lynne immediately caught my arm. “Don’t walk!” “She’s hurt.” “So are you!” “I didn’t mean to hit her that hard.” “You dick!” Cecily glared at me while clutching her thigh. “I’m sorry!” I tried to move toward her again. Lynne held me in place. Cecily lowered herself onto the bench beside me, still rubbing the outside of her leg. “Bloody hell.” “Are you okay?” “No!” “I’m going to get ice.” I started to stand again. Lynne pushed me down. “No.” “I just kicked her.” “You are not walking anywhere.” “But—” “I will get it.” Cecily breathed through clenched teeth. Lynne watched her for a moment. Then her expression changed. “Cecily.” “What?” “That is enough.” Cecily looked up at her. “What dost thou mean?” “Thou needn’t exaggerate merely to encourage him.” Cecily stared at her. “I am not exaggerating.” “Thou hast done things like this before.” The pain on Cecily’s face was briefly replaced by sharp recognition. “Thou believest I’m doing that?” “Doing what?” I asked. Neither of them answered. Cecily looked genuinely offended. “This is different.” Lynne’s expression softened, although she still seemed uncertain. “It truly hurts that badly?” “Yes!” Lynne glanced toward me and then back at Cecily. Cecily’s eyes narrowed. “Do not look at him. Look at my leg.” “I am looking.” “Dost thou believe I am pretending?” “I believe thou canst be rather theatrical when thou hast decided to make a point.” “I screamed because he struck me with his heel!” “Thou didst command him to do so.” “I didn't think it was going to hurt!” I raised my hand slightly. “I-I can go get ice.” “No,” both of them said at the same time. I lowered my hand. Cecily rubbed her thigh. “It is not fake.” Lynne hesitated. “If it truly hurts that much…” She looked toward me. “Do it to me.” Her brows drew together with determination. She might have looked fierce if the expression was on anyone else's face. I stared at her. “No.” “Only lightly.” “Absolutely not.” “You did it to Cecily.” Yeah, cause she deserved it! She made fun of my kick. “I already feel horrible about that.” “It would allow me to compare their reactions.” “No.” “Xu.” “I’m not kicking you.” Cecily pointed at me. “He is right, Lynni. You do not want to feel this.” “Thank you.” “His kick is still stupid.” “What?” Lynne crouched beside Cecily. “Let me examine it.” Cecily moved her hand. A slight red mark had already appeared where my heel struck her. Lynne gently pressed around it. “Does that hurt?” “A little.” “Here?” “No.” “Here?” “Not particularly.” Lynne looked confused. Cecily slowly extended and bent her leg. “Huh.” “What?” I asked. “It already hurts less.” Lynne looked up. “Truly?” “It still hurts.” Cecily rubbed the spot again. “But nothing like it did when he struck me.” “Can you tense the muscle?” Cecily did. “That feels normal.” Lynne pressed around the area again, more carefully this time. “What are you doing?” I asked. “We have been studying muscles.” “You study muscles?” “And anatomy.” She sounded almost offended. “We have been learning how muscle tissue is structured, how it becomes damaged, and how the body repairs it.” Cecily looked down at her. “Can you heal it?” “Not instantly.” “Then your class is boring.” “It is not boring.” “It would be more useful if you could simply fix it.” “That is not how it works.” I leaned slightly to inspect Cecily’s leg. “So I didn’t injure her?” Lynne looked toward me. “I did not say that.” I immediately became more worried. “But I do not believe there is significant damage,” she added. Cecily stood carefully. She put weight on the leg, then bounced once. Lynne immediately reached for her. “Stop!” “I am testing it.” “thou art just as bad as he is.” “It feels fine now.” Cecily rubbed the spot again. “That was strange.” I looked at her. “So my kick works.” She pointed at me. “No.” “What do you mean, no? You screamed.” “Yes. It hurt.” “So it works.” “Your plan is still stupid.” “Why?” “Because Mamoru will simply shield it.” “I know.” Cecily paused. “What?” “I don’t plan on beating his shield with the kick.” “Then why are you practicing it?” “To get in.” Her expression changed slightly. “Get in where?” “Close.” Cecily stared at me. Then she laughed. “What?” “That is worse.” “How is it worse?” “Because you are attempting to grapple Mamoru.” “Sort of.” “Don’t.” “Why?” “Because he is probably the best person in that class at grappling while wearing a jacket.” She grabbed the front of my uniform. “This.” I looked down. “What about it?” “This is a handle.” “I know.” “No, you do not.” “I’ve already been grabbed by it.” “Then you should understand why you must not give Mamoru one.” “I’m not planning to just walk up and grab him.” “What are you planning?” I held my hands up in front of me. “I hit high first.” “With what?” “My palms.” “Why not your fists?” “Because punching him hurts.” Cecily stared at me. “That is generally the intended result.” “No, it hurts me.” “Ah.” “If I hit his Bracing wrong with my fist, I could break my knuckles.” “That is true.” “But I can hit hard with my palm without hurting my hand.” I pushed one palm forward to demonstrate. “So I keep doing that until he brings his guard up.” Cecily watched the motion. “And then you throw that ugly thing at his leg.” “Yes.” “What if he steps closer?” “That’s the other part.” I moved my foot again from where I sat, swinging it outward and then hooking it behind an imaginary leg. “If I’m too close for the heel to land, I hook his leg instead.” “And then?” “I knock him over.” Cecily’s expression went blank. “With what?” “My body, I guess.” “You guess.” “I turn into him, hook his leg, and make him fall backward.” “You have never done this before, have you?” “I knocked over the armor.” “You fell into the armor.” “I swept it.” “You crashed into it.” “It fell.” “Because it was unstable.” “It was wearing armor.” “That does not make it stable.” “I mean it was heavy though.” Cecily pressed her fingers against her forehead. “So your plan is to strike Mamoru repeatedly with your palms, swing your heel at his leg, and, if you miss, entangle yourself with him and hope you both fall over.” “When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.” “It is stupid.” “It makes sense in my head.” “I'm sure it does.” “The wrestling part is so I don’t have to keep hitting him.” “You believe wrestling Mamoru will be safer?” “For my hands.” “Not for the remainder of you.” “That’s fine.” Lynne looked at me. “No, it is not.” Cecily still held the front of my uniform. “If you attempt that and fail, Mamoru will take this and throw you.” “Then I’ll grab him too.” “That is precisely what you do not want.” “Why?” “Because he is better at it than you.” “How do you know?” “I watched you kick a suit of armor until you fell into it.” “I swept it.” “You fell.” “It was controlled.” Lynne covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. I looked at her. “You too?” “I did not say anything.” “You didn’t have to.” Cecily released my jacket. “If you wish to defeat Mamoru, do not grapple with him.” “What do you do?” “Hit him.” I stared at her. “That’s amazing advice.” “No, listen.” She stepped back and held one hand in front of herself as though carrying an invisible weapon. “Mamoru uses his Bracing very deliberately.” “I noticed.” “When he attacks, he generally concentrates it along the part of his body delivering the strike.” “His fists?” “Or foot, knee, elbow, whatever he is using.” She tapped her knuckles. “He reinforces the structure behind the strike. Everything aligns.” Lynne nodded. “Like the butter.” Cecily looked at her. “The what?” “Nothing.” I knew what she meant. Lynne had explained Bracing to me using buttered toast. It was a surprisingly good analogy. Cecily continued. “So I make him attack.” “How?” “By standing somewhere he believes he can hit me.” She made it sound incredibly easy. “Then, when he attacks, I strike somewhere else.” “While he’s attacking?” “Yes.” “Doesn’t he hit you?” “No.” “Why not?” “I move.” I stared at her. Lynne politely smiled. “Cecily.” “What?” “Thou shouldst probably explain that thy management of distance is not normal.” Cecily frowned. “It is perfectly normal.” “No.” “Aye, it is.” “Cecily, thou standest a finger’s breadth beyond thine opponents’ attacks on purpose.” “That is what one is supposed to do. Thou remainest barely beyond their reach so thou may bait and counter.” “Most people do not know exactly where that range bides.” “They should.” I looked toward Lynne. She shook her head. “Do not attempt to imitate that part.” Cecily folded her arms. “It is not that difficult.” “It is difficult for everyone who is not thee.” Cecily looked unconvinced. “But the remainder still applies.” I turned back toward her. “What remainder?” “Mamoru commits to his attacks.” I nodded. “He is fast, and if he strikes you cleanly, it will hurt.” “Yeah. I noticed.” “But he wants each attack to work.” “What do you mean?” “He does not simply throw things.” She made a short punching motion. “He sets himself. Everything is aligned. He wants one clean strike.” I thought back to our fight. His punches, his kicks, his throws. Everything he did had felt heavy and committed. There had been no hesitation. Every movement had carried absolute certainty, as if he wanted each attack to be the last thing he needed to do. Cecily continued. “But he does not throw combinations particularly quickly.” “Really?” “Not compared to some people.” She shrugged. “He will strike hard and fast once, but if you make him miss or catch him before he resets, he is slower there.” “How much slower?” “Slow enough.” “Maybe for you.” She smiled. “Of course for me.” Lynne sighed. Cecily considered my plan again. “But even if you cannot do what I do, you could still force him to commit.” I leaned forward. “Make him place the shield somewhere,” she said. That was useful. If Mamoru braced wherever he attacked or defended, then maybe I didn’t need to hit through the shield. I only needed to make him put it somewhere predictable. “The palms,” I said. Cecily nodded slowly. “They might bring his guard upward.” “Then I hit the leg.” “If he does not recognize what you are attempting.” “He won’t.” “You do not even recognize what you are attempting.” “That’s why it’ll work.” “That is not the advantage you think it is.” “And if he moves too close, I hook the leg and take him down.” Cecily’s expression soured again. “No.” “What?” “That remains a terrible idea.” “It’s better than punching his shield.” “Those are not your only two options.” “They’re the only two I have.” “You could evade.” “I’m still working on that.” “You could learn proper footwork.” “I’m working on that too.” “You could wait until you have recovered,” Lynne said. I slowly turned toward her and gave her an incredulous look. She met it without the slightest embarrassment. “It is still good advice,” Cecily said. I started to stand. Lynne immediately placed her hand against my chest. “No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You are going back to the training hall.” “I was going to practice what she just told me.” “No.” “I’ll use the proper dummy this time.” “No.” “The ones actually made for striking and grappling.” “No.” “I’m not going to hit anything hard.” “No.” “Cecily literally just—” “In a few days.” I looked toward Cecily for help. She shrugged. “Lynne is correct.” I stared at her. Cecily smiled back. “I am merely saying that, as someone who has now personally experienced your terrible little kick, I believe you should sit down.” “You were the one who told me to kick you.” “And I have learned from my mistake.” Lynne nodded approvingly. “See?” “Oh, now you’re on her side?” “I have always been on her side.” “Five minutes ago, you thought she was lying.” “That was neither here nor there.” I pressed my lips together and gave her a long, deeply unconvinced look. “So what were you two doing anyway?” Lynne blinked. Cecily’s face immediately brightened. “We just ate at Maison & Mare.” Her entire demeanor changed. “They have gilthead at present. Proper gilthead too, imported from Massilia. I had the daurade royale grillée aux fines herbes, Lynni had the dos de filet de daurade poêlé, and June had—” I looked toward Lynne. “I thought you were vegetarian.” Lynne froze. Cecily stopped talking. There was a moment of silence. Lynne’s eyes slowly moved away from me. “Well.” “You told me you were vegetarian.” “I know.” “But you just ate fish.” “Fish does not count as meat,” Cecily said. I looked at her. “Yes, it does.” “No, it does not.” “It was alive.” “So?” “What do you think meat is?” Cecily stared at me for a second. Then she waved her hand dismissively. “Fish is different.” “Different meat.” “It is fish.” “Which is meat.” Lynne seemed perfectly content to let us argue rather than look at me. I pointed at her. “Why did you lie?” Her cheeks became slightly red. “I may not have been entirely truthful.” “Why?” “You kept attempting to give me the meat from your soup.” I remembered. She had bought me soup after I got hurt. I had found a decent piece of beef in it and tried to give it to her. “You needed it,” Lynne continued. “You were injured. Your body requires protein to repair itself.” “So?” “So you continued giving yours away.” “I was sharing.” “You gave me nearly every piece.” “There wasn’t that much meat.” “Because you kept removing it from the soup and giving it to me.” Cecily started laughing. I pointed toward one of the restaurants across the courtyard. “Fine. I’m getting you meat.” “No.” Lynne immediately put both hands against my shoulders before I could stand. “You just said you eat it.” “I am full. I just ate an entire meal.” “You said you were vegetarian.” “Because you would not eat your own food.” I tried to rise. She pushed me back onto the bench. “Ah. My leg.” “Exactly.” She kept me planted there. “You are not crossing the courtyard on an injured leg to purchase food I do not want.” “I can bring it back.” “I do not want anything.” “You lied last time.” “If you bring me food, I truly will become vegetarian.” “You can’t become vegetarian out of spite.” “Watch me.” “Fine. I’ll get you a bunch of tomatoes and cheese, then!” “I do not want tomatoes and cheese either!” “I'll add balsamic vinegar on it.” This got a laugh out of Lynne despite herself. “She will still eat fish.” Cecily said. “Fish is meat.” “It does not count.” “It absolutely counts.” Cecily shook her head as though I were the unreasonable one. “You have no idea how far Lynni will go out of spite.” Lynne looked back at her. “What dost that mean?” Cecily stared at her for a moment. Then her smile changed. “Why did thou think I was pretending to be hurt?” Lynne immediately looked uncomfortable. “We needn’t return to that.” “I believe we should.” “No.” “Thou thought I was doing it again.” “Doing what again?” I asked. Once again, neither of them answered me. Lynne’s hands were still resting on my shoulders. “I was concerned thou might be encouraging him for the wrong reasons,” she said carefully. “What wrong reasons?” I asked. Cecily narrowed her eyes at Lynne. “I was curious.” “Thou art always curious at first.” “That does not mean I was being dishonest.” “I know.” “Truly?” “Yes.” Cecily continued staring at her. Lynne finally sighed. “I am sorry.” Cecily’s expression softened. “Good.” “What do you usually do?” I asked. “Nothing,” they both said. I looked between them. That was obviously a lie. Whatever was happening between the two of them had stopped involving me several sentences ago. I carefully leaned back against the bench. My leg still hurt. But not as badly as yesterday. And apparently my stupid kick worked. That was enough for today. Probably. Lynne looked back toward me. “You are not training tonight.” I sighed. “Fine.” “Promise.” “I promise.” Her eyes narrowed. “What?” “You lied to me ten minutes ago.” “I technically—” “Xu.” “Fine. I lied.” She didn’t immediately answer. Her hands slipped from my shoulders, but instead of standing, she remained in front of me. The irritation in her expression faded. “Promise me you won’t lie to me again.” I should probably have objected to the word again. It made me sound habitually dishonest rather than creatively precise. But she was looking at me with such earnest concern that the argument died before reaching my mouth. “I promise.” Lynne’s shoulders relaxed. “Then I promise I won’t lie to you either.” She held my gaze for another moment. I wasn’t entirely sure why she looked so relieved. I had only promised not to lie to her. That should have been nothing. Cecily glanced between us. I was fully expecting her to tease me, but she didn't. Instead her usual smile returned. “Good. Now that we have settled that, tomorrow I can show you why the remainder of your plan is terrible.” Lynne looked at her. “Not tomorrow.” Cecily sighed. “In a few days, then.” I looked toward her. Every inch of her short stature was brimming with confidence. She pushed her ponytail back over her shoulder. She really did resemble a knight.

Chapter 29