When Ember said Barrow’s name, a smile formed on her lips.
Agnes bowed her head. “Tearmunn serves a noble purpose. I won’t deny that. But surely you needn’t fight—”
“I do,” Ember interrupted. “I will miss you every day, Agnes. But this is what I’ve longed for, always. There is no other choice for me.”
She smiled gently at Agnes. “Imagine how you felt when you learned you were to marry—how happy you were. That is how happy I am.”
Agnes made a choking sound that became a sob. She didn’t speak, only nodded. Rather unsteadily, Agnes rose and moved to the door. Before she opened it, she looked over her shoulder.
“I wish you well, sister,” Agnes told her. She paused, lowering her voice. “Would that I had the happiness you think I do.”
Ember stood up. “Agnes—”
But Agnes shook her head, opened the door, and slipped out, leaving Ember alone. She stood still for a few minutes and stared at the door while an emptiness made her feel cold to her very bones. Rather numbly, Ember lay down and pulled the wool blanket up her chin. She let a restless sleep take her, not knowing if it would bring sweet dreams of the future or nightmares.
EIGHT
MORNING LIGHT WOKE Ember just before a knock came on her door. She sat up, breathless, not remembering where she was. The knock came again, more insistent this time.
“Ember!”
It was Alistair’s voice that jarred her memory. She scrambled out of bed, panicked that she might already be late for her first day with the Guard. She bit her lip, not wanting to cry out as her feet touched the icy floor.
“I’m awake,” she called.
The door opened and Alistair’s head poked in. “Hungry?”
Ember smiled at the sight of her friend’s familiar grin. “I am.”
“Get dressed and come to the hall,” he said. “You’ll need your strength.”
Then he was gone. Ember had no idea what the day might bring. She only hoped she could meet any challenges thrown her way. She took the pitcher from the table, grimacing when she saw the thin layer of ice covering the water inside. Cracking open the ice with her fingers, she poured the water into the basin. She squealed a little as she splashed the freezing water over her face, but she hoped not so loudly that anyone heard.
Dressing would be her first adventure of the day. She had just pulled on her hose and had one leg in her leather breeches when another knock came at the door.
“I’m almost ready, Alistair,” she called.
But the face that appeared when the door opened was not Alistair’s.
“And I’m sure he can’t wait to see you.” Sorcha smiled.
Ember had been on one foot preparing to draw up the other leg of her breeches and nearly fell over.
Sorcha laughed. “I’m here because Barrow thought you might need some assistance with your clothes.”
“Really, I’m doing fine,” Ember said, quickly pulling on the chausses. “You startled me.”
“Mmmm.” Sorcha came into the room. She was holding a long, narrow band of cloth in her hands. “I’m sure. That’s not what I’m here for. Breeches are easy.”
Ember frowned as she tied the laces of her chausses to her cotton braies. “And shirts are hard?” It was odd, but not unpleasant, to have layers of fabric wrapped around her legs rather than the broad press of skirts.
Sorcha laughed again. “Not really. But you’ll want something more than a shirt. Trust me. Take your nightclothes off.”
Ember pulled her sleeping shirt over her head.
“Now lift your arms,” Sorcha said.
“Why?” Ember asked, though she complied.
“You’ll see.” Sorcha began winding soft fabric around Ember’s body, starting just below her armpits. Sorcha kept the fabric tight, which bound Ember’s breasts firmly to her chest, considerably flattening her curves. The wrapping stopped in line with Ember’s lower ribs.
“When you practice doing this yourself, be certain you’ve bound the cloth tightly enough,” Sorcha said. “You don’t want it coming apart when you’re in the middle of a fight.”
Ember watched as Sorcha forced the end of the band beneath the wrapped fabric and over again, holding it in place.
“It’s an extra step, but a necessary one,” Sorcha said. “There’s a reason the Amazons cut off the breast on the side of their bow drawing arm. Our extra flesh can get in the way of a warrior’s tasks. And if not that, your breasts will simply ache if left free.”
“Thank you,” Ember said, grateful for Sorcha’s matter-of-fact approach to this rather intimate lesson. It left Ember wondering if she would have been better off if Sorcha had claimed her rather than Barrow. Yet she was keenly aware of the way her pulse quickened at the thought of being near him.
“You’re welcome,” Sorcha was saying. “I think you’ll find this remedy much preferable to amputation.”
She waited while Ember donned a linen shirt and then the Conatus tabard, belting it low on her hips. Sorcha nodded her approval.
“It suits you,” she said with a smile. “And soon you’ll have a weapon or two to hang from your belt.”
Ember returned her smile nervously. The idea of weapons was thrilling, but intimidating. Having faced the revenant, she knew that all her mock fighting was nothing compared to the real thing.
She followed Sorcha out of her cell and down the back stairwell. Her mind, already full of weapons, manifested them before her eyes as she reached the first floor. The armory’s walls glinted with the steel that covered them. Ember gazed at a tapestry of death with fear and wonder. One wall was filled with swords, ranging from those the length of her arm to others that appeared to be twice her height. Some had curved blades, some straight, and some had wicked serrated edges. Another wall featured battle-axes of all sizes and yet another spears and polearms.
“Anything catch your fancy?” Sorcha asked.
Ember bit her lip. “How . . . how will I know what I should use?”
“Don’t be afraid,” Sorcha said. “You’ll find your arms without trouble.”
They passed through the armory door and into the main hall. Sorcha settled at a table where Alistair sat with Kael and Barrow. Breakfast consisted of a fresh loaf of bread, still warm from the oven, and a brick of hard cheese. Barrow sat quietly, though he glanced at Sorcha, who gave a quick nod before reaching for the loaf. Kael was also silent, but the dark circles under his eyes left Ember guessing that he’d celebrated a bit too much at last night’s feast.