In this world, women sit in the parlor, laced into their corsets, and leave all that to men while we sip our tea and nibble on cucumber and mint sandwiches. Gods! I still want to stab Lord Wynsten for patting me on the head and telling me not to fret because frowning isn’t pretty. That man has no idea how close I came to causing a diplomatic incident that day. I don’t know if Ellisar would have punished me or applauded me. Since it’s me, it probably would have been a punishment.

  Duke Jellema tries to treat me more like he treats Kenric. In short, he listens when I speak and often takes my advice. He knows that I read and write in several languages. He also knows that I advise Ellisar and that Ellisar mostly listens. In short, he’s trying to treat me like a reasonable person instead of a piece of furniture. I don’t know if being Fey helps or hurts. I think it probably helps because he can dismiss it all as some funny, foreign custom. His attempts at fatherly behavior are always well-meaning, even if somewhat manipulative.

  I don’t think any of these dukes realize just how keen my sense of smell is. I can pick up on their greed, fear, and lust. At least with Hedde, I’ve never detected lust—just some minor deception. That’s one reason I’ve somewhat allied myself with him. Ina has been invaluable. Grethe has as well, once she understood I wasn’t interested in her sons or her husband. Kenric couldn’t have been a better match for me if I’d listed exactly what I wanted.

  Oskar is, in almost every way, the complete opposite of Kenric. There is a deep kindness in Kenric, while Oskar is thoughtlessly cruel. Kenric listens to me, and when we disagree, we talk and try to find a compromise. Oskar dominates everyone without regard. Kenric is honorable to a fault, whereas Oskar is a selfish fool. Kenric encourages and patiently supports me, but Oskar insults me and tries to force me to comply.

  I feel sorry for Grethe. She may be a Queen, but Oskar has been cruel to her and has forced her to do things. Oskar treats her like a commodity and a tool. Grethe is used whenever Oskar needs her – either to blackmail someone or to bribe them. In his eyes, she’s not a real person. Now that he has his heirs and a few princesses to marry off for alliances, Oskar doesn’t care if she ends up pregnant. He'd probably be happy to have another child to marry off for political reasons.

  I genuinely hate that man. I didn’t mind punching him even a little. I hope it hurts him badly for a long time. It’s a small taste of what he’s done to everyone else. Oskar is a bully, and bullies must always be confronted. That confrontation needs to be handled in a way that the bully understands. Not everyone is able to confront a bully as big as Oskar. He’s very physical, and that’s part of why I responded with a punch of my own.

  The other thing about Oskar that’s extremely large is his ego. He’s utterly convinced that he’s the king because he’s special. It’s not that everyone treats him differently because he’s the king. What Oskar doesn’t realize is that if he weren’t the king, he’d be just another big, drunken, boorish man. I don’t know how I’m going to deflate that ego yet, but, gods willing, something will come up, and I’ll be able to pull it off without causing a diplomatic incident.

  The dukes manipulate him easily because he’s not nearly as smart as Oskar believes he is. If he were, he’d be protecting me from the dukes so they wouldn't use this trade contract to oust him. If any one or even a couple of the dukes can take control of it, it’s so profitable they’d push Oskar right off that throne he craves. I don’t see how he can’t see this. We should be allies, but he’s turned us against each other. Centis will end up in civil war, and the invasion will sweep through here like wildfire through a hay barn.

  I stand here, next to Torsten, thinking furiously. If Ellisar follows his usual pattern, anyone who heard Oskar mention attacking Hloir? Aralli? won’t survive. I fear for the Sergeant and Kenric, but for them, I’d face down Ellisar. I’d find a way to challenge him and take his crown, if it came to that. The human kingdoms always think that Ellisar is the great-whatever grandson of the Ellisar with whom their trade contract is. Ellisar doesn’t disabuse them of that notion, either.

  They never realize that they’re dealing with the male, centuries later, who manipulated and finessed their ancestors. They also don’t seem to understand that he’s gotten even better at that manipulation and finesse in the intervening centuries. If they did, most would run screaming and refuse to do business with Ellisar. They always think that they’re going to get a better deal than dear old great-grandpa did. Ellisar will fix the things that they’re the most bitter about, but he’ll add some new ones that won’t become apparent for decades.

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  They’d be better off if they went directly to the traders, paid for what they wanted, and sailed away with it each time. The traders are almost as bad as Ellisar, but they have a vested interest in repeat trade. If the terms are too onerous, their trading becomes a single event, not a decades-long exchange. The traders are competitive enough that they’re not nearly as mercenary or as mercurial as Ellisar. Catch him having a bad day, and he might make you wait for weeks to speak to him again.

  Catch him on a good day, and you'll end up like Centis, where your trade agreement is more like armed robbery. It’s filled with items that must be paid for but lack a delivery schedule. Other items have quantities Centis had to guarantee to purchase, but no set prices. I sigh and push all this out of my mind as I watch Inaba training Kenric. Kenric is already moving better. This has been good for him. I should teach him this afternoon how to move through the forest.

  When I fought the bandits and chased their archer into the trees and brush, Kenric followed me. He made more noise than a bull moose or a bear. If you’re trying to scare wildlife, that’s one thing. But if you’re trying to sneak up on or slip away from anything, that won’t work. I need to teach him how to drift through the forest, without snapping twigs, crunching leaves, or falling into another poison-berry bush. I also need to teach him how to make animal noises to communicate instead of shouting. Like everything else, my war band developed its own code.

  The calls of animals like a dusk fox or an echo lynx help people find each other when they’ve been separated. Echo lynxes often hunt in family groups, so it’s common to hear them calling to each other. Learning how to move through the forest will help him understand what Inaba is trying to teach about moving correctly. No one likes a clumsy dance partner unless you’re in a swordfight. Then you’ll be the most popular partner on the floor. That's not a position anyone wants in a battle.

  Sooner or later, probabilities shift, and you end up badly wounded or worse. I don’t want Kenric badly injured. I definitely don’t want to be headed back to Imelenora wearing a widow’s dress. That’s going to mean teaching some skills not just to Kenric, but to his men. If they’re all more capable, our odds of riding out the storm that’s coming go up considerably. I watch as Kenric’s cousins join him in trying to learn these basic movements with Oshia’s hastily carved wooden swords.

  “You beat my oldest son. Care to let an old man have a go?” Torsten asks.

  “You’re not wearing armor, so wooden weapons?” I ask.

  Torsten nods. “I’d trust you not to hurt me, but I’m sure I would hurt you, so wooden is probably best.”

  I eye Torsten and flash a grin, “You should trust me to protect myself, but if you’ve come to do more than lean against trees and look wise, then wooden weapons it is.”

  Torsten chuckles softly, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Wisdom comes from knowing when to act. And when to teach a lesson.”

  His challenge has me smirking, “And you think to school me? I do love lessons. Shall we see if yours is worth learning? Or will it be more like Ulrick’s? He was mostly grunting and hoping for luck.”

  Kenric, leaning against the fence, snorts. “Careful, Víl?. He’s not as forgiving as I am.”

  I laugh. “Less forgiving? Or less sulky? You pouted after I tripped you.”

  Kenric mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse, earning a laugh from Ulrick.

  Torsten and I move to an open area. The others stop what they’re doing and come to watch. The air grows thick with anticipation to see the two of us square off. The mountain of man against the firefly of a Fey. I stand twirling my makeshift copy of Lantecari to get a feel for the weight and balance. Facing this man, I feel more like a mischievous sprite. He’s half again my height and probably triple my weight. Large men might be strong, but they're often not fast. I spent enough time training with Nieven to know how to deal with that.

  Torsten watches me for a while, but I do little more than twirl this wooden blade. He’s not getting much from watching me, and I’m waiting to see when he’ll move. Torsten finally moves first. No feints, no flourishes. It’s a clean, powerful strike meant to test my guard. Fortunately, I’m stronger than I look to human eyes. I meet his blow with a parry. The impact jolts up my arm. Gods above! That man is strong. He’s stronger than Ulrick, and the clack of the wooden blades echoes.

  I flash him a grin. “Not bad for an old man who smells of pipe tobacco and leather.”

  Torsten narrows his eyes at me, but one corner of his mouth quirks. “You talk too much.”

  We push back and forth, both seeking to disarm the other, before I flash him another friendly grin. “And you swing too slow. If I were your enemy, I’d have gutted you twice already.”

  Luka lets out a low whistle, “Watch out, Papa. She’s got teeth.”

  Arno laughs at our exchange, “Kenric’s kitten has claws. Papa better watch himself.”

  One of Kenric’s men-at-arms mutters, “I’ve seen him break shields with one strike. If she wins, I’ll eat my boots.”

  Torsten starts pressing me harder, driving me with relentless precision, backed by all that power. I use my speed to evade. I spin and sidestep his blows with a quick flick of my blade here and there to score a point.

  Torsten gives me a mock glare, “You fight like a storm. It’s wild, beautiful, and dangerous. But storms burn out.”

  I laugh, “You fight like a mountain. And mountains crumble, given time. Usually under their own arrogance.”

  Have you ever had to deal with a bully? How did you handle it? Let me know in the comments...