I stood at the mirror, and held my face perfectly placid. I didn't scowl, I promise.

  Now I was catching up to Nathan- the only major milestones he's ever beaten me to was growth spurts. He shot up like a weed a few months ago, he was already over five feet tall. And now I'm getting there. Puberty, thanks no thanks. First is the ache in my legs when I start getting taller. Next is what we will euphemistically call the primary and secondary characteristics. And with those, cramps. I've been making sure to appreciate the freedom I've had so far, but it's time to face the music.

  Fortunately I live in a fantasy setting where inconvenient issues are resolved by magic and nobody needs to question that at all. First good news: easy user-friendly BC that shuts off the cycle painlessly and cleanly without further issues or downsides. Second good news: my mother had tapped on my door, and we had the following conversation.

  "Natalie, you read a lot. I presume you've already got the full awareness of the birds and bees and could probably teach me more than I know?"

  "Yes Mother."

  "Oh thank gods. Let me know when you want to head out to the city and pick out some jewelry."

  Bless her for not making this awkward. I've legit been dreading that conversation for about ten years now, even the most well-meaning- no, sorry especially the most well-meaning parents can make that just awful for everyone. And my family is as well-meaning as it gets. The most common method to use magic to stop lady troubles is a locket, but there's also bracelets, rings, earrings, piercings, hair clips, shoe inserts and tattoos. Turns out magic in this setting has a pretty direct conversation with hormones and body processes. What you can't get in jewelry, you can get in a bottle.

  I'm not allowed to inherit my father's lands unless I marry, the gowns are ridiculous, my name is always listed second, my family is expected to enter a marriage contract on my behalf, there are laws on the books governing my dowry, we're only about seventy years removed from the practice of droit du seigneur, there's about a hundred jobs I'm only allowed to work at as an assistant if my husband is working that job... and that's not counting the soft social pressure and manipulations. So the very fucking least I feel I'm owed is an easy answer to The Curse.

  Some days I almost decide to flip out and overthrow the social order anyway. Full raging revolutionary. It is hard for a citizen of the twenty-first century to go backwards.

  But enough scowling at the mirror and musing to myself! Mother is taking me to the city for some jewelry. I'm getting in early, I'm not going to wait for the fevers and nausea. None of my outfits from last month fit me, I stretched upwards and also broader at the shoulders at the same time. Rather than wear something ill-fitted, I took the opportunity to craft my own. Silk and cotton, flax and dyes. I've mastered essence of hydrangea, so I've got a range of colors from pink through purple and bright blues to work with, I mix it with the flax essence to make dyed linen.

  I whisked out the door, practically skipping. Leather toe-sandals! I'm not wearing buckle-shoes or lace-up boots this time. If some foot-fiend gets a look at my ankles and toes, then everyone can be scandalized in my wake. Sure, I'm wearing a calf-length skirt, with a simple drape, over a shift and chemise. Or if you like, a blouse and skirt. I have explicit permission to dress comfortably today, provided I'm decent. So, today I'm wearing an underwire bra.

  Don't get me wrong, corsetry is a huge improvement over binding, but I'm so glad that I'm not doing it today. But until I manage to build an affinity to spandex, lycra, and microfiber fabric, I'll be glad for an ordinary brassiere. Perhaps this is the invention that launches my business empire?...

  I pop out into the foyer, where mother is waiting, and I'm immediately disappointed. She's wearing pants. I did not know that was permitted! I've been cheated! She set aside the pages she was reading from, tucked them back into her saddlebag. "Ah, that's very colorful!" she complimented. "Where did you find it? I did not think we had anything of that cut and style in the house."

  "I made it," I said, waving. "Why a saddlebag?"

  "So we can ride to town," Mother said. "It's two hours away. I don't think you can fork a saddle in that skirt."

  I sighed. "I was going to take the short road."

  "Pardon?"

  I curved void, and opened a portal. It's a strain- curving is the third form, only shapechanging is harder, but it has to be easier than riding for two hours there and two hours back.

  "Ah yes," she said, watching the featureless white space beyond the door that hovered in the air. A circle of perfectly mathematical precision, eclipsing everything behind it with a brightness that made paper look like pitch. "I was rather looking forward to having a few hours to just chat with you while we ride. This is efficient, but it feels..."

  "We can stay out just as long," I pointed out. "Spend a few hours eating biscuits at a teahouse?"

  She chuckled. "You'll never get comfortable on horseback if you avoid them."

  I played it up. Defensive and affronted. "I'm fine on horseback! Maybe I don't have the knack that you and Father and Nathan-"

  "And Wezner, and Cousin Toby, and all of the knights and guards, and Filly, and -"

  I laughed and couldn't hold my composure. "Can't horseback be one of the things I'm not excellent at?"

  She paused, and there was a bit of hurt in her eyes. "Humor me?"

  "Yes," I said without hesitation. But I formed a pair of riding pants under my skirt, and then dispelled the skirt. "But I'm going to be comfortable."

  "That seems very convenient," she said, arching an eyebrow. She led me to the door, and out to the stable.

  I smiled. "It really is." I am justifiably proud of my sorcery. Portals, pants, the wonders never cease.

  She was not meeting my eyes. "I .. I worry. I sometimes feel like I'm losing you. We don't have many overlapping interests. I have riding, and lyre, and falconry. Loom-weaving, painting. You have magic, and flute, and about a thousand books I'll never be able to read."

  Our feet fell on straw as we reached the open-air stalls. The rest of the animals were out in the pasture, the hostlers had brought in two for us to make ready. Hot scent of straw and animal, somehow the smell of it seemed to make the day brighter and hotter. Don't ask me how that works, but I notice it almost every time I'm out here in warm weather.

  "There is some crossover," I said idly, stopping to reach tentatively for one of the horses. It's easy to forget how big they are. This thing has more muscles in its jaws than in either of my legs. She walked straight up to hers, which bumped itself against the stall door to extend its head to her, eager. She patted it roughly across the bridge of its muzzle and then the crest of the neck. Hers was a big roan with a blaze, I had a black warmblood with a snip and a star and socks, that everyone praised as being mild-tempered and gentle. The mare flicked an ear at me, nostrils flaring.

  Mother threw the saddle blankets on first, after checking the curry-work. "Nothing you've ever composed had lyres in it," she pointed out. "And you will run or step through your short-road rather than mount a horse. You only ever ride in a carriage when we're all traveling together-"

  "And I stand by that decision as being the wisest course," I chuckled.

  She rolled her eyes. "Attempted kidnappings notwithstanding, I just like to get some time with my daughter. My mother and I were close, when I was your age. I miss it, I suppose."

  I kept trying to make friends with my warmblood mare. It did not seem to want to trust me. I should have brought apples, horses like bribes. "I thought we were close," I said, shrugging weakly.

  "You will ride with your father hunting, and talk about laws and governance into the night. Your brother and you.... that's a special bond. Nathan will sit with me looming, and we talk tapestries. He plays lyre. He rides with me, just for the sake of riding, not to hunt. I've got falconry, you have... "

  "Owls," I said, and pulled on my mana to conjure one of the creatures. I kept it small this time, but enough to make the point. She would ride out to catch hares in the daylight with her raptors, I did the same at night. I had difficulty building affinity to the falcons, and horses, and fire, and... I cut myself off there. Thinking about my sorcery problems was taking me away from what Mother was saying. I sent the owl away again, gone with a thought. "I didn't know that Nathan had an interest in looms."

  "It started with tapestries," she said. "Much family history is in the tapestries, which brought him to looming. We talk a lot there, it's very restful."

  That made sense. Where my education was tailored to mesh with other houses and other regions, Nathan was taught everything there is to teach about our own family. I've only ever met Cousin Toby one time, and that man essentially runs the justice system in Meadowtam.

  I crafted cotton and flax, and formed several comfortable padded blankets over the horse's back. She tossed her head back to see what happened.

  "Don't do that," Mother said. "The horses are used to being prepared by hand, she doesn't know what sorcery is."

  "There's several lessons to be learned from this metaphor," I said, sighing. I reached outside the horse's field of vision and crafted a saddle, sized perfectly for her and for me, and hefted it up. She skittished, stepped away from me. "Oh, come on, it's just a saddle! Ordinary leather like all the rest! I know that sorcery-conjured items don't smell or feel any different than normal!"

  Mother rolled her eyes. "She knows there was no saddle there a moment ago. She smelled you create one from nothing. You can just saddle the horse, Natalie."

  "But this saddle is perfect for both of us," I said. "Sized, shaped, even lighter weight. What's wrong with doing things better? I already know that I'm going to be sore and tired in two hours. I'm not good at riding. Just let me have the advantages that I can!"

  "I understand wanting to use your strengths to compensate for a lack of practice in this thing," Mother said gently. "But you're not taking the horse into consideration. And that's making everything harder, not easier."

  Take the lesson. I nodded, and held the saddle where the mare could see it. She had been surprised when it showed up, but she recognized saddles well enough. I moved down the adjoining stall, stepped up on the stile ladder, and from there I settled the saddle over the padding. I went over the wall, and paused there, where she could see me. If she was going to take a step sideways and try to crush me, this is when she would try, and I'd let myself fall backwards over the wall into the straw. She blew a breath and turned away from me.

  I hopped down into her stall, and started moving slowly to cinch the girth, the billet, and the bags. It was lightweight, with a pressed skirt, a low cantle, and I seated it forward of the barrel. More comfortable for the horse at most speeds, but not a great choice if we needed to gallop. The stirrups were worn long, in the western style, so i could just rock with the hips and not stand the stirrups.

  "Your backside's gonna be sore if you let the stirrups out that long," my mother pointed out.

  "I know," I sighed. "But if it's short, I won't be able to walk at all when we get there. I'm gonna pick my poison."

  "What a way to say it! Now, you should probably take the saddle before I unlatch your door."

  Humiliating, but true. I'm not a good rider. So I mounted up. I channeled owl to lighten my body, and it was easy to climb up from the stirrup, the skirt-edge, and then throw a leg over and settle on the stirrups. So easy the mare turned to make sure I was in fact on her back. Then Mother opened the gate so we could walk out into the courtyard. While I was kneeing her around in circles so we could get used to each other, Mother just put one foot to stirrup and threw over the long way, like they do in movies, and made it look graceful and easy.

  Maybe when I get my full growth my legs will be long enough for that.

  She patted the withers, clicked her tongue and the horse trotted off to the road. She didn't even turn her heels. My horse followed hers without me really doing anything. But my mare knew that Mother knew what she was doing, so it followed her lead. My mother waved us up alongside her, and we fell in. She was riding drop-stop style, moving vertically with the horse's gait, where as I was rolling with the shoulders, much more lateral. Her version took a lot more thigh strength, mine could make you seasick.

  I laid the reins over the horn and just held it for a bit of balance, she looped her reins over her wrist. Even when I meet her halfway to try her activities, it seems like everything just highlights how different we are.

  "Your father said that you want to, your words, 'take the fight to them'. You know who to fight?"

  I tensed up. I had to be careful how much I said now. "I do, yes," I said.

  "Snairlin?"

  "I wish it were that easy," I sighed. "But no. If it were just them, I could clear the problem in an afternoon."

  She looked over at me. "What does that mean?" Her tone was guarded, as well as curious. Not quite suspicious.

  "Nothing lethal," I promised. "Not even particularly immoral. Grab some documents from one building, bring them to another building. Unlock a few specific doors, let certain parties know where other parties can be found. Nobody would die, and unpunished crimes would be resolved. But if I did that, it would put out the message that rival houses are problems to be solved. Not a good precedent. And if you're going to open a door like that, knowing you can't close it again, you'd better make sure the enemy you solve is your real enemy."

  "Something bigger," she prompted.

  "Yes," I said, and only that. "More difficult. More dangerous. I could not take them off the board like I could Snairlin. I could not even force them to leave us alone. But I could send a message. I could show them that interfering with our business and politics is one thing, but that threatening the family itself is crossing a line that won't be tolerated."

  "Many people justify revenge in that way," my mother pointed out. Just casually.

  "Yeah," I answered. "I think I may be one of them. And I recognize that 'sending a message' like that can backfire. If I make them feel they are threatened, they may respond like a rat backed into a corner."

  She was silent. "You think there is a risk of escalation?"

  "I don't know," I admitted. "I don't think it's a likely outcome. I think it's more likely that they will tone down the violence. But this I cannot be sure of. And if it does not go to plan, it will affect all of us."

  "I see."

  "And so I asked permission."

  "Because if you were quite certain it would work, you would have taken the initiative rather than asking permission?"

  Why is everyone around me so good at seeing entirely through me?! I get that I'm not a good liar, but still!

  I shrugged, smiled, tried to make a joke of it. "I'm of an impetuous age, these years are for taking risks."

  She snorted derisively, but she did smirk with me.

  "Just, you know," I continued, more subdued- "not when it comes to family."

  Silence punctuated by hoof-clops. The road slid by. The manor was nearly out of sight, a rise of tall wheat pushing up to block all but the roof.

  "You're a good kid, Natalie."

  "Thank you Mother."

  "The carriage played a message, after it abducted us. You were told about that?"

  "Yes. That you were being taken for questioning regarding your disloyal activities against the crown."

  "After the guards were tossed out, the carriage repeated that three times, as it raced off with us. Whoever is behind these attacks, the terracottas and the carriage, they are maintaining a veneer of procedure. Acting under color of law, as they say. We have spoken to representatives of the crown, on the record and off. The king and queen, nor their staff, do not treat our attempts to repeal the taxation proclamation as treason, disloyalty, or any form of low or high crime. It's a procedural effort, nothing more. But some other party is treating this matter as a rationale to take us, with lethal force. The intent to kill is clear, and yet... they are holding back. These are threats. These attacks do not have the all-in aggression of the cornered rat."

  "I have all these conclusions, yes," I agreed. She was going somewhere with this.

  "Some generations back, when your father's family were still ascending the ranks to assume the dukedom, a member of my own family was in an interesting dispute. Allies of Meadwhite were trying to seize a strategic road to put up toll collectors, and my family, recently sworn as cadets to Harigold, held that land and that road. A great number of dirty tricks were traded back and forth, spycraft and sabotage, whisper campaigns and oblique leverage. And the patriarch of my family, a man by the quite unfortunate name of Idnelps, held his own on behalf of your father's ancestors. I'll not recount every incident, it started at cattle-thievery and escalated from there. The enemies of our families took things too far. A banquet was poisoned. Idnelps went to war.

  "Idnelps sent a strongly-worded letter to every house-head of the enemy, demanding that they repudiate this act and assist him bringing the perpetrators to trial before the council. And while they were drafting their letters to justify supporting their ally even after this atrocity, Idnelps hired wizards to pull their castles under the earth and suffocate them in darkness."

  "Oh."

  "The enemy, back then, acted in a cowardly fashion. They had a piece of paper to cover all their formal military actions, and they doctored maps to claim the contested land. They made sure they were never tied to any of the saboteurs or thieves. And when they attacked, they attacked like cowards. Idnelps Daria dealt them all the sort of death that cowards deserve." Suffocating in the dark.

  "And?" I prompted.

  "We have cowards attacking us now, Natalie. And until we are willing to give them a cowards' death, we walk the high road."

  "I understand, Mother."

  The rest of our trip was uneventful. I had ice cream. I could barely walk the next day. The horse and I never did make friends.