“NOBLE’S NAME, I’M GOING INSANE!”

  Cadence rolled her eyes at Oli’s increasingly sulfurous curses, but she kept walking–at least, until she heard the telltale sounds of scratching behind her.

  She whirled on the squire, pointing an accusatory finger. “You need to stop itching!” she told him for the fifth time that day.

  Oli forced his hands away from the red rash that covered his forearms, but Cadence could see his fingers flexing with frustration and the urge to itch anyways. The bumpy breakout was severe enough to partially conceal Oli’s brand, making the sword look more afflicted by plague than blessed by wind.

  Neither of them were entirely sure when the squire had been exposed to itchleaf. Oli was still convinced that it was that bramble-spawn he had stumbled into their first night on the trail. Cadence had certainly heard of bramble-spawn that had incorporated the vile weed before, but she knew it was just as likely that he had brushed up against the wrong bush. There was no way the noble knew how to identify the glossy, tri-tipped leaves.

  “We need to stop early,” she told him. “If I can find a stream, I can help.”

  “How? Another weird gift ability?”

  Cadence rolled her eyes. The former noble seemed to be convinced nothing could happen without a gift to do it. “No. Every kid in the heartlands gets an itchleaf rash at some point. There’s a few things anyone with the right knowledge can do to help alleviate it.”

  Oli fidgeted in place, looking at the ground. Cadence saw his hands twitch in the direction of his rashes, but he was too stubborn to scratch himself while she was watching him. “No,” he decided. “We need to keep moving. Every hour we waste makes it more likely that Egin took wing, and this will all be for nothing.”

  “And what will you do when we find him?” Cadence asked. “Or do you think you can take an Initiate while you’re distracted trying not to itch yourself bloody?”

  “It’s not that bad,” Oli told her, lying through his teeth.

  “Yes, it is. And it will only get worse if we don’t do anything about it. Come on.”

  Cadence didn’t wait for Oli to argue with her. She turned and tromped off into the woods. She had looked at the crude sketch of a map they had taken from the bandits plenty over the past couple days, and she didn’t need to reference it to know which way the stream it showed lay in.

  [Know Direction] - Active, Utility - Learn the direction of true north. No cost.

  While Cadence’s gift of the wanderer wasn’t the most impactful in combat, its utility abilities were shockingly handy, and removing the guesswork of trying to use the sun to figure out their heading was a massive timesaver. It took less than an hour, and two more shouted reminders for Oli to stop itching, to find the shallow stream the map had indicated. Only about ten feet across, it was shallow all the way across, and Cadence would be shocked if it were even four feet at its deepest.

  “I still think we should keep going,” Oli claimed weakly as they approached the burbling little brook.

  “I know,” Cadie replied, weary. She turned to face him again. “The itchleaf has clearly driven you insane, and so I’m taking command of our cadre.”

  “Command? Cadre? There’s two of us, Cadence.”

  “Exactly. And a full half of us have been rendered irrational, so it’s my duty to take over.”

  “Duty? According to who?”

  “Me. Now strip and get in the stream.”

  Cadence had to admit that it was almost worth the days of her companion’s frustrated complaining to see him blanch, and to see the way his face heated up, practically incandescent in the afternoon sun. “Str-no! No! No way! Why would you even–”

  Cadence rolled her eyes, recalling her mother’s annoyance when Cadence had gotten her own itchleaf rash. Of course, she had been seven years old at the time, not sixteen. Still she tried to mimic Ryme’s worn patience as she explained to Oli, “Itchleaf has an oil that affects the skin. When you itch, it spreads the oil–and since you have as much self control as an especially patient toddler, you’ve probably got that oil all over your clothes.

  “So you need to get in the river and scrub, to wash the oil off. While you do, I’ll rinse your clothes out so they don’t just reapply it when you get dressed. Then I can make a poultice to put on the rash to help calm it down a little bit. We’ll bandage you up before bed, and by tomorrow or the day after, you’ll only be as annoying as you normally are.”

  Oliver grumbled, seemingly unable to look her in the eyes. Cadence smirked a little–she just couldn’t stop herself. She felt no small amount of sympathy for the prickly, courtborn noble. She had figured out his long buried secret within hours of meeting, and knew that he–or she–was constantly struggling with the mismatch between the identity he wanted to embrace and the one thrust upon him in Elliven.

  But Oli was also so uptight, and so self-absorbed, that Cadence couldn’t help but occasionally tease him. She justified it to herself as helping to get him out of his shell, forcing him to confront the things he was so much more practiced at keeping hidden, but at the end of the day, it was also a little fun to rub the prickly squire the wrong way.

  “Here, if it helps, I’ll start,” Cadence told Oli, starting to unbutton her own vest.

  Oli’s hands flew up to cover his own eyes, his face somehow blushing an even brighter shade of red, even though Cadence still wore a tunic under her vest.

  “That’s okay!” Oli hastily told her.

  Cadence giggled to herself. “You should really get your hands away from your eyes,” she suggested.

  “No! Not if you’re going to… do that!”

  “Oli, that oil I was talking about is probably on your hands from all your itching. And I promise, if you think itchleaf on your arms is bad, it’s a thousand times worse on your face.”

  Oli dropped his hands as quickly as he had raised them, and at the sight of Cadence’s amusement, he visibly wilted.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Oh, this is just getting pathetic.

  Cadence sighed. “Okay, fine. I’m going to start getting camp set up. You just strip and give me a shout once you’re in the water and I can’t see anything fun anymore, okay?”

  Oliver couldn’t seem to decide if he was more embarrassed or thankful, but at least he wasn’t trying to insist they should keep going anymore. “Okay.”

  #

  Cadence crouched at the side of the little river, her hands scrubbing industriously at Oli’s clothing. She didn’t have anything as convenient as a washboard, but the young adventurer had at least bought a bar of lye soap before she left Jellis, a hard lump of tallow, sand, charcoal and herbs that scoured Oli’s clothing clean quickly enough.

  While she worked, Cadence took the occasional peak up at Oli, sitting uncomfortably in the chill water. She could only see the top of the boy’s chest and shoulders, but she was still impressed. He was even more built than she had thought, his shoulders broad and his arms powerfully muscled, which emphasized the fearsome pattern of his brands, a sword cutting through swirling winds. But he had a sort of self-consciousness that it hurt her to see, the noble arrogance he wasn’t fully cognizant of butting heads with his own discomfort with his body.

  I’m lucky, Cadence mused to herself. My mom supported me when I started trying more lunar expressions, and my build made it easy. Sure, Cadence couldn’t pass for a powerful warrior like Oli even at her most masculine, but her slight build allowed her to eschew as many traditionally solar traits as lunar, making it much easier to emphasize one or the other at her inclination.

  By comparison, she couldn’t blame Oli for being uncomfortable with his own body. His athletic build, powerful frame, the firm lines of his face, even his height, were all things most men would envy. But for an eclipsed teenager, who desperately longed for a body they could feel comfortable in, it would be torture.

  “Cadence?” Oli called over to her. “Are you almost done?”

  Cadence snorted and lifted the squire’s tunic out of the water, examining it. “Maybe?” she replied, unsure. “This shirt is weird, I can’t figure out if it absorbed any of the oil or not.”

  “I doubt it.” Cadence looked up, surprised. Oli had gotten closer than she expected, the water only rising to his abs now, giving Cadence an eyeful of just how firm the boy’s body was. Reluctantly, she turned her eyes away, not wanting to scare him back into the water. “It’s cloth of steel–I bought it back in Jellis, from one of the master weavers.”

  “Cloth of steel?” Cadence asked, examining the shirt again. She started to ask what that was–then smiled to herself, remembering her own abilities.

  [Wanderer’s Knowledge] - Active, Utility - Learn rudimentary knowledge about any single target. May not work on exceptional or rare targets. Minor Focus cost per use.

  Cloth of Steel Tunic - Imbued Craft - Cloth tunic infused with metal-aspected magic, giving the material enhanced durability.

  “Interesting… how tough is it?” she asked idly.

  “About as strong as mundane chainmail,” Oli explained. “Holds up pretty well against cutting and stabbing attacks, and it’s a lot lighter than actual metal armor.”

  “I bet…” Cadence mused. “No potency though?”

  “Not inherently. But–”

  “You have Reinforced Defense, right. That’s a pretty good combo.” Thoughtfully, Cadence looked at Oli’s light-gray traveling cloak, hanging on a low tree branch next to her to dry. “Is that enchanted too? It’s still really clean.”

  “That part is just artifice. A gift from my mentor before I left. It’s supposed to stay clean no matter what. But it’s made from some kind of magic cotton too, to keep it cool.”

  “Good for traveling,” Cadence acknowledged. She remembered thinking that the cloth had felt oddly cool, even in the muggy summer heat, when she had washed it.

  As they spoke, Oli had idly drifted ever closer, and he was now only a few feet away from Cadence, his waistline still below the water’s surface only because he was practically sitting on the stony bottom of the creek. Cadence very carefully didn’t look at him–or at what she’d definitely be able to see through clear water–for fear of making Oli skittish and backing off.

  “Okay,” Cadence announced, placing Oli’s wet tunic on a stone next to her, on top of his other rinsed clothing. “Here’s the soap.”

  Cadence offered the lump of caustic cleaning substances to her companion, still purposefully looking away. Oli’s fingers felt tentative when he took the bar from her hands, as if he had realized suddenly just how close he was.

  “I’m leaving your cloak here,” she told him. “I’ll take your clothes back to camp and get a fire going, get the rest of these drying out. You can meet me there, okay?”

  There was a pause long enough for Cadence to look up at her companion. Oli had drifted back out several feet, sinking back into the water. He had a decidedly odd look on his face, but after a moment he nodded at her. “Okay. And… thanks, Cadie.”

  Cadence winked at the boy. “What else are friends for?”

  #

  When Oli returned to the camp, Caden was still busy, stringing a line between two trees, trying to get it close enough to the campfire to benefit from its warmth without being so close that Oli’s clothes would burn.

  He felt a little guilty that after more than ten minutes, he hadn’t finished yet, but after so much time reflecting on his and Oliver’s identities, the celestial had practically been itching by the time he got back to camp, overwhelmed by the need to be Caden again for a while. Who knew, maybe Oli would be more comfortable with him than Cadence.

  “How do you feel?” Caden asked when he heard the other boy approach, draping the squire’s beaten traveling breeches next to his tunic on the line.

  “A lot better. You were right, the cold water really helped.”

  Caden tilted his head absently. Oli’s voice sounded weird, more subdued and reflective than usual, with an odd lilt, as if he was thinking about every word he spoke carefully. Elder, was he really that put off by Caden being lunar?

  Caden turned, frustration already starting to mar his face, then he froze at the site of… well. Someone. “Oliver” didn’t feel right, not right now.

  The squire was wearing the traveling cloak they had discussed earlier, but it was… different. Various loops Cadence had barely noticed were tied together, or hooked around knots, making the cloak hang around Oli’s entire body in draping layers. It cinched just above the waist, emphasizing a figure the noble didn’t have, while displaying the battle-gifted’s muscular arms and legs. Oli’s hair, still wet, hung longer than it normally did, its usual tangle of curls flattened by the water.

  Caden blinked, and for a moment, he was speechless.

  Oli smiled shyly, the expression looking much more comfortable on their face than it ever had before. “This… was the real reason my teacher gave me this cloak. She always knew that I was… well, me.”

  A playful little smile tugged at Caden’s mouth. “And who exactly are you, then?”

  Oli swallowed uncomfortably, little self-conscious roses blooming in their cheeks. “I… don’t really know. I’ve never had anyone force me to ask myself that before.”

  Caden nodded. He had been right, then. The squire had needed someone to be a little more forceful with her, to push her out of the comfort zone she had hidden behind for so long.

  “Olivia,” Caden decided.

  A ghost of a small danced across the eclipsed girl’s face. “Isn’t that kind of… on the nose?”

  Caden shrugged. “Do you have a better name in mind?”

  Oli–Olivia–snorted a little. “I guess not. I never thought about it before.”

  “Okay.” Caden nodded. “Olivia then. Until you come up with something better.”

  The girl shifted a little in place, looking as different as could be from the imperious boy who had humiliated a bandit leader just a day before. “Olivia… I think I like that.”