I straightened myself up fully, and pulled my hood up to cover my face again; Enrique shook himself, sprung to his feet, and ran away, disappearing into the crowd. I walked the couple steps that separated me from Adrian’s stall, and stood close to him.

“Hector?” Adrian repeated. “What the hell happened to you?”

I turned to face him, and painted an innocent smile on my face – or as close as that as I could manage, anyway. “Hector? Who’s that?” I said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anyone who goes by that name.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. He clearly wasn’t buying it; he opened his mouth to say something else, but I prevented it by leaning in and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Please, Adrian, don’t make a big deal out of this,” I whispered. “I’ll explain everything, I promise, just… Don’t tell anyone else. Alright?”

He hesitantly nodded, and whispered lowered his voice to a whisper too. “It better be a damn good explanation, man. I mean… You look so different.”

I nodded back. “I know. Details can wait, but long story short, I ran afoul of Prince Izaak, and he had his wizard, Verdun… Change me.”

Adrian’s eyes turned deadly. “He did what?” he asked, in a really serious tone of voice I’d never heard him use before. “Why the hell would he do that?”

“Like I said,” I answered, “I’ll explain everything, but I don’t have much time right now. Next time, I promise.”

“…Alright,” he replied reluctantly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I squeezed his shoulder in a sign of gratitude. “Thank you,” I said. “Now, about those vegetables…?”

“Coming right up,” He said.

He moved swiftly along his stall, gathering the things I’d asked him for in a basket; then he turned to me. “Do you have something to carry these in?” he asked.

“I don’t,” I replied. Sylvie hadn’t given me anything, and it hadn’t occurred to me to ask.

“Okay then, you can have this,” he said, gathering everything in a big piece of cloth and tying it shut. “That’ll be three silver, including the cloth.”

I rooted around my purse for a second, and handed him three silver coins. “Thank you, Adrian,” I said. I grabbed the bundle to carry it away, but he stopped me by putting a hand on my arm.

“I’ll be waiting for that explanation,” he said, looking me in the eye.

“I’ll try not to keep you waiting for long,” I replied. He nodded, and I lifted the bundle onto my shoulder; it was quite heavy, and I took a few moments to find my balance.

“Are you sure you can carry all of that?” Adrian asked.

“I am,” I said. “I’m stronger than I look, don’t worry.” And it was the truth: even though I’d lost a lot of muscle mass to my change, I was willing to bet I was still much stronger than an average woman my size. I nodded goodbye to Adrian, and started to walk away from the stall.

“Teach!”

Oh. No. Gods, no.

I turned around, and saw Fergus standing tall in the middle of the crowd about ten metres away from me, flanked by Enrique and a couple other kids from the swordsmanship school; he was looking straight at me, and had his wooden training sword gripped in his hand.

“Teach!” he shouted again. Conversations stopped all around us, heads began to turn to look at the commotion.

I silently swore to the Gods, wondering what I did to make them so angry; I didn’t need this, not right now.

“Are you talking to me?” I asked, trying to play it innocently, but Fergus wasn’t having it.

“I am,” he said, stepping forward. “What happened to you, teach?” he said, pointing the stick he was holding at me. “We were waiting for you for days, and you show up… Looking like that. What’s up with that?”

I sighed; there was no other way around this.

“I’m sorry, Fergus,” I said, pulling my hood down with one hand. “I know I’ve let you down, and you’re not going to like what I’m about to say either, but… I can’t teach you any more.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sylvie emerge from the crowd, and give me a concerned look. I quickly waved my free hand at her, to dissuade her from intervening.

The look Fergus gave me… Sometimes I still see it in front of my face. It was the face of someone who’d been betrayed on a really intimate level.

“What do you mean, you can’t teach us any more?” he demanded. “You can’t or you won’t?”

I looked around; everyone was looking at us now. If I could just manage to talk my way out of this…

“Both,” I replied. “I can’t, because I have other things to do now; and I won’t, because you wouldn’t want to be trained by someone like me anyway.” I took a deep breath. “I’m done. Go home, Fergus.”

I turned around to walk away. “So what, you’re just going to leave us?” Fergus shouted, but I ignored him.

After a few moments I heard footsteps – running footsteps – behind me; I turned around again, and saw Fergus charging at me, training sword raised, tears in his eyes.

I sighed. Alright. If that is how it has to be…

Fergus’ swing was angry, and sloppy, and with terrible form; even with the heavy load of fruit and vegetables I was carrying, I could have easily dodged it – but I didn’t bother, and stood still, without moving.

The wooden sword slammed into my ribs; Fergus had put all the strength he could muster behind the blow, and I had to take a step to the side to regain my balance and avoid falling over – and I was sure the strike would leave me with a bad bruise, which would take at least a week, if not more, to fade.

Fergus seemed surprised I hadn’t fought back. He tried to step backwards, looking up at me; I grabbed his sword with my free hand to prevent him from getting too far.

“I’d said I would tell you who I really am if you’d managed to land a hit on me,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, though my emotions were all over the place. “Well, now you have.”

I took a deep breath. “I was known as Herik Wagner von Harburg, Commander of the Royal Knights; that is my name no longer.” I spoke each word clearly, so everyone around me could hear it, especially Fergus. “I am now Erica, a maid at the royal palace; this is the punishment Prince Regent Izaak has handed down to me.”

I pulled back on Fergus’ sword, wresting it from his hands – it wasn’t difficult, he had almost gone limp with shock – and tossed it to the ground.

“And that is why I am not your teacher any more,” I said. “Why I cannot be your teacher any more.” I paused, bit my lip in frustration, and then added, “I’m sorry,” my voice finally breaking under the strain of emotion.

I turned around, and walked away, the crowd parting in front of me to let me through. After several steps Sylvie joined me, and we left the marketplace together.

“Are you alright, Erica?” she asked as she walked beside me, her voice full of concern.

I didn’t answer; it took about fifteen minutes, until we got to a less crowded part of the city, before she pulled me into a deserted, secluded alley.

“Erica, are you alright?” she repeated pointedly, staring at me in the eye.

I opened my mouth to reply, but all that came out was a sob and a wail; I dropped my bundle to the ground and collapsed to my knees, letting out all the stress and emotion I’d accumulated in the previous days.

I don’t know how long I knelt there, just crying and screaming, Sylvie patting me on the back, trying to soothe me. All the injustice, all the humiliation I’d suffered came pouring out in a single flood, and I’m glad Sylvie, my friend, was the only one who witnessed that.

After a long while my crying and sobs subsided, and I managed to calm myself down; I took a deep breath, and wiped away my tears.

I looked up at Sylvie. “Thank you,” I whispered.

She looked puzzled. “For what?”

“For being here for me.”

She paused briefly, then smiled. “Anytime, Erica. It’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

I didn’t have an answer for that; I’d never had a friend I could really show weakness to before, not in the way I’d just done with Sylvie. My closest friend before my change had been Andrej: we’d met the first day at the academy, and bonded quickly, but it was still a man’s friendship – we joked around, we chatted about our day, but we never talked about feelings. At all. Neither of us wanted to look… Weak in front of the other.

“Let’s go home,” I said, and stood back up, lifting my bundle of vegetables on my shoulder. Sylvie nodded, picked up her own burden – which, I realised, I didn’t know the contents of – and we walked in silence all the way back to the palace.

After we’d delivered our purchases to the royal kitchens, it was time for lunch; Sylvie asked me to go on ahead to the servants’ mess hall, she had to run an errand first, and so I found myself walking alone through the noble wing towards the servants’ quarters, when I heard a voice behind me.

“Well, look who it is. Hello, princess.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. Oh, no.

I turned around, and saw Tomàs leaning against a doorway, a few metres away.

Fuck. After everything that had happened that morning, Sylvie and I had apparently forgotten the most basic rule: I shouldn’t be alone in the palace, lest someone unsavoury – like Tomàs – find me on my own.

“Why don’t you stop and play with me for a while, your highness?” Tomàs asked, in a mocking tone.

I stared at him. I wasn’t scared, as much as I was… Angry. I’d had a terrible day, and now this idiot was looking to make my day even worse.

“Get lost, Tomàs,” I replied curtly. “I don’t want to deal with you right now.”

The page crossed his arms and his eyes narrowed. “Do you think I care about what you want?” he asked. “In fact, do you think I care about you, at all?”

He straightened up, and started to step towards me.

“The only thing I want for you is some payback for what you said to me this morning.”

I mentally sighed. Here we go.

We’re not dancers, we’re fighters.

I took an easy stance, ready for whatever he might try against me. It would be my first actual fight since my change – Fergus swinging a stick at me without me fighting back didn’t count – but I was confident I could manage someone like him, even with my diminished strength: my training as a Royal Knight involved many techniques that could be used against a larger or stronger opponent.

Tomàs stepped forward, grabbed the collar of my dress with his left hand, and cocked his right arm back to throw a fist.

So he was a bruiser; no finesse, just pure, brute strength. Good.

In a blur of movement, I brought my right hand down to bear on the arm he was holding me with, forcing it to bend, and forcing Tomàs to lean forward as a result; then I stepped forward, and brought my knee up, hitting him in the stomach.

The air went out of him; he released me, and stepped backwards, bending over. I stepped back again, putting some distance between us.

“Had enough?” I asked.

He looked up, at me, anger in his eyes. “Well, that’s fun,” he sneered. “I’ll have you teach me how to do it next time. After I teach you a different lesson, of course.”

He straightened back up, and lunged at me a few times, trying to grab my dress again; each time I deflected his grasping hands with small, controlled movements, stepping backwards to stay just beyond his reach.

Tomàs paused. He’d seemingly started to realise I wasn’t an average maid, someone he could just bully around as he wished. But, considering how rash and hot-headed he was... Maybe I could exploit that.

“You see how it is?” I mocked him. “You better run along now, before someone sees you being beaten by a girl. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

That did it. Blood rushed to Tomàs face, he gave a yell and rushed towards me; I simply stepped to the side dodging his clumsy attempt at a tackle, grabbed him, and used his momentum to swing him around, towards a door frame. He collided with the wood face-first, with a sickening crunch, and collapsed to his knees, his hands shooting up to cover his face.

I slowly let out a breath, and returned to my neutral position. I should probably have just left then and there, taking advantage of him being stunned; I don’t know why I didn’t.

After a few minutes, Tomàs snapped out of his daze, turned around, and looked at me. The right side of his face had taken the burnt of the impact: the skin was red, and I was sure it would turn black in short order – he would sport a shiner around his eye for a few weeks, as a reminder of our fight.

He got back up to his feet. “Why, you…” he said, and drew a knife from his belt. That upped the ante considerably: I would have to be careful not to get cut, so my options had just become limited.

He was about to lunge at me again, when we heard an authoritative voice sound in the corridor. “Tomàs, cease this at once!”

Tomàs clearly recognised the voice, because he dropped the knife to the floor and dropped into a bow; I turned to the source of the sound and followed Tomàs' example, dropping into a curtsy – I didn’t want to anger anyone by not showing proper respect, though I didn’t know who the voice belonged to.

Tomàs cleared that doubt for me. “Baron Eigeis, sir! My lord, I…” he began.

“Silence!” the baron roared.

Baron Eigeis. A relative newcomer to the royal palace, I’d never met him before – he wasn’t part of Prince Izaak’s inner circle – but I knew him by fame: young, brash, he put a great emphasis on honour, respect, and protocol, and his temper was legendary. So he was Tomàs’ employer.

“How many times have I told you not to start trouble!” the baron shouted. “And every time, you start something again! And against a maid! And she even managed to make you draw steel!”

He took a deep breath. “Since I’m your employer, your actions bring shame on me. I’m getting tired of it! I’d warned you last time, now I’ll--”

“My lord, it’s not Tomàs fault,” I said.

Tomàs’ and the baron’s heads both whipped around to look at me, eyes wide – the baron’s with surprise, Tomàs’ with shock.

I don’t know what had possessed me to speak up; I owed literally nothing to Tomàs. But still, I did. Maybe it was the thought of him being punished for his behaviour by someone who was supposed to be his employer, and who should be showing him kindness instead? I have no idea.

“I am to blame,” I continued. “I have insulted Tomàs, though inadvertently; he was just trying to preserve his honour, and yours as a result.”

Baron Eigeis regarded me carefully. “But what about his face?” he asked.

“I tripped him when he tried to grab me,” I explained, “And he fell against the door.” Which wasn’t technically true, but it was close enough to the truth.

The baron didn’t speak for a while, but then said: “What is your name?”

“I am Erica, a maid here at the palace,” I answered.

He nodded, but clearly didn’t recognise the name, or me for that matter – he didn’t know who I was, or who I’d been. “Erica. Come closer,” he commanded.

I complied, and stepped up to him.

I saw the slap coming; as I did the punches – first, second, and third – and then the next slap.

I didn’t know for sure the baron would react that way, though I was ready for it if needs be; as a result, I managed to half-dodge each strike, turning every single one of them into glancing blows, which would leave bruises where they hit, but would do no lasting damage: it was one of the tricks I’d learned over the years, to oversell an enemy’s attack to make them think I was more hurt than I actually was, though I’d never thought I would use it in such a way.

Baron Eigeis kept wailing on me; he was clearly extremely angry, his blows were uncoordinated – all the better, it took less of an effort to pretend they were having an effect. “How dare you insult my page!” he shouted. “How dare you offend my honour!”

After a while he just stopped talking; the “beating” went on for a couple minutes more, with me pretending all the while I was getting hurt. When he was done I was sprawled on the floor, my face, arms, and upper body covered in red bruises. The baron looked down on me, his breathing heavy.

“There must be consequences,” he hissed. He roughly grabbed me and pulled me to my feet. “We’ll see what the Prince Regent has to say about this! Come with me!”

With me and Tomàs in tow, Baron Eigeis walked through corridors in the noble wing of the palace, until we reached the royal dining room; he nodded to the guards standing outside without breaking step, then flung the doors open and strode inside.

“My liege!” he shouted, kneeling to the floor. “I have a matter that requires your attention!”

Tomàs and I dropped into a bow and a curtsy, respectively, but I glanced upwards and saw Izaak sitting at the far end of a large table, frozen in an almost comical pose, about to bite into a chicken leg; his eyes widened slightly when he saw me. The room had been abuzz with conversation when we’d made our entrance – there were several nobles sitting at the table with the Prince Regent – but that had stopped when the baron shouted.

Izaak put his food down, wiped his hands on a piece of cloth, and rose to his feet.

“…Baron Eigeis, was it?” he asked. When the baron nodded, the prince continued: “What is so important that you must interrupt my lunch, baron?”

“I apologise, my lord, but this maid here,” he said, gesturing to me, “Has gravely offended my page’s honour, and through him my own. I have already delivered punishment, but still, I demand satisfaction.”

Prince Izaak frowned. He walked around the table, closed the distance that separated him from me while ignoring the baron and Tomàs, and put his hand beneath my chin.

“Erica. Look at me,” he said. I complied, looking up into his eyes; his frown deepened when he saw my face was bruised.

“Was it Baron Eigeis who did this to you?” Izaak asked. His voice was almost… Worried? “I command you to speak the truth.”

I hesitated for a second, but then replied: “It was, my lord.”

Izaak nodded, and turned to one of the guards standing beside the door. “Send for Healer Gallowan and Master Verdun,” he said. The guard nodded, and scampered off.

Then the prince addressed everyone in the room. “Very well,” he said, in a clear and deliberate voice. “Ten lashes, and one week in the dungeons…”

“Excellent!” the baron exclaimed. “Now--”

“…For you,” the Prince Regent finished, turning his gaze to Baron Eigeis, who instantly went deathly pale.

“My lord?” he asked. “I do not understand. It’s not my--”

“Twenty lashes, and two weeks,” Izaak said, his eyes deadly serious.

The baron gaped at him; his mouth opened and closed, he was clearly at a loss for words.

“Do you want to protest further, Baron Eigeis?” the prince asked. “Shall we make it thirty and three?”

“…No, my lord,” the baron said, bowing his head.

Izaak nodded, then he raised his voice further, and his next words sent shivers down my spine. “Let it be known: Erica is mine. Mine, and no one else’s. No one shall touch her, no one shall lay a finger on her, without my permission. Do I make myself clear?” The last words were shouted, so that everyone in the room could hear.

When no one spoke, the prince continued: “Good. Guards, take the baron away.”

As Baron Eigeis was led out of the room, Verdun and Gallowan made their appearance; Izaak excused himself to his lunch guests, and led me and the two men to a side room, just off the dining hall.

“Inspect her, see if she is… Damaged,” he commanded Gallowan, who nodded, and moved to me.

He spent a few minutes measuring my heartbeat and breathing, and looked closely at my bruises; I could see in his eyes that he understood the damage wasn’t serious, but when he turned back to the prince he said, “I’m afraid it will be at least a week until she is fit again.”

“You mean fit for work, or--” Verdun began, but Gallowan shook his head.

“I mean fit for… Whatever you’re doing to her,” he said, with obvious distaste. “I’ve examined her after the first treatment you did,” he continued, stressing that word, “And I could see it put a great stress on her body; if you try to do anything like that to her now, it could kill her.”

I was sure that wasn’t true – I wasn’t hurt that bad – but I was grateful to Gallowan for the respite he was giving me from Verdun’s attentions.

Prince Izaak nodded. “Alright. We shall wait for her recovery, then.” He turned to me: “You are dismissed, Erica. I will send for you next time I have need for you.”

I curtsied. “By your command,” I said, and left the room, being careful not to turn my back to Izaak. As I was crossing the royal dining room, my head held high, I felt everyone’s eyes on me; they were clearly wondering why Izaak cared so much about me – those that didn’t know who I was, of course.

The dining room’s doors closed behind me; I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, then started down the corridor, towards the servants’ mess hall.