Early the next morning, stuck in the inn while they awaited Lady Yewry’s summons, Sammy and Julie indulged in what the busy days had kept them from doing. Julie went out to the back of the building where there were clotheslines for washing and, mindful of the space, practised with her sword as she stepped and swung, muscles worked but not exhausted.

Sammy joined her there after half an hour, a small smile as she watched. Even though Julie was used to this by now, she still felt the attention on her, but didn’t hate the feeling.

When they returned to the room, Sammy sat on the bed and began reading. Julie hesitated before giving in and undressing. She still faced away from Sammy and glanced over a few times, but never saw Sammy peeking, the only movement the frequent turning of a page. Rushing, she quickly wiped herself down and dressed again.

Julie then went to the innkeeper and, not for the first time forgetting about the language barrier, mimed washing clothes and offered a copper piece of the local currency. The middle-aged lady nodded sagely, then held up two fingers. Julie reluctantly took out another coin.

With the key to the laundry room, Julie popped back to pick up their clothes. It was just, on her way out, she happened to pick up Sammy as well.

“Shall I help?” Sammy asked.

Julie pressed her lips tightly together, fighting the urge to say no, but still not comfortable with saying yes. “Can you… keep me company?”

“Well, I suppose that is one kind of help,” Sammy said, taking a bit of pity on Julie.

However, Sammy’s company was far from helpful for Julie—it was one thing to wash undergarments and quite another to wash someone else’s undergarments in front of them. If Sammy had offered to wash them, Julie may well have agreed.

Once that small ordeal was over, the two went for breakfast, again having a kind of thick soup, full of stewed vegetables and flavoured with fish stock. Sammy found it more palatable this time—to Julie’s silent relief.

Out of chores to do, they went back to their room, both sitting on the bed. Although nothing had happened in the night, Julie still felt a kind of guilt upon seeing the bed they’d shared. It made no sense to her, but, thinking of it as having slept with her lover, she couldn’t escape the euphemism.

A few of the books she’d read back at the barracks had ended with the maiden laying with the hero for the night, and the others had certainly made clear what that had meant when talking to each other.

“Lia,” Sammy whispered, her voice soft and low, almost ticklish.

“Y-yes?” Julie said, sitting up straight.

“I should have said yesterday, but it is likely this will be… a complicated matter.”

Julie frowned. “What will?” she asked.

“The meeting with Lady Yewry. She should be rather wilful and indulgent, perhaps inviting us to stay with her for her own amusement. If fortunate, she may just ask of us a show,” Sammy said.

Julie couldn’t imagine a noble lady being wilful and indulgent. After all, those kinds of words were, well, only for describing commoners. Yes, little Sammy had simply been energetic and ambitious in her antics.

The joke in her head running out, Julie thought seriously and then asked, “What are we going to do?”

“Well, I am perfectly content to turn her down. It just may be… awkward,” Sammy said, a quirk of amusement to her smile.

Julie did not trust that smile at all, but she reminded herself that she did trust Sammy. “You should do whatever you think is best,” she softly said, looking away.

So Sammy did just that and leaned in, kissing Julie’s exposed neck. Julie near enough jumped, that kiss so sudden and ticklish too, but held back her reaction to merely a sharp inhale. Sammy took that as an invitation for another kiss, leaving this one along Julie’s jaw. More ready for this attack, Julie held steady, held her breath.

Rather than another kiss, Sammy finished by simply resting her head on Julie’s shoulder. Somehow, to Julie, this felt even more intimate. She felt the rise and fall of Sammy’s chest with every breath, tickled by the loose hair that spilled over her exposed skin. And there was a hand, a hand which gently crawled along her back, coming to rest on her waist.

A gentle embrace. A most gentle embrace.

Thinking of it like that, a strange thought came to her: None of the books she’d read had ever talked of a gentle embrace. Oh, there had been tender embraces, but those had always involved a crying woman. A reward for the man who had rescued her. Otherwise, embraces had always been strong, tight, that made the woman feel safe. Maybe it even reminded the woman of her father.

But, gently held like this, Julie felt so very safe. Another strange thought, it was like she truly believed that nothing in the world could make Sammy let go. Well, that wasn’t quite right: Julie knew that, if she asked, Sammy would move her hand away without question.

Julie didn’t want Sammy to let go, though. So they stayed like that.

It was a good ten minutes later that a knock broke their peace, briefly echoing in the room. “Who is it?” Sammy lazily called out, staying where she was.

“Lady Yewry is shortly arriving, if our guests could be so kind.”

It wasn’t the innkeeper, but Sammy recognised the manner of speaking as similar to the officials, so she said, “We are only modestly kind.”

Even though Julie had no clue what Sammy had said, she recognised the tone and sighed.

On the other side of the door, the official hesitated, then asked, “Will our guests follow this lowly one?”

Sammy reluctantly sat up, taking back her hand. “How can you be a lowly one when we are sitting?”

“P-pardon?” the man replied.

Giggling, Sammy stood and helped Julie up, the twinkle in her eyes only making Julie more sure of what was going on. “I am sorry, does my joke not make sense? What I mean to say is that we have no standing here.”

“I understand?” he said, sounding very much like he didn’t.

Sammy played no more games with him. Holding Julie’s hand, she walked to the door and opened it. “Let us be on our way.”

“Yes,” he said, and it almost sounded like a sigh of relief.

While they walked, Sammy told Julie of the little exchange. Fuel to her mischievous flame, Julie found the “joke” groan-worthy and said, “That’s just terrible.”

“Thank you,” Sammy said.

Julie knew better than to say it wasn’t a compliment.

The official led them through the town over to the archery range they had visited yesterday, which was a different kind of busy today. There was still a crowd of all ages, more women than men with the fishing ships out, but they were back a respectable distance. The range itself was occupied by a handful of young men as well as guards, the latter noticeable for their uniform and the sheathed sword each held at their side.

Most noticeable of all was a young woman on a horse. Julie had to look twice to be sure, though, her hair cut short and she was wearing trousers.

With the official announcing their arrival, Sammy and Julie got through the parting crowd easily enough. Coming up to Yewry, Julie realised that those proud eyes were on her rather than Sammy, uncomfortable with the attention.

“My Lady, these are the two foreigners who took part yesterday. One used a man’s hunting bow, the other a ceremonial war bow, and they both showed competence and grace,” the official said, down on one knee; even though Yewry was atop a horse, he looked straight ahead at the horse’s body.

Yewry had already heard as much—more, in fact. However, she smiled and thanked him and then dismissed him, paying no attention as he stood and walked back, joining the other officials.

No, she still stared at Julie.

“My guests, I am Lady Yewry of the O’keynocker family which manages these parts,” she said before politely gesturing at them. “If I could have the pleasure of hearing your names from your own mouths.”

Of course, it was clear to Sammy who Yewry was talking to, but she knew Julie had probably not learned Dworfen in the last hour. “May we speak Sonlettian?” Sammy asked.

Finally, Yewry looked at Sammy, some surprise on her face. “We may?” she said.

Sammy smiled. Now speaking in Sonlettian, she said, “I am Sammy and this is my lover,” gesturing at Julie.

Julie took the hint and, recognising most of what Sammy had said (“lover” had been one of the first words Sammy had taught her), said, “I am Julie.”

Yewry looked between them for a moment. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Sammy, Mister Julie.”

“Ah, Miss Julie—she is a woman,” Sammy said, her smile polite.

Yewry ran her gaze over Julie again, more intense. “I think you were mistaken in calling her your ‘lover’. Did you mean travelling companion?” she asked.

Sammy’s smile turned wry. “I made no mistake,” she said.

Yewry shook her head with a hint of a smirk. “As you know, I am the one who sponsored yesterday’s competition and have come today to hand out rewards to those most talented,” she said.

Holding up a hand, Sammy shook her head. “No need.”

A crack in Yewry’s mask, her eyes narrowed, even though her smile deepened. “Oh, but I insist. I hear you have already become the talk of the town and I find myself most curious.”

“Only my lover has rewards I desire,” Sammy said.

Cut off before she could even offer anything, Yewry chuckled, bringing up her gloved hand to hide her mouth. “What of you?” she asked, her gaze turned to Julie.

Sammy sighed, but faithfully conveyed the conversation, including that last question, and finished by saying, “Please, do answer honestly.”

Julie had been rather frozen from being pulled into the conversation, but thawed at Sammy’s reassurance. “A bow like the one you used would be good, right?” she quietly asked.

Although surprised, Sammy dutifully relayed that to Yewry. “A war bow.”

And that caught Yewry by surprise too, the corners of her mouth curling. “Well, well, that is certainly a reward. It is just that, as generous as I am, I cannot give away something so precious so simply,” she said.

Sammy knew what that emphasis meant, competent at these little games of conversation. She turned to Julie and had a brief back-and-forth before turning back to Yewry. “In exchange, Julie will show you her skills.” Then, in Dworfen, she said aloud, “A bow and arrows, if you would.”

Yewry clapped her hands and one of the guards offered up his own bow. Julie carefully took it and the arrows that were offered after, bowing her head in silent thanks.

The crowd that had grown docile from the Sonlettian conversation now perked up again, hushed whispers spreading like fire, everyone craning their necks to watch.

At the mark, Julie let out a breath, centred herself, then tested the bow. It felt about as heavy to draw as the one yesterday, only more sturdy and better balanced. If not for the unpredictable breeze, she would have been confident aiming a hundred paces, but the wind didn’t worry her with the target just some thirty paces away.

Arms warmed up from her morning exercises, she cleanly drew the bow and loosed the first arrow. It landed true. Two more followed quickly, all tightly grouped in the centre of the target—the result even better than yesterday. She returned the bow, then went to Sammy’s side.

What she hadn’t seen was how closely Yewry had watched her.

In a burst of movement, Yewry dismounted and came over to them, her eyes sparkling. “Mister Julie, you wish for a war bow? Please, do come for lunch and I shall ask my father for his finest,” she said.

Sammy kept her expression polite despite what she felt. In a step, she put herself firmly between Yewry and Julie, then said, “We have already postponed our travelling to greet you and wish to be on our way.”

“I am sure you noticed that we do not keep war bows on hand,” Yewry said, her tone much calmer now she was addressing Sammy. “The one yesterday was ceremonial and, to be frank, I am surprised it could even be used.”

There was an unspoken tension in the air as they stared not so much at each other as through each other. Sammy felt confident in her read of Yewry, seeing someone so similar and yet so different to herself. Well, she knew that she was rather biased on this matter, perhaps those differences not so great.

After conferring with Julie again, Sammy turned back to Yewry. “Let me be clear: we are well aware of the situation and, with or without your promise kept, we shall be leaving by daybreak tomorrow.”

Yewry, so confident and self-assured, heard this and… felt uncomfortable. It took her a long second to push away that feeling. “Very well,” she said.

“Then we will see you there,” Sammy said, turning away.

One step, two and, on Sammy’s third step, Yewry called out. “Pardon?”

Looking over her shoulder, Sammy said, “We shall make our way to the castle. If all goes well, we should arrive by nightfall.”

“There is—no, please, accompany us back for lunch!”

Sammy held up her hand in a goodbye, her voice drifting back as she said, “We just have to collect our horses.”

Even though few knew what exactly had been said—Sonlettian was slowly becoming a second language along the traders of the coast—everyone could tell by Yewry’s expression that something had happened. The charismatic Little Lady of O’keynocker was not exactly someone often left speechless, but there was no sense of a slight or insult.

So it was with great curiosity that everyone watched Sammy and Julie leave the scene.

While Sammy was used to being the centre of attention, Julie found it uncomfortable, trying to walk behind only for Sammy to always adjust, keeping them side-by-side. After that happened twice, Julie gave up.

Once away from the immediate crowd, Sammy said, “You are still willing to go through with the plan?”

“Yes,” Julie softly said. “I trust you.”

Sammy squeezed Julie’s hand, smiling. “It is just… I have an impression,” she said, her voice trailing off.

“Of what?” Julie asked.

Sammy pressed her mouth into a thin line, thinking it over until they reached the stables, carrying on after paying the stable master. In the quiet of the stall as Julie checked the new horseshoes, Sammy whispered, “I believe… Lady Yewry has taken a fancy to you, thinking you are male.”

Of all the things Sammy could have said, Julie would never have expected that and it took her a few seconds to get over the shock. She shook her head, saying, “What?”

“She was rather stubborn about addressing you as ‘Mister Julie’,” Sammy said. “I also saw how she looked at you.”

“How did she look at me?” Julie asked, frowning.

Sammy reached up and gently turned Julie’s chin until their eyes met. “Similar to how I look at you,” Sammy whispered.

The heat in that gaze certainly reached Julie, teased her heart, hitched her breath, for a moment beholden to those beautiful eyes. Without thinking, she pursed her lips and tilted back her head a touch.

Sammy didn’t take the invitation, mindful of where they were, but she was oh so pleased at how naturally Julie had responded. “I hope you won’t show her the same hospitality,” Sammy murmured.

Julie broke out of it in an instant, her eyes going wide, then she looked away. “O-of course not.”

Sammy had always loved the look of pale skin blushing, but she was now truly addicted to the coppery shade Julie turned, so rich and warm, subtle and pleasing.

Alas, there were other things to do than enjoy the view. They saddled up, collected their belongings from the inn, then set off, Sammy getting directions on where to go along the way. She didn’t follow the directions, but she knew them.

No, they followed the coast some more before turning inland, taking a meandering path. The sparse meadow soon gave way to forested hills. They weren’t in a particular rush, so they were careful to go along the gentlest slopes. At times unavoidable, they dismounted and walked the horses, admiring the scenery.

With Sammy’s sense of direction, they eventually broke onto an actual path, wide enough for a carriage, which then led them to a castle town. It wasn’t much more than a clearing at the bottom of the castle’s small hill, a few dozen buildings scattered along the intersections of two broad roads. Other than a couple of taverns and a stable, Sammy only saw houses, making her wonder if this was where the families of the castle’s workers lived.

From there, it was easy enough to make it to the castle. Sammy had thought they might have to wait, but it seemed that being a moderately well-dressed woman with a noble bearing atop a horse was enough to convince the guards that she and Julie were, in fact, Yewry’s mentioned guests.

The guard was even nice enough to point them to the castle’s stable.

Unlike the castles Julie had seen in Schtat, this one was a whole compound. After passing through the massive gate, there was a huge courtyard with a handful of small buildings and, in the centre, a tall, imposing keep. It was pretty much shaped like a box, the stone blocks smoothed. A grand engraving covered the front, a coat of arms etched across the entire wall Julie could see, giving it a magnificent appearance. As they trotted closer, Julie noticed that the engraving had even been filled with bronze, dull since the sun had already passed overhead.

They left the horses at the stables, then went to the keep. Rather than the large double doors, Sammy led Julie to the smaller door to the side and knocked on it. A butler promptly opened it and invited them inside while another servant went to inform Yewry.

“Where should we wait for Lady Yewry’s arrival, Mr—sorry, I missed your name?” Sammy asked.

“Mr Tsuejee,” he said, then half-bowed and gestured at the chairs to the one side. “Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you very much,” Sammy said, giving him a polite smile.

The small door they came through led to the same place as the double doors: the entrance hall. It was a tall, wide, but not very deep room, several other doors leading deeper inside. While the walls were rough stone, they were decorated with tapestries and ornate sconces, the broad floor half-covered in various rugs and strips of carpet.

“I didn’t expect to be in such presences,” Sammy mumbled as they sat down.

Julie didn’t quite understand and Sammy noticed the confused expression.

“What I mean to say is that, to be perfectly honest, my Dworfen is not particularly great. I did learn how to speak politely to diplomats and delegates, but it was not expected of me to be fluent,” Sammy said, her smile wry.

Unsure of what to say to that, Julie shrugged. “You’ve been good enough so far? And Lady Yewry spoke Sonlettian too?” she half-said, half-asked.

“Especially here on the east coast, they trade a lot with Sonlettier and, where there is trade, there is an overlap of language. The nobility also like to hire foreign tutors,” Sammy said.

Julie nodded along and then, nothing to add, went back to looking around the room. There were a few servants walking through and a pair of guards by the double doors, otherwise quiet.

That didn’t last long.

One of the doors opened and out strode Yewry, now not in her riding outfit, looking much more like a noble’s daughter. Her dress was an almost familiar style to those of Schtat, loose at the shoulders and billowing a bit at the feet while pulled in at the waist. The colour, though, was a dark green and detailed with black strips and ribbons—far from the bright colours preferred by Schtish socialites.

However, Julie didn’t think it looked bad. A mature look. She’d guessed Lady Yewry was around her own age earlier, but now wondered if Yewry was actually older.

As for Sammy, she simply met Yewry’s gaze as the latter walked over, both unflinching. There was an unspoken tension in the air, worsened by the polite smiles both held.

“We made rather good time, perhaps in time for lunch?” Sammy said.

Yewry’s eyes narrowed for just a moment. “I am afraid we have already eaten, but there are perhaps leftovers in the servant’s hall,” she said.

Sammy waved her off. “There is no need for us to intrude upon their leisure, if we could be escorted to the kitchens instead?”

After a long few seconds, Yewry huffed, turning away. With a flick of her wrist, a maid walked over from the edge of the room. “Yes, Miss Yewry?” she quietly asked.

“Show our guests to the kitchens, but treat them suitably as guests of father’s daughter.”

The maid nodded, silent, asking Sammy and Julie to follow her with a gesture. Like that, the two were led deeper into the keep, going to the servants’ corridor and then down a short staircase to a half-underground hallway. Another staircase went further down, but they followed the hallway to a door simply titled “kitchen”.

Sammy and Julie were shown in, then the maid spoke with the chef and he, in turn, spoke to the kitchen maids. Before long, the small table Sammy and Julie were sat at was filled with covered platters. However, Sammy had Julie wait for the chef himself to declare the food presentable; only then did a kitchen maid uncover the platters.

The food went from the familiar sight of grilled fish and roast beef to strange pots of condiments. “Oh, horseradish sauce,” Sammy muttered in Schtish, adding some to her plate. “Do you like spicy flavours?” she asked Julie.

“Um, I don’t know,” Julie honestly replied.

“Try just a tiny bit,” said Sammy and, with her knife, she took the tiniest bit of horseradish paste, smearing it on a slice of roast beef for Julie to try. Tried it Julie did, her eyes prickling and nose burning.

“How is it?” Sammy asked, mouth quirked into an amused smile.

Julie took a sip of water. “Is it supposed to… hurt?” she asked, unsure how else to say it.

“Well, yes.” Sammy glanced at the other pots, her smile turning somewhat wicked as she said, “Let’s try the mustard next.”

Thanks to Sammy’s help with broadening Julie’s cultural and culinary horizons, she actually liked the sauces. It took her a few tries to get used to the bite of the horseradish and mustard, but it really was strangely tasty, giving flavour to the plain cut of beef.

The fish wasn’t a fatty kind and had been stuffed with herbs and butter, an almost creamy taste to it. It was the same case for the vegetables, roasted until they were at their sweetest, then coated in butter. With how rich those all tasted, Julie actually preferred the beef.

To go with the food, Sammy requested tea for Julie and herself—they had rather established by now that water had to be boiled or brewed before it was drank. Of what flavours the kitchen maid offered, Sammy chose camomile.

“The diplomats always brought some as gifts and it’s rather nicer than our daisy tea, I think,” Sammy said.

Julie chuckled. “Yeah, we always used daisy plants just for salads.”

After finishing their lunch, dessert was offered, albeit a choice of biscuit or scone with jam, honey, or cream. Since Julie wasn’t interested, Sammy chose a scone with cream and, not at all mindful of where they were, guilted Julie into trying a bit off her fork.

If either had looked around, they may have caught one of the kitchen maids watching with eyes that said, “If only I had a gentle sweetheart to feed.”

It was a bit sweet for Julie, but she didn’t hate it and she still declined one of her own. So Sammy quickly, yet neatly, ate the rest of the scone, then dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

“Shall we see if we can cause a dispute between our countries?” Sammy asked, her smile mischievous.

Julie wished she could believe Sammy was joking.