Rather than sitting in the twilight garden right under Melisend’s window, Aelfeva and Josceran used the casual sitting room behind the reception room, but left the door to the garden open. The breeze had picked up considerably and held a hint of moisture that promised rain, making the scent of the flowers heavier.

“If it rains,” Aelfeva said, “and Sadrilde wants to be indoors but away from your father, she can come stay in my room.”

“She might take you up on that. Light rain doesn’t penetrate her fur, but she’s not fond of getting truly wet.”

“She’s a cat. When it rains, all the barn cats stay inside and sleep in the hayloft. So. I believe that just before we were interrupted by Herlinde’s summons, you were about to explain to me why you are so adamant about not living in your father’s house.”

“Was I? I don’t think I was.”

“Yes you were. Believe me, you bloody well were. I’ve been in it, you know. It’s quite a nice house and much larger than one man needs. Even one man and his housekeeper and her assistant. When she has one. Now it turns out my father was unhappy about Leo living there. What is going on?”

Josceran said nothing for so long she began to wonder whether this was another seidkona silence curse. She wrapped her hand around his.

“His temper is... worse than the rest of Rosebridge knows,” Josceran said finally, his voice very low.

Aelfeva felt her hand tighten. “How much worse?”

“He... when you’re small and the most powerful figure in your world threatens worse if you tell... you believe him. Most of the bruises you’ve ever seen on Ferrand and I... they’re not from the mill. Or the sheep.”

Aelfeva bit down hard on the foulest swear word she knew. “And while you could have brought charges, and my father could have appointed someone to speak for you—Ximeno, maybe, he wouldn’t be easy to intimidate—by the time you knew that, he’d already made sure you wouldn’t. Because humans can be trained the way any other animal can. I don’t know whether he broke Ferrand’s leg when we were small but that kind of behaviour... that’s not going to be good for healing properly. That’s it. I really am going to kill that man. Slowly and painfully.”

“He’s not worth the consequences. He was never going to consent to Ferrand getting married and he was very clear about wanting Leo and I and especially whatever property she brought to live in his house. I... there’s a reason no maid stays there for long. He frightens them and their families too much for anyone to charge him. The housekeeper’s having more trouble every time to find someone to hire. That’s why she’s alone right now.”

Melisend, on the other hand, had no difficulty finding young women hoping to work for a contracted year or two or three in return for a boost to their marriage settlement at the end, with or without room and board and clothing as part of the deal. She accepted as many as she could, made certain they left knowing domestic skills and farmstead management, and tried to be generous at the end. She considered it her responsibility as the wife of the reeve and to carry on Glaedwin tradition. If she sometimes had, and voiced, opinions about their chosen husbands, well, that wasn’t a surprise, really, and as far as Aelf knew, she’d only once made it a condition of employment to find someone else.

“I know which part of him I’m cutting off first.”

“He lost, Aelf. He can’t find a way out of Herlinde’s orders. He can’t refuse to give us a marriage settlement. Like your father said, there are laws about that, and if it goes so far it becomes a legal matter, there’s a heavy fine involved, which he might have to pay twice. He’s about to have no more power over us. He’s not worth it.”

“And that’s where the vicious mood comes from. He is a reprehensible excuse for a human being. I think I might be a lot less angry over all this bridge marriage stuff, if it gets you and Ferrand out of there permanently. And got you home. All right. If he won’t hand over the mill, my father will find us a place we can build on anyway, and until then, we’ll stay in my family’s house.” She was not having him go back into a house with memories like that lurking in it, even if she had no doubt that she could keep herself safe—she was not a frightened child who had learned that there was no escape, nor a maid who might feel pressured to keep quiet so she wouldn’t lose a job and therefore an income she or her family needed.

“He made a mistake sending me away,” Josceran said. “He thought I’d end up with my spirit broken. I was too angry for that. Mostly. There were... there were bad moments when it’s a good thing Sadrilde was there.” His voice cracked; she shifted closer to him on the comfortable padded bench so she could wrap an arm around him, not letting go of his hand. “She... the seidkona there... made sure I couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t have anyway. I’d get disinherited and that would leave Ferrand alone. Even more alone than being here while I was gone, and I had nightmares about that. But my father hitting me... that stopped scaring me. I know I can survive worse than that. The only leash he still had was inheritance, and if I’d been able to, I would’ve come back to get Ferrand and talk him into leaving anyway. Or both... both of us finally charging him. Or... something.”

The logic was tangled. It didn’t matter. What he meant was clear enough.

“We might be able to find a way to bring charges against them,” she said. “If you won’t let me ride off north for a quick bit of vigilante justice. I bet Sadrilde would help me find them.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think they broke any laws. Technically, I had shelter and food and clothes, just not quite enough of any of them. Technically, I was working for them, and I doubt there are laws about how much work is reasonable. Or about the odd beating for failing, even when there’s no possible way to get it all done. And magic is in a slippery place with the laws up there. It was bad. It could have been worse. They weren’t actively trying to kill me or cripple me or anything like that, just make me so miserable I’d be grateful to my father when he brought me home. There were some moments that were downright funny, when they were certain I couldn’t possibly do something in time and it got finished. Sadrilde found ways to use her bit of magic and her friendship with other trollkind and the hidden folk—and how little they all like that seidkona—to get me as much help as she could. I’m still alive and still too obstinate to be obedient. My father is a very bad man, I am not letting you spend even one night under his roof because I’m quite certain only one of you would see sunrise, and Ferrand and I are both all right despite everything. All right?”

No, it wasn’t right at all, but rage wasn’t good for thinking through what to do about it. She had every intention of confronting Giefroi, but it couldn’t be now. So she nodded and let her arm fall from around him, still holding his hand. “I wish... oh, you know all that. That it hadn’t happened. That we’d known. That we’d helped somehow.”

“I know. Now. You have your answer. None of that is immediately relevant and it could have waited. Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?”

She took a deep breath, forcing away the fury by promising herself a chance to indulge in it later, when it would upset Josceran less. “Not that’s at the top of my mind.” She raised her voice. “Sadrilde?”

The cat bounded up on the bench beside Josceran so quickly that Aelfeva jumped—there was no way she’d made it in from even their own garden that fast, but when had she slipped inside?

“I don’t know what conditions you need for changing,” Aelfeva said, “but there are possibly people around so please don’t. I’m nervous about something that will probably sound stupid but I’m hoping you know. Will you try to help?”

Sadrilde, curling herself in Josceran’s lap, made a trilled noise, the pitch climbing.

“That’s yes,” Josceran said, stroking the cat’s fur. With the sun low, it was too dim inside for the blue shimmer to be visible. “We worked that out ages ago.”

“It feels like it should be a small thing but... is Dragon going to even recognize me if I’m a woman?”

Sadrilde trilled again, without hesitation.

“Really? I look different, sound different, smell different...”

Sadrilde just purred.

“If it goes past yes and no,” Josceran said, “it gets tricky fast. You’re better off accepting that answer and waiting for an explanation with more detail until she can change.”

“Which is when?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s complicated. I’ve only ever seen her change at night. I think there are other factors but I don’t know what they are. Possibly her mood is one of them.”

“Well, she’s a cat, so I suppose it’s not a surprise. I would prefer to know why she’s sure Dragon will still know me, but I can be patient.”

“You weren’t going to base a decision on Dragon, were you?”

“No, but... he matters to me. If losing his trust is a factor, I need to know that.”

“If Sadrilde thought there was a risk of that, she’d tell you. Right, Sadrilde?”

The cat trilled, though she was melting into a happy pale-furred puddle under his hand.

“Which is reassuring.” She sighed and let herself drop backwards against the wall, wishing she was outside so she could just flop on the grass. “I actually know the answer. I think thinking about it is more like... well, like trying to chase off the fear and the doubt so I can get ahold of it with both hands. It isn’t talking myself into or out of anything. It’s finding the courage to trust myself that I’m not about to make an enormous mistake. And to tell the truth when Herlinde asks.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And it is really terrifying.”

“I don’t have the slightest doubt about that.”

Sadrilde pulled herself together enough to nuzzle at Aelfeva’s hand, then freed herself from Josceran and carefully climbed up to plant her forepaws on Aelfeva’s collarbone, hind paws on her thigh, purring so hard her whole body vibrated.

“If it isn’t obvious,” Josceran said, “she’s trying to show her support and be comforting.”

“I got that, but thanks.” She ran her hand down the cat’s spine, and Sadrilde pressed against her. “And thank you, Sadrilde. If I trusted you less, Jos, or the others... I don’t know. I’m not sure I could do it alone.”

“I think you don’t know what you can do until you have to. Fortunately, we don’t need to find out how hard it would be to do it alone.”

“I haven’t at any point felt like a man in a woman’s body. That wasn’t even what the initial shock was about. I don’t know if I ever felt like a woman in a man’s body, I didn’t know that was even possible. I didn’t know anything I felt wasn’t more or less universal, except the thing about not being able to figure out attraction and all, so I never really looked at it or tried to figure it out. Do you suppose some people are just... born wrong, somehow? ”

“Why are people born where, when, who, how they are... do you really think anyone knows? Maybe the gods do, but I’m not even sure of that.”

“You’re probably right. It would maybe just make it easier to explain to my parents. ‘Yes, well, Ferrand and Guillen are getting married, and Herlinde said I could marry you as a man but, um, I told her not to change me back because based on a couple of days’ experience I feel more like me as a woman.’ That will be a fun conversation.”

“It’s not just feeling more like you. Or maybe it is, but it shows.”

“How?”

Josceran shrugged. “You just look, and act, more at home in your own skin. And it’s getting more noticeable all the time. Maybe there was some adjustment that needed to happen, or the shock needed to wear off. They might be refusing to see that. Or they might just not know what to make of it, since you haven’t really been talking to them about how you feel.”

“Vituccia might have noticed something. I didn’t realize that I was acting differently.”

“You aren’t. Anything from how you play nine men’s morris to what you did with that stallion are absolutely typical of you. It isn’t what you do. Just sort of... how you do it. It’s hard to explain.”

“You think it’s the right choice.”

“I’m saying only that it is not a surprising choice, considering what I’ve seen and what you’ve said. Whether I think it’s right or not doesn’t matter.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“Also not surprising.”

Sadrilde made a cheerful mrrrping noise and expanded upwards somehow to tuck her head under Aelfeva’s chin.

“If you want to avoid Giefroi,” Aelfeva told her, “you’re welcome to sleep here. It feels like it’s going to rain.”

Sadrilde gave her a bump with her head, under her chin, then melted slowly against her. Josceran let go of her hand so she could use one arm to support the cat.

“She likes you,” Josceran said.

“It’s mutual. Which is good, if we’re all going to be sharing a house. I decided. No more thinking. If I’m going to sleep, I need to work off some energy.”

“Well, I could make a suggestion or two...” He said it with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

“Even I know what you’re implying. My mother is asleep upstairs and my father could come home any time. Would you like to rethink that?” Although without that consideration, it was an intriguing idea that elicited memories of kisses and wrestling, and the fact that it was intriguing was in itself something to ponder. She didn’t really need more evidence that she was making the right choice, but there were other reasons to experiment.

Josceran laughed. “I surrender. Let’s see if we can find Guillen. They’re likely in the garden.” He went out the back door, and she heard him whistle, heard him say, “Coming over,” and then he came back indoors. “Someone’ll let us in.”

“I, um, seem to have a liquid in the form of a cat on me.”

Josceran scooped Sadrilde up into his arms. “I’m sure you can get lots of petting while Aelf and Guillen thump on each other.”

“Did I leave my... oh, good, I did.” She retrieved her practice sword from a corner under the stairs. “All set.”

It was Ferrand who let them into the Cristoval reception room.

“Good dinner?” Josceran asked.

“Surprising dinner. We told them about what we’re hoping for. Apparently they knew about Guillen and me already and are fine with it. And are fine with Dara and Leo. And Ximeno heard about you, Aelf, while Vituccia was talking to your parents, or something?”

“It sounds like she terrified them and made them feel guilty,” Aelfeva said. “Probably more so than they really deserve, but it’s hard to be precise about responses. They’re being much more helpful and positive now.”

“Oh, good. And Ximeno told us about an eastern goddess who’s... really not anything I’ve ever heard of.”

“Not sure how a goddess is relevant,” Josceran said, “but that’s all great. I am not in a hurry to run off and talk to our father about anything, let alone who I’m marrying and how and who you’re hoping to marry. Anyway. Aelf finally came to some conclusions and is still too tense to sleep tonight without a way to work it off.”

Ferrand nodded. “I don’t know how long we’ll have until it rains, and believe me, it is definitely going to rain soon, but let’s see what we can do until then. This room’s narrow but so is the garden, I wonder whether we could make do indoors if we need to?”

The twilight garden held not only the three Cristoval siblings, but Richold next to Teoda, and also Ximeno and Vituccia; the latter welcomed them with a smile.

With quick greetings over, Aelfeva looked at Guillen. “Done thinking, decision made, but seriously restless. Help?”

“I’ll get my sword,” Guillen said, getting up and vanishing inside.

“Having an answer has to be a relief,” Richold said.

“It’s still bloody terrifying,” Aelfeva said. “But yes. And no one’s even asking.”

“Possibly because you’ll tell us if you want to,” Teoda said. “Or possibly because we already have a pretty good idea what the answer is. We don’t know everything you’re feeling, but sometimes it’s really visible, and we don’t have that fear you just mentioned dragging at us.”

Guillen must have left his sword downstairs too, given how quickly he returned. “Not switching clothes this time?”

Aelfeva shook her head. “They don’t fit and they aren’t comfortable and I’m in constant danger of something slipping and tripping me. I’m better off in a dress that actually fits properly.”

“We can modify trousers and shirts for you,” Teoda said. “For you to wear while you’re working with the horses. I’m no good with leather, but you could probably modify a jerkin for yourself.”

“Sounds useful, and thank you.”

They knew exactly which choice she’d just made. Somehow.

That was what came of having friends who knew you better than you knew yourself and could read you even when you were confused and conflicted.

“I’ve seen women who could fight like fiends even in more hampering clothes than that,” Ximeno chuckled. “That’s got no bearing at all on anything.”

“I lost some strength,” Aelfeva said. “And some reach. That could.”

“And picked up,” Guillen added, “some speed and agility.”

“Might’ve lost upper body strength,” Ximeno said. “Men tend to have stronger arms and shoulders. Women’s strength tends towards lower body. That and that lower centre of balance can be a really useful combination. It just means changing your approach.”

“Really?” Aelfeva said thoughtfully. “I’ll see what I can do with that.”

Josceran sat down next to his brother with Sadrilde in his lap, but she climbed over Ferrand, interrupting him in rubbing his sore leg, and prowled over to claim Ilduara’s lap and accept worship from her for the moment.

Instead of Aelfeva facing only Guillen, they traded off, much as they had with the nine men’s morris game: whoever lost sat down for the moment, and someone else took over. Teoda and Ilduara and Vituccia didn’t, but Ferrand could hold his own as long as he hadn’t pushed himself that day, and he made Aelfeva work for a win. Cheering was fairly impartial, and Ximeno sometimes had suggestions to offer—and even took a turn against Aelfeva himself, once, which was exhilarating and difficult and she lost completely but didn’t mind because she finished with a better idea of what she could do now, her own primary teacher leading her in directions that forced her to experiment.

Sparring in a dress took a little adjusting, but actually hampered her less than badly-fitting clothes had the night before.

The rain that had been teasing them, spitting a few drops here and there but never enough to feel significant, worked itself up to begin in earnest. It started moderate but escalated rapidly.

They scrambled to gather themselves and anything they’d brought outside, and get into the Cristovals' lower sitting room as quickly as humanly possible. Sadrilde beat all of them, sitting on the couch and licking her damp fur dry in disgust.

“So much for that,” Josceran said. “Aelf? Feeling better?”

Aelfeva nodded. “I can probably sleep now. I’d better be able to, I don’t think we’re going to be doing much more tonight.”

“All right. Here, you said you’d watch her for me if it rained, so she’s away from my father.” He gathered up Sadrilde and offered her to Aelfeva, who handed her practice sword to Richold and accepted her. “If we all wait a little, maybe it’ll ease up and we can run for home during a lull. But you don’t all have to wait.”

“I’ll stay and lock the door,” Guillen said to his parents and sisters. “You can head off to bed if you like.”

The rain did slow, at least somewhat. Aelfeva hunched over the cat in her arms, trying to shield her and keep her dry, while they bolted the short distance back to the Glaedwin townhouse. Aelfeva released Sadrilde, and she and Richold both made use of the privy before climbing the stairs upwards.

“I’m glad you have answers now,” Richold said. “I don’t care what they are as long as they’re what you need. And I am absolutely at your back, just like always.” He stole a quick hug, and vanished into his own room.

Smiling, Aelfeva went in hers, and stripped so she could hang her damp dress and chemise on the pegs. After a quick wash in the basin, she covered the sun-crystals, then opened her window far enough that she figured a cat Sadrilde’s size could fit through the space if she wanted to. The door of her room she left ajar so the cat could come in once she finished exploring.

She fell asleep listening to the rain, without even thinking to put on a shirt.