The two climbed the stairs in the bluffs in silence, heading for the path above. Even with Linna behind her, Joslyn could practically hear the girl turning something over in her mind, something she itched to say. It was probably about the short sword, about Brick, about when Joslyn might allow her to use the sword regularly.
Growing impatient for the girl to work up the courage to finally speak her mind, Joslyn stopped her ascent and turned to face Linna. “What? Your thoughts are louder than your footsteps tonight.”
“I just w-wanted to know …” Linna stammered. She broke eye contact, fidgeting with the loose thread on her old leather armor. Then she stopped herself, drew in a breath, and looked back up. “I wanted to know if you’re going to need to sleep in the antechamber tonight. Because if you are, I would be happy to give you the cot, and I can spend the night in the servant’s room.”
Joslyn stared at Linna for a moment, then turned away without a word, resuming her climb.
“I understand why the Empress wants to lead the army herself,” Linna said, directing the comment at Joslyn’s back. “As she said, there is so much at stake. And so few people the Empress can really trust anymore. But I understand your worry for her, too.”
Joslyn climbed several more steps before replying. “It is rather bold to eavesdrop upon the Empress of the Four Realms.”
“I didn’t mean to listen in. But your argument was … loud. And the door between the Empress’s bedchamber and antechamber is not as thick as the one between the antechamber and the corridor.”
That was true. Joslyn had learned that about the door between the bedchamber and the antechamber herself. She’d heard Tasia’s … interactions … with Mylla more than once.
They reached the top of the bluff.
“She won’t change her mind, ma’am,” Linna said. “And she’s the Empress. No one can stop her if that’s really what she wants to do.”
“Do not insert yourself into something you do not understand, Linna.”
“But ma’am. I do understand the Empress, just like you do.”
“Linna –”
“She’s going to go no matter what you say, ma’am,” Linna said, her words coming out in a rush before Joslyn could stop her. “The best thing you can do … If she has a right as Empress to lead the army East, you have a right as her guard to go with her. You’re responsible for her safety, after all. So you should just insist.”
Joslyn’s answering glare was mixed with shock. Linna sometimes overstepped when it came to her training, like she had with the short sword, but she’d never spoken out of turn like this when it came to her Commander and Empress. If she was still a slave, she could’ve been beaten within an inch of her life for this kind of impertinence. Even free servants could get beatings from their masters for this kind of speech.
But Joslyn was her teacher, not her master. And she’d been fourteen – no, fifteen – summers once. Had she ever listened to Ku-sai at this age when he corrected her for being headstrong?
“With all due respect, ma’am,” Linna added belatedly.
Joslyn snorted and turned back to the stairs.
“And ma’am? I think I should come with you both when you –”
Joslyn whirled on her. “Don’t you know when you have already said too much? If you were one of my palace guardsmen, speaking that way about the Empress …” She shook her head. “And you are absolutely not leaving this palace, regardless of where your mistress does or doesn’t go.”
“But I –”
“Not one more word, Linna, not one more,” said Joslyn. “Or I swear by Father Eiren I will take that short sword from you and you will never touch a blade again.”
Linna’s fantasy of becoming the next great Mizana must have been stronger than her wish to go on a grand adventure to the East, because she was silent the rest of the way back to the palace. She stayed mum even as Joslyn chatted with the two night guards posted outside the royal wing before they entered Tasia’s antechamber, and still said nothing as she pulled off her shabby, second-hand brigandine and unbuckled her sword belt.
Joslyn watched Linna hang the sword belt carefully from a peg beside her cot. The girl really should have cleaned and oiled the blade before hanging it up for the night, but that would be a lesson for another time.
“We’re still training in the morning at the same time as usual,” Joslyn told Linna.
Linna nodded.
Joslyn hesitated, wondering if she would later regret what she was about to say. But if Linna was going to use the sword with or without Joslyn’s leave, then Joslyn might as well guide and monitor her progress.
“Bring the sword with you when you come to the beach,” Joslyn told her pupil. “If you’re going to keep a sword, you might as well learn how to use it.”
Linna’s eyes widened. “Really, Commander?”
“Do I ever say anything that I do not mean?”
They both knew Joslyn was reminding Linna of her earlier threat as much as referring to training the next day.
“Thank you, Commander. Thank you so much.” Linna grinned broadly, and Joslyn could practically see the excitement vibrating through the girl. “I will be ready.”
But then Linna’s smile faded, and she glanced from Joslyn to the cot.
“Keep your bed,” Joslyn said, answering the unspoken question that passed between them.
Linna nodded, climbing onto the narrow little bed as Joslyn turned towards the door to Tasia’s bedchamber.
“Sleep well, Commander.”
Joslyn doubted she would. “And you, Linna.” She paused at the door, taking a breath before pushing it open.
Inside, Tasia’s lanterns and candles had been snuffed out for the night; what was left of the fire smoldered soft and red within the hearth.
Joslyn closed the door softly behind her.
Tasia was an amorphous dark shape beneath the blankets, chest rising and falling rhythmically. As quietly as she could, Joslyn stripped her armor and undressed down to her undergarments, brushing the sand from her skin as she did. Tasia hated it when she got sand between the sheets. At last she crawled beneath the covers, keeping to the bed’s farthest edge.
But clearly Tasia had not been so asleep as Joslyn had thought. She rolled over as soon as Joslyn climbed in, reaching out a tentative hand to touch Joslyn’s shoulder.
For a few seconds, neither of them moved or spoke.
“I’m sorry,” Tasia whispered at last. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you as I did.”
“And I should not have raised my voice. Or mocked you,” Joslyn said.
The dying fire popped and crackled in the hearth. Joslyn listened to it for nearly a full minute, Tasia’s hand still on her shoulder, before finally adding: “I am afraid for you. That is why I said what I did.”
“I know.” Tasia wiggled closer, fitting the front of her body against Joslyn’s side and resting her head on Joslyn’s shoulder. “I’m afraid for me, too.”
Joslyn worked her arm beneath Tasia’s head, and Tasia curled into her like a cat.
I still don’t think you should go,she wanted to say, but there’d been enough arguing for one night.
She wasn’t sure which of them fell asleep first.