Page 104 of Beds and Blades

The energy that had gone toward managing it was now going toward everything else.

Everything else was, I noted, considerably more interesting.

***

The training yard was empty when I arrived. Snow had been swept from the central area, almost certainly by Varia. She was always there before me and had probably been working since dawn.

Winter had changed the yard. The stone looked darker in the cold, denser somehow, as though it had drawn inward against the temperature. Frost silvered the iron fittings on the weapons rack along the eastern wall, making the metal look older than it was.

The practice weapons were arranged with Varia’s usual precision. Every item sat in its proper place. Nothing was wasted or neglected.

Beyond the walls, the Zhaduun peaks rose white beneath the early light. Dark stone showed through on the steep faces where the snow had failed to catch.

Varia was at the far end of the yard, moving through a sword sequence alone. Her dark hair hung loose beneath the winter sky, and her breath clouded the cold air. Even after four months, the economy of her movements could still make me stop and watch. Every motion was the minimum required for the maximum result. Nothing performed. Nothing wasted.

She looked up when I entered and assessed my clothes, then my posture.

She nodded once.

This was Varia’s version of a warm greeting. I had learned to receive it correctly.

We took the horses out first.

Velox emerged from his stall with the resigned patience of a horse who had made peace with winter and saw no reason to complain about it. He regarded the snow with the equine equivalent of professionalism and allowed me to mount without drama.

I climbed into the saddle from the left without thinking.

That was remarkable. I had become the woman who got on a horse, the way a person opened a door or picked up a pen. The action was finished before I had to think about it. Learning had once demanded my full attention. Now the knowledge lived in my body.

We rode into the snow.

Velox’s hooves left clean prints in the white. Varia’s horse moved beside us with the relaxed confidence of an animal entirely at home in winter terrain.

The mountains stood close and white and silent. The cold had stopped shocking me months ago. It was the temperature of the place where I lived, sharp and clear, carrying only ice and the faint woodsmoke of the garrison kitchen.

We trotted. We cantered.

Snow kicked beneath Velox’s hooves. Cold air moved across my face. For once, I was entirely inside my body and entirely inside the moment, without the analytical part of my mind hovering nearby to observe and evaluate every movement.

Varia pulled alongside me.

“You look like you belong on a horse,” she said.

***

We returned to the yard for weapons training.

The sequence Varia had built for me over the past four months was not Skip’s. His style relied on strength, reach, and the confidence that he could overpower most opponents. Mine was faster and more economical. It was designed for someone who would never win through mass or force but could win through precision, speed, and the ability to analyze a threat while it was happening.

In the fall, the sequence had been a collection of techniques I was trying to memorize.

By winter, it lived in my body.

We sparred.

Varia was still considerably better than I was. That was unlikely to change soon, and I had accepted it as a working condition. She had trained since she was sixteen. I had trained for four months. The gap between us was real, and I had no interest in pretending otherwise.

But it had narrowed.