Small Magic

[Josette]

There was something so pretentious about castles.

So many of the castles Josette had visited were flashy affairs. They loomed far taller than they needed to, clearly compensating for something, if you asked her. Ornate stained glass caught the sun, spilling colorful patterns of light into long hallways. Tapestries adorned the walls, rugs lined the floors, and suits of armor that had never seen battle stood guard over nearly every room. Castles were fine, Josette admitted, when serving their intended purpose. These castles were for entertaining, for showing off, not for withstanding an attack. They cried, “look at me, I have enough money for twenty-seven horse-hair couches, an indoor grotto, and countless paintings of regal-looking people I have never met.”

This castle at least, Josette decided, was not the worst she had seen. The gardens were small, consisting of only the heartiest flowers and shrubs; no doubt there were only a handful of warm weeks in the Salvarian summer. She could see no stained glass, and there were no unnecessarily high towers to speak of. Yet the stone that formed the structure, while old, appeared nearly perfect. This castle, by Josette’s estimate, had seen hundreds of years of peace. What was the point? she thought dryly.

The same thought could be applied to the situation she found herself in. Josette Hawkes, brightest mind of her class, and certainly the best swordswoman, babysitting a royal brat. Her jaw worked as she reflected on it. What business did she have escorting a little girl anyway? Given the mass destruction she had been party to only a week before, she was better off escaping to a different region of Althanas entirely. That had been her plan, but when she had noticed the bulletin in the small town she was hunkered down in, the money was far too good to pass up. The work would be easy, and the pay would keep her set for months. More importantly, it would help her escape the prying eyes of Salvar. But that did not mean that the arcane knight was eager to tow a child around.

Josette heaved a sigh, raking long, thin fingers through her raven hair. The sudden movement startled the horse who stood beside her, and while he was too well-mannered to rear, he gave a snort of discomfort. Her heart, and her expression, softened. “Sorry,” she murmured, watching the bay gelding’s big ears cease their nervous swiveling, now entirely tuned into her. “I did not mean to scare you.”

Her mount gave a low nicker, akin to an annoyed grumble, and she could not help but laugh. “I appreciate the forgiveness,” she told him, fingers now reaching to scratch under his curb strap. The neatly trimmed whiskers told her that the horse had been recently cleaned up for his job. At least she could appreciate the attention they paid to their horses. So many others did not.

To her other side, a second gelding appeared to doze; his left rear hoof hovered lazily just above the hard-packed earth. This one was a soft gray, which played a sharp contrast to the black saddle and bridle he wore. This would be the princess’ mount, clearly mild-mannered enough to handle even a young girl. Josette hoped her charge knew how to ride. It would be a long three days if she had to keep chasing the girl down when her horse spooked, or scooping her up if she was thrown. Josette loosed another sigh, though this one was quieter, so not to frighten the horse. Who was she fooling? It would be a long three days regardless.

[Nicolette]

Just inside the castle, a young woman and an old man faced off.

“I will be fine!” Nicolette rounded on Alexander, finding his mouth open, one scolding finger lifted in the air. It seemed she had predicted his words before he found them, which took little skill, as they had practiced this routine dozens of times. His expression tore a peel of laughter from her. “Heavens, Alex,” she managed between giggles, “you behave as if I am going traipsing all over Althanas.”

“It certainly feels that way sometimes.” His confession came with a small, yet genuine smile. “It feels as if you spend more time away from home than you spend here.”

As her adoptive father rarely displayed emotion, even the smallest hints of sadness or regret were never lost on her. Her small hand patted his arm gently, as if to reassure. “I will be fine,” she said again. "You are as bad as Josephine with your fussing over me."

At this, Alexander's smile grew. "So long as I am not as bad as Theodore." Theodore was Josephine's husband, and the Boyar of Caershire. While Alexander had full custody of Nicolette, Theodore and Josephine had been as close as family after her own parents had died.

Nicolette beamed back. "No," she agreed, "you are not that bad. But you are close." She stretched up to give the man a kiss on his whiskered cheek. As she pulled away, he caught her arm.

"Listen," he murmured. "I know as well as anyone what it means to travel for work. I am so proud of you, Letty, for following in my footsteps. I am proud of the woman that you are becoming." At eighteen, she was already a woman, but she saw no need to interrupt one of Alexander's rare sentimental moments. "But I do worry," he continued. "I worry even more because you do not have Xander with you."

"Xander had to go ahead to Knife's Edge, to make preparations for the conference." Kindly, she added, "you know it was necessary for him to meet the other delegates. And you interviewed the woman who is meant to escort me yourself. You know I am in good hands." Excitement lit her amber eyes at the thought, and she added, "what is she like?"

"Quiet," came Alexander's knee-jerk response. "Sturdy. Young, but she is a knight, and has excellent references."

"Young?" Nicolette echoed with wonder. "A knight?"

This response was what Alexander had hoped for when he hired on Josette Hawkes. "And she is outside, waiting for you."

With a squeal that was far from regal, and altogether too childish, Nicolette enveloped her guardian in a fierce hug, and all but flew to the front courtyard.

[Josette]

A wooden door to her right was thrown open, and a woman like golden sunshine poured out of it. Her pale skin seemed to shimmer beneath the summer sun. Her long blonde hair was so thin, so fine, that it flowed out behind her. It continued to hover even as she slowed to a halt.

"Josephine?" the knight inquired slowly, glancing around her to check for a child. Was the tiny princess in tow?

The stranger blinked back, but as realization dawned, she shook her head. "I am flattered, truly," she stated, "that you might confuse me for someone so lovely. But no, I am afraid not. I am Nicolette."

Now the confused expression leapt to Josette's face. "What?" she stammered. Her rigid calm fell away as she grappled with the truth. Forgetting herself, she demanded, "how old are you?"

"Eighteen, " Nicolette answered easily. The question no longer offended; a lifetime of being wise beyond her years desensitized Nicolette to such things.

Only a year younger than herself, Josette thought. She shook her head, as if to help rid it of the panicked confusion and creeping embarrassment. Back to business, she commanded. Back to the familiar. "Your bag has already been secured to your saddle. Am I to understand the rest of your belongings were sent ahead?"

Nicolette nodded, sending fine strands of her golden hair floating. "Yes. Xander took it with him when he left last week."

A love interest? Josette mused with only mild interest, and even that died away quickly. It was none of her business. "Alright then," she said plainly, unsure of what other formalities required attending to. She was just as happy to be on her way. "Do you need help mounting?"

Someone with less class, and less kindness, might have berated Josette for such a question. Having grown up among royalty, it could be assumed that Nicolette knew how to ride. This was especially true in her case, as all locals knew the Boyar's affinity for the four-legged companions. Nicolette had ridden her first horse within a week after being taken into the man's care. But Josette, clearly a foreigner, would have no knowledge of this. And besides, belittling others was something the soft-spoken young lady tended to avoid.

"No, thank you," she replied, finally. "I have ridden a few times." There was no sarcasm in her tone, and the only indication that she had undersold herself was the natural ease with which she swung into the saddle. Josette was impressed, and though she thought as much as she mounted herself, her expression remain placid. The pair fell into silence as their geldings marched, stride for stride, toward the southern gate.

[Nicolette]

Though the landscape was familiar, Nicolette found immense pleasure in merely observing as they moved along. Towering firs and swaying maples dotted the landscape in equal parts. The rolling hills they climbed and crested grew steeper to their north and west, approaching the Sulgoran Steppes and Wolves Fang mountains. For as long as she could remember, Letty had been enchanted by the nature that surrounded her; she had always felt at home among the whispering leaves and the winding paths. This had been especially true after her parents had died. The castle had become her home, but she had found solace in the wilderness first.

"This is Wolf Trail," she explained conversationally, turning in her saddle to face her companion. Not a single word had passed between them in three hours. The quiet had not fazed Nicolette, as she was content to enjoy the scenery. But as she watched Josette flinch, startled by the sudden comment, the blonde realized that the other woman had been far, far away.

She spoke again, softer now. "Or did you already know that?"

"No," Josette muttered, slipping back into her cool composure as if it were a change of clothes.

Nicolette nodded. "So you're not from around here.

The answer came again, and just as short as before. "No."

Alexander said she was quiet, Nicolette reminded herself. There was no reason why the girl should be offended or upset by her escort's curt, businesslike behavior. She had hoped to inquire about Josette's hometown, as curiosity now had its sharp talons in her, but she decided against it. Pushing a woman who already did not care to speak could only end poorly.

The blonde loosened her hold on the reins, letting them droop lazily, and giving her gelding his head. With an appreciative snort, the horse gave a toss of his dappled gray mane. She laughed. "It has been a while since I have taken Willem for this long of a ride," she told Josette. "We used to spend hours roaming Caershire, but I am just too busy these days." Her sigh was soft and filled with nostalgia. "I certainly miss the freedom sometimes."

Though she turned to watch the trail ahead, she studied Josette from the corner of her eye. If anything Nicolette had said had piqued the woman's interest, she gave no indication. She remained expressionless, her features seemingly carved of stone. Wondering how someone could be so uptight on such a beautiful morning, Nicolette tried again. "Your gelding's name is Maxus. Theodore, the Boyar, rides him quite often." She had thrown his title in for Josette's benefit. "He is a great horse."

"He is," the knight agreed.

Josette said nothing more, but Nicolette had to turn away to hide her small smile of success. Perhaps they had finally found some common ground to stand on.

[Josette]

Theodore, the Boyar, Josette mused when Nicolette finally fell silent. Not father, or dad, but a name and a title. This intrigued the woman, though there was no outward display of that fact. And what did a princess know of being busy? Castles were strange, she reminded herself, and so were the folk who lived within their stone walls.

She let the heels of her boots drop in the stirrups, settling her deeper into her seat. It was a nice saddle, wide and smooth, a far cry from the mere slips of leather she had used during training. Her ride was an easy one, and without any uncomfortable aches, or unsettling jolts from her mild-tempered mount, Josette was able to slip back into memory.

The events of the previous week had left a stain on Salvar that she worried would never be scrubbed clean. The Boyar of a nearby province had assembled a band of mercenaries, meant to collect payment from an especially troublesome town. As the people fell within his jurisdiction, they were required to pay his taxes, and they had refused. Or, at least, that was what that fat man had claimed.

Recommended by one of her teachers, a good friend of the Boyar's, Josette had joined the other woman, and two men, who made up the assault team. The Boyar had commanded them to ride up the mountain, and force the mayor to give up the gold, or else be removed from his post. They had been encouraged to "use force, if necessary," and "scare the townspeople a bit." Whatever it took to collect.

But all of it had been a lie. Josette had watched in horror as an entire town was razed to the ground. The screams, the blood, the great busts of magic and light - she could see it all so clearly. The scene played back to her whenever she closed her eyes, and she somehow knew she would never rid herself of the carnage.

"Penny for your thoughts?" For a second time, Nicolette's voice yanked Josette back to the present.

"Pardon?"

Nicolette's smile was mixed parts encouraging and sheepish. "I just wondered what it was you were thinking about. Where it was that your mind went." Why it was you looked so pained.

There was a beat of hesitation, and then, "it is nothing that you could understand."

"Oh?" Amused curiosity lifted the blonde's brows. "No?"

"No." There was a finality in the answer that slammed the door on further discussion.

But Nicolette would have the last word. "Well," she commented cheerfully, "I suppose it is a good thing that you have kept it to yourself then." It was uncharacteristically snarky of her, and it had gone against her better judgment. Then again, so had her question.

[Nicolette]

Dusk fell with a quiet grace. "We should stop," Josette announced. The sky had only just begun to change, bright blues giving way to warm reds, but she knew better than to wait too long. Setting up a sturdy camp, and establishing a perimeter, were their first priorities; it would not do to wait until the sun was any lower in the sky. This was especially true if Wolf Trail lived up to it's name.

Josette slowed, dismounted, and waited until her charge did the same. "I do not camp much," Nicolette admitted, "so I am not entirely sure what needs to be done now."

Typical, the knight grumbled inwardly, but merely said, "I see."

Nicolette moved to her gelding's head, giving the gray an affectionate kiss on his soft, velvet nose. "I would like to help though, if you provide me direction. I could look after Maxus for you, get him settled in while you put camp together."

Her observant eyes did not miss the way that Josette tensed, and the possessive hand that moved to the bay's bridle. "I can handle my own horse." There was fire in that reply, one of the few slips of emotion that the black-haired woman had shown all day.

Unable to help herself, Nicolette murmured, "you care deeply for horses."

It was not a question, and the gentle, patient tone sparked more heat in Josette's typically ice-blue eyes. "They make travel easier," she shot back, her temper flaring. But for all the venom in her voice, there was only tenderness in the hand she stroked down Maxus' warm neck.

This fact was not lost on Nicolette either. Her smile was both knowing and understanding as she replied, "that they are."

With the quick efficiency of a trained soldier, Josette set up camp. The horses were untacked, rubbed down, and sent to graze. Firewood was collected, assembled into a sturdy tepee, and lit. And as the pleasant crackle and pop of a healthy fire joined the chorus of night noises, preparations for dinner began.

Multiple times, Nicolette had tried to aid her companion, volunteering to find kindling, or carry water from the nearby river. Each offer had been met with a hard “no,” and a harder stare. Though the woman considered herself far from paranoid, she began to wonder if she had done something to upset Josette.

“Can I help?” she asked once more, watching the knight through the dancing flames.

Once more, Josette shook her head. This time, she lifted the blade she was using to slice bread from the hard loaf; it glittered menacingly in the shifting golden light. “It is sharp.”

Nicolette’s eyes narrowed, as the comment had finally struck a chord. “I am eighteen years old,” she stated, her voice even. “I am no longer at risk of slicing off a hand every time I use a sharp knife.”

[Josette]

Josette's broad shoulders rose and fell. "Perhaps, Princess," she answered, "but I prefer to do it myself."

There was a flash of anger in Nicolette's normally gentle eyes. Though Josette could never know it, conflicting emotions clashed within the blonde. One part of her assumed that the knight simply misunderstood the situation, just as she had earlier that morning. It warred with the other part, which fumed at the way "princess" was spat at her. In the end, her retort was thick with insult. "I am no princess."

Tired by the ride, and quickly losing hold on the limited patience she possessed, Josette sighed. "Whatever your title is."

"I have no title. I am not royalty, despite what you seem to think."

Josette scowled through the fire at the other woman. She had no tolerance for dishonesty. This was a job, but she did not have to put up with blatant lies. "I spoke with your father," she growled. "I know who you are."

"My father?" Cold, calculating, Nicolette sneered back. The expression was one that she rarely wore; even the fire's warmth could not protect Josette from the air's sudden chill. "My father is dead."

The sharp lash of anger in her tone, and in her eyes, rid Josette of all doubt. The same confusion that she had experienced upon their first meeting stained her cheeks crimson. "But the interview." She was never flustered, never allowed herself to become so, but she found herself fighting to keep from stammering. "The Boyar. Your father."

"The man you spoke to was Alexander Morgan. He works in the castle, but he is not the Boyar, and he is not my father. He is my guardian. He took me in after my father killed my mother, and then himself."

"I assumed-"

"And that was your mistake." Nicolette's long, delicate fingers were clenched into fists in her lap. "Stop assuming things about me. Stop leaping to whatever conclusions best fit your preconceived notions. I deserve better than that."

From far off, a lone wolf cried in the darkness. It was a shame, Josette thought, that even the mighty wolf could never compare to the fierceness that she found in Nicolette at that moment.

"My parents are dead too." The words had fled Josette's lips before she could stop them. It was pathetic, she knew, to use her misfortune as a crutch, as an excuse. She had never permit herself to do such a thing, but just then, it was all she could do.

Even in the dim firelight, Josette could see Nicolette's jaw working. Then, like the unfurling of a flower's petals, her expression relaxed. "It is not easy," she said softly.

"No," Josette answered. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "No, it is not."

They fell into silence, but it was a different silence than had plagued them before. Despite the nerves, the confusion, the fire that separated them, the two young women were somehow closer now than they had ever been before.

[Nicolette]

Slivers of anger still lingered, even as Nicolette secured her bedroll to her saddle the following morning. But they were fading. Save for a few slips of smalltalk, the evening had been largely uneventful. They had tucked in early, and while Nicolette had slept well, she had woken to Josette's restless pacing more than once. When morning had arrived, the knight had allowed her companion to help with the pack-up process. There had been no verbal invitation, but a sort of quiet yielding; dishes were left by the fire after breakfast, and Willem's tack remained untouched. Her actions were her apology, which helped to cool Nicolette's temper.

She is broken, Nicolette reflected, glancing over her horse's withers to watch Josette saddle Maxus. And while being broken did not make people faultless, it earned them at least one second chance. That much, she decided finally, she could do.

"You ride well," she commented after Josette had swung expertly into the saddle.

The knight blinked back at her, shrugged uncomfortably, and muttered, "thank you."

Nicolette mounted up as well, mirroring her escort's motions. "Have you been riding long?" she asked, sliding the smooth leather reins through her fingers as she collected her horse's head.

Deeming it an innocent enough question, Josette nodded. "I have, yes." Her face revealed nothing, but she was also encouraged by the relief that warmed her; Nicolette had reason enough to remain furious, and Josette knew she had been wrong. If answering a simple question would be enough to appease her charge, perhaps it would be worth it. She was rewarded with Nicolette's warm smile.

"I suspected," the blonde replied. "Where is it that you learned to ride?" Nicolette knew that Josette was working to get back in her good graces, and while she would never take advantage of someone in such a vulnerable state, she hoped discussing their common ground might further mend their relationship. Or, better yet, build one where nothing had existed before.

The knight shifted her reins from one hand to the other as she tugged at the sleeves of her tunic. Summer's wide reach had painted the county-side pleasant shades of green, and migratory birds were already settled into their favorite roosts. But even in the heart of Salvar's warmest season, the morning held a chill. It felt even cooler as Josette grappled with the answer to her question. "I taught myself," she admitted finally. It was no lie, though it did only tell half the story.

Yet it satisfied Nicolette. "That is even more impressive," she told her partner. She figured no one had ever complimented Josette on her riding; things that came as naturally as breathing often stopped seeming like a skill to cultivate. Sometimes, they become a part of a person's identity, part of life itself. Horses had saved Nicolette's life, just as much as Alexander and the Langdons had. Watching Josette absentmindedly wind her fingers through a lock of Maxus' mane, Nicolette knew it was something else that they shared.

[Josette]

"I was taught to ride by Theodore," Nicolette continued. A light smirk turned her lips as she added, "he is the Boyer, not my father, in case you wished to know."

Though Josette knew it was a dig at her, the humor in the young advisor's eyes glimmered like the sun through the leaves. Such a thing should be taken good-naturedly, she deduced. Reading people had never been among her greatest strengths. In fact, it would not be entirely inaccurate to say interacting with people at all left Josette feeling entirely out of her depth. She preferred situations more black and white, and emotions merely worked to complicate that. Decisions were easy, Josette had always believed. People, however, were not.

"I see," she replied finally. There was quiet again, if such thing was possible in Salvar's summer. Birds chirped, insects hummed, leaves murmured the name the wind. The plod of their horses' hooves on the packed earth kept a steady three-beat rhythm. But no words passed between the escort and the escorted, until Nicolette finally spoke.

"Do you know how I came to live in the castle?"

It was easier than asking "do you know why my parents were killed," though that was still implied. And perhaps Nicolette had known that the question had kept Josette awake the night before. But it was unlike the knight to pry. It was also unlike her companion to let a person go on suffering.

Without giving Josette time to reply, Nicolette began to explain. "When I was ten years old, my father shot and killed my mother, before turning the gun on himself." Her voice was measured, even, and practiced. "He did not know that I was in the room. I remember my parents well, and my father was not the sort of man who would expose a child to that."

So much was left unspoken with that single sentence. What sort of man would expose a child to a life without parents? A life as an orphan? Josette's lips drew together in a thin white line, but her thoughts remained her own as Nicolette continued.

"I was taken into the custody of our small town's mayor, though only for a short while. As it turned out, the Boyar and his wife were also staying in Waylem. Josephine has a reputation for taking in strays." A small smile curved her lips. "And I suppose that was what I was at the time. They took me to the castle, and introduced me to Alexander. He is a life-long bachelor, but he secretly wished to have children, so I became his charge."

There was something so violently personal about the tale Nicolette told, and Josette found herself unable to keep quiet. "This is none of my business," she muttered, her gaze remaining on the trail ahead.

"Maybe not," Nicolette agreed softly. "But it was my story to tell." And now, they both knew the truth.

[Nicolette]

The shared knowledge had come at a cost. Nicolette watched Josette shift awkwardly in her saddle, unsure of what to do with the newly acquired information. Even if her question had been answered, the story of Nicolette's parents' death did not leave an opening for any normal conversation. Josette's uncomfortable expression was mirrored in her mount. Maxus snorted uneasily, his steps high, eyes rolling. His rider was nervous, Nicolette mused, so he became nervous as well. It was amazing how receptive horses were, even if no pressure was applied by spur or bit.

"The horses feel a bit restless," Nicolette murmured, thinking both the girl and her mount could benefit from a change of pace. "Would you want to let them run?" At Josette's nod, Nicolette moved her left heel forward, shifted her weight, and kissed to her gelding.

Then they were flying. It was a sensation she knew she would never tire of, and after she filled her lungs with the crisp morning air, she could not stifle her soft whoop of pleasure. They thundered up and over the nearest hill, sharp hooves sending clumps of grass careening out behind them. Nicolette leaned forward, inching her hands up the reins, and weaving her fingers in Willem's mane as it flapped wildly. A sideways glance revealed that Josette matched her stride-for-stride. She rode in a similar fashion, lifted up and out of the saddle to push her mount forward. And her expression, typically cold ice, was warmed by a brilliant smile.

The girls and their horses raced until they were all trembling and out of breath. Nicolette settled into her saddle first, slowing Willem to a bumpy trot, and then a smooth walk; Josette, reluctantly, followed suit. Together, they finally took pause to scan their surroundings.

"Wow," Nicolette breathed. "We are way off track."

Suddenly reminded of her reason for escorting the blonde, Josette frowned. "How do you know?"

With a sweeping gesture, the Salvarian motioned to the nearest landform. It was an enormous plateau, rich brown in color, towering high above them. "We should be riding along the Wolves Fang mountains," she explained. "They would be on our right side. But now we have this, on our left."

The raven-haired mercenary's frown deepened to a scowl. "What is this?"

Nicolette paused, deliberated, and shrugged. "I am sure that it has a name, but I do not know it. I do recognize the area though. I have ridden by it many times. We just veered too far north." Now her voice was reassuring, comforting. "It will be an easy fix."

Josette considered, then nodded. "Alright." She turned her gelding, positioning herself to leave the lofty cliff-faces in her wake. Maxum still sported a thin layer of sweat, so she knew better than to move into another gallop. But just as asked him for an easy jog, Nicolette's startled voice stopped her.

"Josette," she called. "Do you see that?"