Page 16 of Highland Spy

Ariana pulled herself from the bed, not an easy feat when the heavy exhaustion in her body begged her to follow Percy’s request.

“Please, you mustn’t,” Percy said. “Connor doesn’t like to be disobeyed.”

“I refuse to rest if others aren’t.” Her conviction surged through her body, providing a burst of necessary energy. Her heart galloped in her chest and, like when she won at cards, she felt the dizzying wash of invigoration.

Of living.

Percy’s hesitant expression blossomed into a grin, as if the eagerness flooding through Ariana were infectious. “If you’re going to train, you’ll need proper clothing. The women train most days with these garments, and then at least two days in dresses so they’re used to fighting in all attire.”

Within several surprisingly efficient minutes, Percy helped her out of the stained, travel-worn dress and into a pair of black trews with her breasts bound beneath a black léine.

Together, the two women made their way down the stone steps. Like the hearth of her bedroom, the stairs were in poor condition. Several cracks ran through the stone walls on either side, and the middle of each step had been worn into a dip. They seemed sturdy enough underfoot, which was what truly mattered.

The pants hugged her legs up to the crotch in a foreign manner, but were surprisingly comfortable, especially with the loose léine and jacket she wore over them.

“Connor won’t be upset with you for letting me fight so soon, will he?” Ariana asked before they pushed through the large doors.

Percy shook her head, and the loose curls of her hair rolled against the velvet of her blue dress. “No, Connor never gets angry with me. He might not be too pleased with you though.” She pressed the flat of her hand to the door. “Are you ready?”

Everything in Ariana hummed with a nervous excitement so powerful it made her jittery and weak all at once.

She nodded.

Percy pushed open the door, and they walked out into the icy, still air.

Connor stood not far away. His tall, lean body caught her gaze before she noticed two other women. She recognized Sylvi despite a large, awkward apron-like garment she wore on her body. Her hair was threaded back in several braids, and the black of her ribbon stood dark against the flush of her throat. The woman across from her was familiar as well. Hair somewhere between blonde and brown, a small freckle beside the lush mouth. The recollection struck Ariana like a blow. The woman from the card table in London when she had been caught cheating.

She too wore a cumbersome brown apron. They stood out against the bleak white of the snow blanketing the interior of the castle’s curtain walls.

And there were swords in both women’s hands.

Swords.

As if they were soldiers.

It was just as Percy had said.

Ariana stared at the length of steel gripped in Sylvi’s fist, like an extension of her. The sun was hidden behind a smattering of clouds and yet it shone upon the metal like a beacon.

Sylvi opened her mouth and cried out before lunging toward the other woman. Their swords clashed with such ferocity, Ariana swore she saw a spark flash between them. The woman grunted and shoved back with her sword until Sylvi drew away.

This time Sylvi gripped the handle of her blade with two hands and swung it high overhead. She grimaced and arced the weapon down toward the head of the other woman.

Ariana winced as if she were the one about to take the blow. But before the blade could strike, the other woman cut her sword into the air and blocked.

Energy fired through Ariana’s veins, raw and renewed.

She wanted to be like them, to be strong and powerful.

“What is she doing out here?” Connor’s voice pulled her attention.

He strode toward them, his gait smooth despite the irate expression crinkling his brow. His nose and cheeks were bright red from the cold.

“I came of my own volition,” Ariana said, before Percy could feel compelled to answer on her behalf.

His gaze shifted to Percy.

“She insisted,” she answered in her soft voice.