 With a grunt and a groan, Gaiane carefully made her way achingly down the corridors of the castle from her room to the great hall for a small meal. More than one guard glanced at her with worry, but she waved away their concern. More than one bruise was marring her pale skin: her cheekbone, two on her arms, and a few more beneath the dress she wore. They didn’t concern her much; she knew what they were from and it wasn’t quite so insidious as the guards might think. They weren’t even the cause of the majority of her pain. Not by a long shot.
Her thighs were pulsating with every step, and her stomach throbbed with every breath. Despite the slim appearance she’d always had, Gaiane had never been a particularly physical fairy, and the training she was now receiving from the Baron was far more intense than she’d imagined it would be. Mordred had landed far more blows than Gaiane had blocked, and significantly more than the girl had managed to land on him. They ran and they practiced and, in theory, Gaiane was becoming a stronger fighter. Pallas had been right, the books she’d been using for training were nothing compared to the real experience.
She hissed slightly as she left the castle halls and again with every step down the stone stairs into the gardens. It was a beautiful autumn day and the trees around the edges were becoming a rainbow of colors, and Gaiane hoped that enjoying the sunlight and fresh air would take her mind off her sore body. And hopefully, that her trainer wouldn’t find her and put an end to her well-earned rest day.
Not that she hoped he wouldn’t find her and join her in the gardens, of course. The thought of him out here was certainly pleasant, and Gaiane plucked a rose from a nearby bush and brought it to her face. Although it appeared the sole purpose was to smell the aroma of the flower, in truth, the girl was trying to hide the color rising to her cheeks.
As she peered over the petals of the rose, she spotted a falcon of some sort chastising a man in conversation with one of the gardeners. Gaiane had never been the most social of creatures, especially since her mother had cared more about the girl getting an education and obtaining magical gifts (which had failed miserably) that Gaiane had been mostly alone until recently coming to the castle. It didn’t help that there had never been other children living at the pantheon as she grew up.
Stretching her muscles, Gaiane walked slowly over to the two men, and realized that the one with the bird was being fired? Or rejected, and suddenly it seemed like the type of conversation one might want to keep private, but she hoped, perhaps, some companionship would cheer the man and his familiar up a bit. With a small nod to the gardener, Gaiane walked up to the stranger and smiled.
“You look like you could use a guide. Or an ear?” she asked, uncertain what it was she meant to say by way of introduction. “I could certainly use a walking companion, if you’re interested. I’m Gaiane, by the way.”
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