Chapter 4

Six weeks before a piper is to test, it is tradition in many legacy families for another member to prepare you with extra training. This can come in the form of sparring, meditation, or anything else the family sees fit. This is an important part of the tradition, as typically the older legacy members pass on valuable knowledge to the younger. The benefit of being part of a legacy family is being handed the knowledge of your ancestors, and this often serves to bring legacy family members closer. To pipers, blood is the strongest bond.

-A History of Pipers, A.A. Wesen

The day of my ceremony draws closer, as if the days between meeting Giselle and preparation day fly by. It's now only six weeks away, which means preparations are to begin. Today, looking up at the cliff I must climb, I know new and treacherous traps will have been added by the time my challenge happens. There will likely be faulty handholds that'll threaten my fall and sharp sticks lodged into cracks that I'll stab my hand on when I can't see them. I'll probably have Finnian to thank for that. Father will send him up to make things more interesting as it's probably the only thing he's looking forward to. He's probably hoping I won't even be able to make the climb, that I'll die and save them all the embarrassment of the piper I'll become.

I hold no illusions about what they think of me.

At the six-week mark, tradition mandates another piper prepares you. For some, that means their fathers taking them to practice climbing. For Finnian, it meant Father sparring with him until he was strong enough to withstand Father's fist. For me, it means Finnian will be in charge because Father can't be bothered. It means I'll have to practice with him instead of alone, and I'm not looking forward to it. Finnian and I were never close, and we've settled into our roles of bully and bullied. He's become a replica of Father, which means he views me the same as our father does.

Weak. Helpless. Nothing.

Father is gone, off to continue his war. It still hasn't progressed despite the long months since it started. Each side loses more and more life, but neither king will submit, and Father's king still refuses to hire Finnian. The call will come at some point out of desperation, but only when the king's ego allows it. Even pipers can't change that.

"Get ready, Fen-dick," Finnian growls as I finish up my breakfast of stale bread and a single moldy strawberry. "Meet me outside in a few minutes."

I haven't eaten nearly enough to prepare myself to fight Finnian, but if I steal anymore food, I'll be punished for it. I only got the bread and strawberry because Mother left them on the counter for me to clean up, a purposeful move that makes sure I get something. It's not enough, however, and I'll have to scrounge up something else for Giselle, but it can't be helped. I'll need my strength to deal with Finnian.

After I clean up the few crumbs I leave behind, I follow Finnian outside. He's standing in the middle of the clearing behind our house in nothing but his loose trousers. He'd stripped his shirt off, leaving all his muscles and scars on display. He wears many scars, a badge of honor for men like him and Father, but neither one of them wear as many as I do beneath my clothing. I've often wondered why my scars mean so little, when theirs mean so much. Perhaps, it's who gives you the scars that matter. Perhaps, all scars are not equal.

I don't strip my own shirt off. I leave it on. Maybe it'll cushion some of the blows. Maybe it'll protect some of my skin. I doubt it, but it's a nice sentiment.

A small squeak draws my eyes to the tree line where I find Giselle sitting, watching. I shake my head at her, letting her know not to be seen. If Finnian finds her, I don't want to think what he'll do to her. She has to remain safe.

"You have six weeks," Finnian starts as he stretches out his arm. "And I'm going to beat the shame out of you by then."

"I wear no shame of my own," I say, lifting my chin. "Only Father's. I don't yet know what I am."

"Doesn't matter," Finnian declares, leveling me with his silver gaze so much like Father's. "At this point, even if you're a war piper, Father will always see you as less, and worse, Finley will be dragged into it for not being a war piper when you are. Your best bet is to be anything but a war piper. At least then it'll be only your shame."

"Why should I have to carry all the shame alone?" I scowl. "Why is it my burden to carry?"

He picks up a staff and tosses it to me. "Someone has to carry it, Fen-dick. Better it you than me."

"And when you lose your first war?" I ask, curling my lip. "Will I have to carry that shame, too?"

"I will not lose."

"There will always be loss," I shoot back. "It's just a matter of time."

And that's true. All war pipers fail at least once. It's considered a lesson. Even Father has lost a war now, though the details are scarce. He refuses to admit it and has only talked about it one time with little information. He lost. The war ended. The end. He won't admit to anything else. I consider it a rite of passage, but Father and Finnian will always consider it an embarrassment.

"Shut up and spar," Finnian scowls.

I hold up the staff, my arms weak. I know I won't stand a chance against Finnian. These next six weeks will be me taking a beating. My only goal is to avoid any injury serious enough to make it impossible for me to climb. Finnian won't go easy on me. If I'm not at least a little injured, Father will beat him, so I know he's only protecting his own skin, but it still stings to know that I'm to be his punching bag, that he won't even hesitate.

"Sparring doesn't even have anything to do with the challenge," I scowl as I dodge his first attack without our staffs hitting.

"The fact you think that is why you're not ready for it," Finnian snarls. "Sparring is mental, just as the challenge will be mental."

"This feels physical," I point out as I dodge another attack. I'm small and agile, even if I'm weak from lack of food. I can at least avoid his attacks for a while before I falter. "What part of hitting sticks together is mental?"

"It's about how many hits you can take before it becomes too much," he clarifies. He moves his staff with the agility of someone who has been trained well. I never received that kind of training. Father never thought it necessary, so I move in clunky directions, my staff little more than decoration. I'd once tried to teach myself by watching him and Father spare, but I'd been caught one time and beaten so badly, I couldn't walk for months. I only survived because Mother took pity on me and fed me. Father never suspected her, and we all lied to cover her tracks, but she would never dare help me any other way.

"I've not been trained in sparring," I say as I dance out of the way again. "How is this fair?"

"It's not meant to be fair, Fen-dick," he growls, his staff hitting my ankle and knocking it out from beneath me. I slam onto the ground on my back roughly and his staff stabs into my throat. "It's meant to be a lesson."

"And what lesson is that?" I ask despite the wood at my throat. "That I'm weak?"

That's always the lesson. Look how weak Fenwick is! Look how worthless. It's always the running joke. I despite it!

"That you're a disappointment," Finnian says, his silver eyes as cold as Father's. "That you'll be the shame this family carries for generations. The first ever comedy Bonaventure."

Anger fills me. Six weeks and we'll know for sure, but they could at least pretend I'm meant for something more. They could at least pretend to care for me.

I swing my staff up in anger and catch Finnian across the jaw, surprising even myself when the wood makes connection. His head snaps back and I hear his teeth clack, but he doesn't stumble away. He's too big and me too weak for that. He slowly looks back down at me, his eyes burning molten.

"Get up," he orders, his voice gone cold.

"I didn't mean?—"

"Get up!" He takes a step back and lets me move. "Now."

I hesitate for a second but drag myself to my feet. The moment I face him and hold my staff out, he sweeps it aside and puts me back on my ass. I grunt in pain.

"Up!" he snarls.

I scramble to my feet this time, feeling the change in the air. This will be my lesson. I know it. And it won't be a pleasant one. I landed a blow on a war piper, and I might as well have landed a blow to his ego. I'm too weak to make contact. I'm too weak to allow me to best him, even once. It would be shameful.

This time, the blow comes to the side of my face, across the same jaw I'd hit Finnian on. Unlike him, my head jerks back roughly and I stumble. He sweeps my feet out again and I hit the hard ground, my head bouncing off it and sending pain radiating through my skull. Before I can stand back up, the staff snaps across my stomach, stealing my breath and making me gasp and curl in on myself.

"Get up, runt!" he snarls. "Take it like a man!"

Giselle's worried squeak opens my eyes, but I shake my head at her.

"No," I say to her, but Finnian thinks I'm speaking to him.

"It wasn't a request," he snarls, and brings the staff down on me again, harder this time.

I cry out in pain and put my arms around my head to protect it, so he aims for my body, bruising it as he hits me over and over again.

"Get the fuck up!" Finnian snarls, jabbing me with the staff.

I hesitate, not sure if I'm able to, but as I uncurl, I realize I'm a little stronger than I expect. Carefully, I drag myself to my feet, my body aching, but I forget my staff. Instead, I lift my chin and look my brother in the eyes, knowing him for what he is, knowing he'll never see me as anything of merit, same as my father.

I may not be a war piper. I may not be my father, but I can still be brave. I can still be strong of mind.

With my eyes on him, I curl my lips over my teeth. "You'll never be him," I say. "You'll never be Father."

His eyes widen at the venom in my voice and then anger fills him, because, of course, one day he'll take over the Bonaventure family. The war piper always does. He bears the burden of the family while I bear the burden of our shame. We're not really so different. At one point, he was in my place, but there's one thing Father and Finnian differ on. Father would have heard my words and been amused at my attempt of bravery. Finnian hears the words and views them as a challenge.

Father is cruel, so he'll be crueler.

Father is strong, so he'll be stronger.

Father is brutal, so he'll be disastrous.

With a ferocious snarl, he snaps the staff toward me and lands a blow on my leg, just below my knee. He hits me so hard, the bone snaps and I crumble to the ground in a heap, screaming in pain. Finnian snarls as he looms over me, raising his staff to hit me again, but a ferocious squeak stops him.

Giselle runs out and stands before me, an attempt to block me from pain as I writhe on the ground.

"What the fuck is this?" Finnian snarls, raising his staff to hit her away, but more rats I haven't seen begin pouring from the trees, all blockading me. "What the actual fuck?"

Finnian stumbles back as the rats advance, pushing him away, protecting me. Disgust fills his expression as he looks at them.

"You've created an infestation, Fen-dick!" he snarls, backing away. "Wait until Father finds out about this!"

He disappears, leaving me alone with my rats.

Giselle comes over and presses a tiny paw against my cheek. We can take you away from here, Fenwick, she says into my mind. Somewhere they can't hurt you.

"No," I rasp despite my pain. "I have to complete my challenge."

You're injured.

"It'll heal by the time my challenge comes. I'll make sure of it."

Six weeks is just enough time, but I won't be able to practice. I won't be able to walk. I'm going to have to fight if I want this.

When Father comes storming from the house, I shoo the rats away, not wanting them to get hurt. I think he'll only yell at me. I think he'll demand I get rid of the rats. What I don't expect is for Father to see me lying on the ground and sneer.

"Weak," he spits, before he places his boot on my good leg, forcing me to cry out in fear. "Always weak."

He bears down with his full weight and snaps it, before leaving me crippled on the ground.