Recovery

Recovery

The slamming of a door jolted her upright, heart in her throat, breath locked in her chest. They were coming. The Wolves were—

"Hey, hey, calm down."

Lily stared, uncomprehending, then managed a sharp breath, releasing it shakily. "Scout."

"Yeah, just me," Scout said, setting aside the stack of wood she'd brought in. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Lily laughed, rubbing at her temples. "I think I'd remember if I saw ghosts. No, just bad dreams, I think. It was a…" She swallowed, shoving away images of her father bleeding out, an arrow in his throat. "It was a long day."

"I'd imagine so. Spoke with some furriers heading out of the city, they say the castle has been overtaken by the royal steward, who's named himself Regent. Men in black prowl around, doing his bidding and hurting anyone who argues. Guess you weren't spinning tales after all."

"Why would I lie about something like that?" Lily asked. "Such a lie wouldn't hold up to the barest scrutiny."

Scout snorted and set the wood in the rack by the fireplace and added a couple of logs. "You'd be surprised what people will say to garner blind sympathy. Feeling any better?"

"I… I guess? My ribs hurt, but not as deeply. My feet still feel like they're on fire, but I'd be surprised if they didn't. Who knows what I hit while I was running."

"Your lucky they're not in worse shape," Scout replied. "Come on, let's get you up. Sure you'd like to stretch a bit and use the necessary. I'll get breakfast going, find you some more clothes." She snorted. "Though one of my shirts would damn near be a gown on you."

Lily laughed. "Better than whatever's left of my gown."

Snorting a soft laugh with her, Scout helped her out of bed and when it seemed she could walk on her own at least a bit, pointed her through the door by the fireplace.

Several minutes later, Lily left the washing room feeling greatly improved, braiding her damp hair and tucking it up with a few hair pins she had remaining, though as usual, her long, heavy black hair didn't want to stay where it was put.

The pile of promised clothes had been left on a stool next to a table that was clearly used for butchering and other such hard tasks. The pants were so absurdly oversized there didn't seem to be much point in wearing them. She settled for the socks, which were long and thick, almost more like stockings on her, and the shirt was indeed like a scandalously short gown, falling to mid-thigh, the wool softer than she'd expected. She used a belt to cinch it close around the waist, and rolled up the sleeves to her elbows.

They wouldn't work long term, but for the present, they were warm, dry, and kept her from being naked or walking around in scraps of ill-suited silk.

Shoulders back, chin up, eyes forward, hands calm. The mantra had been the chorus of her schoolgirl years, and even now, years later, she heard the words in her head whenever she needed to settle herself.

Ready as she'd ever be, Lily headed back out to the main room, where Scout was at the table chopping and mixing. She glanced up—and dropped the knife she was holding. "What in the gods name are you wearing?"

Lily frowned and looked down. "The clothes you left for me. Are these not the right ones?"

"The ones I left you included pants," Scout said flatly.

"They were far too big. Even rolling them and cinching them, they were in danger of slipping and tripping me. I know this is unconventional, but I'm hardly in the palace right now, and you don't seem to be the sort to be offended. Am I wrong?"

"No, I'm not offended," Scout retorted, retrieving her knife and going back to work like Lily had just insulted her personally and vindictively.

This woman was proving to be the most confounding person Lily had ever met, including the stubborn counselors who didn't think a woman was fit to be on the throne. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"You can barely walk right now, and I doubt you've ever sliced a vegetable in your life," Scout said, not without amusement. "Sit down, have some tea. Tell me more about these Black Wolves."

She was a crown princess—a queen—and yet this woman consistently made her feel like a child. So what if she couldn't cut vegetables? She doubted Scout could negotiate a revision of trade agreements conducted in six languages!

Keeping that retort to herself, huffing slightly, Lily took the empty spot at the bench and poured a cup of tea from the steaming pot. "What kind of tea is this?"

"Kind? It's just tea. Plain old boring tea," Scout said.

Lily pursed her lips, staring at the cup. "It's a black tea, but it has nutty undertones, almost like pecans."

Scout shrugged. "It's what the general store sells. So the Wolves?"

"There's not much to tell," Lily replied, but recounted what she could, careful to place herself as an observer. "I don't know how they got real wolves all of a sudden, though."

"The Black Wolves include shifters, what some call werewolves," Scout said. "They hail from all the way up north. The shifters, not the mercenaries as a whole. Mostly from the remains of a dissolved pack, once known as Rothenberg, but exiles from other packs as well."

"I've never heard of such a thing as werewolf packs."

"They keep to themselves, and when they leave their homeland, they don't go far. Except the Rothenberg leftovers, little better than rabid dogs in need of putting down." Scout's mouth pulled back in a sneer before she abruptly stood, gathered up the bowls filled with eggs and chopped vegetables, and strode over to the fireplace.

Not hard to tell there was a bit of history there, but Lily said nothing, just drank more tea and waited for breakfast, already exhausted and ready to go back to sleep.

She was nearly asleep in her tea when Scout returned, setting a sizzling pan on a trivet with a soft thump. It smelled like eggs and vegetables, a hint of something spicy, so rare a treat in her court, where everyone seemed to prefer their food mild and frankly boring—including her father, love him though she did.

Lily's breath hitched at the sharp pain that punched her in the chest at thoughts of her father. She shoved them desperately away. "What is that, it smells amazing."

"It's got a lot of names, but my mama always called it an egg bake. You can add just about anything to it, but this is what I like best." She dished it up in wooden bowls Lily would bet she'd made herself.

"Thank you. How do you know so much about the Black Wolves?" Lily dug into the food with relish, stomach grumbling. It was indeed spicy, with peppers, onions, and tomatoes. "This is wonderful."

Scout seemed amused, but only said, "I traveled a lot, once. All over the continent."

"Through this forest? Aren't parts of it dangerous? This part is dangerous. I was always told not to enter it."

Scout laughed as she gave them both more of the egg bake. "Everywhere is dangerous if you don't know what you're doing, but if you're meaning the ghosts and stuff, they rarely bother anyone who isn't a threat to the forest. The only exception would be the portion they call the Broken Forest in the queendom of Ramanda, where—"

"The Huntresses!" Lily said excitedly, clapping her hands together. "The Women of the Red Hoods! Commanded by the Red and White Queens! I've always, always wanted to meet them." Because too many people here were convinced a queen could not measure up to a king, and yet somewhere far to the west was a queendom. There were technically seven other queens across the continent, none of them nearby, sadly, but they didn't style themselves queendoms. They hadn't been founded and always ruled by queens, protected by Huntresses.

"I see they require no explanation," Scout said with another chuckle. "You've never heard of the wolf packs of Icenberg, but you know the Huntresses?"

"One of those is far more interesting than the other," Lily muttered defensively. "Do you know what it's like to be surrounded by cranky old men all day, who see you—and the crown princess and all the other women—as little girls not fit to lead? Of course I'd know all about a queendom where women are taken seriously, where women are the authority."

Scout grunted and stood as she finished eating. "Know a bit about that, and then they turn around and tell me I'm too masculine to ever be a 'real' woman."

"What in the world defines a real woman?" Lily asked, then rolled her eyes. "According to at least half the men at court who think I don't overhear their nasty little gossiping, it's breasts." She flushed slightly at speaking so baldly. "So clearly I'm not a real woman."

Making a noise like a strangled laugh, Scout gathered up the dirty dishes. "Go back to bed, fake woman. You look ready to fall over, and I'm fairly certain you've done enough of that."

"More than enough. I can help clean up…"

"You can barely walk, and I doubt you've ever drawn water from a well or washed a dish in your life. Go to sleep. I'll put you to work soon enough, milady, never fear."

Lily was getting really tired of being treated like a particularly useless child, but there wasn't much she could really say to defend herself when both those things were true.

Recovery

The slamming of a door jolted her upright, heart in her throat, breath locked in her chest. They were coming. The Wolves were—

"Hey, hey, calm down."

Lily stared, uncomprehending, then managed a sharp breath, releasing it shakily. "Scout."

"Yeah, just me," Scout said, setting aside the stack of wood she'd brought in. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Lily laughed, rubbing at her temples. "I think I'd remember if I saw ghosts. No, just bad dreams, I think. It was a…" She swallowed, shoving away images of her father bleeding out, an arrow in his throat. "It was a long day."

"I'd imagine so. Spoke with some furriers heading out of the city, they say the castle has been overtaken by the royal steward, who's named himself Regent. Men in black prowl around, doing his bidding and hurting anyone who argues. Guess you weren't spinning tales after all."

"Why would I lie about something like that?" Lily asked. "Such a lie wouldn't hold up to the barest scrutiny."

Scout snorted and set the wood in the rack by the fireplace and added a couple of logs. "You'd be surprised what people will say to garner blind sympathy. Feeling any better?"

"I… I guess? My ribs hurt, but not as deeply. My feet still feel like they're on fire, but I'd be surprised if they didn't. Who knows what I hit while I was running."

"Your lucky they're not in worse shape," Scout replied. "Come on, let's get you up. Sure you'd like to stretch a bit and use the necessary. I'll get breakfast going, find you some more clothes." She snorted. "Though one of my shirts would damn near be a gown on you."

Lily laughed. "Better than whatever's left of my gown."

Snorting a soft laugh with her, Scout helped her out of bed and when it seemed she could walk on her own at least a bit, pointed her through the door by the fireplace.

Several minutes later, Lily left the washing room feeling greatly improved, braiding her damp hair and tucking it up with a few hair pins she had remaining, though as usual, her long, heavy black hair didn't want to stay where it was put.

The pile of promised clothes had been left on a stool next to a table that was clearly used for butchering and other such hard tasks. The pants were so absurdly oversized there didn't seem to be much point in wearing them. She settled for the socks, which were long and thick, almost more like stockings on her, and the shirt was indeed like a scandalously short gown, falling to mid-thigh, the wool softer than she'd expected. She used a belt to cinch it close around the waist, and rolled up the sleeves to her elbows.

They wouldn't work long term, but for the present, they were warm, dry, and kept her from being naked or walking around in scraps of ill-suited silk.

Shoulders back, chin up, eyes forward, hands calm. The mantra had been the chorus of her schoolgirl years, and even now, years later, she heard the words in her head whenever she needed to settle herself.

Ready as she'd ever be, Lily headed back out to the main room, where Scout was at the table chopping and mixing. She glanced up—and dropped the knife she was holding. "What in the gods name are you wearing?"

Lily frowned and looked down. "The clothes you left for me. Are these not the right ones?"

"The ones I left you included pants," Scout said flatly.

"They were far too big. Even rolling them and cinching them, they were in danger of slipping and tripping me. I know this is unconventional, but I'm hardly in the palace right now, and you don't seem to be the sort to be offended. Am I wrong?"

"No, I'm not offended," Scout retorted, retrieving her knife and going back to work like Lily had just insulted her personally and vindictively.

This woman was proving to be the most confounding person Lily had ever met, including the stubborn counselors who didn't think a woman was fit to be on the throne. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"You can barely walk right now, and I doubt you've ever sliced a vegetable in your life," Scout said, not without amusement. "Sit down, have some tea. Tell me more about these Black Wolves."

She was a crown princess—a queen—and yet this woman consistently made her feel like a child. So what if she couldn't cut vegetables? She doubted Scout could negotiate a revision of trade agreements conducted in six languages!

Keeping that retort to herself, huffing slightly, Lily took the empty spot at the bench and poured a cup of tea from the steaming pot. "What kind of tea is this?"

"Kind? It's just tea. Plain old boring tea," Scout said.

Lily pursed her lips, staring at the cup. "It's a black tea, but it has nutty undertones, almost like pecans."

Scout shrugged. "It's what the general store sells. So the Wolves?"

"There's not much to tell," Lily replied, but recounted what she could, careful to place herself as an observer. "I don't know how they got real wolves all of a sudden, though."

"The Black Wolves include shifters, what some call werewolves," Scout said. "They hail from all the way up north. The shifters, not the mercenaries as a whole. Mostly from the remains of a dissolved pack, once known as Rothenberg, but exiles from other packs as well."

"I've never heard of such a thing as werewolf packs."

"They keep to themselves, and when they leave their homeland, they don't go far. Except the Rothenberg leftovers, little better than rabid dogs in need of putting down." Scout's mouth pulled back in a sneer before she abruptly stood, gathered up the bowls filled with eggs and chopped vegetables, and strode over to the fireplace.

Not hard to tell there was a bit of history there, but Lily said nothing, just drank more tea and waited for breakfast, already exhausted and ready to go back to sleep.

She was nearly asleep in her tea when Scout returned, setting a sizzling pan on a trivet with a soft thump. It smelled like eggs and vegetables, a hint of something spicy, so rare a treat in her court, where everyone seemed to prefer their food mild and frankly boring—including her father, love him though she did.

Lily's breath hitched at the sharp pain that punched her in the chest at thoughts of her father. She shoved them desperately away. "What is that, it smells amazing."

"It's got a lot of names, but my mama always called it an egg bake. You can add just about anything to it, but this is what I like best." She dished it up in wooden bowls Lily would bet she'd made herself.

"Thank you. How do you know so much about the Black Wolves?" Lily dug into the food with relish, stomach grumbling. It was indeed spicy, with peppers, onions, and tomatoes. "This is wonderful."

Scout seemed amused, but only said, "I traveled a lot, once. All over the continent."

"Through this forest? Aren't parts of it dangerous? This part is dangerous. I was always told not to enter it."

Scout laughed as she gave them both more of the egg bake. "Everywhere is dangerous if you don't know what you're doing, but if you're meaning the ghosts and stuff, they rarely bother anyone who isn't a threat to the forest. The only exception would be the portion they call the Broken Forest in the queendom of Ramanda, where—"

"The Huntresses!" Lily said excitedly, clapping her hands together. "The Women of the Red Hoods! Commanded by the Red and White Queens! I've always, always wanted to meet them." Because too many people here were convinced a queen could not measure up to a king, and yet somewhere far to the west was a queendom. There were technically seven other queens across the continent, none of them nearby, sadly, but they didn't style themselves queendoms. They hadn't been founded and always ruled by queens, protected by Huntresses.

"I see they require no explanation," Scout said with another chuckle. "You've never heard of the wolf packs of Icenberg, but you know the Huntresses?"

"One of those is far more interesting than the other," Lily muttered defensively. "Do you know what it's like to be surrounded by cranky old men all day, who see you—and the crown princess and all the other women—as little girls not fit to lead? Of course I'd know all about a queendom where women are taken seriously, where women are the authority."

Scout grunted and stood as she finished eating. "Know a bit about that, and then they turn around and tell me I'm too masculine to ever be a 'real' woman."

"What in the world defines a real woman?" Lily asked, then rolled her eyes. "According to at least half the men at court who think I don't overhear their nasty little gossiping, it's breasts." She flushed slightly at speaking so baldly. "So clearly I'm not a real woman."

Making a noise like a strangled laugh, Scout gathered up the dirty dishes. "Go back to bed, fake woman. You look ready to fall over, and I'm fairly certain you've done enough of that."

"More than enough. I can help clean up…"

"You can barely walk, and I doubt you've ever drawn water from a well or washed a dish in your life. Go to sleep. I'll put you to work soon enough, milady, never fear."

Lily was getting really tired of being treated like a particularly useless child, but there wasn't much she could really say to defend herself when both those things were true.