30. Cleave steel for feathers

Solen's fingers edged along her bandolier and alighted on a fine blade with a tip that flickered silver in the sunlight. "You of all people should know how to take your time. Tell me, Diane, how long are your banquets these days? Five hours? Six?"

Diane grinned, revealing her string of pearly teeth. "Four and a half last I timed it, though the season's spring wine is certainly helping the hours to gain wings and fly."

She flexed her fingers, each one long and slim with their too-many joints that were so similarly pronounced in Raeph's uncovered hands. But unlike Raeph, Diane's skin was soft and silken, not roughed by the work of bandits and thieves, even as she gripped her dagger.

"Well, it's always a pleasant surprise to see that you haven't yet drunk enough to loosen your tongue and get yourself locked away again." Solen's eyes flickered, watching Diane as she inclined her head, almost imperceptibly were it not for the ruffling of her long hair.

Then, she laughed, whirling forwards in a flurry of tulle to meet Solen in a hug. They clung onto one another for only a moment, before Diane caught Ada's eye and gasped, "Oh! And you've brought company. Have you found another to join our practices?"

Ada fumbled for words, unsure how to react as Diane turned to her with doe eyes and pink-blushed cheeks. She was suddenly timid, feeling overdressed in the cloak, even as she tried to retreat further into it. But since Raeph had revealed her identity to his companions the night before, perhaps Solen's friends could be trusted also. Though Armestrong's reaction had been strong enough for Ada not to desire that experience again so soon.

Her decision was made before she could even offer a hand to the willowy woman. Solen stepped into her path, still smiling but with squared and stiffened shoulders. It was clear that she didn't want anyone getting too close a look at Ada when she said, "Not quite. She's here to help me run an errand."

"An errand," Diane repeated, running the word around her tongue before it clicked against her teeth. She and Solen held one another's stare before she swirled back to Ada and said, "Regardless, it's a pleasure to have you here..."

"Ada," Ada supplied, tentatively returning Diane's smile. She dipped her head down as she spoke, letting her hair and hood slip forwards, sure to cover her ears and graze the rounds of her cheeks.

The afternoon passed with the sun through the wooden slats above. The three other women gathered on the embankment were just as welcoming to Ada as Diane had been, if not quite as lavishly dressed nor sweetly spoken. They each had their own blades, though one of the younger girls, who wore a mauve shift with a toolbelt stitched from hessian, appeared to be using a blunt-bladed kitchen knife.

They had circled together beneath the ramshackle pier, laughing and sharing stories of their mornings while Solen tugged on a pair of leather gloves and drew out two of her daggers. She had briefly turned to Diane in the lull, pulling her aside to whisper back and forth. Diane had shifted something small and glinting off of her finger and slipped it to Solen before fluttering back into the group.

Solen called their attention, and so began a lesson in combat. Solen took on the role of a teacher, swiping through the air with daggers in both hands. Mud clung to her boots as she dodged invisible assailants and pierced airborne assassins. She then stepped back, splitting the women into two pairs and watching them practice their attacks, pausing occasionally to comment on their form or adapt their movements.

Ada stuck to the canal bank, unsure on what to do as she balled her hands into her shirt sleeves. It was only when the women seemed absorbed in their battles that Solen floated back to her. Ada hardly noticed her approach, riveted by the women who circled, lunged, and parried. It was like watching a ballet, each movement precise and calculated, right down to the pointing of their toes and the delicate tilting of their heads.

"What do you think?" Solen asked, lolling back against the wall as algae stuck her vest to the brickwork.

"I think it's extraordinary," murmured Ada as the women spun together. "Do you always meet like this?"

"Every week," said Solen, her eyes bright and vivid. "I'm not sure that too many of their families would be pleased to find out what we're doing, but I think it's important for young women to know how to defend themselves if need be. Especially in our times."

Ada watched Diane twirl, swathed in a platinum cloud of her own wispy hair. She certainly didn't look like the bandits, draped in silks and splendour as she fought.

"So they don't..." Ada was unsure how to phrase her question. "Live like you?"

Solen chuckled, dragging her fingers through her tousled hair. "They have homes and families, and live peacefully in the city and don't try to rally against it. At least, not outwardly." She sighed, the shadows beneath her eyes lengthening in the shade. "But I think you'd be surprised to see just how many people will cleave steel if it means that their world will one day be laid down with feathers."

Solen may have been gifted in the art of combat, to the extent that her battles were mapped across her skin in roads and rivers of red. But when she spoke, Ada believed she may once have lived the life of a wordsmith.

They watched the fighters sway for a while longer, before Solen said, "Will you do something for me?"

"Do what?" Ada asked, and the woman rummaged around in a pouch below her bandolier. Solen held her palm out, and Ada saw that a single ring was cradled within her leather glove. It was cast from a russet metal, darker than copper though with a lustre that glittered twice as bright. The colour accented a band that ran around its inside; a strip of grey that was dull and muted compared to the rest of the ring.

"Would you put this on?" Solen held it out to her, watching as Ada eyed the ring apprehensively. "Just for a moment. I borrowed it from Diane."

If her words had meant to placate Ada, they didn't really help. She had only just met the fae woman, and though she seemed amicable enough, Ada couldn't help but feel the unease that was welling up within the pit of her stomach.

But Solen continued staring at her with a creased brow and outstretched hand, imploring, if not enforcing. A cloud drifted by overhead, whitened wool dovetailed with granite, and Ada reached out her hand. Solen dropped the ring onto her palm and, feeling no adverse effects, Ada slipped it onto her fourth finger. It was tight, pinching her skin as it passed.

The pair waited, Solen seeming to hold her breath as she gazed not at the ring, but into Ada's face. The seconds ticked by, the four fae continued to fight and the water lapped at the mud beneath their boots. Finally, Solen nodded, tilting her head up to the sky and letting a small smile spread across her lips.

She held out her hand once again, and Ada slid the ring off, dropping it back onto the woman's glove. Solen's fingers flittered up, brushing across the skin where Ada had worn the ring, but then she jerked away. Depositing the ring back into her pouch, her eyes veered back to the four women beneath the pier, now practising their blocks with elbows as sharp as their knives.

"You should join us," Solen suddenly said. "If you want to, I mean. Fighting isn't for everyone. But you can consider it a taster lesson, free of charge." She threw Ada a wink, and with a flutter of her eyelashes, the Solen from that morning returned, as carefree as the breeze that rustled her hair.

Ada thought back to the Hound she had met within the alleyway, his shadowed eyes and razor tongue. She had had her fair share of arguments with her siblings over the years, but Ada had never brandished a weapon towards anyone before. She wasn't certain she ever wanted to do it again.

But there was something inspiring about the small group of women gathered before her now, each one brimming with a power that flowed through their limbs and brought them whirling from the shadows.

She was about to nod, but something caught in the corner of her vision. Just past the opening of the tunnel was a line painted onto the stones that had not been there before. It was narrow and lengthy, disappearing into the underground passage in a trail of carmine. Then, dipping from the shadows, Ada saw a bundle of dark curls.

"In a little while, maybe. This cloak is getting stifling," Ada said to Solen, fingers edging over the seam of velvet that ran across her chest. "I think I'll just take a moment in the shade, for now."

Solen shrugged. "Suit yourself. But if you truly were carrying Raeph's dagger through Wysthaven, I'd say you're set to be a natural."

With a grin, Solen darted back to her group, batting aside Diane's attempt to disarm her as she drew out a dagger of her own.

When she was sure no one was looking, Ada backed towards the tunnel, eyes flickering from Solen to the red trail that shimmered in the sunlight before being lost to the passageway. With one final glance over her shoulder, Ada ducked into the shadows, eyes straining against the darkness as she hurried after Min.