Chapter 21: Sisters of Freedom
The Heroine's Love
Violet's Repose was a citadel, standing defiantly above the low plains of central Lafleur, a gaudy spectacle of tyranny and injustice. Even our vantage from the deimward hills barely placed the palaces' peaks below us as they desperately grasped for the heavens. Six grand temples, each a testament to the hellish world the queen protected.
That is what I told myself as we slowly approached the city of Jasmin's birth, her branding, her betrayal. But the closer we drew to it, the worse it became. I saw with tear-stained eyes that it was a macroscopic mimicry of the temples we'd seen in Thornwood Hallow and Shallowroot Thicket, but corrupted with the queen's grand palace in the centre.
People milled about the streets, visible from our steadily declining elevation during our approach. They were just people. I'd expected something much —
"Darker," Jasmin whispered as she reached over and took my hand while we rode closer. "More than I remember."
The riderless horse that had belonged to Vaelis seemed to neigh its agreement as it continued its otherwise eerily quiet march at my other side.
"I hear that's pretty standard when one returns to the place they were tortured and made to live in shame, darling," I teased, trying to keep her from worry. That was a burden I had to take from her while she found her answers. "Do your best to ignore that – or maybe light a cold-flame and brighten your path."
She squeezed my hand and pulled me closer. "I'll do my best. Though I do have to admit that yours is far more useful at revealing secrets." A light kiss met my neck before she whispered softly to me. "Do you remember your role, dearest?"
"Mouth shut. Face harsh. The silent emissary from Blue Stone, representing a noble house lost for a generation," I stiffly repeated the simple version, but added a bit of fun, "as I escort my magically delicious wife to purchase supplies for her shop."
"Oh please," she giggled, "if either of us is magical, that would have to be the one whose hair turned blue and whose sword is actually a flower."
"Either way," I cleared my throat, "I stay silent at the gate, while Mrs. Thornleaf gains us entry to the foul den of inequity and dishonest tomfoolery."
She pushed me hard, but I held my position easily.
The gate guards spotted us from a long way off, unsurprising given the wide open space along the deimward road into the city. One of them rode out to meet us and properly escort us from about a mile away. A hint of a tattoo peaked above the collar of her armour, vaguely resembling a smithing hammer.
"Ho!" She called as she approached. "Names and business in the first district."
"Arian Indra," Jasmin said with confidence before leaning in to kiss me, whispering, "sorry, love. Go with it." She returned her eyes to the guard. "And this is my mistress, Omela."
"Business, Miss Indra?"
"Oh, certainly," Jasmin seamlessly recovered. "We have taxes we need to remit, and we have need of a good smith." She lifted her sheathed sabre to make the point.
"Right!" I spoke up, breaking our plan further and prompting Jasmin to squeeze my hand tightly. I had to take this chance. "We were hoping to meet with Iron, or perhaps one of her sisters."
The guard's eyes flashed knowingly. "I'm sad to say, ladies," she bowed her head, "that Iron has long gone from our fine city, though her sisters still work in silence."
"A shame," I breathed, "but such is the way." When she nodded in agreement, I continued. "Can you recommend a place to sleep? We expect to be in town a while."
The guard began her thankless escort before looking back at me. "Certainly, Omela. Anyone who knows of Iron is a friend."
We were through the checkpoint at the gate far more quickly than expected. The guard vouched for us, keeping us from having to even give our names. As we passed along, I noticed each other guard also bore the smith's hammer tattoo below their collars. Something was on, but I didn't have time to sort it.
"Right. Omela," the guard said as she pointed us down a side street, "A smith holds court a mile down, and she'll gladly serve your needs. Tell her Steel sent you. Lodgings are a given." She patted both our horses sharply, moving them along from a hesitation I almost hadn't noticed. "And stables for the mounts. Nihil guide and keep you both."
As we retreated from earshot, Jasmin jerked me close. "What was that about?"
"It was a gamble. Much like Lady Thornleaf," I admitted. "But this one I actually know the stakes."
"Well I don't," she glared. "You will fill me in, or I will go back and tell Steel that you are Lady Magnia's murderer."
My laugh echoed through the streets, drawing the gaze of a hundred confused people. "Now you know how I felt when we arrived in Blue Stone. Have you heard of the Sisters of Iron?"
Her head tilted to the side.
"I didn't think so. They are allies. Mrs. Reed told me to look out for them," I explained, "though I had expected them to be harder to find. The whole gate crew just now were members."
As her mouth opened and closed wordlessly, my laughter rang out a second time.
"You'll be okay, darling," I teased and pulled her lips to mine. "I survived being the least informed soul in the room for several moons. You'll get through this."
On street-level, at least in the parts of town near the deimward gate, everything smelled of grease and sweat, working people working. It was difficult to reconcile my vision of an unjust world with my surroundings as we travelled the crowded street, almost losing the empty horse several times along the way.
Tracking the distance we'd travelled was a challenge between Jasmin's constant glances at the people around us, the people marvelling as much at our attire as I would've a year before, and the oddly twisty path along that particular road. It was strange, really, seeing Jasmin in her home city behaving nearly the same way I would've in mine.
I was struck then with the fact that Jasmin had likely never wandered this part of the city. She was a noblewoman, a demoted princess, destined for the higher class things in Lafleur. My stomach turned at the thought. But she wasn't that person any longer. She was just a woman trying to make her way.
Jasmin was a warrior. My warrior. And I was hers.
The sign literally hit me in the head when we arrived at Kovar's Smithy. Unlike other shop signs, theirs was lower and extended a bit further into the street. And I, reasonably, was watching the woman I loved instead of the path before us.
It was a standard smith's shop sign, an anvil declaring their business, lettering stating the owner's name. What stood out as special was the same hammer I'd spotted on Steel. It sat in the corner, a tiny detail leading the lost to a safer haven.
Jasmin stayed outside with the horses as I stepped into the shop.
Unlike the streets, Kovar's Smithy smelled of oil, heat, and burnt metals. There were no customers, but a waifish woman stood behind the counter while sounds of clanging steel echoed from beyond her station. She stared at me, wordless, her gaze penetrating but passive.
"I'm looking for some assistance," I stammered, barely certain what to do next. "Or rather, my mistress and I are. The thing is, we're looking for —"
"Assistance," her voice scraped together. She traced my whole body from boots to hair. "This is a smith's shop. You're a lady of means. Give us the money and the order, and get out."
"No. I'm not doing this right," my words barely stuck together as a complete thought.
The woman behind the counter fought back a laugh. "Take a breath, and start over."
I nodded appreciation for her charitable approach and breathed deeply. "My mistress and I need assistance. We're not exactly noblewomen. I was hoping to find some help from someone in particular, but I was told she wasn't around."
Apparently my rambling caught the attentions of the working people in the back of the shop. One of them pushed past the woman at the counter and into the public section of the shop. From her greying hair kept mid length, but tied back, to her too knowing eyes, everything about her was familiar.
"Mrs. Reed?" The words were out before I could stop myself.
Her tough and protective expression softened instantly. "Who sent you?" Clearly not Mrs. Reed, but apparently familiar.
"She said to tell you Steel," the words were tripping over themselves. "But that was after I asked for —"
"The Sisters," when I nodded at the word, she continued. "If you know Mrs. Reed, and if she told you about us, then you're a good kid. Don't mention her or Iron again while you're in town. How many?"
"My mistress, me, and three horses."
"And how long?"
"We don't know."
"Skills?"
"We both fight. She's also a researcher. And I learned healing from my mother." I spoke the lie with confidence. While I could heal, it almost certainly wasn't like my mother.
"Names?"
"Well she's —"
"Real names. We can't work together if we're not on even footing."
"Afina Roisin and Salora Jasmin Thornleaf. And she's actually my wife, not my mistress."
Her eyes lit up, but she didn't actively address it. "Travel names?"
"Omela and Arian Indra."
That stopped her. "Omela?" She stepped closer to me, filling my personal space with the smells of sweat and fire. "Omela the Sturdy?"
"She was my mother."
"I can see her in you," the woman smiled. "Though that hair and those eyes will stand out. This will be a bit more difficult."
"I'm happy to take a different name."
"You will do no such thing, young Omela. The people need a heroine." She jutted her jaw forward, and I saw the impression of her tongue brushing across her lower teeth. "Tell your wife that we'll put you up on the condition that she goes by Tarana for the time being. Can't have a heroine without her shield."
"You mean my parents fought together? But they were conscripted seven years apart."
"That's the key. They couldn't fight together, and most of us are certain that's why she only lasted a few years in the conflict. Same for him."
Muscles relaxed I didn't know were tensed all over my body. I was resolved to go along with it all. "I don't think she'll like it – in fact, she'll hate it – but she trusts me, and I think we can make it work."
"Perfect. Bring the lovely lady in, and we'll get the process moving." The big woman smiled. "Almost forgot. Call me Kovar," a servant name, for sure, "and welcome to The Sisters of Iron."
The Bulwark's Daughter
When Steel had said 'lodgings', I'd expected a backroom of a shop, huddled around a fire dish, barely warm enough to keep our teeth from clattering and shattering. Never mind that it was the end of the hot season, and harvest was coming soon. When Kovar had said she'd put us up, I was convinced it would be a ratty old barn barely fit for our horses, who would be sleeping beside us – or worse, atop.
I didn't expect The Sixth Maiden. There was little way I could have expected it. I'd never seen anything like it, even in Blue Stone. The building stood ten levels high, with steel and brick holding each corner strong. The first two levels alone were a raucous bar and restaurant that put shame to even the rowdiest festivals of Powell's Square.
Beyond that, each level of the building had seven apartments, each the size of Delia's house back home. By Kovar's admission, it wasn't the finest establishment, but our near-noble appearance would make it difficult to house us in anything less prestigious. Yet my jaw sagged at the notion that there could be anything finer in all the land.
Jasmin, to her credit, held her tongue about the name issue until we were safely tucked within an apartment on the third level.
"Tarana?" She growled the word at me, barely a name, but sufficient for our needs. "It makes me sound like a fish, Roisin."
I laughed at her protest. "You say that like it's a bad thing. I'm not the one who took us off script in the first place."
She yanked at the collar of my shirt, barely moving me. Emerald sparks flashed in her eyes, and she tried again, pulling me close. "No, that was me. And while I'm sorry for my rash decision, I had good reason for it. Reason that's now obliterated because I have to take your father's name – or something like it – for us to stay in the seediest establishment my servants used to save up money to buy a single drink from."
"But we're safe," I said calmly before taking her hand and kissing her lightly on the cheek. When her jaw went slack, I smiled. "And if working with the Sisters of Iron is enough to keep us that way while we're in town, then I would destroy your plans a million times over. What were you even planning, anyway? Barge into town, storm the central palace, and give your mother a stern talking to directly in her grand throne room?"
She stood, wordless.
"You were, and I can see it!" I scoffed. "Do you even know what she is?"
Worry flooded her face. Apparently Jasmin had some ideas about the truth. "Even so," she said after a second, "I wish you'd told me. I don't even know who the Sisters of Iron are."
"For once, let me protect you before you need it desperately," I whispered the words to her, "and I'll do the same. We have to be here for each other, okay?"
Her expression returned to severe. "No noble sacrifices in the heat of the moment?"
"Not even if you beg me." I lied. She knew it.
A light grin took over. "Good. So who in Lafleur are the Sisters of Iron?"
We settled into our apartment in The Sixth Maiden rather quickly. Our horses were put up in a local stable as work animals while we stayed in town. Jasmin finally took an opportunity to dig into the books Aidan sent her off with. Titles like Fleurian Flora and their Fabulous Furs were set alongside the disparate Magnanimous Myths Minimised by Megalomaniacs.
Meanwhile, I started running jobs for Kovar.
Each morning, a messenger would arrive with a location. I'd go to the location and ask for 'something darker than steel', and they'd send me to work. The jobs were mostly small, with focus being on deliveries, and I was certain Kovar was trying to get people familiar with my face before she put out word of my name.
"If anyone asks, call yourself Ferrite for now," the first message had said, and I stuck to it. Using servants' names made you almost invisible, which was a fact no one could deny.
As suns passed, the jobs got bigger and sent me closer to the grand palace at the city's centre. What shocked me wasn't so much the disparity in people as the disparity in structure. Buildings went from modest single-level – and sometimes single-room – to lavishly extravagant metal monoliths. It wasn't seamless either. The Sixth Maiden was right at the boundary.
Jasmin stayed indoors for the first two sevensuns, only leaving our room to collect messages from the staff of the bar. It might have been her city once, but the hesitation made it clear, she wasn't so certain anymore.
The first sun of the tenth moon in the seventeenth year of Queen Lavender's reign arrived with little fanfare beyond Jasmin stopping me at the door to our apartment.
"Dearest," she said, our rhythm starting to return.
"Darling?" My response was uncertain, but she likely expected that.
She closed the space between us, her scent flooding my entire mind, before setting both hands on the door on either side of my head. "I've done my reading. Take me on this sun's job."
I'm certain my smile was blinding as I pulled her in for a kiss. "I'd love that, Jasmin."
"You had best. Because if you try to go without me I'll just follow along, just outside your view." She kissed my forehead and backed away from the door. "And, what was it, 'throw myself off a cliff to break your fall'?"
My words sounded unhinged coming from her mouth, telling me she must have a point.
"I already said okay," rolling my eyes, I didn't fight it. "Get dressed. This sun's job is delivering letters to some important people. Apparently, they want to scare some nobles."
A single one of Jasmin's brows went up. "Anyone I might know?"
We wove our way along the streets of Violet's Repose, hand-in-hand, to various businesses owned by nobles and run by servants. At each stop, we were redirected. "The Lady isn't in, please stop by the manor." Or possibly "The Lord regrets his unavailability, but he is on his estate."
Far more useful in finding my way around was Jasmin whispering in my ear at each stop.
"Lady Amanita, she manages agriculture, inherited title, kind of a cunt."
"Lord Maxwell, ceremonial title, insufferable but helpful if he shuts up."
"Honoured Pecorin, they're mostly good people, but they are the queen's eyes and ears in social circles."
She knew more about the city than I could possibly need, or at least so far as nobility was concerned. The pattern was consistent at every stop. Arrive outside the business, Jasmin fills me in, we talk to the servant running the show, we're redirected, Jasmin shares gossip about the current Lord, Lady, or Honoured Soul as we approach their statehouse.
"I'd find this incredibly creepy if I didn't know you were the princess," I told her as we approached the home of the new Lady Magnia, assigned the role after the previous Lady Magnia was found dead. "As it stands, how do you know about this one? You were with me when she was assigned."
"The thing about that," she hedged a bit, "is that I used to study with her. I've been confirming who ended up where for the last half-moon."
Lady Magnia opened the door as Jasmin finished her sentence. "Who are you, and why are you here?"
I held out the rolled message paper addressed specifically for her. "Message, madam."
She snatched it, sneering. "It is 'Your Grace'," she snapped. "Who sent this?"
"I'm just the courier, your graciousness."
We turned to go, but she was apparently not done with us. "Wait." She turned her eyes to Jasmin. "You look familiar. Do I know you?"
"I'd say no, my gratitude," Jasmin said with an innocent saccharine tone. "Perhaps I've messengered for you once or twicewise before, my grapefulness."
The woman scowled as she unrolled the message. She read it, ignoring us except when she thought we were trying to sneak away, when she'd growl like a dog betrayed.
When she finally finished, she threw the paper limply in my direction, an act that was futile at best and comical at worst. It fluttered helplessly for a second before falling at my feet. "Tell your employer they will regret this insult," she said before slamming the door.
I took the paper, and unrolled it. Because the letters had to be delivered sealed, I hadn't known what they contained. My mouth went desert-dry as I took it in.
Revered Noble Lady Magnia,
You are too young to understand the implications, but the daughter of the famed heroine has graced our fine city with her presence.
Divest yourself of the queen's corruption, or Omela's justice will befall you, just as it did your predecessor.
Long Live Nihil, Iron
The letter was all but a declaration of war. Jasmin's emerald cold-flame flared as she read the words for herself. The times of our low profile in Violet's Repose would be ending soon.