Libramentum

Chapter Three

Eleanor had completely lost track of time and it wasn’t until Taliyah had found her, that she realized she had spent the rest of her day in the library. She blinked her strained eyes and saw that the windows no longer shimmered with the light of day, but were inky with night. 

“Have you been here all day?” her cousin asked her incredulously.

“I suppose I have,” Eleanor said slowly, setting down the book. She stood, attempting to stretch her stiff limbs. “I haven’t missed much, have I?”

“No,” Taliyah began slowly. “But it won’t do you any good with your status in court if you waste your entire day here.”

“I wouldn’t call it a waste,” she frowned, picking up one of the books. “You should actually spend some of your time here if you want to learn about healing. I was doing some research of my own, there’s always more to learn.”

Taliyah’s stern expression softened, her eyes giving the books a second chance. “W-which should I start with? There’s so many I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” she looked at the title of what Eleanor had been reading and balked. 

“None of these, a simpler title. Tomorrow I’ll have Jarvais bring up a proper reading list,” she rubbed her stomach, feeling a deep pit. “Is there somewhere we can eat?”

“We can go to a restaurant in high town, I know a few that serve good meals.”

“We can leave the castle without guards?”

“Well, we should find someone to take us, it’s not necessarily safe for a pair of noble ladies to go out on the town in the evening.”

“Perhaps we could find Ser Athalos, he might agree to accompany us.”

“Ser Athalos Hollyhock?” again, Taliyah used that tone of voice.

“Yes, I met him today,” Eleanor said shortly as she collected the books and left them neatly on a table. She hoped that Jarvais would just leave them for her, rather than putting them all away again. “Why? What is the gossip with Ser Athalos?”

“Nothing bad!” Taliyah squeaked, her cheeks becoming rosy. “He just doesn’t talk to many ladies often, though they dote on him. I don’t know if he’d help us, he’s always so busy and broody and handsome,” the words fell out of her mouth in a tumble, Taliyah’s usual collected demeanor shattering.

“Oh, you seem fond of him. So you know him?”

“N-no! I wish I did, but like I said, he’s always busy. He sort of ignores all the ladies and goes about his business. Not that he’s rude, he just doesn’t show interest…”

“And I assume this makes all the ladies even more interested?”

Taliyah nodded furiously. “He’s one of the best knights in the realm and from a prestigious family, heir to his house, one day he’ll be a lord and he’s still unmarried, so ladies are trying to gain his favor.”

“Lord, I’d be annoyed too if that’s all any woman who wanted to talk to me had on her mind,” Eleanor commented thoughtfully.

“How did you meet him?” 

“He escorted me to breakfast this morning with the royal children and queen. He was very pleasant to talk to.”

“I heard you were seen walking with Prince Lucan through the castle,” Taliyah prompted, giving her a sidelong glance.

“Yes… the prince is intriguing, but very driven and honest. He was the one who brought me to the library. I’ve been here since.”

The pair exited the library and made their way toward the front of Goldenhour and into the courtyard. It was illuminated by torch light and was not as busy as it was during the day. However, there were still some training in the yard. Eleanor didn’t know how to find Athalos, but she had sort of hoped that he’d be out in the yard training. Her eyes scanned the perimeter, trying to discern his shape from the others, but found that in the half-light, it was rather difficult.

“Good evening, my ladies, what brings you out here this evening?” an accented voice asked them, causing the cousins to whirl. Behind them was the handsome and foreign, Ser Adaro Stassos. 

A sour taste appeared in Eleanor’s mouth, but she forced a smile. There was another pair of men with Adaro, though none she had met before. “We were just looking for someone, ser.”

“Can we be of any assistance, perhaps?” he inclined.

Taliyah didn’t speak, allowing Eleanor to be the voice for the both of them. For some reason, Eleanor didn’t feel quite right telling him that she was searching for Ser Athalos. There was something about his eyes, a hunger that was disconcerting. She had not forgotten that he was the man who had flung the dagger so carelessly, but had he forgotten who she was already?

“Perhaps,” she drawled slowly, her eyes scanning the sigils on the breasts of the other two men.

Before she could formulate her words, the atmosphere around her shimmered, stealing her breath away. Gasping, her hand reached to her throat, where the sapphire hummed against her throat. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest and an overwhelming sense of dread filled her as her blood ran cold within her veins. They were speaking around, their voices queer and indistinguishable. 

Taliyah grasped her forearm, holding her up, but the world was falling away from her. 

Eleanor could only feel the heat of magick against all of her flesh, she didn’t know what was happening, but it wasn’t good. 

Adaro was in her face, asking her questions, but she could not hear. Taliyah yelled at him, putting herself between her and the knight. Her cousin’s eyes were wide and desperate, clinging to her shoulders. They were on the ground, she realized, she was on her knees. But she couldn’t move or hear. She could only see, while the rest of her body rejected existence. 

Then it all came rushing toward her. The power overwhelmed her, flooding her senses to the point where she could not longer see. It was only at that point that darkness consumed all.

“Trealla en calis talli,” a voice whispered in her ears. She could see a woman in the distance, wearing silken dresses that billowed around her like ocean waves. There was no wind and yet it moved. “Trealla en calis talli,” she repeated, her voice reverberating. It was no louder than a whisper and yet it pounded within her head, echoing off of the darkness. When she chased her, she grew no closer, despite the fact that the woman did not move. 

Running and running, never to grow even an inch closer to the woman. Desperation filled her chest. There was something important about her, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. Her back faced her, white silk shimmering, the only light in the abyss.

Her lilting voice was beginning to grow strained and distant, until finally, her voice cracked into a wail. The words tumbled from her mouth in a sob and when she turned around, Eleanor could finally see her face. She froze in her tracks, mesmerized by the gaunt face that leered at her.

Hollowed out eyes were as inky as the night around them. Her fair skin was blanched, her veins visible beneath the flesh, her mouth hanging open as she c****d her head forlornly. She looked so lost, so confused, so terrifying. Long pointed ears poked out from beneath her curtain of hair and as she repeated herself, she stepped toward Eleanor, seeing her for the first time with her bottomless eyes.

“Run.” It was the same voice, but the creature did not speak it. Instead it flew toward her, fingers splaying, its sorrowful features marring and becoming grotesque as it screeched at her.

Eleanor sat up, her skin covered in a cold sweat, heart fluttering rapidly. She was no longer in the courtyard, but she also was not in her manse. She glanced around, observing colorful fabrics and strange items along with books piled on tables. Sitting in a chair, she saw Ilsmera staring into the hearth, her face strained. She lifted her head and glanced in her direction.

“You’ve woken…” she stated, her voice was thin and lacked the power she remember previously.

“What happened? How did I get here?”

Ilsmera rose, pushing herself up, she was weak. “Draqio brought you here. I sent for you the moment I realized what was happening.”

“I just remember not being able to move… and a power…. It’s like something broke and so much power was released. Did you feel it too?”

Ilsmera nodded, coming to sit on the bed that Eleanor laid on. “I think every mage felt that. It has finally happened,” her voice was soft, her eyes on her hands that sat in her lap.

“It?” Eleanor prompted, her own voice hoarse too.

“You know of the tales of the Age of Legends?”

She nodded, the Age of Legends was more than a millennia ago. It was a time when there were more races than just human. It was fabled that there were elves, dwarves, orcs, trolls, goblins, dragons, and various other races. However, there came a point in time when the dragons were so powerful and feared that the elves and human mages worked together to overthrow the primordial race. Without the dragons, the elves' magick powers suffered, a result they had not predicted and war had waged between elf, dwarf, and orc alike. Humans, caught in the middle, had suffered the most casualties, and resentment built toward the non-humans. It was believed that great magi sealed away the races, just as the dragons had been defeated, which later led to humans fearing their own mages.

“The Seal has been broken,” Ilsmera told her. “That was the release of power that we both felt… What did  you see? You were unconscious for a long while.”

Eleanor didn’t know what the seal was, but she explained her dream to Ilsmera. The sorceress frowned. “A wraith-like elf? That is very disconcerting. I know that the elves were slaughtered, driven into extinction by the orcs. What may remain of them will likely take a spectral visage as you saw, but… why that? And what do those words mean?”

“What did the seal do? Forgive me, I do not know much about lore.”

“The Seal was the magick the magi wrought to bind the magick of old. There has always been a portion of magick that no mage has been able to access due to the Seal, not that either of us would truly know, since we have lived all our lives with the Seal. However, it sealed what remained of the races of legend. Record had been lost on who or what remained, but I know for certain that whatever it was, is awake now. We felt that release of power, only those who are magickal attuned can.”

“What does this mean for us? Something has awoken, whether that just be ghosts or some mages that were locked away….”

“It’s not just mages. The magi sealed away entire cities. I don’t know what is coming or if it will be bad, but I know that the world is going to change and whether or not that is for the better is unknown until whatever was sealed, reveals itself,” Ilsmera’s face betrayed how disturbed she was by this. “However, the power that was released… It benefits us as well. I’m not certain what kind of beings were sealed away, but the release of the Seal also makes us stronger.”

“Do you think that whatever has awoken will come for the humans?”

“It is very likely. Our kind sealed them, but only time will reveal.”

“Does the king know?”

“I have yet to tell him, I was waiting for you to wake,” Ilsmera informed her. The dark woman paused to inspect Eleanor. “I know you have just arrived here, but if the Seal had broken and we face danger, you need to be prepared. I understand your skills are not in fighting, but there are spells I can teach you, wards you can cast to protect yourself and others. You will also need to put your skills into practice. I will arrange block times for you to assist in the royal infirmary. Time will also need to be dedicated with me and our own lessons as well as with my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“He will test and train your endurance. I know you are a thin woman, but muscle can be built. On the field of battle, we cannot have you out of breath or exhausted due to your inability to keep up.”

“As long as I have time to continue my research in the library, I am willing to work with whatever schedule you give me. We need to be prepared for whatever may come our way.”

Ilsmera nodded, her eyes resolute. She swept herself up from her perch, swaying with exhaustion as she opened a decanter and poured herself a glass of liquor. She offered a glass to Eleanor, but the young woman shook her head. Swirling the liquid in the crystal chalice, she sighed deeply. “You’ll be wanting to get back to your chambers, tomorrow starts your trials and training.”

The sorceress summoned her brother, the hulking man materializing in the doorway at her beckon. 

“Please escort Lady Eleanor back to her chambers, dear brother,” she requested.

Draqio gave her a gruff nod, gesturing to the door. Eleanor managed to get herself out of the feather bed and to the door. Her muscles ached and her head pounded, but she was able to walk on her own. 

“Til the morrow,” Eleanor told Ilsmera.

“Yes, til the morrow,” she agreed, taking her seat back by the hearth.

Eleanor ran her fingertips along the cold stone as the circled down the spire staircase. 

“How are you feeling?” Draqio asked her politely, his voice deep, echoing throughout the staircase.

“A bit exhausted,” she admitted.

“A long night stands before us,” he said grimly.

So he knows. I suppose I should have expected that Ilsmera shares everything with him. 

“Is it still night? It feels like an eternity ago I was trying to go out for dinner and then I wound up here,” she commented wryly. 

“You haven’t eaten?” he asked, a small smile gracing his features from her comment.

“No, but I don’t have much appetite now. I spent my day in the library. Exciting, I know. I have the whole city within reach and I chose to lose the day in my research.”

“There are worse things to do, at least you were productive,” Draqio replied evenly. “But you should try to eat, you will have an early morning and will need your strength. I can have a servant send some food to you.”

“It must be late, we shouldn’t wake the kitchen,” Eleanor told him dismissively.

“You are Lady Blacktyde, they can prepare something quickly for you, it is their job,” Draqio insisted stubbornly. 

“Well, I mean, if you’re the one to bother them…” she drawled.

“I’ll see to it for you. I need you strong for your training tomorrow. You must learn to not be so nice, it will not help you here.”

“My attitude toward servants and nobles are different. The servants are the ones who run the castle and I’d prefer not to get on their bad side.”

“They would not cross you even if they hated you. The servants are fearful of mages.”

She was about to ask why, but then realized the only other mage in the castle was his sister. Perhaps Ilsmera had done something that put the fear in them or they were incredibly superstitious. 

“That’s not useful. Useful for nobles, but…”

“Sometimes it is better to be feared than loved.”

“I disagree,” Eleanor told him as they continued through the halls. “Yes, a healthy respect is suitable. But fear breeds resentment I would never trust someone who fears me as much as another who loves me. Someone who loves you would do their work out of faith, out of their respect for you, but fear only lasts for so long. My father has told me loyalty stems from trust and love, not fear.”

“But fear is more direct.”

“And easier to achieve, but as I said, ruling with fear will come back to bite you. Why do you think fear works better?”

“A lot of people fear me and so far, it has worked out,” he shrugged.

“I’d be scared of you too if I were a servant, you probably haven’t given them much reason to think otherwise, no?”

“Why would you be scared of me?”

“You’re much bigger than me. I think you must be the largest man in all of the city! I’ve spoken with you and so I know that you’re a reasonable sort, but just looking at you I’d be intimidated. You have a warrior’s prowess and it’s enough to make anyone nervous, especially servants.”

Draqio chuckled. “I am a big man,” he admitted. “Then if you think love and loyalty is so much better than fear, prove me wrong. I'll be watching."

Eleanor stared at him, wondering what he meant by that, but decided not to pursue it. Fear could only keep a leash on people for so long, whereas love would keep them tethered. Her father had won over all his men's loyalty by not striking fear into them, but proving that he was a worthy lord to follow. 

The morning came too soon. No later than her head hit the pillow and true sleep overcame here did she wake to a knocking on her door. A servant was there with a modest breakfast. It was before dawn and they had likely been sent by Draqio to be certain that she woke at the proper time. They also had trousers and a tunic for her to wear instead of one of her dresses. A part of her was nervous to go out into the courtyard in such plain, manly clothing. 

What would others say if they saw her? 

They’re probably not even awake yet, she realized as she washed down the bread with rosewater. 

Donning her training attire, she tied her hair up and decided to not waste much time before making haste.

It was still dark when she stepped outside, only the faint glow of the nearby torches illuminated and area. There was little activity in the yard other than a few servants making some rounds, guards, and the kennel master. She espied Draqio in less formal clothing, similar to her own, in the area she had first spotted knights training upon her arrival. That section of the yard was empty at the moment.

“Good morning,” he greeted gruffly, large arm folded across his chest. 

“Good morning, if we can even call it that yet,” she commented. 

He gave a short to acknowledge her comment before starting, “We’ll start every morning at this hour except on the weekends. Your body will need time to rest after I’m done with you… Today we’re going to start light, I need to test how well you can cope with the stress. A short stretch and then we will begin running.”

Running didn’t sound terrible. She assumed he’d have her on the ground doing weird exercises, a run at this hour actually might have been refreshing. At least, she thought that until after they stretched and Draqio took the lead. 

Eleanor was a tall, slender thing, but Draqio overstepped her quite a bit. His long, powerful legs churned and it was all Eleanor could do but to keep up with him. Every monstrous step he took, she had to take three to match him. Her legs fluttered furiously and her heart hammered in her throat. She felt her breath catching and there was pain. She decided she didn’t like running as she gasped for air, sweat beading on her brow and seeping into her eyes.

“Come on now, we haven’t been running that long,” Dragio told her.

You’re much bigger than me! You could probably walk brisker than I could run, she thought bitterly as she continued to follow him, her pace continuing to slow until Dragio had put some distance between them. Eventually, she came to a wheezing halt, trying to grasp something so she could attempt to steady her heart rate.

However, the moment she stopped her head reeled and her stomach turned sour. A cough sputtered to her lips.

“Walk! Keep walking, in circles!” Dragio ordered her. “Put your hands above your heart, like this,” he reached over his head, arms extended, fingers interlocked.

Eleanor thought she was going to vomit until she started pacing and did as directed. Her short breaths became deeper and her heart ached as well as her throat, it was raw. When she had calmed down,  Dragio was perched on top of a barrel, unflushed and observing her.

“That will be all for today. Your sessions will not be this short, they will get longer with time, but I don’t want to make you sick. You have other things to do today.”

“How did I fare?”

“Better than I thought you would. I didn’t think you’d run as long and keep up with me, but keeping pace will take time and also learning how to breathe properly when running. If you breathe through your mouth, you’re more likely to hyperventilate as well as cause your heart rate to soar,” he told her.

The first tendrils of dawn were creeping into the sky and the castle was beginning to wake. Immediately, she felt a bit nervous in her messy and sweaty state, her fingers curling around the cuffs of her tunic as she scanned the area to be certain that no one she recognized was around. 

“You’re dismissed. You’ve a busy day ahead of you and should clean up,” he told her.

Eleanor nodded her appreciation before slipping away. Despite her sore muscles, she skittered away as quickly as she could without drawing attention. She made it to her suite before anyone saw her. A handmaiden was waiting for her, some more clothing had been delivered.

She didn’t even wait for the girl to mention what she was there for and started stripping the sweaty attire so that she could slide into the hot bathing area. 

“My lady, after you soak your attendance has been requested by Mistress Ilsmera,” the girl told her.

“Very well,” Eleanor sighed as she sank into the water, letting the water come up to her chin as she soaked her already aching joints. She didn’t request any assistance other than the handmaiden just tidying the room and unpacking what had been delivered to her. Sunlight had begun to filter in through the tall windows opposite of the bath, piercing through the silk. 

She was just washing the soap from her hair when the handmaiden approached her.

“There’s a visitor at the door,” she told her.

“I’m a bit indisposed at the moment. They can come back later, no?” Eleanor said, wondering if the girl had any wits about her. She was naked!

“It is Ser Hollyhock, I didn’t want to just turn him away without my lady’s permission.”

Eleanor paused and then stood, grabbing the cloth that had been laid out for her to dry with. “Give me a moment to dry and get behind the shade to change and you can let him in,” she told the handmaiden as she patted her hair first and then wrapped the fabric around herself before skirting behind the changing shade.

It was still very early, though many warriors and knights were known for being early risers. She wondered what had brought Ser Athalos to her chambers. Her cheeks burned at the thought of the prince mentioning to his cousin that she was fond of him. 

The dress that had been prepared for her was another of the tailor’s expertise. He had picked a pearly white brocade that shimmered when the light hit it. The bodice was made of four panels, a deep V cutting down as the other did. Navy cords were braided in a halter that held the top up and this dress was sleeveless. However, it has a bit of whimsy to it that reminded her of the gowns she had taken from home. The skirts rippled in pearly white overlaying navy. She was able to get this dress on herself, as it buttoned on the back of the skirt and had a completely open back. Her cold, damp hair plastered to her skin.

“Lady Eleanor? I’m sorry, have I come at a bad time?” she heard the knight’s voice as she grabbed the drying cloth again and wiped her hair more, coming round the changing shade.

“No it’s fine, I had just finished up, although I’m not completely made up, so you’ll have to excuse my appearance,” she told him. Her eyes swept her chambers and she noticed the handmaiden had taken her leave.

Ser Athalos was garbed in another doublet similar to the previous day’s. Today, it was dark brown with his family’s crest on it. He turned to look her over, before averting his eyes, even though she was fully garbed. “I can speak with you later-”

“Nonsense, you’re here now,” she waved dismissively.

“I just came to check on your well being. I heard you had fainted last night, but you seem to be doing better,” he said.

Eleanor nearly frowned. She had hoped that new of her episode would not spread, but even someone who had not been there knew about it. She didn’t know those three knights and it was obvious they’d talk about seeing a mage go catatonic all of a sudden. “Well, I appreciate your concern. What happened last night was…” she grasped for a way to describe it. Perhaps Ilsmera had told the king and Athalos also knew, but she couldn’t assume. 

“A mage thing?” he asked her.

Does he know or is he guessing? 

“Yes it was,” she finally decided to concede. 

“I was in the king’s presence when Ilsmera informed him of what happened,” Athalos told her, finally confirmed her suspicions.

“What did she say?”

“The breaking of the Seal and the imminent danger we could be facing. Prince Lucan had departed to oversee the army.”

“And you’re still here?” she asked carefully. “In my chambers at an early hour? I do believe we had conversation yesterday, but that doesn’t quite equate to this. What more is there?”

“You’re a healer and a priceless asset to the Crown,” Athalos told her honestly. “The king has put me in charge of your well being.”

“Then you would know that I’ve an assortment of lessons and tasks I have to do daily now. I can also defend myself within this castle if need be, I’ve already done it once,” she said. Ilsmera had shared more than she would have preferred, but she doubted that Athalos was one to spread rumors. It was better that her talents remain a secret to the public, but was shared among those who mattered and would not betray it. “You’re not going to follow me day and night are you? I’m afraid I might get tired of you if that were the case,” she jested.

A hint of a smile quirked to Athalos’ lips before he spoke. “Just general well being. The castle the king is not too worried about, but if you needed to go outside the castle or needed to go somewhere at night… He has entrusted me with your safety until Ilsmera can confirm that you can defend yourself well enough. Even then, I doubt the king would want you unguarded.”

“So I don’t need you to escort me everywhere?”

“No, that would draw too much attention and raise questions among the other nobles. Of course, unless you requested that I accompany you.”

“They will talk either way if we are seen together once a day in a comfortable fashion.” With Ser Athalos attending her, she knew that other nobles would assume he was courting her. She didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing, it would keep away all of the lower caste knights and nobles who believed they might have had a chance in courting her and marrying into the Blacktyde family. “But it may be more useful to play the rumors.”

Athalos seemed little pleased by the prospect of weaving himself into court politics. “Whatever they have to say, I care little. I have a duty, my lady, to you and the Crown.”

“Of course, of course,” Eleanor glanced to the window. The morning was in full swing by this point and she was aware that this conversation might make her late to her lessons with the sorceress. “But I do have to be somewhere soon and I’m afraid I still don’t know the castle very well yet. Could you help me find Ilsmera’s tower?”

Ser Athalos gave a firm, courteous nod. Eleanor attempted to do something with her half dry curls, but was too frazzled to even bother. Usually she had a servant or the handmaidens do it. She instead, left it down and loose, despite the cold curls feeling uncomfortable on her skin. She even forgot to perfume and place any makeup on, not wanting to keep the knight waiting. She assumed he had other things to do than be her guard. 

They departed the manse and began down a familiar path. Eleanor recalled it vaguely from her exhausted trek with Dragio and knew that she’d remember it now. It was still early enough that most proper ladies and lords weren’t quite up yet. This was the hour for men at arms, servants, guards, pages, squires, and knights. Eleanor noticed that Athalos was not as stiff as he had been the prior morning. 

The court is not awake yet, she thought as he led her to the spire stairs. 

“If you need me, send a servant for me and I’ll find you as soon as I can,” he promised, giving her a look over once more like a parent might do a child on their first day of school. “Wearing your hair down suits you,” he told her before turning away and going about his business.

Eleanor’s fingers brushed her loose curls that had dried by the time they made it to the spire. She began scaling the case, her legs protesting with each step. Did he fancy her? Had he requested to be assigned to her or had the king just commanded it? Did her hair really look good or was it a mess and he was being snide? She didn’t take Athalos for a snide person. 

Ilsmera was waiting for her in her loft, a circular table prepared with an ensemble of various books. Each was bound in different material and was unlike those adjacent. In fact, they were some of the most queerly decorated books that Eleanor had ever seen. 

“Kind of you to finally join me,” Ilsmera commented as she rose, her skirts billowing like ocean waves. 

Eleanor hadn’t thought herself late, but her cheeks burned nonetheless.

“Today I’ve prepared books of old. As I’ve shared with you before, mages come in various skills, shapes, and sizes. You know that I am an ice sorceress and I know that you are a healer. However, these titles are vague, as there are so few of us left. Back in a time when those magickally inclined were more common, they studied in their area of skill and had titles. Be that a Pyromancer, a Priest or Priestess, a Necromancer, an Oracle… And the list does go on. Even we have a field of expertise, though few would call us by our proper names. I have set the table with books that belong to the healing category of mages. One of these books shall speak to you and you will study from it. I will also teach you more spells, those that are generic such as wards, but it is from one of these books that you can learn secrets you never believed yourself capable of,” Ilsmera explained as she beckoned Eleanor to follow her to the table. 

There were four books in total.

“Go ahead, look at each. You will know which is the one.”

She picked up a blue one first that had ribbing in the leather similar to scales. She ran her fingers over the grooves before opening it. The first few weathered pages were in a sharp script in a language she could not understand. She flipped through it before deciding that it was not the one. 

The second was a silky white book gilded with gold and silver. Inside was writing in a hand that was more legible, but again, she could not make any sense of it.

The third book was emerald green and bound in cloth rather than leather. This book also held nothing for her other than text she could not read.

Nervously, she approached the last book on the table. This had to be the one. What did it mean if she couldn’t read this one? She was a healer, she had proven her abilities before. Her fingers ran over the golden dyed leather that was stamped with steel. The book was impossibly heavy and when she unlatched the binding, she found nothing. 

Ilsmera sensed the young woman’s distress. “What is the matter?”

“What should I be looking for? Is it normal to not be able to read them? Do I learn the language later?” she asked weakly as she thumbed through the dense book.

“None of them?” Ilsmera asked curiously, her fingers tapping against her lips as she thought. “There is another book, but I had not thought it would suit you. You should be able to read the words in the book if it meant for you.”

The sorceress swept off to one of her long tall bookcases and drew a book from the top shelf with a wave of her hand. The book shuffled itself back off the case and flew down carefully into her hands. She turned around and offered the brown book to her.

Eleanor turned it over in her hands. The leather was shaped like maple leaves sewn together, they were tinged brownish red and had webbing stitched into them. When she flipped this book over, relief washed over her as the words formed into patterns that she could read. 

“Why did you think this would not be the book?” she asked Ilsmera.

“Because that kind of healer also had offensive magick.”

Eleanor glanced up from the pages, albeit taken aback from her words. “Really? I’ve never really shown promise in such area before this.”

“It’s not magick like mine. This is the book of a Druid. They are gifted with healing magicks, but it derives from nature and balance. And nature also has a bite, but that is not what Druids were known for. It was their ability to shapeshift and some of these Druids used that ability to fight alongside of regular men. It is rumored that some could even turn into dragons centuries ago. I do not know how they did it, I believe there is likely a ritual you have to complete in order to gain certain forms. The book should detail it… but if you truly are a Druid, you could easily be more accessible on the battlefield and you would be able to defend yourself. Perhaps even fight, if that is what you wished.”

Eleanor had no taste for battle. She had seen the c*****e of pillaging when her father brought up wounded men after they cleaned up raiders on the shores. Her heart was in healing the wounds inflicted, not causing more. If shapeshifting could help her access those injured, it would prove to be a beneficial talent, but she could not see herself tearing men limb from limb. The thought made her shudder, it was too intimate and macabre.

“Then this book shall become my guide?” she implored, glancing down into it. 

“Yes and your homework. I know you said you wanted to study in the library, which you can if you find the time for it, but I want you to come each day with something you learned from those pages, whether it be a spell or ability you did not know about. After that, we will commence with my lesson for the day. For today, I want you to start reading through that book,” she motioned to one of the chairs in her study before collecting the books that had not worked.

Eleanor took a seat and began reading from the beginning. Usually, she found herself lost within pages, but she felt her mind wander. She reached a point where she looked up from her book and found Ilsmera finding a comfortable spot to do some of her own work.

“Ilsmera, were you with the king when he assigned someone to guard me?” she asked.

“Ah, Ser Athalos I believe? Yes, I was there.”

“Did he assign him or…”

“He did, though I do admit the knight did not seem bothered by his orders.”

“Do you really think I am at that much risk, especially in the castle?”

“Perhaps not within the castle, but I did suggest that the court might try to eat you up. Your sister has already done well as making mention of your character to many, though it’s quite in contrast from what I know of you. On top of that, you’re a comely, unmarried lady from an important house. You have not been here long, but suitors have heard your name and have been trying to find your scent already. I suggested a knight be issued as your protector in here for the manner of keeping away those who might disrupt your learning with their impudent court politics. We strive for a far more important goal and we do not need them distracting you or filling your ears with their lies and poison. Ser Athalos is meant to act as a buffer. Many of the lords and other knights are not very fond of him.”

“Did you suggest Ser Athalos and the king ordered it?”

“I might have suggested someone like Ser Athalos and had him in mind, the king only seemed to get my insinuation and made it so.”

“Why are others not fond of him?”

“He is the epitome of duty and honor. Many resent him because they cannot be as he is. But I do admit, those qualities come at a cost. He is very stiff and unyielding. Of course, many ladies adore him for his looks and skills, but he’s never showed interest in his years here. He’s close to his cousin, the Crown prince, and has made few friends other than those who understand duty and the battlefield as well as he. However, he’s been unfortunate enough that his presence has been demanded here at the castle, rather than with Prince Lucan in the field, where I know he’d much rather be…. Why so much interest?”

“If he is someone I have to be around quite often, I’d prefer to know as much as possible. You have been here for sometime and I knew you would have more information than my cousin would,” her thoughts shifted back to some of the other subjects Ilsmera had mentioned. “Are suitors really that interested in me? I thought myself too old to be worth marrying for many of them.”

Ilsmera’s laughter was deep and throaty, echoing through the chamber. Her vibrant eyes flashed at her. “You are still plenty young enough to bear many children and men do not see age, they see that pretty face or yours and know what is waiting between your legs.”

The woman’s words made Eleanor’s cheeks flush, despite knowing that it was true. She recalled how the foreign knight had looked her over and the prying eyes of others she had passed. Instead of asking more questions, she averted her eyes back to her book and began reading. 

Eleanor read much of what seemed like a history of the druids. They were a people whose magick derived from elves and nature. It was believed that the first druids were elves and eventually their gifts were given to those who were of their blood, whether they were half-elves or descended of the elves. It made Eleanor wonder if somewhere, thousands of years ago, someone in the Blacktyde family had been married to an elf. The odds amazed her.

Out of curiosity of what Ilsmera had told her about druids, she searched the book for mention of shapeshifting. Eventually, she espied a passage that made a brief mention;

‘As if one of our gifts being aligned with nature, we can take the form of creatures. Our capabilities only span from the beasts who skin, flesh, scales, feather, or fur we ingest. Otherwise, beings of lore and fiction are just as unobtainable to us as it is to others. Gaining control of a form is another trial entirely. Some beast forms are easier to control, their intellect high enough that we do not lose ourselves. However, there are beings like wolves that have such a strong drive and instinct that we must learn what it is to be a wolf before we can break the primality. There have been druids lost to learning new forms, because they could not overcome the instinct by which those animals live by, but you must always remember, you are always in control, and once you defeat the instincts, the form will be easier to manage.’

“Is there a trophy room in the castle?”

Ilsmera glanced up. “Yes, why?”

“I think I just found out how to shapeshift.”

Ilsmera,  Draqio, and Eleanor made their way to the Trophy Room after she had detailed what she had learned from the book. 

Ilsmera was filled with excitement, willing to test the theory and truly see if ingesting a part of an animal would provide the ability to shapeshift. 

It was strange, because there had been many times before that Eleanor had eaten meat and she had never once turned into it. Perhaps it was because she had not willed it or it had to be raw, not cooked. Either way, her heart hammered in her chest. She was worried about the control aspect and that was why Draqio had come along with them… In case Eleanor found she could not control her instincts.

The Trophy Room was locked and not accessible unless there was an event going on. However, no door was locked to Ilsmera and she had it opened and locked behind them. With a flick of her wrist, she lit all of the sconces in the room, illuminating the dozens of beasts that had been immortalized in the room. There were bears, wolves, wild cats, various breeds of deer, boar, small game, birds, elk, moose, and other reptilians beasts. There were so many that she didn’t even know where to begin. 

She had almost hoped there might be an orca in the room, but she knew it wouldn’t be a wise idea to try shapeshifting into an animal that required water. 

“Perhaps try something that is not too dangerous, to start,” Draqio suggested thinly.

Eleanor wandered the aisles until she paused in front of a small red fox. It wasn’t large enough to do anything other than nip ankles and even then, she didn’t expect herself to be too overly aggressive in such a form. Bending down, Eleanor pinched a few tufts of red fur from the stuff creature and stared at the fur in her palm. She then shoved it in her mouth and attempted swallowing it. The fur was tacky in her mouth and tasted absolutely foul. She nearly spit it back out, but held her hand over her mouth until she forced it down, eyes watering. Who knew how long that fox had been in this room.

After the deed was done, she felt no different, just as she felt when she ate any other animal product. She glanced down at the fox and wondered what they thought, what kind of lives the small animals lived in the forest. 

I just will it don’t I? I want to be a fox. A fox. I want to be that small animal.

Scrunching her eyes shut she willed it just as she willed her hands to heal flesh and bone.

When she opened her eyes again she found that they were covered by something. She panicked and tried to wrestle her way out of it. After squirming a bit, she looked at what had been blinding her. A pearly white and navy blue fabric sat on the ground. She sniffed it, her mouth opening as she inhaled the scent. Lavender and sage, she recognized it. 

Glancing around, her skin prickled and she felt her legs bend as she crouched lower to the ground. There were so many enormous beasts around her, towering so high, and yet around every turn they were there. They did not move, but they terrified her.

“Oh dear, that’s going to be a problem if that happens every time,” a woman said as she came around the corner to look at the fabric that had been left behind and then her. “Eleanor, can you understand me?”

Eleanor gave her a narrow stare. She understood, but she still did not like the height difference between them. 

“Make certain when you turn back you go to your dress. It seems we’ll have to make arrangements about enchanting your clothing so it doesn’t fall off you when you shapeshift,” the woman continued.

Eleanor paid her little heed as she padded around the room. The big monsters were not moving. She sniffed at them, wrinkling her nose. They did not smell good, they reeked of a stench she could not place. Something human made and foul. She continued around the room until she circled back and had returned to see the man and woman again. Her ears twitched in annoyance. Why was she here? How did she get here?

“Eleanor you do have another lesson today,” the woman reminded her.

Eleanor. Eleanor is my name. Why is it my name? Should I have a name? It sounds human.

She sat, swishing her tail around as she tried to contemplate this.

Eleanor. Eleanor. I am Eleanor. Eleanor Blacktyde. 

Reality smacked her in the face, her ears flattening against her head. 

How did I forget so easily? She wondered as she stood back up and glanced down her muzzle at her paws. I’m a fox! I’m really a fox. 

Dragging her dress around a corner that a behemoth bear reared up, Eleanor fixated her mind on shifting back into her human form. She hastily donned her clothing, hoping that she had not been visible behind the deceased creature. Straightening her dress, she came round to see that Ilsmera was parrousing the specimens. 

"It's time for you to continue to your next lesson, but take the samples and see to using them later, when you have someone with you," she suggested before placing a handkerchief with various amounts of fur and feathers. 

"What are these from?" Eleanor asked, trying to decipher which was which. 

"Bear, dire wolf, night lion, elk, and golden eagle," with each name, she pointed to ear patch. Eleanor logged it in her head, nodding briskly as she folded the clothing and placed it within the druid book she had. Clipping the buckle to make certain the samples were secure, Ilsmera had one more note for her. "I want at least one more animal learned by tomorrow."

Eleanor did not mention her nerves about all of the animals she had selected. She had enough of an issue with the fox, but any of those were much larger and driven by a stronger instinct. She had experienced confusion more than anything as a fox, but she knew that as a larger animal, she would have the capability to challenge anyone who might be in the room with her.

Following the end of her first lesson with Ilsmera, she was escorted to the infirmary by Draqio. It was full morning, lunch only a few hours off. Nobles had now began to mill the halls, a few glances being spared in their direction. She hadn't spent much time bothering to get to know any of them and now the whole idea behind the court seemed like folly compared to the responsibility now placed on her shoulders. Ilsmera made them seem unimportant, but Eleanor knew that these nobles could tear down her family's reputation if she let them. They had already began to pull hers down due to her sister. 

She caught a few of their eyes as they walked, noticing that many averted their eyes immediately. Draqio's words about fear made her frown. Were they fearful of her? Were her eyes a harsh reminder that she was not like them? She had never thought herself dangerous until now. She had the ability to fight, whether or not she would have liked to. She had the ability to maul them and then heal the wounds she inflicted. The thought of that made her shudder.

The infirmary was located toward the front of the castle so that any injured men could be escorted from the courtyard, directly to the hospital. It claimed an entire wing, which was divided into sects that managed different ailments. Women of all different sorts wandered the wing to do their work. Some were wetnurses, others midwives, herbologists, medical nurses, and the list went on. They were differentiated by their uniforms. She noticed the closer they got to their destination, the majority of the women were wearing green gowns with black smocks. Their hair was neatly pinned back and a triangular shaped cap sat sagging on their brows. 

Wendell was the first man she saw in the wing aside from Draqio. He was middle-aged and of a medium height. There was nothing particularly special about Wendell other than his attire. He wore pure white robe that was tied shut with a crimson ribbon. His silvered hair was also tied back, secured in crimson, a white triangular cap fixed on his head as well. 

His hooded eyes slid over to her, observing her carefully, before he turned to Draqio. "Thank you for delivering, Lady Eleanor. I shall take her from here."

Draqio gave a wordless nod before taking his leave.

Wendell sniffed at her, giving her clothing a disapproving glance. "That won't do here, we wouldn't want to ruin your lovely dresses. Come with me," he directed before leading her into a hallway. The man picked a white robe before offering it to her. "This should fit you, wear it over your dress. From now on, you'll equip one of these before working."

"Understood," Eleanor replied as she slid the robe on and fastened it with a crimson tie. "What does this robe mean? I've noticed different nurses wear different uniforms."

"Only healers wear white with the red sash. The green nurses are women who can assist healers and manage patients once a healer has finished treating them. There are women in other uniforms that have more specializes occupations such as a midwive, who wears brown, or a terminal nurse who wears light blue. You shall see the green in your work most of the time," Wendell told her before leading her out of the hallway and toward the infirmary that he managed.

"And are most of the hospital workers, women?"

"The nurses are, only the healers are men, so we are quite outnumbered."

Eleanor nodded slowly, though she found it quite peculiar that males were given the highest caliber job while the women worked the more laborious and tedious jobs. She supposed it wasn't so odd, but she had expected more of the women to be healers as well. 

"Today I wish to test your skill with healing. I know you are gifted in such magicks, but that does not mean your knowledge is up to parr. Hence after, if I deem you skilled enough, you shall work a couple hours a day in the infirmary to sharpen your talents. Otherwise, I shall be teaching you," Wendell told her.

Eleanor wanted to feel offended by his questioning of her, but the more she dwelled on it, the more she realized his request was reasonable. He needed to be certain she wasn't going to cause problems, the infirmary treated nobles, royalty, and guards alike. Important people were healed on his time and if poorly done, it would reflect upon him as the head healer. 

"Very well, let us begin," Eleanor told him properly. She didn't think he was noble, but Wendell carried himself in a stiff and dignified manner. Nurses and healers alike gave him a courteous look when he passed, a few even looked fearful of him, scurrying out of his way like frightened mice. 

Wendell brought her into the infirmary. There were few souls inside, some of which were awake, and others who were unconscious. 

"This is Lord Tallow, he came to us with alcohol poisoning last night. What would you have done if you saw him?" Wendell proposed the first test.

Eleanor inspected the man, he had a terrible sickly yellow complexion. His skin was still clammy, his breathing shallow. An emptied vomit bucket was situated beside his bed. The man showed no distinction to when he would wake up and he appeared to be in his late forties.

"The best would be to force him to vomit if he wasn't already. From his appearance and his being here, he's jaundiced. He's too old to have drank that much, perhaps a drunkard, his kidneys must be shot. I would have given him a mouthful of cinnamon to force him to throw up, the excess of alcohol would poison him further, it's best to purge him. Other than that, once he's emptied his stomach, give him some poppy milk to put him to sleep. He wouldn't really need it seeing he's going to need it, but it's best that he sleeps. Intermittently, I'd force him a glass of water with pumpkin mixed in. He slowly needs to rehydrate and the iron in the pumpkin will help regulate his liver. However, when he wakes, he'll need some red meat as well.It'll really be a waiting game with him. He's a older, he should know that drinking this much, though I doubt he cares given his position currently. I assume he is here often enough?"

Wendell sniffed at the man with disdain. "At least once a week. He is a drunkard and my advice falls on deaf ears. I've been using spinach instead of pumpkin in his water, he's yet to wake, but he will be fed venison when he does. At this rate, the man will kill himself within the next few months if he does not stop."

Eleanor stared at him. "Do you mind if I touch him?"

Wendell shrugged. "Go ahead."

Eleanor reached forward and placed her hand against the man's flank where his liver was. She could feel his swollen belly, kidney hidden beneath. If he had been more lean, it would have protruded. Closing her eyes, she looked inward. She could see a fleshy pink liver blotted with yellow scarring and pock marks. A typical liver was a dark plum color and smooth, but this one was beyond help from years of abuse. It was one its last leg and even if she could heal a fraction of it, the man would just ruin it with his habits.

"He does not have long," Eleanor told Wendell.

Wendell stared at her curiously. "What did you see?"

"I can see organs, I can look into the body with my magick. His liver is scarred, pink and yellow," she told him.

A mixture of suspicion and intrigue was written on the man's face. 

"Next we have-" before Wendell could introduce her to the next patient there was a cacophony of voices ringing from the hallway, causing both of them to snap their heads in the direction of the door.

A litter was being hoisted by two knights in practice armor, their hair plastered against their faces from sweat. Another man was on the gurney with shards of a practice lance riddled throughout his chest and stomach.

"Lay him in the nearest bed!" Wendell directed, his voice booming through the infirmary as he and Eleanor rushed over to see the damage. "What happened?" the healer demanded, his voice so stern that he made the knights flinch.

"We were practicing jousting for the upcoming tourney and when the lance blew-"

"It was supposed to be a practice lance, but I must've grabbed the wrong one. I didn't mean to hurt him, I really didn't!"

Eleanor surveyed the damage. The man was lucky he hadn't been speared, she could see most of the damage was along his left side where his shield had been turned and the lance drove into him. His arm was clearly broken, taking the brunt of the impact, also dotted with shards, but what had remained of the lance had fractured against his flank. 

A pair of nurses rushed in to help them, forcing the knights back so that the healers had room to work.

Wendell looked to Eleanor. "Can you check the internal damage?" he asked her.

Eleanor touched the knight's injured side. She saw that some of the pieces had forced themselves deep through the boiled, padded leather. Most were superficial, there broken ribs, and- "He's got a piece in his lung, it will collapse when pulled out. Strip his armor off immediately, we need to remove and reinflate it. He needs the oxygen in his blood-"

A nurse had come with a curved knife and began cutting away the clothing.

"Most of these are superficial and can be removed, except for this one-" she pointed to the largest that had drive up underneath his ribs. "Cut around it."

Wendell went to retrieve tools to work with his lungs, but Eleanor shook her head. "Let me handle this one," she requested. He gave her a despairing look, but then nodded and went back to observing.

The injured knight was awake, wheezing, his bare chest rising and falling, glistening with fresh blood. He wore no sigil in his practice gear and so she could not identify what house he was from. His hair was a sandy gold, sweat slicking it against his head. His icy eyes fluttered as he tried to steady his breathing, but it was no use with a collapsed lung. He was trying to speak to her, but his voice was a weak rasp.

"Save your words and breath, you'll need your strength," Eleanor told him before she began her work. His lung was the priority, followed by the blood loss. Looking into someone was a feat that required little to no energy, but healing was another story entirely. She found that managing her energy was most difficult.

"Make yourselves useful instead of groveling. Hold his shoulders and ankles down, beware of his broken arm," Wendell snapped at the knights who were watching forlorn and abashed that they had hurt their friend.

The knight came forward and gingerly grabbed onto him. Giving Wendell a gracious nod, she pulled the largest spike out and immediately placed her fingers over the gushing wound. Her mouth was filled with the aroma of copper, the knight sputtered, blood frothing from his lips. Her hands began glowing a warm orange like the light of a setting sun in the colorful autumn trees. 

She flushed the lungs first, before filling them with air and weaving the jagged wound that had tore it. The golden man immediately stabilized his breath deep and heavy as he squirmed beneath the grasp of the others. Next was the damaged tissue and muscle. She laced it back together until there was nothing left but a puckered, angry red scar. Her hands slid over the other lacerations, which were easy enough to heal. It was like sewing holes in fabric, organs were more difficult along with main arteries. Their complexities drew much more energy from her than repairing flesh.

She siddled to his broken arm, it was shattered. A collapsed lung was not too difficult to repair and she believed she had the energy to piece it all together. Her hands moved over the top of his arm, as she pieced the shards like a puzzle, his arm began to shift and align in its normal position. The marrow that had seeped out was scooped back into place. At this point, her head began to swim and she had to release her grasp on him.

Wendell grabbed her elbow and steadied her. "Sit," he ordered, placing her on the cot adjacent to the wounded knight. He left her for a moment to inspect the work. "You're still weak from bloodloss. I want you to spend the rest of the day here. If you're strong enough, I'll release you this evening," she overheard him telling the noble.

The healer then returned to her, sitting beside her. "What is it like? ... When you heal people?" he asked her.

Her head pounded and she couldn't see straight, but she managed an answer. "I can see it, it's like sewing or placing puzzle pieces together. But I have to have knowledge of what it should like, what is wrong, if I forget or don't know, my skill is useless. How long did I take?"

"The lung was swift, as well as the lacerations. The broken arm took you well over an hour," Wendell told her.

"It was shattered, I had to go piece by piece," she told him.

"You have been studying medicine for a long time then?" he asked.

Eleanor nodded. "I studied with the Herbalist back home and worked in the morgue to see inside of the human body. I had little to do other than study when I was young, since I was quite sickly. Once I discovered my talent, I worked hard to understand how to use it."

"Why don't you relax, that took a lot out of you. I'll bring some tea with chamomile," Wendell offered, his voice softening for the first time.

Eleanor gave a grateful nod before settling back on the cot. Her stomach churned, empty, and her head swam. Her limbs were weak and she doubted she would stand without assistance. It was always like this after she exerted herself, she felt ill, sometimes feverish and often nauseous if she tried to do anything. Her thoughts shifted for a moment, recalling the smell. 

Blood always had a certain smell and quality to it, but she had never tasted the scent in her mouth. She wondered if it had to do with the fact she had learned the fox form. She'd have to read her book more to find out if learning certain forms influenced what she experienced while human. 

"My lady?" the voice stirred her.

Eleanor opened her eyes to glance over at the man she had healed. He was sitting up slightly in his bed, eyes bright and curious as he looked at her. "Yes?" she croaked, her voice thin and dry. She hoped Wendell would be back with the tea soon.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

"Eleanor Blacktyde."

"Blacktyde... You must be Lady Raina's sister, no?" 

She grimaced and only warranted his answer with a solemn nod. 

"No love lost there, hm?" he mused. "I suppose I can see why she wouldn't like you," he continued, Eleanor sparing a glare from the corner of her eye. "How can you even compare yourself to a younger sibling who has the ability to mend wounds as if they'd never happened in the first place? Not to mention you're definitely the better looking of the two, if you don't mind me saying so, my lady."

"You should be resting if you want to leave the infirmary today to resume your training," Eleanor scolded nonchalantly, her cheeks flushing at the compliment, though she did not award him a look. "And what were you all thinking, jousting in just padded leather? Practice lances or not, this could have been avoided if you were wearing proper steel."

"Laziness, I suppose. Though I'd do it again just to have you work on me. The magick was just so..." he drawled, unable to describe further. 

"Do it again and I'll make you heal the normal, long way," she told him contemptuously. 

“Then you would have to deal with me everyday,” the knight reminded her lightly.

“I don’t spend my entire day here.”

He pouted at her, but there was a twinkle in his bright eyes. He was teasing her. The thought of it made her bristle as she laid there, smiling at Wendell as he returned with tea for her. 

“You’ve done well enough today,” he conceded. “You’ll make a fine addition to the infirmary, especially in emergencies. I don’t know if I would have been able to reinflate Ser Oakheart's lung. It is very likely he would have died painfully,” Wendell had his voice loud enough that the knight could hear him, scolding him with speaking directly to him.

“I owe Lady Blacktyde my life,” he remarked thoughtfully. However, it was quickly ruined by the grin that spread across his face. “What a way to die, that would have been very embarrassing if I perished from a practice lance, wouldn’t it?”

“Knights have died from less,” Wendell commented thinly as Eleanor sipped the tea he had given her. “Though I must admit those who have died from preventable measures aren’t as talented as yourself, Ser Oakheart.”

Finishing off her tea, Eleanor sat up. She supposed she might go get lunch and begin her afternoon studies. She was already feeling exhaustion creeping up on her despite barely making it through half the day. How she was supposed to keep her image up and succeed in her studies? It was the first time that Eleanor felt daunted by her tasks. Back home, she would have been able to manage the workload, but in the capitol, she found herself worrying about all of the other nobles. 

The knight had reminded her that her sister was wandering around somewhere in the caste and she loathed the moment they would cross paths. She almost didn’t want to leave the safety of the areas she knew that Raina would never been caught in, including the library and infirmary. She expected her sister would be in the most luxurious places, chatting with other nobles who favored gossip and wine. 

“Oh, well I best be moving along, I have some other things I have to tend to today. I will see you tomorrow, Wendell,” Eleanor said as she swung her feet over the cot and stood. 

“Yes, same time. If I am in dire need of you, I shall send for your assistance,” Wendell told her. He did so without asking, but Eleanor knew that her talents meant life and death situations for knights like Ser Oakheart. Without magick, Wendell could have done little other than ease his passing, whereas she had kept him alive. 

“Very well,” Eleanor agreed before glancing over at Ser Oakheart. “Try not to land yourself in here anytime soon.”

“No promises, my lady,” he smiled.

“I’d give him milk of poppy just to be certain he stays for the day,” Eleanor directed her comment toward Wendell who snorted, going about the work he had to do in the infirmary