The meeting broke apart. Gaz left to send a message to his family and ensure Tiff was informed, as the situation might affect her diplomatic discussions. Kay and Tristan were locked in a heated debate over ‘mortal concerns.’ This mostly involved Tristan sitting stiffly in a chair while Kay stalked back and forth, ranting. I ended up walking outside with Lance and Maeve. Rensleigh had made herself blissfully scarce, and we were heading to the training grounds for our own reasons. I wanted to explore my control over ash. The news of the coming war had shaken me, and I felt drawn to the more physical and combative aspects of cultivation.

  Like me, Maeve sought to train, but she was also sticking to the plan of publicly hanging out with me. I could feel her trying to work out the appropriate distance to stand from me. This led to at least one awkward moment of her hopping from one foot to another.

  Thankfully, Lance didn’t seem to notice, too wrapped up in her thoughts. I had a good guess about her reasoning but didn’t begrudge her presence. She was an excellent social lubricant.

  Their discussion on the art of the sword, to which I gamely added a comment here and there, was abruptly interrupted when we arrived at the training courtyard and I was flattened to the ground.

  Wheezing, I looked up to find the sky blotted out by a shimmering mane and gleaming feathers, an annoyed pegasus looming over me.

  “Gring!” Lance shouted at the errant equine, who snorted but begrudgingly backed off. He snorted something at Lance, whose face contorted as she tried to puzzle out his message.

  Maeve helped me up—a natural response that had absolutely nothing to do with our fake relationship. I knew this because I could feel the exact moment she realised what she was doing. She panicked, nearly yanking my arm out of its socket.

  Lance, too busy being mortified by her future companion, didn’t notice as I discreetly nursed my arm. She and Gring were following Ursul’s directions for forming their contract. This process included a series of brews to build an artificial soul bond. As Lance nodded and listened to Gring’s whinnies, I could practically feel her leaning on that nascent bond, trying to puzzle out his thoughts.

  “I’m still learning and didn’t get much of that, but I think he’s impatient,” she said after another back and forth.

  “I know what this is about. You’ll have to wait until this afternoon—you can’t rush art,” I replied, waving away the prancing prima donna. Gring whinnied at me, his sharp look telling me all I needed to know about his displeasure.

  “Sorry about that,” Lance said, looking deflated.

  “You’re not even bonded to him yet; you don’t need to apologise,” I reassured her.

  “Makes what I wanted to ask next feel wrong, though.”

  “You want help with your intent.” I didn’t wait for her to explain, offering my guess.

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “You’re that competitive. You’ve been in a sour mood since Gaz mentioned his progress this morning.” Lance grumbled at that but didn’t argue.

  I was a little surprised when Maeve joined the conversation. “It’s also understandable. It’s important. It’d be odd if you didn’t care about it. I know it consumed my thoughts for years.”

  “I know, right? I had these ideas like…” Lance paused, sighing. “Sorry, my mother would kill me if I talked about it openly. Besides, it’s embarrassing.”

  “It’s frustrating. Talking about it helps you form it, yet it exposes the most vulnerable parts of you. I was stuck for years.” Maeve smiled. Given how long she’d been at her bottleneck, I could only imagine the relief of finally being past it.

  “What helped you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Lance inquired. I deliberately stayed quiet, curious to see what Maeve would share.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “I tried years of different approaches. I talked to tutors and meditated on my very identity. Then I hunted this one through the woods, nearly died, got fished out by him, and was reminded that I was the one getting in my own way.” Maeve’s frank recollection surprised me, though it shouldn’t have. Beyond some trash talk during our knife-throwing sessions, she’d always been humble and honest with me.

  “I knew pestering you was the right idea,” Lance grinned. “What helped your process?”

  “No, ‘if you don’t mind’ for me?” I quipped, though I didn’t actually mind sharing. I just needed time to decide what to say. I wasn’t about to reveal, ‘I died, and in the void between life and death stared into my soul until I untangled it all.’

  “Nah, you like talking. You also like it when people ask you questions. That way, you get to talk twice as long when you don’t want to answer,” Lance retorted.

  Behind her, Maeve coughed, trying to hide a rare smile.

  I mimed being shot by an arrow. “Oh no, my true nature exposed! However shall I cope? Maybe I should mention this insight into my personality and its source the next time I meet your mother?”

  Lance flushed, but I waved her off.

  “Look, I’ll share because honestly, it only adds to my mystique. Truth is, I rejected the first intent I formed.”

  Lance looked at me like I was mad, but Maeve nodded, understanding instantly.

  “It fit, but it fit ‘Regus’ better than ‘Taliesin.’ I just knew accepting it would’ve led me somewhere I didn’t want to go. I knew parts of what became my intent and thankfully put it all together when it was most needed.” That wasn’t a lie, but ‘most needed’ was an underwhelming way to describe ‘at the very border of life and death.’

  “The pressure of battle does help. I tried that a few times, but I like battle, so it didn’t really help,” Maeve added, furthering my little deception.

  “Damn it! I’m aware enough to recognise that I’m battle-mad too, so that’s no help,” Lance muttered, beginning to pace.

  “When I was close, I felt a kind of power, a sort of echo in my hearth, as I spoke the words aloud. Look for things like that.”

  “Are you suggesting I read out a list of words?” Lance asked.

  I sighed. “No, and I’m certain that wouldn’t work anyway. I meant more that you should look out for things that feel right. You don’t need to talk about your intent, but I first remember feeling that connection when I was explaining myself to Gaz.” Technically true, though it might be better described as the moment I told him where to stuff his moral fussing.

  Maeve caught Lance as she came stomping back past us. “I have a question of my own. I mean no offence, but you talk so openly with Taliesin, a self-confessed Bard, about his intent. I was told not to speak to witches about forming my intent. Their processes are very different, and they were worried I’d mess up forming my own intent. Is that not a concern here?”

  “Nope. Taliesin has the mind of a Knight—” I tried to argue, but Lance talked over me.

  “He also has the mind of a Witch. I’ve never heard of the Lady in Peach getting along half as well with anyone else who wasn’t a Witch or didn’t understand Witches. Probably has a few other minds he keeps in his pockets. His whole thing is understanding people. He doesn’t have all the skill to back it up, so he needs help, but he’s pretty good.”

  “Couldn’t have left that last bit off that insightful compliment?” I groused.

  “Again, I’d like to understand, but most of your stories don’t involve you doing much fighting—mostly distractions and the like. How did you decide he was like a Knight?” Maeve asked, her curiosity seeming genuine.

  “Easy. Duel him!” Lance declared as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “Oh no.” I tried to escape, but with a burst of wind, Gring was suddenly blocking the door, looking smug.

  “Yes! He has no excuse this time. He’s had plenty of time to warm up to his powers!” Lance continued. I tried to protest but could feel the mood shift. There was no way I was getting out of this. My fate was sealed when Elaine and Rensleigh appeared out of nowhere and offered to oversee the duel.

  “So, do I win a song of my own if I beat you?” Maeve asked.

  Gring trumpeted his disapproval.

  “I will be writing yours soon! Be glad I don’t agree with those who claimed you cheated!” I shot back, hearing more snorting behind me.

  “They’re just annoyed they got outplayed by a pegasus!” Lance soothed.

  “It was a chase, and he can fly!” Maeve snapped, reigniting the same argument that had raged for hours at the end of the ‘training session’ I’d hosted earlier. The climax of that chase had been the teams fencing me into a corner, only to be robbed of victory when Gring dropped out of the sky on top of me.

  I wasn’t sure what I regretted more—forgetting how mobile Gring was or suggesting that I’d write a song as a reward. There’d been nothing but trouble since.

  “We’ll discuss this more after the duel,” Maeve growled. Her anger at the outcome shifted from Lance and Gring to me. From the dead-focused look in her eyes, I knew two things: first, she had completely forgotten about the whole fake relationship thing, and second, this was going to hurt.

  One post a week will continue for next week as well. Just till the I have some time off around christmas, then should get back to two per week.