Page 104 of Forcing Fate

As the days grew shorter and the cold of autumn set in, my body grew and developed. I tailored my uniform at night by the light of my lantern and noticed the gradual changes. Muscles, however faint, filled out along my limbs. It pleased me to see that I was getting stronger, even if I felt as though I couldn’t keep up with my male counterparts.

What I did not appreciate, however, was the weight I put on in other areas—thanks to the appetite I worked up with the rigorous training, I was determined to prove myself as worthy as a male soldier, yet my body rebelled, proving that I was undeniably female.

For the first time in my seventeen-winters, I had to bind my chest. One recent stint of running triggered lewd laughter from the soldiers. The pain from the pulled muscles, combined with the fact that the ever-looming General Rafe was there to see, had me asking Niehm and Elenor for guidance.

I slept and worked with my chest bound, which helped me hide those changes, but alas, there was nothing to do about my backside. My trousers actually fit me. Yet, from the comments I overheard, that wasn’t a good thing. Now, instead of resembling a lanky child, I bore the curves of a woman, and that unnerved me.

As winter approached, we had a bit more free time. I asked Darrak once to teach me to use the bandit breaker, and he simply said there were others more suited to the task. At first, I was angered that he wouldn’t teach me, but General Rafe’s constant presence reminded me that even a bounty hunter wouldn’t want to cross him.

As the days went on, Darrak took to disappearing after the evening meal. I settled into a steady routine, seeing Elenor and Niehm for our walk to the springs, and then spent the rest of my evenings with Willhelm.

Willhelm’s friends grew on me, though Corporal Bane still put me on edge. He dealt with the fallout from the night I cut Victyr’s hand. I was sure he knew what happened, but with nobody coming forward, he made no move to correct anyone.

Commander Rory was a fine fellow, always ready to have a good laugh. Sergeant Greyson was a man of balance who sought to understand everything. He seemed to be closer to Corporal Bane than the others and acted as the mediator when things got heated between friends.

Willhelm often sat with me until curfew, and we talked about everything. We grew close, and he counseled me on many topics concerning life in the barracks—how to act, who to talk to, how to approach different tasks with my limited strength.

He was the one to advise me to try a crossbow in archery instead of the standard recurve bow. I was a fair shot, but lacked the strength to draw a heavy enough weight to wound anything further than fifty paces.

The Master Archer, Elias, offered me a crossbow with a winch and pulley system to make the draw easier. It was heavier, but far more effective at mortally wounding the target. I figured on the battlefield I could always rest the bow on the ground or a rock.

With the shorter days and first snowfall, I found myself in the dining hall, hands wrapped around a mug of hot cider, listening to Willhelm and his friends talk. Glancing back at the table in the corner, I noted with a frown that Darrak had been missing all day.

“So, have you heard?” Rory said, dropping his heavy frame to the bench beside me.

I glanced at him, raising my eyebrows in curiosity.

“Heard…?” Greyson prompted.

“About Master Brann’s assistant? What was his name… Wevtyn?” Rory took a sip of his hot cider, peering over the rim of his mug.

“Yes,” Bane grumbled, a slow blink crossing his bored features.

“No.” Willhelm and Greyson spoke in unison.

“Ah, well, it seems your friend was more than met the eye!” Rory said, giving me a smile.

“My friend?”

“Mm-hmm. That tall, broody one whose company you’re always in?”

“Darrak?”

“Aye! That’s his name! Darrak of Nightfell… King’s bounty hunter!”

Warmth spread over my cheeks and I diverted my attention to my half-full mug.

“What does he have to do with Master Brann’s assistant?” Willhelm asked, casting me a worried look.

“Well, it appears he’s been scouting for a bounty. It’s all very hush-hush–”

“For a reason,” Bane interjected.

“Yes, well, gossip will spread with or without me, Bane.” Rory feigned offense, though we all knew it was in jest. Bane was Bane.

“Master Brann’s assistant had a bounty on his head?” Greyson asked, looking from Bane to Rory.

“Not him exactly, but someone’s been leaking information out of Northwing—to the Shadows. Have you noticed how many hits Southwing has taken since last year? He was sneaking information about the new school.”

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