“Did you hear?” Fierce was laying on the sedge next to Patience. They weren’t hiding, Patience just needed to be well away from the hearths of Bladesedge to practice her evocation.

  “Hear what? How would I have?” Aside from Fierce, not a lot of friends here. I still need to practice my social graces. Except Fierce likes annoying the daylights out of me so I’ll kiss him. It is, admittedly, the least-weird kissing has ever been.

  “…and Icehold is very, very slowly advancing north into ‘Reformation’ Fief.” I was thinking again. Need to pay attention. “They’re dragon-loyal, but they’re also Black Queen loyal. What do you think?”

  “The Church of Fief is Wholism with the maker’s mark sanded off. I have no issue with the Black Queen. I’m in favor of Icehold uniting East Fief into one nation under the One God. They’re tiny though. It’s going to take them a long time to conquer that much land unless people defect. And the Gnosis thralls are vehemently anti-dragon, so I hope we keep pushing them.”

  “Yeah, the problem with the Crown Range is it was built to be defensible from either side, so pushing is difficult.”

  “Well what can we do about it?”

  She heard the rustle of his shrug. “I dunno. I’d say metal sorcery except the alchemists came up with ‘guns’ that do the same thing as a sorcerer with less training.” Well that’s annoying. What’s the point of sorcery if science is going to keep overtaking it? Alchemist’s fire was lauded as mooting the fire sorcerer too, but producing enough is an ongoing struggle. So I’m not so sure that a good metal sorcerer wouldn’t be welcome in the ranks of the army. She sighed. Except I’m not a good metal sorcerer, I can’t even conjure. I can’t even conjure fire. I can warp metal like nobody’s business though. Say…

  “Fierce. These guns fire… what, metal?”

  “Lead, I heard. Easy to cast. Why?”

  “What if we could deflect bullets with metal sorcery? That would be a relevant and powerful ability. Steel-tipped crossbow bolts too. Suddenly heavy armor is useful again.”

  Fierce laughed softly. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to try that kind of thing with something less deadly than a bullet?” What, don’t you believe in me?

  “You’re the one who suggested fear for one’s life was an effective training method.”

  He rolled onto his side to face her. “Please. For my heart’s sake. Get a metal rod and practice grabbing it first.” Aww, you do care. Or you act like it. However…

  “That’s boring.”

  “But if you can’t do it, you get a bruise, rather than a gunshot wound.”

  “How dangerous are guns, even, if you have an earth sorcerer?”

  “And do you have one of those in your pocket? I haven’t seen any at Bladesedge, I think they expect us to have our flame under control by now.” Well sarx, I forgot about that part.

  “Fine. I’ll start with a metal rod. C’mon, help me find one.”

  “Uhm… Patience?” Oh One God, now what?

  “Yes?” Deep breaths.

  ”I could probably conjure one, if that wouldn’t offend you.”

  “Generally your goal is to offend me. What’s different this time?”

  Another shrug. “It was a neat idea. I think you’re insane to consider trying to deflect ammunition, but maybe I’m a little crazy too.” Oh, so you’re volunteering because you want to hit me with a metal rod.

  “Go ahead, Fierce. Conjure away.”

  Shortly after Fierce had conjured a twelve-inch rod of some reasonably durable metal—Which I am not jealous of. Not at all. I have talents that he can’t even try to emulate—he was swinging it slowly at Patience’s legs, judged to be the most padded target. This is—ow—harder than I thought it would be—ow. Son of a hamster! It’s not just holding still, but… what if I worked it more like a ward and less like a hand? Finally, the rod recoiled from her leg and didn’t leave a mark.

  “So now I have to straighten it again.” What, I don’t straighten your rod for you?

  So of course fierce needs to prove that his whole intent here was to leave me with aching thighs. Her ward, not in her native element and still experimental, only served to slow down the rod backed with his sorcery. “Ow! Son of a demon that hurt!” With a gesture and an exertion of will she took his rod and wrapped it around his neck. “That was clever, Fierce. Do it again and we see if I can pop your head off.” She closed the distance between them and kissed his rough cheek, tugging on the back of the band around his neck.

  “You’d have to catch me with a broken leg. And you can’t—ack—assume you won’t face sorcerers.”

  ”Yes, but you put your force of will behind it on the second try after a success.” I can feel him trying to get the metal off his neck. And I think his spell will crack mine. But I’m making him work for it.

  “Shall we try again?” Fierce asked, finally breaking her hold on the band around his neck. Patience nodded. They tried again. And again. Fierce repeatedly straightened his rod, and Patience noted with some satisfaction that he left stress lines in the metal doing so.

  “Now. Put your will behind it.”

  “You said you’d pop my head off.”

  “Just do it, smartalec.”

  He swung, and the rod slowed, then halted short of Patience’s thigh. With some modifications, it works just fine against willed steel. I just need to have the greater faith, the stronger will.

  “Not going to cheat this time, Skarlefaxus? Just simple failure?” It was made quite clear what the consequences of further attempts to cheat would be. The teacher looked disdainfully on as Patience stood there, no metal in her hands. Not steel, not silver, not even lead. Even my attempts to summon fire are erratic. It’s just when I’m furious with Fierce, and it’s almost always just setting him on fire directly. They haven’t taught us what emotion correlates to the metal sphere, so how am I supposed to strengthen my faith with the appropriate mood?!

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  She made more headway with her metal ward than she did with figuring out how to call forth something out of nothing. It just doesn’t make sense to me. Creation is something the One God does, not something I’m capable of. Other people can do it, but it’s just… not for me, maybe.

  “Dean Blade, I have a new use for the sphere of metal. Something I haven’t seen or heard of in the classes I’ve been taking.”

  “A novice had an original idea undreamt by our patrons? You’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical.” I might forgive it, I will remember it and while vengeance is for losers, I won’t forget it.

  “So you teach upperclassmen how to make a ward against metal? Pitting their faith against steel and winning?”

  Dean Blade looked at Patience curiously. I’m going to hope that’s a good sign. She finally raised an eyebrow and asked, “So you feel that you’re ready to write your Master’s thesis without a fundamental element of your training?” Sarx.

  “So you admit it’s a novel usage of the sphere?” Come on, please please please.

  “It’s not something that has been posed previously. But we cannot pass a student failing one of the entry-level requirements. We wouldn’t even have accepted you as a student except we had no idea you were so… deficient in the workings of the fire sphere.” Oh, that does it!

  Gathering her will, assembling her certainty that, whatever the One God’s ineffable Will, it was not that she be mocked and derided, Patience put forth a wave of terror. She heard something fall outside the Dean’s office. The Dean, of all people, will be warded, but I don’t care. She will not make me feel like a bug. I will not be dismissed!

  Dean Blade rocked back in her seat, but did not otherwise respond. When Patience reached out in her domain, she saw the architecture of the Dean’s wards shaped like a prow and blazing brilliantly with the light of the office hearth. “A feral talent, unworthy of our halls. You are powerful, I don’t question that, but you lack refinement. Against a superior will, a superior faith, you should have struck with a barb, or tried to insinuate yourself like oil.” Superior will?! I’ll show you a superior will!

  Patience reached to connect with the fire in the hearth, the fire in the waiting room, the various hearths in the immediate tower. Distance made it difficult, the lack of a physical conduit more so, but she was determined. And in the process of spending week after week trying to conjure flame, she had grown quite proficient at drawing on distant flames.

  She lashed out, with no purpose but to crack the Dean’s defenses. Her focus was white-hot, and she thought that she might have been able to summon fire from the distant sources if she had tried, but that wasn’t her purpose. She would shake the Dean’s unshakable certainty, before she was banished from the halls of Bladesedge anyway. Dean Blade’s eyes widened, and her defenses did indeed crack. It burned, an ugly red weal on the walls of her heart.

  Her point made, Patience rose and strode out of the room with long, purposeful strides. As though I know where I’m going. I do. I’m going to my dormitory. After that… I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what’s next. I’ll talk to Fierce.

  “Well, I’m not lunatic enough to try to make a metal ward, so unless the Dean sets someone to researching the theories of a ‘feral talent’ like yourself, I think you’ll have something up your sleeve. Not that you need sleeves anymore.” Thanks, Fierce, but I still don’t know where I’m going from here. “Why not join the army?” Wait, what? “You’ve got your metal sorcery, at least a little, and your insane metal ward, and the fire domain is basically your toy. There’s got to be some kind of use for that in the military.” That’s not a terrible idea, but.

  “What if they want me to fight Iceholders? They’re on our side, practically!”

  “They want to conquer us, Patience. They’re starting with Reformation Fief, but they want to conquer all of Fief. Unite us under the Black Queen.”

  “Wasn’t the Black Queen the original First Bishop? For like Ages?”

  “I thought you were loyal to the Church of Fief?” What’s it to you?

  “I am. I just don’t see a ton of difference except who our ultimate mortal intercessor between us and the Lord is. In school they even emphasized that it wasn’t schism, it was just realigning power from the detached Queen Spiritual to the more grounded Queen Temporal.”

  “Oh, so you did pay attention in class. I thought you were too busy experimenting on your classmates.” Oh. He’s trying to get my goat. He wants kisses. Let’s see how much I can make him smolder.

  “When it wasn’t boring, yeah.” Just patiently ignore the barb and respond reasonably. “Want me to experiment on you next?” Oh. So much for that. My mouth gets ahead of my mind sometimes.

  “No thank you. You know the whole college felt the wave of terror you tried to inflict on the Dean? And whatever you did after that… someone else delivered the sermon last Sunday. I’m surprised they haven’t removed you forcibly.”

  “The problem with forcibly removing someone who can inspire emotions without air, hands, or sight is that there’s no real way to disable them before they scare you off or turn you on your allies. I wanted to talk to you, but there wasn’t time between classes.”

  “They’re going to get the Dean to ward them sooner or later and remove you.” And you’re just fixated on that. Are you nervous, or excited for it?

  “I’ll get you my forwarding address on the front lines.”

  “You’re actually going to join the army?” You suggested it.

  “Why not? I enjoyed having a little structure in college, but I miss using my domain.”

  “Patience, that’s illegal. And in the army, ‘illegal’ often translates to ‘executed’. Colleges are gentler about this kind of thing, because they have students at a very volatile point in their lives, but the army won’t put up with it.” That’s only a problem if I get caught. And I’m very good at subtle when I’m not trying to summon overwhelming force. I went undiscovered for more than a decade.

  “So what are your actual loyalties, since it sounds like you don’t care which Queen sits in the tower of the Holy Sea?” He came back to it. I wonder what his views are.

  Patience opened up her senses as she replied, trying to pick up the hints of emotion making it past Fierce’s wards. “I… my loyalties are personal. My Moms did a lot right by me, and they have a personal beef with the man defaming the White Queen.” I suppose it’s only defaming if it’s not true, but does that really matter? Dragons are fine leaders, ancient and wise. “He betrayed them, and nearly got them… jailed, or executed, something like that, while ostensibly getting them to work for him. I don’t remember the details, but I remember the name. Gnosis.” She heard a sharp intake of breath. “What?”

  “How do you know the identity of the journalist who revealed the draconic influences in Fief? That’s supposed to be some great secret, the kind you can’t buy even on the black market.”

  Patience laughed. “The black market most people think of barely exists and lives to sell stolen watches. Everything is for sale, if you know the right people. Someone has to disburse the broadsides with Gnosis’ articles, and even with a dead drop, enough patience will let you know who’s involved.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  Patience shrugged. “My parents are underworld types. Though they ostensibly have perfectly upright professions. I went to an academy I’m just now realizing I didn’t appreciate enough. Being deprived of easy influence upon my classmates, I’m realizing how little I know in the way of practical knowledge. If I’m joining the army, ‘The Art of Political Warfare’ would have been great for climbing the ranks.” Is this where he judges me, or is this where I become legendary in his eyes for possessing knowledge beyond his status?

  “You’re not taking the bait when I try to provoke you, so will you kiss me before you go?” Oh, so he admits it. Patience grasped Fierce’s hand and brought his wrist to her lips. His arms were thick, and hairy, wiry black hair. The texture was pleasant, and she turned his hand in hers and kissed his palm next. She could feel, without reaching, the impatience radiating off him. Rising to lay over him, she pinned him with her weight. Or would have, if he hadn’t been so strong. As soon as she presumed to tilt his head to kiss his neck, he grabbed her and flipped their positions.

  His kiss was forceful, and his tongue burned with heat as it parted her lips. Her own flame reacted in kind, and their breaths fogged despite the mild winter weather from the sheer heat of their exhalations. When they broke off to catch their breaths, Patience asked, “What was that about?”

  “I won’t be seeing you for a while. I wanted something to remember you by.” Aww, how sweet. I don’t know how normal bonds are forged, I always forged them myself, but I would like to think that kissing and practicing sorcery is a valid foundation for a bond. I suppose we’ll see if he answers my letters.