Kingsblade

Chapter 7 - Behind Your Veil

"Y'know, Coco," Liliana replied as she straightened the sheet on the line, smoothing out the wrinkles as she worked her way forward to the basket, "you might stand a better chance at blocking my shots in a mejenga if you weren't still the size of a fledgling."

Coco's silence wasn't the best sign. Neither was the sharp scraping of her sandals across the cobble stone as she, Liliana assumed, ducked under her unfinished line of towels to join Liliana on her aisle. 

When Liliana turned to look over her shoulder and braced herself for impact, Coco's thick, furrowed brow relaxed. Her round chin stuck out like she was about to say something, but then the frown disappeared from her face. Her jaw softened and two dimples appeared as a smile as bright as the sun itself took its place. 

"At least I don't have any trouble finding a dance partner who's taller than me!" she whooped, leaning forward on her tippy-toes to punch Liliana's arm before her own laughter propelled her backwards like steam shooting out from a boiling kettle.

"Oh! Now that--that is a low blow!" Liliana spun around, unable to hold in a roar of indignation, as she grabbed at the flapping shirt-tail of her apprentice as she darted away. 

"Actually," the cadet mocked, hurling her words over her shoulder as she ran, "it's a high blow. Because, y'know, you're tall."

Liliana rolled her eyes. "Tall not dumb!" she retorted as she persuaded her tired muscles to action.

Socorro was quick on her feet; her sandals clicked as she sped toward the far wall of the courtyard. Her boho skirt swirled around her knees like a cloud as she wove between the rest of the linens; it was a burnt orange and red flash in a sea of white.

Liliana wasn't far behind her, laughter spilling out of her as she tried to copy her apprentice's movements. She almost lost her balance as her bare feet skidded across a puddle that had formed beneath one of the bigger quilts. 

Socorro, hastened by her mentor's pursuit, seemed to fly. Her black curls flowed behind her like a cape as she closed the distance between herself and the arched doorway that led back into the House Eagle wing of the Hold. 

A string of old ale barrels lined the far wall, and she clasped her hand on the lip of the barrel closest to the door. The one Socorro was steadying herself on was full of still-wet mops and homemade brooms. The next barrel held assorted balls covered in a mismatching quilt of colorful fabrics for playing jupa, and the last was packed with well-loved wooden wasters, quarter-staffs, and spears. 

The gangly black house cat, Jester, stared at them and, as if in understanding, pushed himself to his feet, arched his back, and wandered over to Socorro. He wrapped his tail around her calf as he wove between her legs. 

"Look! Even Jester's on my side," she reasoned, flashing another brilliant, toothy smile at her mentor. 

Liliana bent over, bracing her hands against her thighs as she stared up into Coco's shining dark eyes and then lifted her gaze to the sky above them. Despite her best efforts to feign frustration, she was still unable to hide her smile. 

Originally, the courtyard was designed as a ventilation shaft to draw cool air through the corridors of House Eagle during the warmer summer months. It also doubled as a dryer. Even here, though, no detail was spared. Ornate mosaics frame by smooth white marble gave way to the sheer walls of rock that stretched up for several wing-lengths before giving way to the mountain itself. Above them, the sky blushed pink as the sun rose.