Outside, I wandered toward the yard, unsure of my steps beneath the bronze. I might have changed the style of my walk about forty times just from the barracks door to where Ser Willoughby was waiting, but I had to decide on one that felt 'Braxton' enough. I didn't know the man, but I guessed he didn't walk like a Princess. I tried to emulate my father, but it was hard to have a certain swagger when I felt gross in a stranger's clothes. What if it hadn't been the clams?

I was at least able to steal clothing that looked and smelled clean, and while they were a little loose, I had rolled the pants enough to do the job of keeping me shielded from the metal's rub.

I just couldn't see through the helmet very well.

Everything was tunnel visioned and hot as my breathing came back onto my face.

"What are you doing?" Willough asked.

"Uh," I didn't answer him.

"Lose the helmet?" he said.

I shook my head. "I don't want to," I said, in my lowest try.

"Brax, no one cares that your fuckin' ugly. Take off the helmet," he said.

I refused. "I, uh, I care," I said. "I'm... I've got zits. And things. Terrible things. Boils on my face."

"Speak up; I can't hear you." My Knight knit his face but then blew me off, turning and mounting his horse. "Go get Brutus," he said. "We have to go."

"Brutus?" I asked. "But why not Daisy?"

"Daisy?" he asked. "As in Her Highnesses' mare? Oh, sure. And while we're at it, let's steal her favorite books and gowns. What the fuck is wrong with you? Get your horse before I replace you with it."

"A-Alright." I stumbled toward the barn, tilting one way and then the other.

Inside the stable, I found the Duke was speaking to his Blade, Fridrick. At first, I felt I should hide, but then I tried to slink by them without notice, but Brutus knew something was up. His snout puffed at me, and he took a step back.

"Shh," I sang to him. "It's me," I said as quietly as I could. I soothed his nose, and he relaxed. "Shh, boy."

"You've a way with horses, Ser," Askar said.

I stopped in my tracks. "Mmm hmm." I didn't dare use my voice.

"Alright." He shrugged, leaving the barn.

His Blade remained, looking at me a moment longer. "Is that helmet uncomfortable?" he asked. "We don't wear them unless we're in battle."

"I'm... I'm fuckin' ugly," I said, repeating Willoughby.

"We're all a bit fuckin' ugly, I think. Be satisfied it's your face and not your soul," he said. He nodded, then walked out after his lord.

Riding a horse in full armor was the worst decision I had ever made in my life. We didn't make it an hour on the path before I started to feel the chafing at my thighs, and the empty space inside Braxton's shoes was horrible. My foot slid back and forth, over and over along the sole, and to make matters worse, every time Brutus saw a log, he leaped over it gleefully like a pony who'd just discovered the trick. That only brought pain and regret to my ass as it left and returned to the saddle with a thud each and every time.

I kept my mouth shut and endured it, though, and anytime Ser Willoughby made a crass remark or joke at me, like how I should be sure to polish my sword before the first ball since folk liked men in shining armor, I laughed obnoxiously in hopes that it would discourage him. It had the opposite effect. He thought he was hilarious.

However, I tried to utilize the time to learn more about the quest we had set out on. I knew, eventually, I would have to fess up to who I was, but if I could manage to overhear everyone else talking, or make it past the city line, then it would be reasonably too far to turn back, and I would know too much about the secret mission anyway. Things would be better in my favor if I made it onto the ferry at Locke. I just didn't know how long the ferry was from where we'd come.

Askar was very polite in contrast to the new side of my Blade I'd discovered. While the Duke spoke kindly to his Swords and to mine, Willough was surprisingly not uptight. They all rarely called the Duke by his title or anything past 'Ask' or 'Löff.' When he insisted I do the same, I grunted in response, and Ser Willoughby told me he thought I was getting sick with how coarse my voice had become.

In turn, I nodded, muttered about a sore throat, and then was happy to be forgotten for a while after that. Whiskers and Frid rode ahead to scout the path, and Ask slowed his pace enough to ride in tandem with my knight and well behind me. I did my best to eavesdrop without being conspicuous, but I was left in the middle with no real cause to linger.

"Are you Mastard of Arms, Ser Willoughby?" the Duke asked. "You seem very well-liked. Very squared away."

My knight scoffed playfully at his inquiry. "No, I'm afraid I'm nobody."

"I'm sure that isn't true. You are the Princess's guard, after all?" he noted. "And Her Highness seems very fond of you."

"Does she now?" Willough said. I didn't like the shift in his tone or how unbothered he was by the compliment.

"Yes. She mentioned you many times over the course of the night," he said. "I, uh."

"The night?" he asked, scrunching his face. "You offer that information freely to me?"

"I meant," Ask stopped. "I'm sorry. I thought I should tell you that since I know she was worried you would be angry with her."

Willoughby turned his head to face the Duke. "Ser Elías is Lord Commander. We don't have a Master of Arms."

"I see," the Duke said.

"Are you to ask me about Her Highness's opinion of you next?" My knight asked. "Might be easier to get to the point, sir, considering we are not alone?"

Ask nodded and spoke a little softer. "D-Did she... Did she say anything to you ... for me?"

The question caught me off guard. I glanced over my shoulder to look at them, but Willoughby's attention snapped to mine, and I cowardly stared forward to avoid this wrath.

"No," Willough told him.

No!? I gripped the reins tighter.

"Oh," Ask said.

My Blade kind of laughed at it. "No, in fact, she said she did not expect to hear from you again, I think."

Brutus took a log, and I nearly fell off my horse.

"You good, rook?" Willough asked. It was too long before I realized he was asking me. "Oi, are you good?"

"A-Aye," I lied. I was fuming, and my horse was crazy.

But the Duke continued. "Oh," he said a second time. "That she did not expect to, or that she did not wish to?" he asked.

There was a pang inside my armor I tried to ignore. I had half the mind to smack Ser Willoughby for his awful cock-block, but... But I was a lady, and worse, I was Braxton then. I did consider it anyway, but it would've damned the trip and an undeserving knight for my frustration after I ran off into the woods. I didn't know the way back, either.

"I don't remember," Willough said.

That liar! I could have hissed.

"I'm sure she–" I started, but my knight cut me off.

"This is an A and B conversation, Brax. See your way out, and forget you heard anything, or I'll make you forget. Understood?"

"Y-Yes, Ser," I muttered.

It took everything in my power not to draw and whip Ser Willouhgby with the flat edge of my sword, but I kicked Brutus once and caught up with the others before it was too late.

By nightfall, we had made it to Harbourtown. The air was salty, and some birds squawked so loudly from the docks that their shrieks seemed to whistle through my gear. My head was raging, and I was tired and hungry, and I had avoided eating all day because I did not want to reveal my face. I was happy to arrive at the inn we would stay for the night. Happy to dismount my horse, angry that Ser Braxton had apparently trained him to gallop over fallen trees, and I was generally exhausted. I was needy for a snack and a bed, and a bath, and I was eager to follow Willoughby into the tavern to the front desk to book our rooms.

But the common space was stupidly packed. There were a dozen sailors crowded around a single table where they were playing some sort of Black Jack, and the stench of stale beer and body odor was nearly unbearable. How Ser Willouhgby, myself, and any of our friends did not immediately pass out from the offense was beyond me, but then I was too troubled to care and about to be in a world of hurt when I heard my Blade confirm a single room for us.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I'll take my own room. Thanks." I had no idea how the man I was posing as talked, and every time a word came out of my mouth, I was sure it would be my last before the façade fell.

"They're mostly booked with travelers," Willoughby said. "You forget the Apple Faire is still in force. Whisk and Frid are in one. His Grace in another. I was lucky to get us something at all."

"But are there two beds?" I asked.

He loosed an awful exhale and glanced at me. "Why?" he asked. "Is this because of what happened at your appointment party? Because I thought we determined that was a silly crush."

"W-what?" I asked.

"It's fine, Brax," he said. "So what if you kissed me?" he asked. He lowered his voice. "It's not the first time a man has kissed me, but I thought we discussed this awkwardness. I'm married, and you're into Kiel. We're good. I'm not going to be weird about it if we share a bed. Are you?"

"Uhm," I shrugged. "No?"

"Then let's go upstairs," he said.

He struck my arm, and I flinched but followed him as he led the way, stumbling around.

"His Grace wants to leave by morning," he said. "You need to be ready then. No taking forever like today."

"Alright."

"And no offense, but I've not slept since I got back from town, so as soon as we hit the pillow, I'm out."

"Alright."

"And listen." He stopped us just outside the door, checked down either end of the corridor, and still craned over to stay discreet. "The conversation you heard earlier? About the Princess?"

I nodded slowly.

"You didn't hear it. I like you, I do, but if you so much as speak about it to anyone, I'll break your fucking legs. Do you hear me?"

"You'll... break my legs?" my voice cracked.

That brought a smile to his face and a flicker of something behind Ser Willough's eyes I'd never been subjected to before.

"Yes," he told me. "And I promise you, it will not be quick, and I will enjoy it. Respect your princess."

Willoughby's armor clanged as he threw it to the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, stretched his arms far above his head in a way that exhibited every muscle of his back, and then he yawned, and he lost his shirt, making it all the worse.

I gasped, which brought him to pause for a moment but then he went on to undress.

"Ser–" I started, panicking. "Ser, wait."

But that was worse because it made Ser Willoughby turn around, and his whole torso– the entirety of his insanely precise abdomen was the next thing I saw.

I made a weird noise.

"No," I said quickly. "Stop, please!"

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"N-Nothing," I tried to overcompensate my tone, dropping it even lower than it'd been before.

"What's wrong with you? Are you trying to vomit?" he asked. "Take off your helmet, jeez."

"N-No," I tried. I shook my head, and in the process, Willough got a strange look on his face. I turned and found a spot on the wall to stare into.

"Ser Braxton?" he asked.

"Y-Yeah?" I said back.

"What's your first name?" he asked.

I was caught. Oh, God, I was caught!

"You forgot my name?" I feigned offense. "I thought we were friends."

"You've kept your helmet on all day. Take it off," he ordered.

"Nope, no. I want to keep it on," I tried.

"Take. It. Off."

"I–"

I heard him move across the room, and then he tackled me, pushing me into the wall.

"Take it off!" he yelled.

I tried my best to hold the thing down, dropping out of his grip the way Elías had taught me to use my center of gravity, but I went the wrong way and was stuck in between Ser Willoughby and the bed. He was on the door side of it. I looked around for another escape, but Willough kicked up his belt and grabbed the pommel of his sword, drawing it from the sheath.

"Who are you?" he said sternly.

"No, wait!" I cried, losing control over 'Braxton.' I held my hands up between us, and just as Ser Willoughby brought the blade toward me, it was like my voice clicked for him, and he swung it around to pierce the floor.

"Wait!" I said. "Wait..."

His weight slacked onto the sword. "Braxton?" he asked. "Take off your helmet."

"I don't want to," I said.

"Is that Eliza under there?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I thought you were an imposter."

"I sort of am?" I joked.

"Someone meant to kill me or the Duke," he muttered.

"Well, I don't want to kill either of you if that helps?" I tried.

"I might actually stab you," he said.

"What!?" I unmasked myself to frown in horror. "You can't stab me!" I cried.

"Ahhhh, come on! Fuck me dead," Willough groaned. He shoved his sword so it hit the floor. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I may as well stab myself! Fuck!"

"I, I don't believe I've ever heard so many fucks before," I said. He stalked around in a circle. "I didn't expect you to be in such shape either," I added. "I mean, good for you. For Josie, Ser."

"Do you want me to be hanged, is that it?" he asked.

"N–"

Before I could answer, the door swung open, and we were both incredibly surprised and terrified to find the arrival of yet another sword in the air. It was held high as the bearer charged into the room, and then when he saw us both, his face wrung itself into all kinds of confusion, and he stuttered to stop.

It was the Duke.