“The good god places us as he wishes us to be,” I told him. “I would not wish my brother’s inheritance, or my younger brother’s priesthood. I believe I will be what was destined for me.”

“Oh, the birth order destiny is fixed, of course. But why cannot a man be more than one thing? Think on it. Your own father has been soldier, and now he is lord. Why cannot an heir be also a poet, or a musician? Soldier-sons of nobles keep journals and sketchbooks, do they not? So, are you not also a writer and a naturalist as well as a soldier?”

His words opened a window in my future, one that I had never even considered. I had always wanted to know more about rocks and minerals, yet I had always regarded that as an unworthy thought sent by the great distracter. Could a man be both, without offence to the good god? I pushed the thought away, already knowing the true answer in my heart. “I am a soldier,” I said aloud. “I only observe and write what is needed to aid the soldiers who may come after me. I do not hunger for the destinies the good god has granted to my brothers.”

I think Remwar heard my disapproval of his attitude, for he started to frown and began to say, “I only meant—” when Yaril suddenly interrupted him.

“Angel’s breath!” she exclaimed. “I’ve lost an earring! One of the new lapis ones that Papa gave me especially for this evening. Oh, what will he think of me, to be so careless with his gift. I must go look for it!”

“I’ll help you,” Remwar immediately offered. “Where might it have fallen?”

“Probably along the walk to the greenhouse,” Carsina offered. “Remember, you stepped from the path and your hair tangled for a moment against the climbing rose on the trellis there. I suspect that is when you lost it.”

Yaril smiled at her gratefully. “I’m sure you are right. We’ll look for it there.”

“I’ll come with you.” I volunteered, giving Remwar a measuring glance.

“Don’t be silly,” Yaril rebuked me. “Carsina came out here to rest a moment from the dancing. She doesn’t want to go down to the hot houses again, and we certainly can’t leave her sitting here alone. Besides, with your great feet, you’d probably tread my earring into the sod before you saw it. Two of us are plenty to go looking for one little earring. Wait here. We won’t be long.”

She had risen as she spoke. I knew I should not let her go off down the shadowy path with Remwar unchaperoned, but Carsina gently patted the bench beside her, suggesting I sit there, and I could scarcely leave her sitting in the garden alone. “Don’t be long,” I cautioned Yaril.

“I shan’t be. The earring will either be there or it won’t,” she replied. Remwar dared to offer her his arm, but she shook her head in a pretty rebuke, and led him off into the dimness. I looked after them. After a moment, Carsina asked quietly, “Don’t you wish to sit down? I would think your feet would be tired after all that dancing. I know mine are.” She pushed her dainty little foot out from the hem of her dress, as if to show me how weary it was, and then exclaimed, “Oh, my slipper’s come unfastened. I shall have to go inside and fix it, for if I stoop here, I’ll surely muddy the hem of my gown.”

“Allow me,” I asked her breathlessly. I went down on one knee fearlessly, for the weather had been dry and the paving stones of the garden path were always kept well swept.

“Oh, but you should not,” she exclaimed as I took up the silk laces of her slipper. “You’ll soil the knee of your fine new uniform. And you look so brave in it.”

“A little dust on my knee will not mar it,” I said. She had said I looked brave. “I’ve been tying my sister’s slippers since she was a tiny thing. Her knots always come undone. There. How is that? Too tight? Too loose?”

She leaned down to inspect my work. Her neck was graceful and pale as a swan’s and a waft of her gardenias enveloped me again. She turned her gaze to mine and our faces were inches apart. “It’s perfect,” she said softly.

I could not move or speak. “Thank you,” she said. She leaned forward and her lips barely brushed my cheek, a kiss as chaste as a sister’s that still caused my heart to hammer in my ears. Then she leaned back suddenly, lifting her fingertips to her lips in surprise. “Oh! Whiskers!”

I lifted a hand to my cheek in horror. “I did shave!” I exclaimed, and she laughed, a sound that reminded me of skylarks soaring into a morning sky.

“Of course! I did not mean your face was rough. Only that there is a trace of them, still. You are so fair, that I did not think you would be shaving yet.”

“I’ve been shaving for almost a year now,” I said, and suddenly it was easy to talk to her. I rose, brushing at my knee and sat down on the bench beside her.

She smiled at me and asked, “Will you grow a moustache at the Academy? I’ve heard that many cadets do.”

I ran my hand ruefully over my nearly bald head. “Not in my first year. It isn’t allowed. Perhaps when I’m in my third year.”

“I think you should,” she said quietly, and I suddenly resolved that I would.

A little silence fell as she looked out over the night garden. “I dread your leaving tomorrow. I suppose I won’t see you for a long time,” she said sadly.

“I’ll be home for Rosse’s wedding in late spring. Surely you and your family will be there.”

“Of course. But that is months and months away.”

“It won’t be so long,” I assured her, but suddenly it seemed like a very long time to me, also.

She looked aside from me. “I’ve heard that the girls of Old Thares are very beautiful, and dress in all the latest fashions from the coast. My mother says that they wear musk and paint their eyelids and that their riding skirts are almost trousers, for they don’t care at all that men may see their legs.” Worriedly she added, “I’ve heard they are very forward, too.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Such things may be true. But I’ll be at the Academy. I doubt I’ll catch so much as a glimpse of a woman there.”

“Oh, I’m glad!” she exclaimed, and then looked aside from me. I had to smile as her tiny flame of jealousy warmed me.

I glanced at the dim path that led toward the greenhouses. I could not see my sister. I did not want to leave, but I knew my responsibility. “I’d best go look for Yaril. Finding an earring should not take her this long.”

“I’ll come with you,” Carsina offered. As she stood, she took my arm, her hand light as a little bird perched there.

“You should go back inside while I find Yaril,” I said dutifully.

“Should I?” she asked me, looking up at me with wide blue eyes.

I could not bring myself to answer that, and so we ventured down the path together. It was narrow and so she had to walk close to me. I went slowly, for fear she would stumble in the dark. Then we came to the turn in the path, and as I feared, I saw Yaril standing very close to Remwar and looking up at him. As I watched, he stooped and kissed her.

I froze in horror. “He has no right!” I gasped in disbelief.

Carsina’s grip on my arm had tightened. “No right at all!” she whispered in shocked agreement. “Unlike us, there is no understanding between the families. They have not been promised to one another, as we have.”

I looked down at her. Her eyes were very big, her breathing rapid through her slightly parted lips.

And then, without quite knowing how, I had taken her in my arms. The top of her brow came just to my nose, so that I had to stoop and turn my head to kiss her mouth. Her little hands gripped the front of my new uniform coat, and when she broke the kiss, she hid her face against my shirtfront as if overcome by what we had done. “It’s all right,” I whispered into the curls and pins of her soft hair. “We are promised to one another. We’ve done nothing shameful, save steal a taste of what our lives will bring.”

She lifted her face from my shirt and leaned back from me. Her eyes were shining and I could not resist her. I kissed her again.