This is early on, possibly just after Hurt/Comfort [Beta/Donor story]
She poured another cup of tea.
“Were you ever a private soldier?”
“I was… a Duke’s son,” Girey answered, staring at the metal cup. A Duke’s son, because she’d taken away even who he was. “No. I started as an officer. I trained as an officer. What about you?”
He looked over at her, challenging her. Go ahead, lie to me. Pretend you’re common.
She just smirked. “I am not… a Duke’s son,” she countered, which was at least probably not a lie. “And I started out at the bottom.”
“You started like a peasant.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen your signet.”
“You have,” she agreed, maddeningly calmly. “Yes. But I started at the bottom.” Her smile finally graced her lips, although it didn’t look like her. It looked like a soldier’s smile, tired and laughing at the world. “Ill-fitting uniform tunic and marching until my feet bled, just like everyone else. Sword drills until my blisters had blisters.”
“You’re a Healer,” he protested. The idea of a priestess of Reiassannon – even if she was some sort of lay priestess, she was still a Healer – learning sword-drills was just wrong.
But she kept smiling. “Does me no good, does it, if the enemy attacks while I’m healing someone?”
He flushed. That had been him, hadn’t it? “Well,” he grumped, “it served you fine against me.”
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