He was better, he said, but begged to stay. Anne had to relay his message to the head priestess, since of course she abided by the same laws as the other priestesses, which forbid her from talking to men. Anne told Neiyo’s exact words but added some of her own.

“He has nowhere to go,” she said, feeling somehow both insignificant and powerful compared to this frail, heavily-robed woman. “He has no home. He’s no trouble to me, if you worry about that.”

“Well, then, let him stay,” she said. “But move him upstairs. We must save the sickrooms for those who are actually ill.”

“Upstairs?”

“Yes. Perhaps to one of the rooms with windows. And tell him he can stay as long as he likes.”

As long as he likes. An unspoken question, one with no answer, formed in Anne’s mind. How long would he want to stay?

But his face when she told him the news dispelled all of her fears. “Good,” he said, rising. “I prefer light to this, this darkness. I no longer know whether it’s night or day, and I sleep when I am tired and also when I am not.”

“Neiyo?”

“Yes?”

“…Never mind.”

She did not ask how long because she feared the answer, and this not knowing filled her with more hope than a solid number would have.

Nothing had happened since that kiss besides more kisses, and now they hardly spoke on it. Still, whenever their eyes met, he smiled and her gaze dropped first each time. She still burned when she thought of everything – of him and of what he meant, meant to her and the priestesses and the monastery itself. Were there laws or rules against this sort of thing happening with foundlings, with babies who had been dumped unceremoniously on the steps of the monastery? Did non-priestesses who lived and helped in the monastery follow the same rules? And who cared?

They had been worried about Maria, Maria who had the sort of audacity to murder a would-be husband in a frenzy of hate. Anne had laughed when Maria had first come to the monastery, pleading sanctuary for slaying a suitor; she had run from the law. But now Anne saw that that girl didn’t need to be feared: her own fear kept her holed up in the monastery, and though it was her prison, more or less, it was better than death.

Anne, though, was a different story. They had all thought that little Anne was brainwashed enough by their force-fed lies, but she’d heard and seen enough from Neiyo to see straight through this farce. Already, she was changing, and it showed, and she knew it showed. When she was not doing chores or with Neiyo. she was in the library; although the man had laughed at her outdated books, she revered them still. Besides him, they were her link, her link with the men and women who lived normal, ordinary lives outside the confines of this monastery.

When she laughed in the face of Maria, the girl who she’d been so in awe of before, Maria stared, shocked; when Anne waited on her chores and stared out her window, trying to see the village in the valley far below, the priestesses reprimanded her, and said how uncharacteristic of her it was.

It showed. But she couldn’t fight it.

It was more than love now, if love was what it had started with; it was something she positively itched with, and though she wondered if she could shake it off, she hardly dared to try.

Someday. Someday soon. She had to leave, she had to. Never before had these stone walls been so much like a dungeon; never before had the sun’s light seemed to be teasing her. She read her books and laughed at them, their pathetic wobbly drawings of deserts and oceans, things that she had been in awe of before.

Neiyo had gotten his room with a window, a room with a view so gorgeous he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. As she helped him carry his bag in, they collapsed on the bed together, laughing like children.

It was late morning and they were bathed in sunlight. Anne shut her eyes and felt that she could almost fall asleep there, sprawled out on the bed, but when she felt Neiyo sit up, she sat up as well.

“You like it?” She smiled over at him.

“Oh, yes.” He grinned back, then his expression darkened. “But I don’t want outstay my welcome here. If I am a burden, tell me and I’ll leave.”

“No. We have more than enough money, because we hardly spend it: the priestesses are fasting half the time anyhow, and I don’t eat much. We use each other’s clothing and hardly use torches. We have money to spare. Don’t worry, please.”

Then there was silence; he stared off through the window, and for a moment Anne got a creeping, aching feeling that reminded her that Neiyo did not exist for her. He had other things on his mind, things which she could only dream of fully understanding. She leaned against him, savoring the slight touch that she’d shied from just a few days before. How quickly she’d changed, from terror to eagerness, from anxiety to joy.

Although he had pulled down her barriers, he had not pulled down them all, and often she doubted; what if he had never come, or if that day she had been told to bandage him, she’d simply said no? Would she still be doing her duties without a glance or a thought towards the outside world, as she had done all her seventeen years? Yes, that much was certain; all of this turbulence resulted from him.

“Neiyo?”

He looked at her, the sunlight still in his eyes. For all the world, he looked like a god, or perhaps some fallen angel, wounded, with clipped wings.

“Can you… tell me about how you came to be here?”

“What?”

“I mean, you told me that you’re a mercenary, but I have no idea how you came to be so wounded, or why you made your way here.”

He sighed. “In truth I don’t remember much. I was with five or six of my partners, my fellow mercenaries, and we were on a job, but we were ambushed. I was knocked out. When I woke up I was in a bed here, all bandaged up.”

“Oh.” Anne paused, taking this in. “Then, that would mean your partners…”

“I can only assume they’re dead,” he said, regaining that distant look he’d worn. “Perhaps I crawled here on my own, or else someone from here or from the village found me.”

“I-I’m sorry, Neiyo.” And she really was, she realized with a pang.

“I am too.”

She would not meet his eyes. Now she felt so guilty about wanting to ask a favor of him, but she bit her lip and decided to say the words anyway. “I was wondering if, when you leave, you would take me with you.”

He turned his head to look at her but she found she still could not look him in the eye, so she simply stepped forward and took a hand of his. He did nothing, said nothing, and she was beginning to fear that he hadn’t heard her when he pulled her into an embrace.

Feebly, she wrapped her own arms around him, wondering what he would say, what he thought of her now.

His words showed that he really hadn’t comprehended her, after all. “I wish I could cry,” he said, his voice weak. They broke apart, and his face was stony, his eyes dry. “I wish I could cry but they’ve hardened me – I don’t think I can do it. I can’t cry. I’m stone. Anne, I – I – ”

“It’s alright,” she said, pulling him to her again.

“No,” he said, tensing up and pushing her away. “It’s not.”

Anne wondered if she’d offended him somehow but when she looked into his face, he wore such an expression of pain that she knew she could not have caused it. She left the room, treading softly, glancing behind her once. Neiyo was silhouetted against the window, his dark profile a stark contrast to the overpowering sun.

The next day was just as glittering and bright as the one before, but when Anne went to Neiyo’s room after her morning chores, he was still in his bed. She didn’t want to disturb him, so she sat on the bed beside him and they clasped hands, and stayed there a long time without speaking.

She broke the silence, her voice surprisingly weak. “Do you remember, the day after we first met, you told me you wanted me to leave here.”

He looked at her sharply. “I do.”

“Do you still want to leave with me?”

“I don’t know if I ever want to leave, Anne.” He bowed his head, his eyes half-shut. “I’m defeated. I – I just feel weighed down. I’m not sick, my wounds are healing, but I… I don’t feel as if I can face the world like this.”

“I know you’re still mourning the death of your friends…”

“Look, Anne,” he said, his voice more gentle than she’d expected, “it’s just been a few days – give me time. Please. I don’t want you to turn on me. Please…”

“Of course.”

There was more silence, a silence that was not knowing so much as it was questioning; Anne tried to imagine what thoughts could be swarming within Neiyo’s skull, what emotions were nagging at him. Grief, certainly, and fear, fear of the unknown. Besides that, she couldn’t guess.

“I have to go.” She rose; it was later than she thought it was. The sun was on its way down. “I’ll come back later.”

He said nothing as she shut the door behind her.

She was sweeping out the front room of the monastery, the one that visitors went into, when the head priestess came up and tapped her shoulder. “I must ask another favor of you, Anne.”

“What? Anything.” Even as she said the words, Anne feared what they might mean.

But the priestess’s tone was not demanding or harsh. “A while ago, I spotted some people heading this way,” she said. “From that distance I could not tell if they were men or women, but they’re coming from the village and definitely heading this way. They should be here momentarily. Greet them.”

Anne nodded. Villagers, most likely, or else travelers; there was a festival coming up, so perhaps they wanted to prepare. She put the broom away and went to the door to wait.

The head priestess’s guess had been a good one: Anne heard the travelers’ voices within minutes, and soon they were in sight. Five, Anne counted. Men and women, but the women dressed like men. Odd. She smiled to herself: they were almost like the heroes from those novels she always used to read, where the women were equal with the men.

But as they got closer, she felt a deep sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

They wore leather armor and on their belts were battered knives, swords, and axes; each held a bag.

They all wore the exact same clothes that Neiyo wore. As they came closer, Anne noticed they even talked the same as him, with the same slight lilting accent that Neiyo used.

“Hallo!” a woman called out, when she noticed Anne standing there. “You’re with the monastery?”

“Yes,” Anne said simply, beginning to tremble with anticipation.

“Is there a man named – ”

“—Neiyo? Yes, he’s staying here.”

The woman’s face broke into a brilliant grin. “Oh, thank God! Thank whatever God you worship here.” She ran over to Anne and grabbed the girl’s arm.

“My name’s Mona,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Anne.” She could observe Mona now, and saw that although the woman’s shoulders and arms were thick with muscle, she probably was naturally quite slender; as it was, the muscles didn’t suit her properly. She had black hair tied up in a bun and small, glittering blue eyes.

Mona seemed to notice Anne’s searching gaze and smiled nervously. “May we enter?”

“O-of course.” Anne forced a grin, although she could have died at that instant.

As she led Mona and the others down the hallway, she felt a slight tremor course through her body, as if each step brought her nearer to disaster. I can’t believe I’m scared, she chided herself. I should be happy now. I should be glad. Neiyo’s going to be ecstatic.

They had finally reached Neiyo’s door. Anne inhaled deeply, then knocked on the door.

“Come in, Anne.”

She opened the door and let the others in, coming in after they all had in order to watch his reaction.

First, disbelief: it was as if he was looking at ghosts, the ghosts of his dead friends. Then, as the reality hit him, he sat up straight in bed, his face pale, his eyes wide. “Mona-?”

“Yes,” the woman said, grinning, and threw her arms around his body. The others sat down on his bed and began chattering to him, asking him questions, apologizing, telling him stories, all of them speaking at once.

It was probably good that they had too many words, because Neiyo could not speak. It was as if he’d lost the ability to think – he could only look from one to another, touching their arms, listening to their words, as if unable to believe they really weren’t dead.

And, finally, once they’d all finished speaking, Neiyo buried his head in his hands and began to cry.

Anne sat off to the side, feeling more than a little awkward – was it better to leave, having done what she was supposed to do, or should she stay, perhaps try to talk to some of the mercenaries? She swallowed, unsure, when Neiyo noticed her there.

“And this,” he said, speaking through tears, “is my friend Anne.”

She raised her head: friend.

“She saved my life,” he continued. “I would have died of boredom… do you know that priestesses here are forbidden to talk to men? Can’t talk to them – can hardly look at them; I thought I was just going to die here.”

“You’re not a priestess?” Mona said sharply.

“No,” Anne said, repeating her standard answer. “I’m a foundling.”

The reunion lasted hours, but Anne left soon after that. She begged her way out of doing evening duties, claiming she had a stomachache; that evening, she was awoken by a knock at her door.

It was Mona. The woman had stripped off her armor and her weapons, now simply wearing men’s pants and a loose tunic. Her gorgeous black hair hung over one shoulder, and she looked a bit tense, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Hello, Anne,” she said, seating herself on the edge of Anne’s bed. “I just came to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of my fiancé.”

She looked up sharply, but Mona’s face was expressionless, revealing nothing. “Fiancé?”

“Neiyo, I mean.”

“Oh, of course.” There was a long pause and she shifted uncomfortably. “It was nothing. I did my duty.”

“Well, I thought I should tell you that we’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

This was all too much. Anne stared at her hands, hoping that the tears building up behind her eyes weren’t too visible. “Well,” she said, trying to steady her voice, “good luck and have a safe journey.” Then she paused, taking in Mona from the corner of her eye. “You are going to marry?”

“That’s what fiancé means, yes.”

“Oh.” Anne bit her lip. “Have a good marriage.”

“Anne.”

The woman’s tone was so sharp that Anne looked up and met Mona’s eyes. “Yes?”

“I want to know… did anything happen? Between you and Neiyo, I mean.”

There were a thousand razor-sharp rebukes to this question, a question that pried too deep. Why do you ask? Don’t you trust the man you’re going to marry? Do you think that if something had, I would really tell the truth? What sort of thing do you think happened?

But she simply smiled faintly and said, “Nothing happened. I don’t think he’d want me anyway, if I had the nerve to try.”

Mona laughed. “Of course.”

And without another word she was gone.

Her word was good. They were gone the following morning. When Anne rose a little before sunrise, their beds were empty, unmade. The food that the priestesses had prepared was eaten, the dirty bowls sitting on the table. There was something else there too.

It was a note that simply read “Anne”.

Beneath it was the mirror.

Anne picked it up, wondering. These things were expensive, she knew, and of course not allowed in the monastery. It was lucky no priestess had found it first.

She held it in her palm, feeling the cold, smooth material against the soft skin of her hand. Then her eyes met those of the pretty, dark-eyed girl, and Anne looked away.

Anne was not quite friends with this girl, not yet. But now, with Neiyo gone, there was all the time in the world to get accustomed to this face.

The days crept by more slowly than time ever had before. In her mind Anne kept seeing his face, laughing and sobbing with joy at seeing his friends alive. This was more happiness than Anne had ever brought him, and in some corner of her mind she was happy for him now. She was glad of it.

If he had stayed there, he would have rotted away. So perhaps this was all for the best. She told herself that over and over again as she did her chores and helped the priestesses and tried to fall asleep at night. Often she’d wake up in the middle of night and, being unable to drift back to sleep again, she’d go to the window with mirror and look at her face, studying it.

She knew, then, what she had to do; this was no way to live.

She had tasted the outside world and now she desired it. Her heart did not ache for Neiyo as much as she’d feared it might; this passion, then, was not for him, but for the door he’d opened for her. She could not be another prisoner of the monastery, breaking its rules once a day or more but still eating its food and sleeping within it. No, she could not keep up this little half-hearted rebellion.

She had to go.

Anne knew that she couldn’t find the mercenaries again. Nor did she want to: that was a world she would never tangle herself up in. The village, too, was no option. That tiny, dirty town would not love her, as she did not and could not love it.

She wanted more. A village of a hundred people was not the real world. Again and again, she pulled out the maps in her books and traced those roads with her fingertips, wondering how many miles she could travel in a day and how many people those cities contained now, if the number had changed any in the years since the book was written.

So, one morning – earlier than she’d ever woken up before, so that no priestesses could see her and stop her – she simply packed her things and left.

The mercenaries had gone south. The village was east. She decided to go north.

When she was just leaving the building, she heard someone call out her name and, startled, she turned.

It was Maria. She wore her nightgown still. “Anne!” she cried out, panting with exertion. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes, Maria. Please don’t stop me.”

“Why would I stop you? I knew you’d leave soon. You can’t stay here forever. No one can.” She smiled, then handed Anne a package.

“What’s this?”

“My old clothing. I just thought you should have these to use. Your robes are so drab.”

“But – this – ”

“They’re not allowed in the monastery. I know that. I snuck them in.” She grinned nonchalantly. “Anne, be smart. It’s a big world.”

“If I know anything at all,” Anne said, “then I know that.”

The air was cool and still and the sky dazzlingly bright on the day that Anne set out to begin her new life in the world far, far away from the walls of her old home.