Exactly What We Did

Niamh was still mightily disturbed at having woken up in her brother’s body, and she was a touch miffed at losing all the conditioning she’d done in her own body, but once they reached the palace courtyard where the knights trained and she saw a handful of them gathered in a circle and sparring, swords flashing, she was excited.

She suspected she’d put a lot more thought into being a boy than Niall had into being a girl.

”Fare thee well, brother,” Niall said from atop the mare, voice airy and faint. He even fluttered the handkerchief Niamh had been forced to embroider. “Bring our family honor.”

Niamh could only stare; she never spoke like that. “You too. If the other girls give you trouble, don’t be afraid to give them trouble right back,” she managed finally.

Declan stared at the two of them, puzzled. Drat. Had they given the game away already? “Did you two switch personalities in the night or something?”

“That’s exactly what we did,” Niamh said, deadpan. “Anyway, I’d best be off to my fate. Keep her safe, Declan.” And Niamh, with the best boyish swagger she could muster, headed toward the hall of pages.

She found the way easily enough - other boys her age were heading toward a pair of double wooden doors that led to a long, low stone building that ran perpendicular to the knights’ hall.

Several older lads, likely squires as they were wearing tabards in their masters’ colors, directed the other boys in the right place. Niamh came up short when a tall, broad-shouldered, and frighteningly handsome blond boy stepped into her path.

“What house are you from, mite?” he asked.

Of course he was a prat. The handsome ones always were. Niamh decided that she disliked him. “The House of O’Scannlain,” she said.

The blond boy called over his shoulder, “You have an O’Scannlain on the list?”

Another squire - taller, dark-haired, thin - consulted a parchment scroll. “Yes - Niall.”

“Who’s he been assigned to?”

“No one.”

The blond boy grinned and clapped Niall on the shoulder. “Excellent. You can be Ambrosius’s page.”

Niall bobbed her head politely. “Yes, sir. And Ambrosius would be?”

The blond boy’s grin turned mean. “That would be Prince Ambrosius, and he would be standing over there.”

Niall felt her heart plummet into her shoes. Prince Ambrosius was...holding the scroll.