A knock sounded on the door, followed by a young voice Kel quickly placed. “Page-Master?”
“Come in, Irismere.” Kel set aside the plans for this year’s summer camping trip. She was almost done with them, and the final details would need to pass by the Queen’s Riders to see if any of their trainees were coming along.
Lindsey of Irismere entered, shoulders hunched and long hair covering his eyes. Kel hoped that he’d figured out what had been bothering him this whole year—he’d been one of the most enthusiastic first-year pages, but in this second year he’d been withdrawn in a way she couldn’t figure out.
Kel waited for a full minute as Lindsey stood in front of her, moving uneasily from foot to foot. Then, when it became clear his words were escaping him, she said, “You have a reason for coming here, I expect?”
“Yessir,” he said automatically, and then blushed. “I mean, yes ma’am.”
Kel waved off his apology with a smile; she was well-used to it. “What’s troubling you, Irismere?”
Lindsey’s shoulders relaxed the slightest amount. “Well, um.” He raised his eyes the slightest amount. “What was it like, being a girl page?”
“Wouldn’t Mari or Beth give you better answers?” Kel asked, naming the two oldest female pages. “It’s very different now.”
“But you were first.”
Kel’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward across the desk. She’d met a lot of people up north, and in the small villages she’d found it was often easier for people to live their truths than among the noble houses. “Are you asking because you’re worried about a sister, or for yourself?” she asked, as gently as she could. “Because it’s hard being the first. I’m not going to sugarcoat that. But it’s worth all those challenges to stay true to yourself.”
Lindsey’s face scrunched up. “I think I want to be a girl,” she whispered, the smallest voice. “I want to— Did you ever want to be a boy?”
“Nope.” Kel sighed, and drew over a piece of paper. “It would’ve been easier to be a page if I had wanted to be a boy, I think, but I took pride in being a girl. Just like it sounds you will,” she added, and saw Lindsey blush. “Alanna might have more advice for you, because she did live as a boy, and liked it.”
“The— The Lioness?”
“She’s nicer than the stories say.” Kel jotted down a quick note to follow up with Alanna later, then turned back to Lindsey. “The temple of the Goddess should have some resources for you too. If you aren’t comfortable going alone, I can help find someone to go with you.”
Lindsey bowed, almost deeply enough that she toppled over. “You— Ma’am, Lady Knight, you don’t need to—”
“You’re my student,” Kel said, and knew that if Neal or Tobe heard her they’d laugh at this tone of voice. It was her Protector of the Small voice, they’d say, when she got very calm and very quiet and impossible to distract or turn away from. “I want you to be your best self, and do you best work. If that means I will fight the entirety of the court to make sure they acknowledge you as the girl you are, then I will.” She thought about it for a moment, realised that Lindsey looked glassy-eyed, and added, “I doubt I’ll need to; the King and Queen are progressive—though they might not have considered this before—and the court will follow their lead.”
“Thank you,” Lindsey said, her voice a little choked with tears.
“It’s what anyone should do,” Kel said, and heard the Chamber whisper in the back of her head, It is not what everyone would do. She steadied her breath, said, “I’ll need to change sleeping assignments for the camping trip, of course; you’ll need to be bunking with the girls now.”
Lindsey looked up at her with a tiny smile, familiar from last year but so rare in these past months, and threw herself at Kel in a hug.
Kel accepted the hug and held her brave young page tight, waiting until Lindsey didn’t seem to be crying anymore. Then she released the girl and said, “You’re going to be late for dinner if you don’t go change, Irismere.”
Lindsey blinked, then looked over at the clock ticking away in the corner, yelped, and ran out the door with the barest sketch of a bow.
Kel shook her head with a smile. No matter how different the court might now be, she thought, some things never changed.