Desdemona’s mouth was open partially as she stared at the Veshvari. Her eyes narrowed, desperately trying to parse what he was saying. After a moment, she released the breath she did not realize she was holding, looked at the ground and shook her head. “Look,” she began. “I am not the smartest of women—”
“Lies,” Kasia interrupted. “You am smartest of womens. You am strongest of womens. You am strongest of men!” she almost roared her words. “You am better, am faster, am stronger zhen Riordan or Donovan, and yet, you am make yourself small. Why?” Kasia had come around to step between Desdemona and Karlen.
Kasia was certainly an imposing figure. Desdemona herself was quite tall, about as tall as most Druth Cael men, maybe a hand’s width shorter. Kasia was a full half meter taller than she; the antlers on her mask only served to make her more intimidating. Desdemona tried to steel herself where she stood. She felt her cheeks slowly flushing, though, and an odd sensation—was that shame—coursing through her veins. “Uh,” she stammered. “I… I mean, the guys… uh—”
“You haffing no idea,” Kasia blurted, her hands on her hips. She took up even more space in that position. She leaned forward, ever so slightly, invading some of the space Desdemona occupied.
“No,” Desdemona responded defensively. “I know.” She lifted her fists to her hips, then awkwardly lowered them, finding she did not actually know why she made herself less than what she was. She could not mimic Kasia’s stance. She did not feel that powerful.
Kasia shot her hand forward and grabbed Desdemona’s chin, lifting her head and twisting it from side to side. “You am no looking like child,” she hissed. “Who am telling you is bad to be best? Hmm?”
Desdemona blinked. Who told her it was bad to best? No one told her not to be the best…except that one time, when she was seven and had just soundly beat three of the boys in practice duels. We all know you are good for a girl, the instructor had said. But, maybe give the boys a chance to win, too, alright? Her eyes flashed at that memory. Then there was the time her mother had told her that guys her age wanted to feel helpful and be protectors, so maybe she should consider acting a little bit more feminine. Her face twisted into anger, then rage. “What are you doing?” she demanded of Kasia.
Kasia put her hand on Desdemona’s head, squeezing. “You am no longer zhat girl. You are Desdemona Bladesinger, bestest of swordsmen, smartest of women, bestest Desdemona.”
She thought the Veshvari woman was smiling. With her hand on her head and squeezing like she was testing the ripeness of a melon, Desdemona thought she could see through the mask to her face and see her smiling. She had forgotten just how hard the fingers pressed into her temples and scalp. Her vision slowly darkened, and she went limp. Kasia released her, and she crumpled to the ground.
Karlen stared at the woman. “Is dead?” he asked with a measure of incredulity.
“Ni,” Kasia replied casually, as if this were perfectly normal. “She am sleeping. She will remember who am. With luck, she forget who was.”
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