“A far cry from the dungeons,” Vita muttered, causing Uma and Sabine to snort.
Taking the master key from a panting George, Jax unlocked the door. Just as she moved to open it, Corporal Highriver stepped in front of her. “Let me go in first, Duchess.”
“Of course.” Heat rose to her cheeks. It wasn’t the wisest move for her to go barging into a confined prisoner’s room.
Highriver entered. Jax held the door as she surveyed the area. Olavo stood by the window, giving her a spooked stare. Highriver had unchained Olavo’s hands, but the Tandorian’s feet remained shackled.
“So he can’t lift his legs to escape out the window,” Highriver grunted, noticing Jax’s gaze lingering on the chains.
Olavo clinked across the floor of the small, yet cozy suite. “Duchess, this really isn’t necessary. I don’t plan on escaping. I am here to be of service to you.” He bowed so low, his nose almost reached the floor.
Highriver barked a harsh laugh. “Oh, you don’t plan on escaping? Yes, we believe you.” The officer patted himself on the chest with his sole hand. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”
Content with Olavo’s confinement, Jax backed out of the room, followed by the Corporal. She locked the door and handed the key back to George. Surprised that he hadn’t asked to see the interior for himself, she looked at him carefully, gasping when she saw his eyes had turned glassy and unfocused.
“I really need to examine his wound.” Charles struggled to stand upright under George’s weight. “I think he’s losing consciousness.”
All thoughts of a tour of the third floor out the window, Jax nudged Sabine away from George’s left side and wrapped an arm around the fading Captain. “Bernard, show us George’s room, please.” Her hardened gaze and crisply spoken request conveyed the need for urgency.
Within minutes, she’d help lay the Captain on his bed, while Charles ran to his own quarters to fetch his saddlebag of medicine. Uma, Sabine, and Vita went to work finding more pillows to help prop George up, and once done, set about unpacking the Captain’s satchel that had been brought up.
Even though Charles blushed at the impropriety, the healer had not protested when Jax said she would undress George. As she started pulling off his sweat-soaked tunic, the manor’s master key that she’d just given him fell out of a pocket.
George, despite hovering on the edge of darkness, noticed it laying on the bed beside him. “Put it in the nightstand,” he murmured, and Jax quickly complied, the nightstand trembling under the force with which she slammed the top drawer shut.
Highriver and Bernard also offered their assistance, but Jax shooed them away. “Please see that Lady Sabine, Lady Uma, and Vita are settled,” she said with clipped words, eager to clear the room. As much as she appreciated their concern, she felt three anxious women fussing over the Captain would do him no good.
“Duchess, surely I should stay behind and aid Master Charles?” Sabine meekly suggested as Bernard ushered everyone out of the room.
Jax wiped the nervous sweat beading at her brow. “I’ll send for you if your help is required. Go now, please.” She then busied herself propping George up as best as she could, for he had lost consciousness completely. Her lips silently pleading for Charles’s quick return, Jax reached for the laces of George’s undershirt and began to unthread them. As her fingers worked their way down his chest, she felt fire leaping from his skin. Virtues, he has a fever. Panic nearly choked her, but she continued with her task, slowly peeling away the linen from George’s drenched skin.
As she pulled his shirt away from his injured side, she uttered a small cry. The crisp white bandage Charles had applied just that morning was now molted and green. Milky puss oozed from underneath the wrap. The smell of it alone was enough to take years off Jax’s life.
Charles came barreling into the room, his pale face a mask of worry. “Virtues,” he hissed as he stopped at the bedside and saw the soiled bandage. Digging into his leather medicine bag, Jax waited in subdued silence, the only sound bottles and vials clinking while he rummaged around.
“Fetch some hot water and towels, will you?” Charles issued the glancing command, his focus entirely on his patient.
Without hesitation, Jax hastened from the room and back down the staircase. Trying to remember which way Bernard had said the kitchens were, she was blissfully intercepted by a black-haired young man on the second-floor landing.
“The Lord Chamberlain requested these be sent up to Captain Solomon’s room, Your Grace,” he stuttered, holding up a steaming kettle in one hand, with towels tucked under his arm.
Virtues be praised. Every moment counted, and Bernard’s quick thinking had given Charles precious time.
“Thank you, Julian,” Jax mustered, her frayed nerves all over the place. Perhaps later, there would be time to exchange pleasantries with the young man who’d once been apprentice to her father’s senior valet back at the palace.
“Y-yes, Your Grace.” He bowed, placing the handle of the kettle in Jax’s outstretched palm, then followed her back to the Captain’s suite.
She poured the hot water into a small wash basin tucked away in a corner of George’s room. Dipping one of the washcloths into the scalding water, Jax ignored the pain ripping through her fingertips as she rushed over to Charles. “Julian, could you bring more hot water, please?”
The valet disappeared in an instant, leaving a helpless Jax beside her royal physician. Charles seemed lost in a trance, examining his various vials, holding them up to the sunlight streaming in from the east-facing windows. “All right, I’m going to remove the wrapping. As soon as it’s exposed, I’ll need you to wipe it clean with the hot water. Once the wound is clean, I’ll apply a mixture of harproot and milk of the orchid. That should eat away the infection, which is the most concerning issue at hand.”
Jax’s grip tightened on the scalding cloth. “Just tell me when.”
Charles placed his chosen remedies on the bedside, then pushed back the sleeves of his healer’s robes. “This won’t be pretty, Jax. If George wakes up and starts protesting, you cannot stop, no matter what. We need to clean his wound.”
“I’m ready.” Her jaw felt like it might snap, it was clenched so tight. Steeling herself for the grisly sight, Jax hovered beside Charles as he peeled back the bandage wrappings to reveal the sutured stab wound.
Her eyes watered. George’s entire left side had turned green, his purple veins contrasting violently against the savage canvas of his normally tanned skin. Holding her breath against the pungent smell of rotting flesh, she plunged downward, furiously scrubbing the gash. Even from his unconscious state, George moaned in agony, but she blocked out all distractions as she wiped away the oozing creamy puss spurting from his side. Thank the Virtues she hadn’t eaten anything from the picnic packed as part of her ruse, or she would have lost the contents of her stomach.
“That’s enough. Move back.” Charles didn’t even give her a second to respond. Instead, he knocked her away as he poured a vial of mashed harproot onto the gory infection. Weak in the knees, Jax closed her eyes as she heard the hissing pop of the acidic herb fight against the ugly redness clawing out of George’s side. The fizzing lasted all but a few seconds, but to Jax, it felt like she stood there for hours. She took deep breaths to steady herself, immune or uncaring, toward the sour smells assaulting her senses, she didn’t know. Once the harproot had been successfully administered, Charles slathered a thick coat of milk of the orchid all over George’s sickly skin, wrapping the ointment in a breathable linen bandage.
Jax had sunk to her knees by the time Charles washed the medicine off his hands, still trying to erase the sight of the hideous injury from her mind.
“You did well, Duchess.” Charles placed a comforting hand on her heaving shoulder.
She met his gaze, her eyes lined with silvery tears. “Will he make it?” she heard herself ask.
Charles’s expression darkened as he turned to assess the unconsci
ous figure lying on the bed. His grip on Jax’s shoulder momentarily tightened. “As long as the harproot does its job, the infection should go away. He’ll recover, but I must insist that he remain on bedrest for at least a full day, and two would be better.”
Jax smiled weakly through her teary relief. “I’ll have his head if he doesn’t.”
Chapter Six
“Why don’t you get settled in, Jax? I’ll watch over George, at least until he wakes up.” Charles pulled a rocking chair across the room and stationed it at George’s bedside. “I know you have other matters to deal with.”
Studying her Captain’s slack, clammy face, her other problems seemed small and inconsequential. That’s not the mindset of a Duchess, she chided herself. While her heart pined for George’s well-being, her head knew she had to engage Lord Brunovaris. Rising from the floor, Jax steadied her wobbly legs before heading to the door. “Alert me the moment he wakes, please.”
Charles bowed his head in acquiescence.
Once she was alone out in the hallway, Jax leaned against the cool wood paneling to collect herself. She’d ask Bernard to send food and drink up to Charles, knowing the physician must be exhausted between making the long ride and tending to George. She wished she had time to rally herself, but she needed to review the Savantian correspondence Lord Brunovaris had received and see if there was anything of concern.
“How is he?”
Pushing herself away from the wall, Jax straightened and gave Uma her most convincing smile. “Resting.”
Uma frowned, seeing past her cracking façade. “You should do the same, you know. It’s been a strenuous morning.”
Waving her friend’s concerns aside, Jax surveyed the doors along the corridor. “Did Bernard show you your rooms?”
Nodding, Uma threaded her arm through Jax’s, allowing the Duchess to lean on her for support. “Yes. Very charming. I never would have thought your father had a flair for decorating.”
Exhaustion raining down on her, Jax dissolved into giggles, more than the joke warranted. “My mother teased him relentlessly about how much he fawned over this estate.”
With Uma’s guiding hand, they arrived at the master suite, designated exclusively for royalty. Heartened that Lord Brunovaris had not disobeyed her orders and claimed the apartment for himself, a flood of memories swirled around Jax as she took in the regal chamber.
A family portrait of Jax and her parents hung over the marble fireplace that dominated the elegant sitting room. Even though it had been painted over fifteen years ago, Jax remembered sitting for the artist as if it were yesterday. Her mother had chided her the entire time about fidgeting with the bows on her gown, reminding Jax to sit still every five minutes. Her father, in turn, had laughed and adjusted his own buttons every time his wife scolded their daughter, drawing further exasperation from Jax’s mother. The artist had captured the moment well, with Duchess Amaryllis Xavier’s annoyed expression forever cemented in time. Her mother hated the painting as a result and banished it to Galensmore. Jax’s heart clenched as she gazed up at their regal faces, their character evident. Her mother, strict but loving. Her father, formidable yet mischievous. How she missed them.
The spacious room was brightly lit by swooping windows that gave a magnificent view of the estate. The vibrant pasture seemed to stretch out endlessly, disappearing on the horizon, but Jax knew the barrier wall that shielded them from the rest of the realm loomed somewhere in the distance.
“Vita and I took the liberty of unpacking your saddlebags.” Uma opened the double doors to the bedroom.
An inviting canopied bed draped with a quilt of patchwork violet and gold squares tempted Jax as she swept into the chamber. “Already?” She sighed, sinking into the welcoming feather mattress. “You two spoil me too much.”
Uma ignored the praise, her brow furrowed at the lines of worry carved into Jax’s face. “Would you like me to run you a bath?”
Reaching for the pins in her hair, Jax let her waterfall of loose curls cascade down her stiff back. “That sounds divine, dear one, but I must confer with Bernard about this letter Lord Brunovaris received from Savant.”
Sweeping past Jax, Uma disappeared into another adjoining room. “Nonsense,” she called, her voice muffled through the thick wall, “You can review it while you unwind a bit. Your brain is no good to us frazzled.”
Jax didn’t have the willpower to protest. She heard sounds of sloshing water as Uma went to work filling the tub. Eager to submerge herself in comfort, Jax urged her lethargic fingers to work as quickly as they could as she undid the snaps and laces of her riding habit. The sizzling hiss of hot stones being dropped into the tub signaled the water was ready, and Jax dragged her wearied body into the well-furnished washroom. The warm water licked at her sore feet as she stepped into the copper basin and lowered her limbs into its welcoming depths.
“I’ll find Bernard and seek out that blasted letter.”
Uma’s annoyance at yet another problem to add to their growing pile coaxed a smile from Jax’s lips. “Thank you.” Jax looked over the lip of the bath, but Uma had already vanished to begin her next task.
Silence wrapped around Jax’s form as she stretched, the water lapping against her skin. With no one around to divert her thoughts, Jax focused on Lord Brunovaris and his former court. She’d have to alert High Courtier Jaquobie that the courtiers he now oversaw in Isla DeLacqua had buried the existence of defected advisors. She had sent Jaquobie down to the isles to manage the duchy’s transition to her rule. Part of his responsibility was to set up an ancillary court to govern the island nation on the Duchess of Saphire’s behalf. While elections for village premiers were slowly taking place all over the island, the duchy needed a governing body to ensure the elections were carried out and fairly regulated. Given their years of service, Jax had not seen the harm in allowing the current courtiers to continue holding their positions. Now, upon learning the news that these men and women withheld information about rogue courtiers who had deserted their positions and fled the island, she’d have to adjust her timeline and disband the court. With their imminent removal, she could implement her plans for Isla DeLacqua’s new governing structure much sooner than she had ever anticipated.
Once the village premiers were all in place, she’d ask Jaquobie to organize the election of the first Governor Royale in the realm. Jax dreamed of a day when each duchy would be led by an elected official, tasked with managing the relationships between all the elected premiers and setting an agenda based on the nation’s needs. Each of the Governor Royales would then report to a central figurehead charged with ensuring the realm’s treasury was fully funded and equally dispersed across the duchies. Through this system, she believed that every nation, every people, would be well looked after with their best interests foremost in their leaders’ minds.
The deceit of the DeLacquan courtiers expediated the path leading to this new future. By removing an unelected council consisting primarily of DeLacquan nobility, Jax could implement her ideal system on a much smaller scale than Saphire. She steeled herself against the pushback and resistance that would surely come from the noble families living on the island, but she could not give in to the demands of an elite few when the thousands of common-born people yearned for change.
She tapped a long finger on the side of the tub, feeling it reverberate through the water. I suppose I need to stop separating the nobles from the common-born in my own mind if true equality is to ever be attained. From now on, in my vision for the Realm of Virtues, they are just “people.” Her people, if she had her way, for she pictured herself as the central figurehead the Governor Royales would report to. A monarch for all the realm. A queen.
Footsteps interrupted her plans for unifying the continent, and soon Uma reappeared in the doorway, clutching a scroll to her chest. “Bernard said after he let Lord Brunovaris read this, the man nearly tossed it into the fire.”
Jax issued a dark laugh. “I suppose we’re lucky Bern
ard has such quick reflexes.
Uma placed the letter on a nearby end table, which she then dragged over to the edge of the tub. “Do you need any help puzzling through this?” she asked, offering Jax a towel to dry her hands.
With her hands dry, Jax reached for the piece of parchment. “Actually, would you please be a dear and ask Bernard to give you, Vita, and Sabine a tour of the grounds? I promised Sabine an enjoyable visit to Saphire, and I have been failing most miserably.”
Uma snorted. “Seems to me like the young lady would rather sit at George’s bedside than take a walk, but what do I know?”
Jax arched an eyebrow, for Uma rarely sounded so snarky. The sting of Hendrie’s indifference still festered, it seemed. “Perhaps there is another guardsman on the estate that will catch Sabine’s eye.” And maybe yours, too, dear one.
With a half-hearted shrug, Uma backed out of the room, leaving Jax to her investigation. The Lord Chamberlain hadn’t mentioned anything of grave concern other than the defected courtiers, but who knew what information lurked on the page?
My Lord,
I hope this finds you settled into your new home. I’m sure you’re surprised to hear from me, considering the harsh words we exchanged after I learned about the acquisition offer. Once you left for the mainland and your new life, two of my peers and I fled the duchy before the arrival of Saphire’s High Courtier, threatening death to anyone who revealed our defection. Virtues, how I’ve come to regret those actions.
As you can see by the seal of this missive, I now serve Duke Savant. The more time I spend in his court, the more I realize you only acted in the best interests of your people…something Duke Savant fails to understand or do himself. When the other courtiers and I arrived, he lectured us endlessly about how we had come to serve a strong and unbreakable duchy, yet his own money troubles are rampant. Oh, how he degraded you. He didn’t seem to realize you had no other choice if you were to save the people of Isla DeLacqua from total economic collapse. Instead, I believe he is using your plight to further fuel his colleagues into believing Duchess Saphire is out to claim the world for herself.
Sovereign Sieged Page 9
