Fighting Lady Jayne

by Michelle M. Pillow

  As if all the energy was suddenly drained out of her, she sank to the chilled stone floor. A tear slipped over her cheek and then another.

  Please just let me go home. I don’t want to feel, not this. I don’t like being scared or out of control. Please, Divinity, just let me come home.

  * * * * *

  The ache that settled inside of her chest didn’t fully go away. Jayne had given herself the chance to say how she felt and she doubted she’d work up the nerve again. The more she thought about Ronen’s attitude in the bath, the more she was able to convince herself that his two weeks away from her had purged whatever feelings he thought to have. That or she’d dreamt the words in the first place.

  Thinking about it made the pain worsen until the unusual threat of tears burned her nose and moistened her eyes. Jayne didn’t want to cry, or feel, or be in Staria. She wanted the cold, lonely, fighting existence she’d built for herself. Adored by many, known by none.

  Quit lying to yourself, her heart scolded. You know as well as I that we don’t want to leave him.

  Stuff it, you bloody miserable, overactive, overemotional, treacherous organ, her brain screamed back. Home is where we belong.

  He is where we belong. He is home. Damn her feeling heart.

  He is not safe. We cannot take losing him. We cannot go through the pain of losing again. You know as well as I that everything we love dies in the end. Damn her logical brain.

  For something that’s supposed to think, you’re a very stupid brain. Everything eventually dies. It doesn’t mean we can’t live.

  “Great, I’ve truly gone mad,” Jayne mumbled.

  “I should say. You’re wearing down the stone floor like a woman possessed.”

  Jayne frowned, turning a rueful mask to the queen. The lady stood watching her pace the narrow side passage from the archway. She was immaculate in dress and regal in manners as always. Eager for an outlet and knowing a fight to be her easiest release, she said, “You better have your goons with you because I’m not coming to another lesson right now willingly.”

  Patricia chuckled softly, not giving her the argument Jayne was brewing for. “Seeing your hair and dress, I would say my lessons are doing you no good. But, hearing your argument with yourself, I would say you have much more on your mind than hair and dress. I forgot what it was like to be newlywed and unsure of your place.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Jayne lied. Had she been having her brain and heart argument out loud? How humiliating! Could this day get any worse?

  “I’ll send you back,” the queen said.

  “Excuse me?” Jayne stiffened in disbelief.

  “To your dimension.” Patricia tilted her head to the side, her eyes steady. “I have the power to send you back.”

  No.

  “Why would you do that?” Jayne didn’t dare move.

  “To save you from the insanity that threatens. To protect the House of Firewall from another unhappy marriage. To replace you with a lady who wishes to be a lady and will not embarrass the proud tradition of Starian nobility.” The queen walked slowly around Jayne, eyeing her. Jayne turned in a circle, returning the stare with an unpleasant one of her own. “Or perhaps it is because I simply do not want you here.”

  Jayne clenched her fists.

  “Relax,” the queen laughed, unaffected by the posturing. “The last reason was a jest. In truth, I find you amusing in your willfulness and the knights respect your strength. If you stayed, wholeheartedly stayed, methinks you could be a fine lady wife. But, if this dimension will take your sanity, then you should leave and spare Lord Ronen the agony of watching you deteriorate.”

  No. And you can’t make me.

  “What about your traditions? The ceremony? The whole mentality of not rethinking a decision once it is made?” Jayne waited, silently begging the woman to force her to stay.

  “The choice is yours, my lady,” the queen said instead, walking out the way she’d come. “Stay or go back through the portal.”

  Jayne stared after her. Then, the slight tap of footfall sounded behind her, firm yet soft, drawing her attention. Ronen crossed his arms. He looked rested, but for the turbulent storm churning in his gaze.

  “The queen is wrong,” Ronen stated. “I do not know what game she plays, but I suspect she thinks to jolt you into a decision. However, she does not have the power to end our marriage. Only death or the gods can do such a thing.”

  “Or you,” Jayne said. “But you will never let me go.”

  “You chose me. No woman has ever stated her claim to a man.” Ronen studied her, as if searching for something he couldn’t find. “Perhaps there is a reason for that. So be it. You win.”

  When he turned to leave with those cryptic words, she rushed forward to stop him. “So be what?”

  “You can go home. Perhaps the House of Firewall was not meant for happy marriages. Perhaps the gods have been speaking and I’ve just been too stubborn to listen.” He refused to look at her, even as she tried pulling on his arm to make him. “Go home, Jayne. Go back to your life and forget this place ever existed.”

  Just like that he changes his mind? He is giving up?

  “Ronen,” Jayne stated, desperate to get his attention. He tried to step forward, but she blocked his path. Fear gripped her and she wanted to shake him until he took the words back. He was giving her what she’d wanted but Jayne hardly felt victorious. If he wouldn’t look at her, she’d get in his face and make him. His hard gaze stared over her shoulder. “Are you… What I mean to say is—”

  “Sorceress Magda’s warriors press upon our borders. She’s the strongest leader we’ve seen in tens of years. I do not have time to fight with a bride, Jayne.” His glanced at her before quickly staring down the hall once more. His jaw tight, he continued, “I do not have time to chase you all over the countryside. If I were but some foot soldier, such a luxury might be mine, but I’m a leader. Men look to me as an example and it is better for my family name to have you gone than to have you constantly embarrassing me. It was a mistake to try and force you to stay. The whole trade agreement with Divinity was a mistake. Go home. It’s what you want. When my men ride tonight, I ride with them and we will never see each other again.”

  “I thought the Starians didn’t second-guess decisions.” Why wouldn’t he look at her?

  Great going, you stupid brain! You over thought and now it is too late, her heart yelled.

  Bloody fucking misery, her brain mumbled.

  “We are not so foolish as to force a decision out of pride,” he answered. “Besides, your presence proves Divinity cannot be trusted. I will not put others through a false marriage.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m a warrior. It’s time I got back to being just that.”

  Jayne refused to move. Well, refused was a lie. The truth was she couldn’t move. The weight of her limbs became impossible to lift. Ronen’s words stung. She’d begged endlessly for him to let her go home, to give her freedom. She’d fought for this moment and now that she had everything she’d pleaded for she wanted to scream in agony at having received it.

  “Ronen,” she tried to speak. Her throat tightened and it became hard to breathe. Her brain seemed to spin in dizzying circles inside her head.

  “The king orders that I ride at once,” he said. “I will have Dersly escort you back to Battlewar Castle where the Divinity portal is kept. We were left with instruction as to how to contact them should the need arise. I’ll send orders that you are not to be stopped. All I ask is you act with dignity before you go. Once through that portal, your life is your own and what happened here will be a distant memory.”

  “Ronen,” she whispered, trying again to put into words what she felt. The problem was, she wasn’t sure how to. “What will you tell people?”

  “That’s my concern.”

  “But—”

  “Good journey, Lady Jayne.” He lifted his hand as if he might touch her, but then let it drop to
his side. “And may you fight with honor.”

  He stepped around her and left. She stood, frozen, as his footfall echoed behind her before disappearing completely. Ronen set her free. No, he did more than that. He practically shoved her through the portal toward her freedom.

  “Ronen, stop, I don’t want to go,” she whispered. But her throat was too tight and no sound came out. He’d just given up. Jayne knew she couldn’t blame him. She’d fought him since that first day out of pride and stupidity. Part of her had never thought he’d give in.

  Her mind raced, but she had no solution. The queen wouldn’t stop her. Ronen wouldn’t stop her. If royalty and her husband sent her back no one would think to stand in her way.

  Husband.

  Jayne shivered. She’d never allowed herself to think of Ronen as a husband. Sure, others said it, but never her. She felt the walls inside her begin to crumble, but it was too late.

  “Oh, bloody misery, Ronen.” Jayne sank to her knees, trembling violently as tears rolled over her cheeks. How could she have been so blind? “I have truly made a mess of my life this time.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ronen had faced terrible odds in battle. He’d seen death, made hard decisions. He’d been wounded and had nearly died on numerous occasions. Yet, none of those life experiences had come close to using the reserve of strength it took to say good journey to Jayne.

  When he heard the queen’s offer to set her free, he’d thought to deny it and never let her go. That is what his instinct told him to do. Queen Patricia had no authority to end his marriage and Ronen had no clue as to why she said as much. Such things were the matters of gods, above men and royalty. But then he looked into Jayne’s face, so full of emotions he’d never seen there before, ones couldn’t read. In that moment, he knew he’d lost the most important battle of his life. Somehow, he’d always known she’d win, that he’d give in to her and let her go, even if the act ripped out his heart.

  I am a leader of men. A warrior. A knight. The battlefield is my life. War is my mistress. I am not meant for softer things.

  His heart was one wound that would never stop aching, but hopefully with enough time it would harden and scar. Already he felt a fine rage settling inside his chest, urging him to strike out, to fight, to scream, to ride into Sorceress Magda’s encampment and die a hero.

  Unfortunately, the location of Magda’s encampment was unknown and any battles to be fought were days away from where he now rode through the forest with the small contingency of knights. The only enemy his sword could face was the bark of a tree and his men might look at him strange were he to jump off his mount and attack yet a fourth hapless trunk.

  “This clearing is as good as any other, my lord. A stream is nearby,” Sir Thomas said, venturing next to him. “Should we make camp?”

  “Further,” Ronen grunted. Thomas slowed and backed away, not arguing. Ronen nudged his horse, urging it to run. If he couldn’t fight his demons with a sword, he would try to run them ragged.

  * * * * *

  “It proves you can never predict the actions of a Starian warrior.” Queen Patricia placed her hand on Jayne’s shoulder. “Methought my decree would have a different effect on you two, but I see you are just as stubborn as he.”

  Jayne eyed the woman. Part of her wanted to hate Patricia for prompting the end of her marriage. Whatever the queen intended with her offer to send Jayne home clearly had not worked.

  “Dersly is waiting,” Jayne mumbled, purposefully turning her attention to where the big knight stood by two horses. His blank expression stared back at her, but she didn’t need to see his emotions to know he was disappointed with her. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  The queen arched a brow, but Jayne didn’t correct her statement. Ronen’s last request had been for Jayne to act with dignity and she intended to do just that.

  “Your hair looks very nice swept off your shoulders. It’s the first time I’ve seen you looking the part of a true Starian noblewoman. I’m proud to see my lessons were not all ignored. Safe travels, Fighting Lady Jayne.” The queen backed away several steps before turning to go inside the castle.

  Jayne strode over the hard dirt path through the courtyard, trying not to break down again. She’d cried when Ronen left her in the hallway and as she’d watched him ride out of the main gate the night before. She’d wept through most of the night, curled on the hard floor and only falling asleep from pure emotional exhaustion. Never had she felt so miserable. Never had she felt so helpless and alone.

  How was she going to live the rest of her life without him?

  “I’m a fool,” she whispered to herself.

  Dersly grunted. “I will not disagree, my lady.” He handed her the reins to her horse and cupped his hand to help her up. Jayne eyed the animal wearily. “It’s a sweet mare. She’ll not throw you and I’ll ride slowly.”

  Jayne placed her foot on Dersly’s cupped hands and considered asking for a wild, untamed mare that would trample her the second she tried to climb on its back. “Thank you, Dersly.”

  * * * * *

  “Do you hear singing?” Jayne frowned, tilting her head to the side as the faint hint of voices roused her from her depressed thoughts. She hadn’t said a word as they rode from Daggerpoint Castle, through the quiet encampment of solemnly and somewhat accusatory gazes of the knights. The forest even seemed dead to her, even though the soft hum of insects and the infrequent call of a distant bird interrupted the solitude.

  Dersly glanced at her and she half expected him to be surprised that she spoke. Instead, his steady gaze met hers and he nodded once. “It is most likely travelers engaged in a little merriment on their way through the forest, but I will have to check it out. You should stay back.”

  Jayne laughed dryly. “Last time I was alone in this forest I was chased by crazed boars and captured by man-eaters. Not that I can’t take care of myself, mind you, but I think I’ll come with you all the same.”

  Dersly grunted, nudging his horse to move faster. Her mare automatically kept pace without having to be directed. It was a good thing. Though she could keep her ass planted firmly in the saddle and hold on, she really didn’t know much of the nuances of riding. If the beast were to take off at a dead run, she’d most likely take her chances jumping off the side.

  The singing became louder and evidently more drunken in tone. Mismatched pitches rose and fell, some of the voices pausing at odd moments as if to take another drink. The lyrics, barely recognizable, were about some magical lady riding into battle and ending the war with her magical…

  Jayne strained, trying to hear, but the uncontrolled laughter muddled the ending. If it made these burly sounding men so giddy, it had to be something dirty. Just as she was about to ask about it, one voice rose high above the others.

  Ronen!

  The instant rush of pleasure she felt instantly became replaced by rage. Unsure what she was doing, but too mad to care, she nudged the horse’s side as she’d seen others do and held on tight as it shot forward past a startled Dersly. He reined to the side, letting her by.

  Jayne wasn’t sure how she managed, but after a few heart-thumping seconds, she broke into a clearing. Rounded eyes turned toward her. A few of the men grabbed their swords and dropped their jugs, ready to do battle.

  “Stop!” Jayne yelled at the horse. She jerked on its reins and it slowed. Seeing she was riding past, she whipped her leg over the side and leapt off the animal’s back. She hit the ground with a hard thud and the wind rushed from her lungs.

  “What? Jayne?”

  Inhaling deeply, she surged to her feet, running more on adrenaline than anything else. The skirt of the gown wrapped her legs, causing her to stumble as her foot caught on a leaf-covered branch. Jayne cursed it, righting herself as she scanned the clearing for Ronen.

  “Battle?” She swept her arm over the stunned group of men. “You had to go fight in battle?”

  “Jayne,” he stammered as her eyes finally
found him. He held up his hands defensively in front of him, as if to stop whatever it was she was going to do to him. Bloody misery, he looked great, handsomer than that moment she first saw him in the hall. How could he have thought to send her home? How could she have thought to leave him?

  She ignored the sound of Dersly’s voice and the drunken murmurings of the knights. Ronen didn’t move, though his lips stayed parted as if he would speak. Dark waves framed his face, falling to his shoulders. His black tunic molded the thick muscles of his chest and waist, muscles she could picture as easily as if she looked at him naked. She knew the location of every scar, could bring to mind the exact feel of his heartbeat beneath her hand and the sound of his voice catching the second before he met with climax.

  In the short time she’d been there, she knew this man better than she’d really known anyone. He’d broken through her guard, pierced her soul. Perhaps she’d always known he would, from that first moment she saw his eyes, dark and deep and expressive. She knew then that she’d have to be careful of those eyes.

  Well, now he’d have to be careful of her!

  “You miserable son of a…” Jayne didn’t stop as she stormed across the small encampment. Desperately needing to kiss him, she instead balled her fist and punched. It snapped against his jaw hard, throwing his head back. “That’s fighting.” She kept after him, hitting him in the gut. “This is fighting!”

  “Jayne!” he ordered, catching her fist in his hand before she could land a third blow.

  She tore her hand away from his touch. “You miserable coward! How dare you think you can just send me away and come hide in the forest?”

  “I’m not hiding,” he defended, his initial shock replaced by a frown.

  “Please, you’re drunk in the middle of the woods having a sing-along with the all-boys choir over there.” In disgust, she waved her hands over the group of knights. “And all the while, I’m in agony because I’ve been banished.”