“Kipu?” Apple gazed at her beau in numb confusion.
Jess nodded with dark satisfaction, circling her prey one last time. “Yes, Kipu. Unmask your hate. Let Apple see that bitterness, that contempt, that loathing you have for us, for our entire family! You despise us, don't you, Kipu? You hate any woman that is not broken and subservient. And what a prize it would be, if you could pluck the baron's own beloved youngest, such a sweet blossom that she is, and entice her back to your dark dungeon of pain. And how you would revel in the awful nightmare you would make of her final days, as you forced her to suffer for daring to have pride, for daring to believe in herself, for daring to flaunt a loving father that protected her and cared for her!"
Jess’s eyes flashed, and her blood roared. “How dare you! How dare you think you can come into my home, into my garden, and threaten those I love with your mad bitter schemes, you little maggot! I know what you were planning, Kipu. I know all of it! The foulness of your treachery ripples through the air. I smell your rotten depravity and I will end it, here and now!”
Contemptuously, she pointed at the sword the panicked young lord was stumbling over in his desperate struggle to back away. “Pick up your blade, Kipu. One final moment of redemption, a chance to face your death like a noble sworn to serve his king. A mercy you gave none of your victims!”
Jess smiled even as Kipu gave a furious shake of his head, the sweet taste of victory upon her tongue, counterpoint to the hot coppery tang of a berserker’s wrath. Her laughter was dark and glorious, the call of the killingfields enveloping her so sweetly. So justly. He would die in screams and agony, like the loathsome maggot that he was.
It was time.
Jess grimly strode forward, blade raised for a killing blow. Kipu's bitter eyes widened with sudden horror as he realized that no matter his attempts to shame or freeze her, no matter his refusal to draw his blade or her sister's screams, Jess was going to cut him down where he stood, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.
“Jessica de Calenbry! In the name of the king, I bid you stop!”
Stunned, Jess froze, blinking in disbelief, catching a glimpse of Kipu's fiercely triumphant smile, his hands raised high, even as Jess slowly turned her head to catch sight of Lady Verona racing toward them. Her face was a mask of panicked determination, blond hair and skirts in disarray. Accompanying her was none other than Morlekai himself, every movement as fluid and powerful as a lion in his prime, loping by her side with careless ease. He flashed Jess a roguish grin, even winked, as Lady Verona heaved great breaths, stumbling to a halt, but feet away from Jess's bared blade, presently aimed at Kipu's heart.
“Lady Jessica de Calenbry. As an Agent of the Crown, I bid you stop, lest you commit murder against an unarmed lord before my very eyes!”
Jess grimaced, glaring down at her familiar, who but a second ago had been by her side, gazing at Kipu with the fierce intensity of a predator stalking his prey.
"I knew she was an agent, Twilight!" Jess hissed, and for the first time that Jess could recall, her cat hung his head in shame.
37
It was, Lady Verona thought to herself as she nibbled a particularly delightful pastry she knew Chester would adore, one of the more lavish affairs she had been to, outside of the royal court itself. She sighed then, thoughts of Chester bringing memories of his father. Though considerably older, a veteran of numerous skirmishes Erovering and Velheim engaged in when they weren't squabbling over tariffs and trade, his wit and wry sense of humor had charmed his much younger wife into attending numerous social gatherings at the capital with him, and as her heart blossomed with increasing love for him, eventually into his bed.
Though of limited means himself, being little more than a well decorated knight in the true hierarchy of things, his northern holdings having been reclaimed by Velheim years ago, he had received a generous stipend from the Crown, and though their house had been humble by noble standards, it had been both warm and cozy, the few staff members that were as much family as servants happily welcoming her into their fold.
In truth, it had been a sweet change from the petty bickering and childish intrigue that had plagued her own father's House, so littered it was with daughters, nieces, and other relatives many steps removed from any true wealth, save as hangers-on of their relatives' largess. It was an existence from which Verona had sought any escape.
Being both intelligent, healthy, and willing to learn, she had won herself a scholarship to attend Highrock itself, giving her a much desired education in the basic tenements of magic, and though she had practiced diligently to the moderate approval of her masters, her talent was insufficient to garner her any faculty position, or emeritus status. No, she had been an intelligent student with a modest gift, and through fierce dedication alone, had honed her skills considerably so as to possess at least a few useful tricks. Yet for all that, her actual abilities as a weather mage, that gift most valued by men of means with crops and orchards to care for, was sadly lacking, of little more use than stopping a summer shower or coaxing rain from already heavy clouds.
So to have to return home from a life of learning, growth, and respect to the same petty backbiting that she had so striven to escape from, only to find that her older sisters and cousins, if anything, strove to put her down even harder, lest her talents at magic increase her slim chances of succeeding them in securing an ideal match, was absolutely intolerable.
Save for the few weeks a year where her family was actually civil, depending on her to blunt the wrath of late summer storms or assure early spring rains, feats that would leave her exhausted for an entire day, they completely ignored her, or were outright nasty. It was, Verona had felt, an absolutely intolerable life, and she had been all but ready to shuck the chains of nobility and make her way alone in the world on the strength of nothing save her modest arcane talents, when she had met her future husband sharing laughter, wine, and memories with her father.
His friendly warmth soon became genuine interest when Verona had found herself responding to his polite attentions with instant affection and gratitude. Her father, knowing his old friend was of limited means but with no dependents competing for his time and resources, was more than willing to entertain his old friend's request to take Verona to the numerous galas and fetes that made the capital such a delight in the summer. And when Verona's heart had been won in truth, her father was all too happy to approve of the proposed betrothal. And much to her own heartfelt delight, Verona had found that humble dreams really could come true.
And they had seven wonderful years together, before her husband gently passed on in his sleep.
Verona sighed, reflecting that it was only then when grim-faced creditors made it known how much her husband had been protecting her from certain ugly truths. Fortunately, her husband had earned himself many friends in the capital, young men who had gone far in the bureaucratic ranks, and still remembered a certain hearty captain who had valiantly fought to protect the young soldiers under his command. Old debts of love and loyalty were honored, and Lady Verona discovered that some well-connected people were very interested in her somewhat unique arcane gifts, modest as they were compared to the might held by the deadliest of war mages. Powerful men who thought that she could be quite useful to the royal family in certain ways that required the height of discretion and loyalty. She suspected that Lord Rens himself, one of the very few professors who had taken an interest in her odd use of magics back at Highrock, had discretely vouched for her potential.
Though she’d never have the temperament or wiles to perform certain roles, her noble ties and talents were deemed to have other uses and, along with a generous allowance and certain creditors suddenly finding no reason to trouble her House any further, Lady Verona found herself an Agent of the Crown. Part of her duties had, of course, included meeting the king firsthand, her ultimate master and patron. She had of course sworn to serve him body and soul, her voice trembling with what any onlooker w
ould have thought was deepest reverence. Yet what she had felt most upon meeting him was awe and terror, trembling so greatly she had feared she would collapse before him. Oddly, it was the king himself who had steadied her, gazing at her with piercing emerald eyes, his hair a thick mane of crimson.
Though she had been completely unable to read him, she had apparently passed whatever test of loyalty he had had in mind. She was allowed to live, after all; not always a certain thing when meeting the king face to face, as more than one dark rumor had led her to believe. She was relieved beyond words to discover that her official duties would be overseen not by the king himself, but rather by one of his senior advisers, even if she had ended up paying for that mercy in other ways.
Sir Gray was a saturnine featured man who, for all that he was the epitome of bemused tolerance at Court, was capable of the most ruthless acts in the name of the Crown behind the scenes. He was, he sometimes liked to joke with her in private, the keeper of all his master's dirty little secrets. She was somewhat surprised to find that he was far more comfortable sharing his true reflections with her than with any of the more talented agents that were the true stars of the profession.
Perhaps it was because she so obviously lacked any ambition more ruthless than simply doing her job, as safely and discretely as possible, taking solemn satisfaction in securing her home and providing for her son. That, and the completely unspoken understanding that her son was a vulnerable point that precluded any treachery on her end. Or perhaps it was the fact that, being an extremely practical woman, she had let Sir Gray have his way with her without complaint when he had been feeling particularly amorous after an invigorating session extracting confessions. She had even allowed herself to find pleasure in the act, counting her blessings that he at least spared her having to witness his less gentlemanly pursuits.
It was, she had thought, the best solution. Had she acted affronted and opposed to his desires, it might have earned her his wrath; a terrible thing to be on the wrong end of, which would make conquering her all the more desirable. She had no virginity to protect, after all, and was hardly a sought-after prize, being a widowed woman nearing her thirtieth year, all flattery aside. Best, she had decided in that moment, for her to willingly give herself to him almost as if it were but a friendly fling, and of no great consequence, letting him enjoy the conquest as a light game between friends.
So it was that he had no unquenched ire, only a warm familiarity with her. Quite unexpectedly, he did seem to grow fond of her. Their impromptu meetings were casual, almost relaxed affairs; both in terms of work, and play. Inevitably, he moved on to fresh conquests, but seemed to have developed a genuine relish for their unions, so Verona had learned to expect his summons at all odd hours. Sometimes actual assignments were involved as well. Olive oil and herbs to avoid conception were her dear friends then, and she was, she practically acknowledged to herself, none the worse for wear.
For all that she felt a secret shame in their trysts, there was a part of her that reveled in abasing herself before him, and more to the point, being desired by any man at all. She had learned to find sweet pleasure with the pain, and was secretly pleased that one of the most dangerous and temperamental men she had ever met held her in fond regard. What could have possibly occurred had she refused his advances was something she resolved not to dwell upon. The most important thing was that her child was completely safe from economic hardship and malicious intrigue. And that, in the end, was all that mattered to the eminently practical Verona.
And professionally speaking, all had gone surprisingly well so far. Her work was held in modest favor, using her arts to excellent effect in detecting various moves being made against the king or, Verona suspected in her most cynical of moments, merely against Sir Gray. She served as discretely and thoroughly as possible, though as like as not tried to give subtle warning when the party being placed under scrutiny was a female. She always strove to provide them with a chance to walk a more virtuous path without being caught in a trap, and both times the woman under scrutiny had taken her discrete warnings to heart, eyes filled with a wild animal’s barely controlled terror, and Verona had gently soothed them into careful compromise.
Overtures of conciliation were made and accepted. In her darker moments, she didn't know if she had been a savior, or little more than Sir Gray's personal pimp. Since both the ladies in question appeared nothing but grateful during the chance met encounters she had since had with them, still in good health and free of unwanted child, she prayed she had done more good than harm, particularly since she had heard the screams from the unofficial royal dungeons more than once, when Sir Gray met with Verona within luxuriously appointed quarters inside a building and neighborhood that few dared enter without pressing business.
It was the fact that she and Sir Gray had intercepted and prevented very real threats to the Royal Family and their allies that allowed Verona to see genuine virtue in her work, despite being sickened by the jaded corruption she saw all about her; in Court, and in her own duties. It was but one reason why she hadn't already taken her son and the gold she had already earned, and fled Erovering completely. Of course, had she done so, she would have surrendered her son's rights to any claim of nobility and doomed him to a life of a commoner wherever they went, and Verona was too much of a realist not to realize that such would probably be a far worse fate than anything Sir Gray had put her through. And as distasteful as some of her missions were, there was genuine virtue in them as well.
It was, in fact, after doing her part to uncover a conspiracy involving trade route monopolies and royal duty avoidance that a very pleased Sir Gray had let her know the king himself had extended his personal congratulations for a job well done, offering her a boon purse as well, which Verona was quietly grateful for, assuring that her son could attend Highrock College when he reached his fourteenth year without financial hardship hampering him, assuming she could find a sponsor. Bright and motivated as he was, Verona had very high hopes for her son, and with a pleased and grateful smile, even a kiss on the cheek for a bemused Sir Gray, she made a point of leaving before she was forced to hear the screams of the very conspirators she had helped to net in their trap.
"Oh, before you go, Verona," he had said, his warm tone nonetheless holding a certain undercurrent as it always did, causing her to stop cold. He chuckled then. "Fear not, my poppet, I know your feminine disposition makes the witnessing of certain forms of discipline... unpleasant. You see? All is as quiet as a peaceful summer's day." He gestured to one of the chairs, Verona obediently taking a seat, to her minder's approval. "Just so, my dear Verona. Just so. In any case, I'm sure you've heard of the Calenbrys?"
Verona thought a moment, and nodded. "Yes, Sir Gray. Arthur de Calenbry served as one of the king's generals in several decisive battles with Velheim, over a decade ago. He and Lord Eloquin were both credited with winning the field against superior numbers, reclaiming much of the territory that we had lost as a result of the massive influx of mercenary troops Velheim had brought across the mountain range from the interior of the continent. A maneuver that almost bankrupted our enemies as well, from all accounts."
Sir Gray gave a slow nod for her to continue, his cool gaze measuring her every word.
Verona swallowed her suddenly parched throat. “Eventually, Velheim's combined forces retreated, but not before taking devastating losses. Once they had all fled back across the Dragonspire Mountains, however, both generals were most firm in counseling the king not to follow, lest our enemies wreak the same devastation upon our troops as we had upon theirs, ambushing our soldiers as we attempted to cross the fortified passes.”
She paused a moment, thinking beyond the military history that had been the bread and butter of her husband's interests, when he had not been doting on her and their baby boy. "He also owns quite a prosperous barony, one that certain parties complain is more properly the size of a duchy. Unlike most named lords, the Calenbrys do not see fit to profit from the activ
ities of the lesser nobles that owe them fealty, from what I am given to understand; passing on all proceeds not needed for upkeep to the Crown, their family subsisting only on the earnings of their personal estates. And Arthur Calenbry is considered a true King's Man, for all that he is no agent. In light of these facts, the Calenbry supporters, Duke diOnni in particular, did defend the Calenbry holdings from the quartet of dukes who had sought the dismantling of his properties just this past season, claiming as they did that Arthur Calenbry posed a direct threat to the king's own power.”
Verona scratched her brow, knowing that there must be a reason why Duke diOnni had chosen to take sides on such a contentious topic. Normally he was the most gracious of lords, even having time for a polite word with her upon occasion, clearly interested in nothing more than mutually beneficial trade arrangements with any and every lord that was interested in such. Verona gave a satisfied nod when it all clicked into place, along with the reason for her master's intent gaze so throwing her off balance, almost as if he were disappointed in her lack of savvy.
"Oh yes, the other notable of their family is one Jessica de Calenbry. Credited with becoming a Delver of some repute already, though she has not yet reached her twentieth year. She and one Malek de Sousel had managed to disrupt a Regio incursion manifesting at Highrock, from what I am given to understand. The pair had also worked in concert to save the life of one Raphael diOnni, a close friend of theirs, fending him and his betrothed from fatal ambush several seasons ago, when his coterie went to visit one of the diOnni chateaus during semester break. This would, of course, explain how the Calenbry clan has managed to secure such a powerful ally in Court." Verona paused for a thoughtful sip of the wine Sir Gray handed her. "From what I gather, young Jessica also has a gift with plants. I understand her herbs and tinctures are highly prized, even by the healers who attend the Royal Family."
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