1. Caught
Lady duPierce had given her clear instructions. The crossing. The inn. The gate with the wolf-rip in its bars.
April, second-born of the Tom Kepner of Milon had been studying the Arts since she was twelve. She had memorized every step of this mission weeks before she had embarked on her journey. The only way she could have fallen into the ambush that had gathered around her now –
- was if they had been betrayed.
She stood in the swamp, the hem of her cloak and dress underneath soaked with mud, and tried to look beseechingly at the ring of chain-mailed men leering down at her from atop their horses. Their swords weren't drawn yet. They thought there was no need to.
She had one advantage at least.
"I'm a humble serf, my lords," she said again, the phrase so oft-repeated she half-believed it herself. "Making my way to the capital in hopes for a better life. My father died before I was born. My mother, my only kin, died during the last winter…"
"I'd be inclined to pity your sad little tale," one of the soldiers – knights said – his voice thick with arrogant mockery. He drew his sword and she tensed, ready to strike, but he only used the tip to push her hood back from her head. She snatched at it but it was too late. Her curls fell out, trailing down to her back.
She had dyed the distinctive red the colour of mud, and for many days had kept it in a tight braid under a fishnet. But she had left her last inn in a hurry, already suspecting that she was being followed, and she hadn't had time to tie up her hair.
She should have cut it off.
Lady duPierce had warned her to cut it off.
No ordinary small-folk maid could afford to keep hair this long, this healthy even under the mud.
"My only crime is my vanity…" she started.
"Your only crime is you're a whore," he snarled, jumping off his horse and approaching her, sword still drawn.
A sick sort of relief leaped inside her. Not a betrayal then. Just good old lechery. Plus there was very little improvement in the assumption that the reason for her long hair was because she traded in her beauty. Whoring was a still crime: the hypocritical nobles, who kept mistresses and concubines, policed the smallfolk. Still poor, penniless women were forced into the trade where the risk of being caught could lead to rape, slavery or death.
"I'm a humble serf, my Lord," she whispered almost robotically, as her body tensed in readiness.
He laughed. His gloved hand reached out and even though she ducked, he grabbed a curl of her hair. "Pretty. Even under all the gunk. I'll find out what colour it really is. If it's anything to look at, I might even make you my first concubine." He leered at her. "You should thank me."
He leaned close, his breath of onions washing over her face, and she snapped like a bow.
Her right hand flew out, and he cut it easily. He laughed. "Stupid girl-" he started but his voice broke out into a scream, when her knee went up, landing squarely in his crotch and her other hand twisted the sword from his grip and ran him through.
He fell to his knees, the lifeblood pouring out of him in seconds.
It happened so quickly, the other Knights had no time to react. She had turned on her heel, and was running through the gap between the horses before they realized what was happening. With shouts, they followed, but she was already far, her feet pushing her towards the woods. Their horses couldn't follow her there. With the sword in her hand, and a tall tree to shimmy up, she'd have the advantage against them.
The first tree was just inches from her face, when she screamed. Her scalp felt like if it was being ripped off her skull as a hand fisted in her hair, and lifted her off her feet. Instinctively, her hand dropped the sword as she reached up to grab the grip on her hair.
In seconds, she was staring eyeball to eyeball to an enraged, heavy breathing Knight.
"That was my brother, you bitch," he snarled, and her heart thumped with fear for the first time since these men had surrounded her. "You should have been thanking him for wanting you. By the time I am through with you, you're going to wish you were dead."
April spat in his face.
He snarled and threw her down. Her head collided with the hard ground and she prayed it would kill her, or at least make her pass out long enough for the last moments of her life to be lived in oblivion. But she didn't. Pain wracked through her skull, and down her spine. But she remained conscious, her body shaking with pain.
Blearily, she watched the horses surround her again. The man who had caught her – her victim's brother – must have been the one to dismount first. When she saw him pulling at the top of his breeches as he stalked towards her, she prayed again to pass out.
She didn't.
"Get ready, boys," he snarled to the others. "You're all going to get a turn. Then we're going again. And again. And again. Until this whore is dead."
She tried to kick him, but he grabbed her legs so harshly, she felt bone break.
She screamed.
"We're just getting warmed up, bitch," he yelled as he pinned her with his knees.
She would break his fingers, she told herself. If he touched her smallclothes, she would break the fingers of one of his hands. It would enrage him enough to strike her again, and that would be enough to kill her.
She felt large skirts being lifted and prepared herself to move – when there was a familiar whistle in the air, and her attacker froze.
She twisted her head to see an arrow buried into the ground beside them.
"What the-" he shouted, and got to his feet at once, his sword still drawn. "My Lord!"
There was a sudden, different tension in the air around them. April tried to lift her head to see – she could barely move her neck. She shifted back an inch, and felt something cool at the top of her head. Steel. The sword she had dropped when the knight lifted her by her hair.
As carefully as possible, she started crawling over it.
"My Lord, I can explain…" her would-be rapist was saying. But the rest of his words were lost as he moved away from her. His men still surrounded her though. She could see the hooves of their horses. They had all dismounted. Whether in respect of the new Lord in their midst, or in anticipation of gang-raping her, April didn't know. Or care.
Her upper body was covering the sword. She shifted until she covered it completely. Just the hilt poked out a little from under her blouse. If she ignored her own pain, with a quick twist, it would be in her hands in seconds. In a flick of her wrist, she'd slash her own neck.
Her mission had failed, but there was no way she would let herself die this way. Or worse – be taken alive where she could be tortured into betraying her mistresses.
Her hand closed over the hilt and she mentally steadied herself for what she needed to do …
When there was a sudden rustle around her, and she looked up to see the men amounting their horses. Before she could register what was happening, the knights that had waylaid her had all ridden off.
One turned his head to give her one parting glare over his shoulder. Despite her pain and her predicament, April gave him a long, smug smirk.
"I'd wipe that smile off your face if you know what's good for you," said a cold voice over her head.
She started and shifted her gaze up to the person standing over her. He wore dark clothes, no chain mail or armour of any kind, the only sign of a weapon was the sword that he was sliding back into the scabbard that hung over his back. Under his hood, his face was shadowed and in the early morning light, she couldn't make out his features until he bent to one knee to peer down at her, and she had clear view of his face.
Her heart jumped.
He was … His eyes were the first thing she noticed, the colour of a calm sea, and maybe he was some kind of sorcerer because they drew her in. Time stopped when she stared into those eyes and she felt like if she was falling, falling, falling…
A different kind of fear rose inside her, and she broke their locked gaze in panic.
She was breathing heavily, and it wasn't just from the pain.
"Who are you?" he asked, and was it her imagination but did his voice shake strangely?
"I'm a humble serf, my lord," she whispered, automatically.
He smirked; and that drew her gaze to his lips, to his face. "Most serf lads twice your size can't even lift a sword yet you killed a seasoned Knight by taking his own."
There had been handsome men in duPierce's Court. Men that made the boys she grew up with in Milon look like ill-washed scrufs. But compared to the man looking at her now, none duPierece's lords might as well have been apes.
April swallowed hard. "Thank you for saving my life," she whispered.
"Don't thank me yet, little serf," he said firmly. "A high-born lady travelling alone across the Kingdoms with no escort, refusing to declare herself before any Lord or Court? A lady who can fight, and kill without compunction? It can only be one are a spy of Margdalena duPierce's Flying Squadron, and you're in the Capital for treason."
Her heart jumped again - this time with fear.
"I'm a humble serf, my Lord..."
He scoffed. His hands were brushing down her skirt, and she felt her face burn with shame at how she must have looked in front of this man. "Can you stand?" One hand, not gloved, his fingers long and callused went around her neck while the other reached around her waist –
-and in her daze, she didn't realize until it was too late and he had yanked the sword from her grip with a grim look on his face.
"Clever," he whispered, his voice even colder than it already was. He raised the sword, examining it in his grip as she looked on in horror. "Magdalena certainly trains her birds well. I should know. She learnt from the best. What was the plan? Run me through the instant I got close enough?" He turned to look at her, and those sea-coloured eyes of his were stormy. "Am I truly rescuing one of Percival's victims or was this whole encounter stage-managed to get me close enough to be assassinated?"
"My Lord," she whispered, frightened. "I swear… I never…"
"Never what? Plotted to come to the Capital and have the Duphont murdered?"
April's eyes widened so much she thought they would bulge out. Was that who he was? Jackson dAvery? Duphont of the Kingdoms? The one who had defied the old King's orders and thrown in his lot in the duGrece's feud? Was this him?
"I would never," she stammered, speaking quickly because those cold, stormy eyes were staring now at the sword in his hand and she knew she had seconds to bargain for her life. "Let us say you are right. Let us say I am indeed a member of the Flying Squadron. My lady duPierce is your own Queen Mother's protégé. Why would she rise against her and use me to murder her son?"
"Because her kinship with Lady Mer is greater than her loyalty to my mother?" he retorted, but his eyes seemed to thaw a little, hopefully because her words were putting doubt to his thoughts.
"Your participation aside, the Crown has stayed out of the feud between Lady Mer and Lady Lex. If we murdered you, that is if for the sake of an argument I am indeed a spy and assassin of Lady Magdalena which I am not. And I promise you, my Lord, that the only way a humble serf like myself even knows of these things is through tavern gossip…"
His mouth twitched ever so slightly.
Emboldened, April went on. "But if Lady Magdalena sent an assassin to murder you, it would be the most fool-hardy thing because all it would ensure is that the Crown chooses Lady Lex's side of this feud, and destroys Lady Mer, and Lady duPierce in one fell swoop. Besides, how could I have planned to meet you here? I did not know your movements. I did not know you would come to my rescue from those men. Do you think I conspired with them to murder their own compatriot? Their own brother? How deeply, and to how many levels could this conspiracy lie?"
It was the wrong thing to say. She saw the suspicion cloud over his face, darker than before. "Like I said, your Lady was trained by the best – my own mother, Catherine deMechini. I put nothing beyond her or her students."
And in one swift movement, his hand clasped over her head and everything went black.
A/N: Fantasy medieval Japril fic with lots of familiar faces. If it isn't obvious - Lady Magdalena duPierce is Maggie Pierce. Lady Mer and Lady Lex duGrece are Meredith and Lexie Grey. Ser Percival is Charles Percy. The land is called the Southern Kingdoms. The old King is Harper Avery, but the land is ruled to all intents and purposes by his late son's wife, Queen Catherine deMechini (Catherine Avery). Yes, I took the inspiration of the Flying Squadron from the real-life Catherine de Medici and her network of spies.