I have good news and bad news. Good news is... here's an update! Bad news is that this is going to be the last update for a little while as my choir and I are taking a trip to NEWFOUNDLAND! I'll be gone for two weeks, but I'll try and update as soon as I get back. Nyah! I'm so excited!
Areida Rivers: Aw, thank you. It's always sad when someone like that dies.
Tiger Lily21: Yay! Huggles for everyone! I always try to balance the plot and the character development scenes out evenly. But I still love your stories!
livingdead2010: Thanks!
Phillipa of the Phoenix: They're getting there... slowly. You'd think that they'd just tell each other, but unfortunately, they are too much alike. Yes, Fiona will be able to help out her people. She just happened to find the most unsightly people out there.
CalliopeMused: I'm glad you think that my story isn't too cliché. I'm getting way better at the small details. It's very hard.
PrincessofRain: Thank you. :cD
Glaze: They shall be the kamakaze sheep of rescue! They shall built robot replicas of themselves and fill them with whipped cream and send them into the Grenalda residence, where they will explode, covering everything in FRAPPÉD DAIRY TOPPING! ((evil cackling!)) ((FLASH!)) ((THUNDER))
Sirenic Griffin: :c(
awaiting impatient person: Hee hee, osh-kabosh. I make up my own swear words too. Those people were meanies, but his entire town isn't like that. I've met guys like Jarrod, but, unfortunately, they're usually taken. ((tear, tear)) I was referring to the emotional walls of Jarrod and Fiona, and that they're getting closer. Sorry to have confuzzled you.
wishingIcouldthinkofsomething: Thank you ((bows)). Oh, Fiona. She's a bit too naïve for her own good. I think their marriage has reached a turn-around point. From here on in, I think things can only get better. (Hopefully.)
fell4adeadguy: Poor, poor killer. So many wasted opportunities. I'm sure s/he'll pop up sooner or later. ((shifty eyes))
panemonium: Jarrod is hooked now. He just wants to make Fiona happy, the poor guy. Fiona doesn't really talk to any nobles, weirdly enough. The women don't usually come to court, and the men talk mostly with Jarrod. I'll try and get her to meet some nice ones later on.
Dreamer at Heart: It's strange, what people will think of. The thought just popped into my head. What if one of the commoners thought Fiona was crazy? That would sure be funny. My teeth almost rotted while writing that chapter, it was so sweet. I had to go huggle my pillow for a while.
aureusangel: Thank you! I'm glad you like the story.
fireworksinmybackpocket: Here! Use my handkerchief!Oh, no! We're loosing her!BRING CHAPTER 23! STAT!
amelia: Thanks. I love Jarrod. He's a good guy.
rootbeergirl19: Aw.I'm usually just really really cranky. Or super happy. It's weird. I hope you fell better now.
Akwyn: Oh theangst!(I love that word. It justsounds like what itis.aaangst.) You deserve a crown. And don't worry, the assassin istotally going tomake a reappearance.
Drew: Hey! I'm glad you could find it. Thanks for all the constructive critism. I've beenworking on my detail, but, obviously, it still isn't perfect. Hee hee. Iwas looking for names, and I just saw one of our programs and his name jumpedout at me. Then I was like, hey! his last name works too!
rainkisser: no problem! You've been busy, I gather.You're always welcome to just say hey! I'm glad you love it! I loved writing it so much. wee!
NEWFOUNDLAND (eastern Canada, for those of you who don't know) HERE I COME. WOOOH!
Lulai
Chapter Twenty-Three: Fire!
"Oh my God, Jarrod, what happened?" Tyrell asked as Jarrod climbed the stairs, Fiona lying in his arms. Tyrell rushed over, a horrified look starting to appear on his face.
"Nothing to worry about," Jarrod said. "She's just sleeping."
Tyrell gave a relieved laugh. "That's good. I was worried that they had done something." Jarrod didn't have to ask who they were. He shook his head.
"Thank you for being concerned," he said, shifting Fiona to a more comfortable position. "But I should probably get Fiona into bed."
"Of course," Tyrell agreed. "I'll see you later, then."
Jarrod continued on down the hallway, tightening his hold on his wife. She murmured something incoherent and threw an arm over his shoulder. He gritted his teeth as her fingers incidentally tickled the back of his neck. Her nose was pressed into the crook of his shoulder and she was breathing the shallow breaths of the exhausted.
Their conversation still felt like something out of a dream. He had told her more than he had told anyone else, and yet, he still hadn't told her anything. He had to keep it that way. He couldn't lose her. Even after she had fell asleep, still clutching his shirt, exhausted from crying, he didn't want to let her go.
As if sensing his thoughts, Fiona snuggled farther into his embrace. He found himself smiling at her dreamy expression.
"Yer Majesty! What happened?" Elsie exclaimed as he toed open Fiona's door to lay her down on the bed.
"Fiona was merely tired," Jarrod said, motioning for Elsie to pull back Fiona's covers with a nod of his head. Elsie did as he motioned and he laid her down on the bed. He removed her shoes with little difficulty, and then thought about how he was going to take off her gown. She did look terribly uncomfortable.
He undid the buttons down the front of her gown.
"Yer Majesty!" Elsie protested loudly.
Jarrod almost cursed. He had forgotten about the third party. "I am her husband," he said instead, raising an eyebrow at her. She blushed bright red. He sighed and motioned her over. "Help me get this off of her."
With the maid's help, he managed to strip Fiona out of the fluffy purple gown. She grumbled protests, but didn't wake up. He could have sworn he heard her maid mutter, "Like tha dead," but he wasn't sure.
They finally pulled the dress down her legs and off. He sucked in his breath, quietly so that Elsie wouldn't hear him, at the sight of Fiona lying in a simple cotton shift. She curled onto her side, her knees tucking in slightly, and gave a sigh of delight, her mouth slightly open and curved in a dreamy smile, making his heart slam painfully in his chest. He leaned down and tucked a bang behind her ear.
"Don't let anyone disturb her," he commanded Elsie as he left through the conjoining door. Elsie nodded.
…
Fiona stretched and yawned. She had no problems opening her eyes this morning; she was feeling more relaxed and rested than she had in a long time. She rang the little bell that was beside her bed. She waited a while, wondering what was taking Elsie so long. She had had a marvellous sleep in her comfy bed, which she didn't really remember getting into. She remembered crying all over Jarrod (or at least his face) and holding on to him, and then…
"Aye?" Elsie asked, poking her head in the room, looking a little sleepy.
Fiona scooted up in her bed so that she was sitting with her back on the headboard.
"Would you be able to get me some breakfast?" she asked. Elsie nodded and closed the door.
Fiona slid her hands up and down the blanket. Jarrod must have brought her to her room. She wondered if he had undressed her as well. A blush graced her cheeks, even though there wasn't anyone around to hear her thoughts. It was positively shameful. Not that he had undressed her – in fact, she probably wouldn't have slept half as well in her huge dress – but that the thought of Jarrod seeing her practically naked sent warm tingles all through her body.
Get a hold of yourself, Fiona, she demanded herself fiercely. She wasn't about to become his drooling, lovesick slave. No matter how tenderly he held her and soothed her tears. Or how scorching his kisses were.
Or how handsome his chest was.
She let out a frustrated breath. Who was she kidding? She wanted to be his drooling lovesick slave this very minute. How could she not? He was everything that she could have hoped for in a husband. Kind, sweet, generous, with a sense of humour that made him absolutely stunning, even if it was usually at her expense. The man held more secrets than the bottom of the ocean, but he was starting to open up to her. That was a good sign.
And he had asked for her help! She wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but she would do all that was in her power to honour his request. She chewed on a thumbnail, thinking. If she could just find out what was in his past that kept him so locked there…
"Milady?" Elsie asked.
"Oh, bring that over here," Fiona said, the smell of bacon making her stomach rumble loudly. Elsie balanced the silver tray precariously over Fiona's legs, and Fiona dug in. She tried desperately not to inhale the food, but she was ravenous.
"Slow down, milady," Elsie laughed.
Fiona, embarrassed at being caught eating so fast, took a sip of orange juice. "I was hungr-hic!" The drink nearly went up her nose.
Elsie laughed again. "I warned ye, milady."
"Yes, well," she muttered. "Help me –hic!– dress, please."
Elsie, still giggling, took the tray away from her and placed it on the dresser. Fiona swung her legs out of bed and stood, deciding what to wear for the day. She thought about getting some new dresses; at least get some started by Madam Lily, even if she had to finish them.
She pulled out a mint green dress with white lace trimming. Elsie helped her into the dress, and she sat down in her mirror to brush her hair. It was kinked and slightly curly from being in the bun, but she brushed out most of the tangles and put it back up again.
"I'm going to head to the ar–hic!–chery range," she said, slightly wistfully. She did really wish that her plan yesterday had worked, but, perhaps, it was for the best. There was more than one way to make her mark on her kingdom.
She strode purposefully out into the hallway.
"Fiona! Just the wife I wanted to see," Jarrod said in his quiet manner, a corner of his mouth tucking up.
"You mean you have more than –hic!– one?" She realised she ruined the haughty attitude she was trying to achieve with the hiccup, but covered it with a frown.
The other corner of his mouth came up into a smile. "But you're my favourite."
She laughed. She couldn't help it. He always seemed to do that to her, tease her out of her bad mood.
"Why did you –hic!– want to see me?" she asked.
He took her arm, linking her fingers in his and running his lips over her knuckles. She felt a jolt go up her arm, and decided she liked his little kisses. It made her feel close to him.
"I wanted you to look at something." He kept their hands firmly locked together, and tucked her arm into his.
They walked in a comfortable silence (broken only by the occasional hiccup from Fiona), something that Fiona didn't think they could have, after all the tension they'd shared. They entered his study, which Fiona recognised as one of his favourite rooms.
"Look at this," he said, walking her over to his desk where a large sheet of parchment lay there. She let go of his hand to pick it up.
Jarrod watched her eyes flick back and forth as she read what he had written and re-written at least a dozen times the night before. She didn't say anything, and Jarrod realised that he was holding his breath. Was it possible for one's heart and stomach to switch places?
She finally looked up from it, her eyes shining. He felt his lips stretch into grin.
"Do you like it?"
"Do I like it?" she repeated. "I –hic– love it!" She set the paper down carefully, lying her hands on it reverently, as if she almost couldn't believe it was written. She looked up at him again, biting her lower lip, her eyes so filled with joy that it looked as though she was going to burst.
She leapt at him, throwing her arms around his neck, smothering his face with kisses.
"You are truly –hic– the best husband ever!" she said, laughing and kissing his jaw. Even the hiccup in the middle didn't ruin the sentiment. "I can't believe you did this for me. Hic! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"I'm glad you like it," he said, putting his arms around her waist to hold her up along him.
She dropped back down flat on her feet, and walked over to run her fingers over the parchment.
"To allow the Que –hic!– een and King to hear all matters," she murmured, tracing her fingers over the paper, "no matter how seeming small or insignificant, at a designated time."
"I will have Tyrell copy this and send missives out to the town. You were only able to talk to five people. Now, everyone in the city will know, and they will believe you."
"You don't know how happy this –hic!– makes me," she said.
"I can venture a guess."
She laughed again, not a small tittering like Belinda, but a happy booming sound that made him feel like laughing along with her.
"I'm sure you could. Hic! Oh, Jarrod." She made a face. "I want to stay here and thank you properly, but I really should get going to the archery range."
It was on the tip of his tongue to invite her to stay and thank him 'improperly,' but she flew to him, kissed him on the cheek, and blew out of the room, a whirlwind of happiness and gaiety.
It was a strange feeling. He had never before wanted to make a woman happy just for the sake of seeing her that way. But he had never met Fiona before. Her joy was like the sun, warming everything around her until he wanted to give her the world so she would never be sad again.
…
"Keep your bows straight. Look down the arrow to where your target is." Fiona paced behind the boys, her hands clasped behind her back. "It may take some time before you find your specific lead, but as a general rule, aim a little higher than what you want to shoot. Alright… Fire!"
There was a series of loud 'twangs' as all the boys let their arrows loose. A few hit the actual targets, but many flew over and under the hay bales.
Fiona didn't care, though. She was happier than she could ever remember being. "Great job, Porter! Aim a little higher next time, Jameson. Alright boys, go retrieve your arrows."
As the boys rushed out into the field, laughing and jostling each other, Fiona began gathering up the bows.
"We be done then, yer majesty?" Porter asked as he carefully placed his arrows tip down in the floor quiver. He was one of those boys that although he still retained a bit of his childhood roundness, one could see that he would fill out with age.
"Yes, boys. Great job today. Don't worry about cleanup, I'll do it. Go get yourselves some dinner."
With a great cry of appreciation, the boys leapt down off the platform and headed towards the castle. Fiona smiled and shook her head, hanging up the bows in the shed. She had just finished gathering the arrows and was walking into the small building when the door hit her back, sending her sprawling forward onto the dirt floor, skinning the palms of her hands.
"Bugger!" she swore, shaking her hands, hoping the wind would cool the sting. After the initial burn wore off, she stood up and dusted off her skirt. A small sigh escaped her mouth as she fingered several small holes where her knees were. Another dress for the sewing basket. She really should look into getting some new ones. She began to gather the arrows where they lay scattered like discarded flowers.
A smell of smoke drifted towards her nose, making her wonder what was for dinner. Roast maybe? She dropped the arrows in their box and made sure to lock it tightly. If they were having roast, they'd also be having gravy, and the cook's gravy was simply divine. She didn't know what Cook did to make it so good, but she didn't really care.
She pushed the door to get out of the shed, but it stuck. She pushed harder, but the flats didn't budge. She put her hands on her hips, thinking one of the boys was playing a trick on her.
"Alright, boys, very funny. Now let me out of here." No one answered, but Fiona felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. The wind through the boards sounded eerily like laughter, low pitched and evil.
"Come on, boys," she said, a worried edge to her voice. The smell of smoke was stronger. Sweat began to drip down the back of her neck, the small hut becoming quite uncomfortably warm. But it wasn't until she saw the orange flickering on the back wall that she realised the danger.
She did panic then. She pounded with her fists on the door, shouting Jarrod's name, although she knew that he wouldn't be able to hear her. The smoke got in her eyes causing tears to stream down her cheeks. She began to cough uncontrollably, and sunk down to the floor, where the air was still a little fresh. The earthen ground felt wonderfully cool against her skin.
She refused to believe that she was going to die. Jarrod would get to her. She had complete faith in him. She still needed to save him; he still needed to say that he loved her.
Just where in bloody hell was he?
Fiona was suddenly furious. When he got there, she would give him a good lecture on the merits of being prompt.
The burst of anger drained her remaining strength. She gave the door another feeble hit with her fist, hoping beyond hope that someone came in time.
Jarrod was striding from his office on the way to the breakfast room. It had all been arranged. Tomorrow, the announcement would be made, and Fiona's dream would be true. He couldn't wait to tell her.
A blur of red hair shot past him. He recognised the boy as one of Fiona's students.
"You, um, Jameson!" The boy slid to a stop.
"Aye, yer majesty?" he asked with a bow.
"Is my wife done with the lessons today?"
The red headed youth nodded eagerly. "She's just over there, cleanin' up. Hey, I wonder what that is?" The boy pointed in the general direction of the archery range. A small tendril of smoke wafted up into the darkening blue sky.
Jarrod's heart sank. He began to walk towards the archery, which soon turned into a jog, which then turned into a dead run.
"Jarrod!" Tyrell called, seeing his brother streak past him and out the front doors. "What is it?"
"Something's on fire at the archery range," Jarrod shouted back. Tyrell ran along behind him, shouting orders at servants to bring water.
As soon as he saw the little archery shed, with the flames licking at its roof, his heart nearly stopped. He knew, he knew, that Fiona was in there.
Ohgodohgodohgodohgodpleaseletherbealrightpleasepleaseplease…
His legs felt as though they were made of lead. They couldn't seem to move nearly as fast as he wanted, even though the ground underneath him streamed past. His breath was whistling in his ears. He couldn't loose her, especially not like this. He couldn't loose anyone else to the fire.
He saw the wood propped up against the door and a red haze filled his sight. He kicked the plank aside and ripped the door practically off its hinges, terror giving him added strength. When he saw Fiona, lying on the floor in a ball, he nearly roared in fury. He picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the building, just before the roof caved in.
He knelt outside on the grass, refusing to breathe until he was certain that she was as well. Her wracking coughs should have been evidence enough, but his brain was too clouded with worry and fear to be logical.
"For God's sake, give her some room to breathe," Tyrell said, kneeling down beside his brother. His face was ashen, but no where near Jarrod's colour. They were both having flashbacks to the fire that claimed their family.
Fiona managed to open her eyes, although they were still stinging a little from the smoke. Jarrod's worried face hovered above her vision, but his expression softened when she gave him a weak smile. She managed to lift her hand and brushed some soot from his forehead. He swept a bang behind her ear at the same moment.
"I wasn't afraid," she whispered, her voice sounding gruff.
"Why not?" His voice was also rough and gravelly.
"Because I knew you'd save me. You always save me."
They shared a smile.
"Are you really okay?" he asked, concern marring his features. She smoothed out his brow with a couple fingertips.
"Nothing a good hot bath wouldn't fix."
He stood and helped her to her feet as well, holding her up until her legs steady underneath her.
"She's going to be alright," he said, mostly to Tyrell, but also to the gathering crowd of servants and onlookers around. Fiona managed to give a weak smile and a small wave. The servants, still murmuring to each other, went on their ways.
She frowned.
"What is it?" he asked.
She sighed and motioned to the blackened husk of a shed. "We're going to have to rebuild that. I can't run archery lessons with no archery equipment."
He laughed. Fiona turned to look at him, surprised, but then she laughed too. He reached down to take her hand, but she flinched and pulled away.
She saw the hurt in his eyes, and realised how her actions might look. "It's not that, Jarrod," she explained, holding out her hands. "It's just that when the door hit me, I ended up skinning my hands."
Jarrod took her fingers carefully, examining the small cuts and burns from the rocky floor. He pressed his lips to her right palm lightly.
"We'll get these bandaged. I'm sure we have some herb that we could use to help heal these."
"After my bath and a meal," Fiona said. "And look at this! I ripped my dress. And not in an easily repaired place, either."
"We'll get you a new one," he promised. "In that colour. It looks very fetching on you."
She blushed prettily and smiled at the praise. Other than the soot all over her face, and the scrapes on her hands, she didn't look like someone who had just been through a fire. She put her arm through his shyly. He smiled at her, and they walked back to the castle together.
Jarrod turned his face to the horizon. This time, the assassins had gone too far. This wasn't any attempt on his life. It was an out and out attack on Fiona.
He was going to kill whoever even thought to lay a hand on her. He swore it.