ZOMG, guys! 300! reviews! Just for that, you all get a special bonus chapter! Well, it's not really a bonus chapter, but it's a chapter that's early! WEE!
livingdead2010: Thank you so much:cD
Glaze: I hope you noticed that I sneaked a sheep reference into this chapter. XcD And, yay for nakedness and poofy-ness! I hope the rest of your day went well.
Tiger Lily21: I just enjoy fluff so much. I think some of the most interesting characteristics of people come out during fluffy times. You do such cute little scenes, they make me want to huggle you and your characters. I love it.
cokefizz-and-chocolate: Oh, definately. And it's almost like you're getting extra drink, cause you can drink the fizz and get more pop in your cup. If that makes any sense. Jarrod and/or Fiona isn't really going to stand for the teasing anymore. I'm not going to tell you any more than that.
trillian225: Hee hee, thanks. Well, I guess no one's really objected to the fluff, so it might be safe if I write some more. But I know that I have to advance the plot sometime.
virgo-valentine: I'm glad you like my story. I'm adding to it right now, actually.
HomesIsMyHomie:Was that not cliffie enough for you? I apologise. I'll try to dobetter next time. XcD What's with the name change, if you don't mind me asking?
Arieda Rivers: I'll add that to my 'Jenn's-going-to-see-the-world' tour. Aw. Not enough lovin' for you? Poor Jarrod. Poor Fiona, for that matter. I'm glad to see that I've balanced dialogue and description nicely. I used to be exactly like you, mostly dialogue driven, but I've gotten way better at taking myself out of myself while editing. You know, reading my chapters like I'm reading them for the first time, and adding things where I don't understand.
mistyqueen: Thanks. :c)
awaiting impatient person: Oh, Jarrod's such a wonderful guy. I just love writing his character. He's so tortured, and yet, he can still be lighthearted underneath it all. He's totally sexy. Fiona doesn't stand a chance. I always love your reviews, they make me so giddy as well!
Lalaith: Awesome name. It reminds me of mine. How do you pronounce yours? I sometimes have a bit of problem with romantic pacing 'cause I just love love so much. I just want them to be in love, then have problems. I have heard of Hawk Nelson. I have a friend who's way into Punk, and I think she has one of their CDs. I don't listen to them myself.
MissaLissa: I do that all the time too when I get a story I like. I'm glad my story is such a story. I read it through sometimes myself, and I'm amazed at where it's gone as to where I had originally planned it to go. It's evolved.
cathrine face: Aw, thanks! I love writing fluff scenes. They're just so much fun. I'm glad it wasn't just our choir that get's on each other's nerves.
little miss tiny shoes: You're wonderful too! It seems everyone went away for two weeks at one point. Conspiracy? I think so. (just kidding!)
Charlie Hazel: I'll try my hardest! I hope you have fun on your vacation!
shaz: Thank you for my 300th! review! I'm glad you liked my story.
Okay guys, down to business. It seems to me that somewhere along in this story there might be a chance for Fiona and Jarrod to get a little, shall we say, steamy here. I've always wanted to try my hand at a love scene (I hate calling them lemons, it makes them sound so tacky. Like an old car), but I don't want to change the rating on my story. If you guys really want it posted, please tell me so, and I'll just slap a huge-ass fourpagewarning on the top. If you don't, I may still write one (for continuity in my own mind) but I'll edit it down to, well, nothing. As an assurance, it won't be inappropriate, it'll be your average checkout counter romance novel type scene, with my own flair of course, but I leave the decision in your capable fingers.
Love as always,
-Lulai
Chapter Twenty-Five: Midnight Visit
It had been a couple days since the fire, and Fiona had completely recovered from her ordeal. In fact, she was standing, looking quite autocratic in her own opinion, on the archery platform, overseeing the men in the rebuilding of the archery shed.
It was going to be marvellous. Not only would it be able to hold twice the amount of equipment, but it would extend a roof over the platform so that they would be able to practise in the rain.
Everything in Fiona's life was perfect. Well, almost everything. She still wasn't on intimate terms with her husband, but she could at least call him her friend. That counted for something, didn't it?
But he had started her Court. And that in itself was a raging success. It seemed everyone in town had a problem. The day that it had opened, the entire hall was filled with people milling about. Fiona made them give their name to a man she had assigned to make a list so she could address them in some semblance of an order.
The first people she had helped were three brothers whose father had just died. They all wanted a share in the farmland, but while the one brother had stayed and helped the ailing man, the other two left to find their own fortunes.
Fiona finally told them to divide the profits from the farm in half, give half to the brother who had stayed, and then divide the other half between the two brothers who had left. The brothers, with a little coaxing, all agreed that it was the best plan.
Problems ranged from simple domestic disputes to taxation arguments to two men who each thought that they owned the same duck.
Fiona treated them all equally, and dealt with all their problems until they felt as though they had a solution.
Finally, when her stomach told her it was dinnertime, she had to turn the others away, telling them to come back the next day. After all, she still had the list of the order. The next day, they came back, and a whole bunch of other people came with them.
Fiona was ecstatic. She was gaining a reputation as a fair and honest queen, as well as a friendly one, and she was helping people again. Her mornings were now spent overseeing the new archery shed, her afternoons filled with her Court, and her evenings with Jarrod, who was trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to teach her chess. Needless to say, she was no longer bored.
"Good work out there, men," she encouraged as the wind made her skirts froth around her feet. She gave a small shiver, and tugged her short brown jacket tighter around her. Fall was coming in the door, hailed not only by the turning of the leaves, but by the coolness of the air at night.
A couple of the men waved at her, before lifting up the new wall. Some held it in place while others hammered it to the supports and packed the bottoms with mud to hold it steady.
The men looked as though they had it under control, so she turned and went to change for her Court. Jarrod, true to his word, had bought her almost two dozen new dresses, all of fancy cut and rich colours. She had made a few adjustments herself (the neckline on one was ridiculously low), but all in all was pleased in how well he knew what she liked. Not wanting to ruin her good finery, however, she had kept her older clothes to oversee the work outside.
As soon as Fiona entered the hall, she could tell that that day was going to be different. Apparently, after the initial swell of problems, the crowd had trickled down to just a few. They were relatively simple problems as well. One woman was making money selling her own rugs, and her husband wanted to control it all. The husband was just wanting the money to help with buying more or better quality food. The woman didn't seem to know that, and was surprised.
"I thought he was just tryin' ta rob me o' me independence," she said.
"Courts, no!" the man said. "I just wanna get ye some better food so ye can work on yer beautiful tapestries some more."
"Perhaps you two can come up with a compromise," Fiona suggested. "For instance, maybe you," she motioned to the wife, "can give your husband half your money to buy food, and keep half for yourself. And you, " Fiona turned her attention to the man, "can include her in the buying of the food."
"That sounds great," the husband said, giving his wife a kiss on the top of her head.
Fiona sighed, wishing all her cases were that easy.
"Is that the last one?" she asked Rinald. He nodded. She lifted herself from her chair.
"Then I'll be in the library. Call me if anyone comes in."
Fiona loved the Drewery Library, with its walls and walls of books. They were arranged quite neatly in two sections of fiction and non-fiction, and were alphabetical by title in each. There was a huge fireplace that wasn't lit during the summer, but now that the days were getting cooler, it was only a matter of time before the servants would lay a roaring blaze in there that would never fully go out.
Huge leather chairs were placed strategically around the room, and every so often, there was a niche in the bookcases that held some sort of artifact from the Drewery's history. There were several suits of armour, an ancient chess set, and (Fiona's personal favourite) a strange looking sword whose blade was criss-crossed with silver lines, as if it had been glued together.
Fiona entered the room and looked around, as if a book would jump out at her to read. Jarrod had been holed up in his conference room all morning, and probably wouldn't be done anytime soon.
She made her way to the fiction section and selected a book at random.
"Hmm," she murmured to herself. "The Twelve Wives of Winter." She read the first page and was immediately caught by the dry humour and wit of the tale. She read the first six pages, standing right there before deciding to move to a chair. Clasping the book in her hand, her index finger marking her page, she made her way to one of the brown chairs in front of the fireplace.
Settling down into the extremely comfortable and large chair, she toed off her shoes and pulled off her stockings. She wiggled her toes and immediately tucked them under her skirts before opening her book back up. She rested her jaw on the back of her hand, having propped up her elbow on the arm of the chair.
She sat like that for quite a while, and was well into the tenth chapter when her eyes started to glaze over. The room was so warm, and the chair was so comfortable… She shook her head slightly, but the words stopped making sense, and she started to read just the letters. She snuggled farther down into the chair, dropping her forearm to rest her cheek on her upper arm, her shoulder resting on the armrest.
I'll just close my eyes for a second, she thought, doing so, and pulling the book into her chest so as not to lose the page. She was swiftly asleep.
…
Jarrod pinched the bridge of his nose.
"This isn't merely a refusal, your majesty," Thomas Fer Turnbull was saying, "this is a veiled threat."
"An extremely thin threat," Tyrell commented dryly. "They don't really have much to barter with. Even if they do defect and join Equilian, Tolaro barely has a militia. Besides, Equilian remembers the battle we beat them so badly at fifty years ago. They aren't going to be looking for a rematch any time soon."
"Or they're going to be hell-bent on revenge," Thomas argued. "Tolaro might be kindling to the flame."
"What does Tolaro want, exactly?" Lord Sheldon asked.
Jarred motioned to the letter Warren had sent him with a wave of his hand. "According to this, they want to lower the import tax mostly. They also want our absolute assurance that we'd back up any political advances they make."
"And in return?" Sheldon raised an eyebrow.
"Basically, they won't join Equilian." Jarrod looked at the men around his table. "Although Tyrell is right, they don't really have a substantial military force, I would prefer not to give Equilian any more strength than they already have."
"Perhaps we could reach a compromise," Thomas said. "Our biggest economic bonus is our wood, right? Tolaro has nearly stripped bare its island with its over-logging. Perhaps we can offer a reduced rate for our lumber in return for their support."
"Hmm…" Jarrod mused, pressing his fingertips together and resting his mouth against them. He shook his head. "Let's adjourn for today and think on it. We'll make a decision tomorrow."
The men nodded and pushed back their chairs.
Jarrod stood and nodded his farewells to the people around the table. They were a good group of men, not always agreeing on everything, but fair and honest. A lot of them had been friends of his father, and good friends to each other, but even he could see that tempers were starting to flare, and he knew from experience that arguments accomplished nothing.
Jarrod debated on what he was going to do now that he had the rest of the afternoon off.
Fiona's Court might still be running. He had been hearing nothing but compliments about it and he wanted to see how it was going. Giving Fiona the court was probably the best idea he had ever had. While she handled the internal affairs of the kingdom, he was free to concentrate on the international aspects.
"She's at the library," the man responded when Jarrod asked him the whereabouts of his wife. He was not overly surprised to see a fairly empty hall. The man, who was holding a sheet of parchment with a long list of names, most of them scratched out, was writing down the names of anyone who came to call on Fiona. So far, no one new had arrived.
"Thanks," Jarrod said, and made his way there.
Parkin sat outside the door, polishing his sword. Jarrod had assigned Parkin to guard Fiona permanently, although he wasn't to allow Fiona to know about it. She was too kind hearted to think that anyone would want to hurt them. Jarrod was a lot more paranoid.
"Nothin' to report, yer majesty," Parkin said before Jarrod even asked. "She's been in there fer most o' tha afternoon."
Jarrod nodded his thanks and made his way into the library.
Fiona lay curled up in a chair, her cheek resting on her arm, her fingers dangling off the edge of the chair. Half of a bare foot peaked out from under her sapphire skirts. Judging from the book lying under her other hand, she had been reading and fell asleep.
Jarrod gently pried the book she was reading from under her hand and memorised the page number she was on. He settled in the chair across from her and began to read.
Fiona woke slowly to the sound of chuckling. Her head felt stuffy as if it had been packed in cotton. Her mouth was dry and she moved her tongue around to try and moisten it. She opened her eyes, but it took her a couple of seconds to focus them. How long had she been asleep? It felt like she had just dozed off for a couple of minutes.
Jarrod sat in the chair across the way from her, his maroon coat tossed over the back. He was absorbed in the book she had been reading. He chuckled again, and then seemed to notice that she had woken.
"Did you have a good sleep, darling?" he asked, noting the page he was on and putting the book down.
"I think so," she said, sitting up slowly and trying to stretch the kinks out of her muscles. She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "How long have I been napping?"
"Most of the afternoon, actually."
Fiona groaned and let her head fall back down. "I'll never get back to sleep tonight."
"I could think of some things that could keep us occupied." His grin was positively wolfish.
Fiona blushed to the roots of her hair. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," she lied.
"You mean you wouldn't want to play chess?" Jarrod's expression was almost innocent, except for the devilish twinkle in his eyes.
Fiona gave up and ceded the point to him. "First, I'd like something to eat."
After dinner, Fiona sat, glaring at the chessboard. No matter what she did, Jarrod always seemed to be five steps ahead of her, blocking her every move. She slowly moved her bishop diagonally three squares, keeping her finger on it as she looked around, making sure none of his pieces could kill it. Satisfied, she lifted her hand off her piece.
Jarrod took her bishop with his knight.
"Hey!" she protested, her hands on her hips. "You're not allowed to do that! You can't jump over other pieces."
"The knight can," he said, holding up her bishop.
Fiona scowled at him. "Why do I have the feeling you're making up these rules as you go along?"
Jarrod tried to look offended, but a smile was playing about his lips. "We can look them up if you would like."
"No, it's okay. I trust you," she said disgustedly, but more at the game than at him, he was sure. "Fine. If knights are allowed to jump, then…" She moved her knight to take one of his pawns.
Jarrod moved his queen. "Checkmate."
Fiona didn't even bother to look anymore. "Can't you let me win at least once?"
"Of course not," Jarrod said, putting the pieces back into their original positions. "You wouldn't learn anything that way."
"Well, now that I've been taught my lesson," Fiona said, rolling her eyes, "can we play a game that I have a slight chance of winning?"
"Of course," Jarrod said. "What would you like to play?"
"One and thirty," Fiona answered immediately. She loved this game. Her family used to play it all the time.
They moved to the card table, where Fiona picked up the cards and shuffled them with obvious expertise. She dealt each of them three cards, face down and placed the rest in the middle of the table.
Fiona looked at her cards. A jack of clubs, an eight of clubs, and a king of diamonds.
Jarrod drew a card and discarded a two of spades out of his hand. That was no help. Fiona drew next, an eight of diamonds. She placed it in her hand and threw away the king.
Jarrod picked the king up, and Fiona made a face. At least she knew that he was collecting diamonds. Jarrod discarded a five of clubs. Fiona debated over picking it up, but opted to draw instead. She was glad she did as the ace of clubs made its way into her hand. She threw away the eight of diamonds.
Jarrod drew. Fiona frowned as the king of diamonds showed up in the pile again. She knocked. Jarrod drew a final time and discarded it after looking.
"What do you have?"
"Twenty nine," Fiona stated, showing her cards proudly.
"Sorry, darling," Jarrod apologised, although he didn't look like he meant it at all. "Thirty and a half." He laid down a set of three nines.
Fiona scowled, but she knew it was mostly luck of the draw, so her scowl wasn't all that fierce. She piled her three cards on top of the stack and turned the discards over. "Your turn to shuffle."
They played well into the night, and the games were relatively evenly matched.
"I should be getting to bed," Jarrod said finally while Fiona was gathering up the cards to deal again.
"What? How can you be tired?" Fiona asked, disappointed. She had just started winning.
Jarrod chuckled and chucked her under the chin. "Not all of us had a nap today, darling."
"Oh, right." Fiona sighed and set the cards down. She stood.
They walked together down the quiet hallways. Jarrod stopped at her door.
She smiled at him. "Thank you for the great evening, although it consisted mainly of me losing."
"You have no idea what my winning did to my ego," Jarrod teased, the one corner of his mouth coming up. "I should be thanking you."
"I'll see you in the morning," Fiona said, and feeling bold, lifted herself on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. She turned and went into her bedroom before he had even recovered from his shocked position.
Elsie had kindly left a candle lit on her nightstand. Fiona managed to get her dress off, mostly just by pulling it over her head. She slipped out of her underclothes into the silk nightgown that Elsie had laid on the turned down bed.
She blew out the candle and the room was only slightly illuminated through the balcony doors by the moon. It was enough light to make it to her bed, however. She climbed under the covers and tried to sleep, but her brain just wouldn't shut off. She tried counting sheep jumping over a fence, she tried counting frogs jumping from lily pad to lily pad. She tried counting the number of kisses she wanted to give Jarrod, but that had the opposite effect of what she wanted.
She had just started to doze off lightly when a small creak brought her fully awake. Her heart began to beat double. Who would be in her room at that time of night? Having enough sense not to open her eyes, Fiona kept her face relaxed how she hoped she looked while sleeping. She peeked through her eyelashes.
A glitter of steel flashed in the intruder's hand.
Fiona didn't waste another second. She let out a blood-curdling scream and threw her pillow at the attacker, then scrambled out the bed so she could at least have some chance of defending herself. The would-be assassin cursed at the offending feather-filled projectile, lowly and fluently, dropping the dagger and fleeing out the balcony.
Jarrod burst in their adjoining door, sword in hand, and immediately followed the shadowy figure out onto her balcony, almost breaking off the doors as he flung them open. The moonlight made his features seem very blunt, and the expression on his face scared Fiona almost as much as her attacker. He swore and stalked back into the room, his face a controlled mask of rage. Fiona flew to him, burying her face in his chest, desperately trying to control her sobs.
His hand with the sword dropped while the other came up to clutch her tightly around the shoulders as he pressed kisses and murmured reassuring words into her hair. She stopped crying, although she was taking deep quick breaths, trying to calm herself.
"I'm sorry," Fiona said, wiping her eyes and her nose with one hand. She pulled back slightly and tried to wipe the wetness off of his chest. She let out a very unladylike sniff. "I'm such a watering-pot. You must think that all I do is cry."
"Fiona," he said, stopping her hand, his voice tight with anger, "you have nothing, absolutely nothing, to be sorry about. You were almost killed! God! If he had succeeded, I… I…" he trailed off, a lump in his throat preventing him from saying anything further. There were no words to explain how he felt anyway, so he pulled her tight to him and brought his mouth down onto hers. He poured all his anger and fear into his passion for her and came up with a tenderness so deep it was almost painful.
Fiona responded, clinging to him, her mouth sweet and her body soft against his.
Someone burst through the door from the hallway, and Jarrod whipped Fiona around so that her back was pressed up against his chest, and he brought his sword up reflexively.
"What the hell happened?" Tyrell demanded, storming in with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other. There were about six or seven guards there as well as Parkin and Elsie.
"Someone decided to give Fiona a little midnight visit," Jarrod said, lowering his weapon. He kept Fiona tight against him. Tremors were still wracking her frame, and he tried to absorb them all into his.
Elsie had a slightly horrified look on her face, and Parkin and several of the other men were politely averting their gazes. He realised that Fiona was dressed only in a slip of a nightgown and he only in a pair of loose pants.
"You three," he said, pointing at three of the guards, "the assailant escaped out the balcony. I want you to go under there and comb the grounds for any trace of him." The men snapped a salute, and ran off. "You two, stand on the balcony, and make sure no one is coming back, and you two stand in front of the doors, and don't let anyone in." The guards followed Jarrod's orders.
"Elsie," he said to the maid, brusquely, but kindly, "I thank you for your concern, but I'm not sure what else you can do here. Please, go back to bed."
Elsie looked to her mistress, who gave her a weak, shaky smile, then nodded at Jarrod, and left. Only the brothers and Fiona were left.
Tyrell lit several sconces of candles and moved over to where the attacker had dropped the dagger. He picked it up. "This looks like one of yours," he said, holding it out to Jarrod. Fiona didn't think it was possible, but Jarrod's countenance became blacker.
"Someone's trying to kill my wife with my daggers?" Jarrod said, his hold around Fiona tightening.
"What if I'm not the target?" Fiona said softly. Both of the brothers looked at her sharply, and she took a deep shaky breath. "I mean, wouldn't it sort of be poetic if a king were killed with his own daggers? And, from outside in the dark, it would probably be fairly easy to mix up our rooms."
"She has a point," Tyrell said to Jarrod.
"You're forgetting the about the fire," Jarrod said. "I don't think that it would be easy to mix Fiona and I up in broad daylight."
"Then, perhaps both of you are targets," Tyrell suggested. "Either way, I'll double the guard patrol outside and in your hallway."
Jarrod gave a sharp nod. "Please."
Tyrell nodded, but before he left, he gave them both a reassuring glance. "We will find out who's behind this, Jarrod." With that he closed the door.
Fiona glanced up at her husband. He looked older than she had ever seen him. These past few weeks had put a huge strain on him, and she felt partially responsible. He was doing everything in his power to help her and all she seemed to do was give him more problems. She bit her lip.
Jarrod let her go with obvious reluctance. "You should try and get some more sleep. I doubt that the attacker will be back again."
Fiona nodded, but Jarrod couldn't read her expression, as her eyes were downcast.
He made sure there were guards in front of both her balcony doors and her hallway doors, then made his way into his own room. He replaced his sword in the sheath that was hanging off the back of one of the chairs and was about to climb into bed when he heard a knock on the door. He pulled it open to see Fiona standing there.
"Yes?" he asked softly.
She looked up at him with her big blue-green eyes. Her hands had each other in a death grip, her knuckles white. She looked back at his toes.
"I don't want to be alone," she whispered, so softly he almost missed it.
"You're never alone," he said, a smile in his voice. He lifted her chin with his finger. "You can sleep here, if you'd like. There is a chair that I can occupy."
She shook her head, smiling slightly. "It's okay," she said, deliberately parroting her words from earlier. "I trust you."
She really was too good to be true. He escorted her to his –no, their– bed and climbed in the other side, hauling her close to him. She smelt of flowers and life, and her warmth was like a balm on his heart. She gave a gusty sigh, snuggling closer into his embrace. Brushing a kiss against her hairline, Jarrod threw an arm over her waist, trying to be as in much in contact as possible. They stayed wrapped in each other like that until morning.