CHAPTER 26
Lady Knight

The weatherworn wood of the caravan door was rough, both new and familiar beneath Jester's fingers. With a deep breath, the fool bit his lip, and rapped against it, brushing his knuckles against the splintering oak. Nerves danced in his gut, but his resolve was set. He knocked again.

Silence answered.

"Jane?" He called quietly. He kept his voice low in the night, not wanting to disturb any of the rest of his family. He knocked once more to no avail, before casting a wary eye out for Octavia and slipping into the cart. The room was dark. Jester could just make out the hint of brightly colored cloths hanging on the walls in the dim, and the air was spiced with herbs, timber and thyme. At the back of the apartment, a slight form was curled up on a cot. A halo of red curls poked out from beneath a bearskin throw. Jester cleared his throat hesitantly. "Ah. There you are, Jane. Forgive the intrusion, I… well, do you mind if I come in?"

The figure on the cot shifted, and for the briefest instant, Jane's eyes seemed to light up in the dark. But suddenly, she looked away. Something heavy hung in the air.

"Jester—"

"I brought ale and some bread—" Jester set down his tray, and fumbled to light a candle to fight back the darkness.

"Jester, please."

"—as I thought you might be hungry and I—er. What is it, lady knight?"

The wick hissed as it caught, and the smoky candle flickered into glowing existence, casting an orange hue on the room.

At the far side, Jane sat on the cot, her knees pressed against her chest. Her face looked thin and pale in the gloom.

She managed a weak smile, but for a moment Jester thought she might cry.

"I… thank you. For that. It's kind," she managed. "And… and for coming for me. In the camp." Her voice seemed to hitch on the words, as she jutted her chin towards the tray. "But please. Don't… don't call me that. I don't deserve the title of a knight." She looked up, frustration welling in those beautiful green eyes. Jester almost winced at the sight. "I failed. I utterly failed this test. I barely deserve to be a squire. Theodore trusted me. And I failed." Jane's voice was quiet. "So please, don't. I can't hear it right now."

"So I… uh… take it that the answer to my next question of 'how are you feeling' is quite… poorly?" Jester quipped. Immediately, he felt a burn at his cheeks. What an idiot he was. Poorly? Feeling poorly? Of course she felt poorly after… well, after whatever she had endured. He bit his lip as the girl's gaze withdrew, uncomfortable and full of something unspoken. Jester sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to—"

Jane squirmed, shaking her head. Dark circles haunted her gaze.

"I know. I… well, I dare say I have been better." The words came twisted, like hollow laughter.

"But not worse, so that is an… an improvement?" Jester's voice faltered. "I… sorry. Fool, remember?" He pointed to himself. "But Jane? I'm glad you're alive. I'm glad we're alive." The words came in a clumsy jumble over the fool's lips, echoing simpler days. How he longed for them now, especially as Jane's eyes darkened with some distant thought. Her lips tightened, twisting into an expression of frustration and desolation.

"Alive…" She murmured with a snort. "What does that mean if I failed?" Something stilled in Jester's chest, cold and weighty.

"Jane, you cannot mean tha—"

"I am to be a knight, Jester. A knight! Of the King's guard. That's all I ever wanted, all I ever swore to be, all I ever worked for. To guard the king, uphold the land and protect the innocent. But… how… how can I protect anyone when — when I couldn't even stop him… stop him from–?" Jane bit her lip, blinking back a barrage of emotion. Her voice was torn, raw and angry, yet quiet and low. "Ava, the girl from the camp, well she's is in danger, somewhere out there with those monsters. I could not stop what happened to her. And… and your friend… he died to protect us both. I could not stop what happened to him. And you. You Jester, of all people, were almost killed twice because of me. Again, because I could not stop it. What is more is that I could not escape and save even myself. My mother was right. How can a mere girl be a knight of the realm, if she can't even keep herself safe?" She whispered. The words fell, broken like bones, the ghost of her voice hanging in the air.

An icy current crept across Jester's chest. Something ached within him as he watched her – his fierce, beautiful Jane — with her shoulders hunched and shaking. With her eyes so hollow. The ache sent a pang through him, as his gentle gaze searched the hardened wall of her face. A violet bruise splayed across the curve of the squire's cheek, an angry handprint on her pale skin. At her neck, he could see what looked like bruised fingers.

He swallowed, unable to imagine where the marks might lead.

His Jane. His beautiful Jane.

Jester reached a hand towards her. She flinched.

"I… I wasn't raped," she choked out suddenly, her voice defiant and angry. "I was NOT raped, if that's what you're going to ask." Her expression twisted, and she looked away. "I wasn't," she repeated. Jester wasn't sure if she believed the words, but he could feel the prickle of something at his eyes.

"I… Jane, I…" Jester stammered, bewildered, struggling for words. "I did not mean to upset you. What… what happene—?" He bit his tongue, wishing he hadn't spoken. God knew what she had faced.

"It does not matter." Bitterness hardened the girl's voice, acrid and void, cold as steel plate. So very unlike his fiery, kind Jane. "Just please. Don't touch me." She encircled her arms around her chest, pulling the pelt tight around her shoulders and raising a wall between them. Her wiry form shuddered beneath the coarse fur. Silence delved an axe through the air, and Jester's eyes followed her slim fingers, twisting the edge of the pelt into coarse knots.

"… Jane?" Jester's voice was a gentle question.

"I said it does not matter," she cracked, a red flume painting her face and liquid threatening her eyes. Stone hardened, an impenetrable parapet stretching miles long. The fool bit his lip. His hand curled around the folded vellum in his pocket. The map seemed to burn in his hands.

"I… I understand. Well, not really. But… Jane… I may not be able to say what happened, or to have stopped it, and I will not press you. You don't have to talk about it. Not until you're ready. But I must say this: no matter what happens in this world, you are a knight. And not just any knight. You are the bravest knight and the kindest soul I know. I would have died time after time if it were not for you. You gave it all for your charges. You did all that you could in the circumstances. No one could have done better, and Sir Theodore would be proud. I would not have met my family if not for you. And I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This whole mess is my fault."

Jane sighed, burying her face in the pelt.

"Thank you, but… please go," she said. The words, so quiet and so ragged that they were barely a whisper, speared Jester's chest. The fool bit his lip, hesitant, before nodding.

"Rest, Jane. Take the time you need. But just know, you do not need to go through this alone." He took a deep breath, his eyes lingering on her, on this woman, this knight he loved. He reached into his pocket, and withdrew the folded vellum, setting it on the tray. "Read this. When you can. I… I may not be here when you wake. I'm sorry. But Jane… if nothing else, please remember that I love you. And when you're ready… come find me. Please, come find me."

He tore his gaze away, turning on his heel. He brushed the sting from his eyes, pushing out into the cool air of the night.

He knew what he must do.

He could only hope that she would understand.