Machinating, Part IV

Panic blanked his mind as he fell off the griffon, and for a long moment the only thought in Jason's head was a dull certainty that he'd pushed the prince too far at some point.

But the sickening sensation of falling never began, and the treeline wasn't approaching at anything like terminal velocity, and the panic faded and was replaced by rueful chagrin.

Did he cast a spell to slow us? Except there he goes, presumably to face the wind dragons, so unless there's a Featherfall that doesn't need to be actively maintained like Levitate . . . could be the Zephyr's Kiss itself. If the theme of the cloak is something like 'the air likes you too much to hurt you'-

Irrelevant. We're not gonna die when we land, but we need to get through that patch in the canopy if we don't want to make a lot of noise.

He'd never done any sky-diving, but it always looked like you could move in the horizontal by angling your body . . . and he'd hardly started to try to orient himself when he began moving exactly where he wanted to go.

Damn, the Kiss really does make the wind like you. We need to see if we can't figure out how to duplicate this thing. Wasn't there something back home about people doing controlled glides with nothing but flaps between their arms and torsos?

But the possibility of more projects for Mr. Colbert had to be set aside, because the whole point of Wales tossing him off like that was clearly to intercept the kidnappers well short of their rides. And that meant drawing his weapons-

Once again, a ready weapon was held.

Awareness(Weapon_In_Hand).

And once again, nothing might have happened as a result. Except-

Awareness(Battle_To_Commence).

Except that this was no mere experiment, no test held in a laboratory. And if the connection between the familiar and the power bestowed on it was yet less sturdy than it ought to have been, if it had not managed to deepen as it ought to have in but a day or two?

Awareness(Danger_To_Master).

Well, the connection between the familiar and its master had been strengthened over the prior months. And the master was in danger, and was actively demanding the aid of the familiar.

It was enough.

Chosen Mode(Serenity_At_The_Eye_Of_The_Storm).!Error

Enough, yes, but nothing was working with the familiar as it had in the past, as it ought to work now. If there had been an aware intelligence at work, it might have sighed in frustration.

Trigger(FIGHTING_SPIRIT).!Fail
Trigger(The_Enemy's_Gate_Is_Down).!Fail
Trigger(Hate_World_All_Die).!Fail
Trigger(From_Hell's_Heart_I_Stab_At_Thee).!Fail
Trigger(Perfection_Concentration_Pinnacle).!Fail
Trigger(Heart_Protective).
Chosen Mode(Heart_Protective).Set
Analysis(Conditioning).!Poor

If there had been an aware intelligence at work, it would have expressed frustration and annoyance. The familiar was simply not prepared for the tasks assigned to it.

It might not have mattered, if a scrawny and youthful frame had substituted for the preferred lean and muscular form. Such a familiar would have limited endurance when using its powers, but said powers could have compensated for the familiar's lack of development.

But this familiar was – at least for now – plainly unsuitable. Far too much fat where there should have been muscle. It had been allowed to get out of shape!

However, such a contingency had been anticipated. It had been . . . predictable that the familiar might gain weight, and then need to lose it quickly. Perhaps not to the degree that this familiar exhibited, but there was a protocol available. Certain minor tweaks to digestion and respiration would suffice. But then-

Analysis(Instincts).!Panicky

And a third time that an intelligence would have become annoyed. There were many possible reactions to danger, and most of them were wrong. The familiar would need to act, quickly and decisively. The other choices were not acceptable.

Threat(Panic).!Disabled
Threat(Indecision).!Disabled
Threat(Flight).!Disabled
Threat(Bluff).!Disabled
Threat(Submit).!Disabled
Threat(Fight).!Default

The clarity of mind that the power could provide would only be available when it was active. But the familiar would remember that clarity afterward, and hopefully discipline itself until it reacted properly to threats at all times.

The protocols affecting the familiar had done what they could. But if they weren't able to do everything they were intended to – not yet – they weren't quite done, either.

Query(Weapon).!Revolvers
Analyze(Revolvers).!Complete
Revolvers(Attack_Vectors).!Preparing

Now the familiar was ready, or at least as ready as it could be.

Algar eyed the two young ladies walking along, almost stumbling, surrounded by their 'escort'. He'd rather be moving at a run towards the dragons that would be getting them out of Tristain, but their leader – their terrifying leader – had declared otherwise. The girls had even been allowed to keep their wands! Brimir, if the magic that had put them into a trance was so delicate that it could break if they felt threatened, why hadn't they been put to sleep already?

But their leader was terrifying, and no one had dared to tell him that this wasn't the best way to go about a capture.

Still, so far they seemed to have Brimir's favor, for there had been no sign that their captives had been accompanied by any guards, or even followed (perhaps by someone who'd been tardy in noticing their absence!). Strange, for nobles of such importance that they were worth raiding Tristain and risking setting the nation on its guard against Reconquista, but after a century of cravenly avoiding their sacred duty to reclaim the holy lands from the Brimir-forsaken elves, the nobles of Halkagenia had clearly grown soft and lax.

Algar himself hadn't been much, before joining Reconquista, but he'd worked hard since to measure up to the standards required of a mage-knight. How many nobles, in these degenerate days, could honestly say the same? Not many, that was sure and certain. But he was ready for trouble, as was every mage-knight who'd been selected for this mission. And by the end of the year he planned to exceed those standards. Just as Orvyn had, there at the front of their company!

And perhaps this method of capturing enemies had its strengths. No one had to carry a snarling bundle, cursing them with every breath and doing everything possible to be a hindrance, and that wasn't nothing. It wasn't much farther to their dragons, either, even at the stumbling pace of a pair of-

Naturally, that was when the gray shadow crashed in through one side of their formation and out through the other, knocking several of them over as it vanished into the deepening shadows of the forest.

With their captives. Naturally.

Brimir forsake it all, there had been a guard tracking them!

The second he pulled out the revolvers, a wave of dizziness swept over Jason. Then it cleared, and . . . everything was different.

His breathing slowed and his heart calmed. Below him, every leaf – even in the dwindling light of the setting sun – seemed to stand out, crisp and distinct. A stark sense of, perhaps not anticipation but readiness nonetheless, seemed to fill him. The lives that he would have to take?

"And where is that band that so vauntingly swore," he whispered as he approached the break in the foliage that he was aiming for, "That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion/A home and a country will leave us no more?"

He passed through the leaves, so perfectly centered that they didn't even rustle, and he could no longer risk even a whisper.

Their blood will wash out their foul footsteps' pollution!

The evening light was dimmer, beneath the trees, but his eyes were already adjusting. His night vision was working better than ever, it seemed, taking in every detail no matter how deep the shadows.

The Headmaster was right, we did have auxilia waiting to be awakened, Jason thought as he quietly sidled in an attempt to triangulate and get a rough sense of how far away his little mistress was. Might have guessed that they'd be related to tool use. It's what hands are for, after all.

His sense of Louise's direction shifted a little as he moved to the side. She was close, then, but not too close. And the more he closed the distance, the farther they'd be from the getaway mounts when he pulled aggro. And his enhanced vision seemed to see every twig and dried leaf that might rustle if he stepped on them.

Time to, heh, go Ghost and save us some hot chicks. From murderous religious fanatics, even!

He pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head and crept forward, not making a sound as he carefully moved towards his little mistress.

["Are you still stuck in that trance?"]

["Yes!"]

Damn. Be nice if we could coordinate an attack, but if she can't cast . . . ["Okay, just try to relax. I'm almost there, and then we'll see about breaking you out."]

["I . . . very well."]

There was a bit of light up ahead, coming into view as Jason stepped across the roots around one of the larger trees. Dim, but as he focused on them they resolved into several floating lights, like will-o'-wisps in a marsh.

But the forest floor was dry, and beneath the lights marched a company of large figures, well over a dozen men, with two shorter figures in the center stumbling dazedly along. And in the front there lead a figure whose eyes glowed with the same eldritch blue light as the witch-lights illuminating the company.

Multiple mages, and probably with warriors for melee support. Plus whatever that ring-wraith-y fellow in front is. Damn. Can't just cut that many down, not with Louise unable to bring her wand to bear. Which means skirmishing.

Means bullets and spells going everywhere, while they're tranced and helpless. Hell no. If we're being forced into an extended engagement, we need to get them out of the line of fire first. Especially since if we don't then they're hostages as soon as anyone reacts after the initial attack. And with this cloak it shouldn't be all that easy to spot us, not in this dim light. So . . .

Eyes narrow, alert for any sign that someone had spotted him, he made his way from tree to tree, approaching the slowly-moving band of kidnappers, until he was behind a large tree. One that his targets, from the way Louise's call was pulling at him, would be passing by on the other side shortly.

But there was a faint white glow on the bark of the tree . . . coming from his left hand! He turned it slightly, and saw the glow coming from the runes that had been burned into the back of his hand on the day he was summoned.

The hand went quickly under the cloak, before his targets could notice the light and be put on their guard.

Hell, might as well holster the revolvers while we're at it. Gonna need one arm to scoop up each girl, after all-

But the second Jason holstered his revolvers, his heart sped right back up as the enormity of the danger he was about to throw himself into crashed in on him. His gorge rose, and for a moment his panic was complete as he was certain he was going to be sick, and give the game away by the sound of throwing up all over the forest floor-!

No!

Shuddering, he forced the bile back down, and took a deep breath.

We can't do it! Not-

Yes we can! We have an artifact-tier cloak protecting us, and we have fully-adjusted night vision while they're blinding themselves with their witch-lights. All the advantages are ours!

But – but we're not-

Not what? Are we Louise's familiar, or are we just a fair-weather soldier and a coward? What would Patton say, if he saw this!? Or Kratman?

He-

They'd send us to the front. We become brave by doing brave things. And here they come, first rank, second rank,MOVE!

Jason moved.

And stumbled almost immediately, his foot catching on a root. The closest kidnapper looked at him, raising a wand-

But the distance between them was well under twenty feet, and before the mage could cast Jason tore the wand from his hands with adrenaline-fueled strength and tossed it away. Then he was through the line, bending down just long enough to scoop up the girls – even put together they weren't as heavy as he was, and he was up to thirty-five push-ups per set by now – and then crashing through the other side of the ring, taking advantage of his bigger mass to bowl them over and get away before anyone could react properly.

He stumbled again as someone tried to Levitate him, but managed not to fall over and got free before the spell could get a good grip. Two more spells came in before he ducked behind a tree, both hitting him in the back but not having any effect that he could feel. He had to bite down to keep from laughing – the Zephyr's Kiss was working as advertised – and jogged along the shadow of the tree he was hiding behind, keeping it between him and the witch-lights of the kidnappers, as they began to shout a mixture of threats and orders.

As soon as the shadow intercepted another tree, he ducked behind it, then jogged along that tree's shadow until he came to a truly massive tree-trunk, and ducked behind it.

["No noises,"] he told Louise, as he set the girls down. It was a bit of a surprise to suddenly realize that his arms were a bit sore, but he was only up to thirty-five push-ups. He'd be doing better, soon enough. And sore or not, he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his little mistress and kiss the top of her head. ["How are you? Can you move?"]

["I-"] She shook herself, then hugged him back and buried her face in his chest. ["Yes, I'm free! Thank you!"]

Jason smiled, although of course it was too dark for her to see. ["It was my pleasure, little mistress."]

Then he let go. ["Now that you and Henrietta aren't hostages, I need to go whittle down their numbers. So stay here and stay quiet so they don't find you. If you can break Her Highness out of the trance, then it's time to put your combat training to the test. If you can't, just stay with her and explode anyone who comes across you two."]

Louise nodded against his chest, then let go herself. ["I will. But you be careful!"]

["I have advantages they don't know about."] And if whatever that was with the runes will work a second time-

He pulled out his revolvers, and a moment of vertigo later his heart was slowing and his terror was gone once more.

["Your runes!"] his little mistress exclaimed. ["They're glowing!"]

["Yep. Two new auxilia in one day. I'd say you should get kidnapped more often, but-"]

["Don't make me laugh at a time like this! Go, if Brimir's finally favored you with powers then we can't help but win!"]

["By your command."] He smiled down at his little mistress again, then ducked back around the tree.

The witch-lights were brighter, now, and the shadows they cast were diffuse as the mages casting them spread out to search the forest.

Some of them are closer than we'd like. Wish we could draw them away first, but we don't want them stumbling over the girls while we try to find the perfect spot to pull.

When seconds counted, good enough now was infinitely superior to a perfect decision arrived at too late to do any good. The closest and brightest witch-light would have to do.

000000000000000000000000000000000000

The men were too disturbed to grumble as they spread out in search of their lost quarry. The large gray figure had appeared out of nowhere, pausing for a moment as its cloak billowed menacingly, and more than one had recalled old tales of forest spirits calling a hunt against the followers of Brimir. And when it had seized the wand of Layton, the only one of them with the presence of mind to seek to ward it off immediately . . .

But the 'ghost' had merely tossed the wand away before scooping up their captives and fleeing, and thus it had clearly been a woodsman-trained scout, tailing the prisoners and waiting for a chance to save them.

Which wasn't going to happen. Layton had stayed behind to look for his wand, along with the soldiers and their leader (who obviously wasn't the old King James, thrown back from the grave by Brimir's curse and bound to Cromwell's service for his crimes against Reconquista . . . obviously!), but the rest of the mages were sent out to search the woods.

They were spread out enough, and with bright enough lights, that even in the twilight gloom the gray woodsman wasn't going to be able to lead the prisoners to freedom without being spotted. Clearly they were holed up, waiting for their chance.

Algar was determined that they would not get that chance. He was one of the ones in the lead, going in the direction that he was sure the woodsman must have gone-

Then he stiffened, as his gray-cloaked quarry stepped out from behind a tree, not half-a-dozen paces away! The woodsman brandished a pistol in each hand, and he pointed both at Algar and fired.

Who smiled mercilessly as his Shield collapsed. Here was proof of the wisdom in training to the standards of a mage-knight! With the woodsman's pistols both discharged, he had a precious few heartbeats to respond before the man could reach beneath his cloak and pull forth another. So it didn't matter how many rogues' pistols his quarry might have primed and ready beneath his cloak, because he already had his wand swinging up to-

Then the woodsman did something to the back of one of his pistols, and fired again! Algar felt the hammer-blow to his chest, and knew he didn't even have . . . the breath . . . to . . .

Would have been nice if they'd brought their barrel-scrapings, Jason thought to himself as he jogged away from the serviced target. Three rounds spent, for one guy! We'll only be able to take out three more before we'll be forced to take the time to reload!

Well, if he was going to have to play for time at some point, he needed to draw their attention away from the girls. And his three shots had definitely gotten some attention, so he was jogging to the side. Another mage down should do nicely to cement their focus onto himself-

But when he clambered over the rotten remains of a fallen tree, into a tiny clearing where a witch-light proclaimed the presence of a target, there were not one, but rather two mages waiting in ambush, both with their wands out.

One of them raised his wand to his throat, and when that mage opened his mouth, the single syllable he uttered raced across the clearing, a gust front of aerial might that was impossible to dodge. The other mage made a slashing horizontal motion, and a ripple in the air sprang forth.

The word of power blew away leaves, twigs, rotten wood, and dirt, while the ripple in the air cut deep into the trees all around Jason. But neither spell, for all their evident potency, did more than ruffle the Kiss that he wore.

Then his arms were up and his revolvers replying, and was he really trying to make two-gun mojo work? It was Hollywood, it was stupid, and he knew it-

But the two mages had clearly expected their little combo to be a finisher, because they didn't begin to react until a second bullet to each of them made their Shields collapse, and they hadn't finished casting again by the time he serviced them each with a third and final bullet to the center of mass.

And the six shots in the span of second had done the trick, catching the attention of the rest, for all the witch-lights were now moving toward him.

Alright, got aggro, now we need to find a spot to reload so we can keep DPSing them down!

But there wasn't time for that, one of the witch-lights was too close to try to evade, and if he had to reload he might as well reload all twelve chambers while he was at it-

But this time, the Reconquista mage's Shield didn't collapse until the third bullet hit it, and Jason's revolvers were now empty.

The two men stared at each other for a brief moment. Then the mage's eyes narrowed, his wand came forward-

Twenty foot rule! Jason charged, but the other man's spell went off before he could finish closing the distance. He grunted as it impacted. Whatever it was had clearly been powerful, and the Zephyr's Kiss had had to deal with the full force of it, but it wasn't enough to break his charge, and the mage didn't get have time for a second spell before being bowled over.

But up close it was clear that the wand, with a sharp point, was a swordwand, and Jason didn't have Butterfly out. He was at grappling range and the other guy had the blade!

However, the thought wasn't borne of panic. Just an awareness of the problem, and the solution was apparent: Shift the parameters.

He brought down the grip of his revolver on the elbow of the mage beneath him, and his willingness to fight dirty was rewarded by a howl of pain as the man's hand spasmed and the sword-wand fell to the ground.

Jason dropped the revolver and snatched up the wand, then turned it down and-

The mage's face went white as he realized what was intended, and brought up his hands to try to catch the shaft before it could penetrate. And if he didn't have Jason's sheer mass advantage, his desperation was lending him strength as the two snarled at each other.

Right up until Jason's other revolver hammered grip-first into the shoulder of the mage's other arm. Before the unfortunate mage could recover, the tip of his sword-wand plunged into his throat, then through his spine, pinning his neck to the dirt below.

Jason paused only to pick up his dropped revolver, before springing to his feet and getting behind a tree. Another mage down, that was good, but he'd lost time putting the bastard down, and that was bad.

He still had aggro, all the remaining lights were still coming towards him . . . but they were now between him and Louise, the pull towards her went pretty much straight through the middle of the group of lights coming his way, and that part was also bad.

And they were too close to take the time to reload. Time to pray that this newly-discovered power wasn't limited to guns-

It wasn't. But pulling out Butterfly and the sword each brought a brief wave of dizziness, and that delay brought him face-to-face with a fifth mage as he darted out from behind the tree.

The mage shouted, calling for help-

Jason swung his sword once, then a second time as it bounced off the Shield . . . and once the Shield was down threw Butterfly forward.

And the handle smashed firmly into the mage's nose, breaking it and making the mage yell once more.

The man was open, but there wasn't time, he needed to be moving, but at least Butterfly was returning to his hand as he scurried away-

'Guess I'm just a good man.' The remembered quote made Jason want to laugh. It also made it clear what to do, and Butterfly soared across the distance between them again, the blade this time scoring a broad slash across the mage's chest.

'Well, I'm okay.' The third throw managed to get between a couple of ribs, and the mage's cries of pain suddenly cut off.

Maybe got the lung, that time. Or at least Christopher Lee had said that a knife to the lung made dramatic death-cries impossible, back when he'd played Saruman. And apparently had freaked the director right out, too. Do they have battle healing? If there's a white mage we probably need to focus-fire . . .

Then, despite the sky having been clear while they were flying, not a cloud to be seen, there was a flash of light, followed shortly by a mighty thunderclap.

Coming in from what was probably the direction Wales had been heading, if Jason hadn't managed to get himself turned around in the forest.

Dammit, we had aggro just fine! he thought, catching Butterfly as it returned. Well, aside from letting them get between us and our little mistress. Better do something about that.

The artifact knife didn't seem to be running out of juice, which right now made it more reliable than his empty revolvers. So Jason broke into a run, not trying to hide, just throwing the knife as soon as he saw a target-

A warrior, this time, without a Shield to protect him. Who shouted and cursed when the blade went into his arm, but then gritted his teeth and fumbled with a pouch, retrieving a flask.

Oh, no you don't! Butterfly flew forth once more as soon as it returned to Jason's hand, and the enemy's expression when the flask was knocked from his hand was so satisfying to behold that it was almost a shame to charge him and run him through.

Pity that the flask broke when it hit the ground. They'd forgotten to bring healing potions, and if he'd just lost his chance at looting one-!

If we could just keep kiting them, Butterfly would probably be enough to win in the end, Jason thought as he darted away, back towards Louise's direction. But if they flank us, they can probably pull us down sooner or later. We need to reload, thin them out enough to-

But a mage caught sight of him before he could finish the thought, and cast. It didn't do anything, of course, and Butterfly got a solid hit on the mage's Shield in reply, before Jason backed up a bit more, past a couple of trees and into a small clearing.

["Stay alert,"] he sent. ["I've thinned them out a bit, but my revolvers are empty and I can't disengage long enough to reload."]

["What are you doing, then?!"] Louise 'pathed back. ["I can be there-"]

["No, keepHer Highness safe, that's the priority."] Butterfly flew out as the mage cautiously stepped into the clearing, knocking the Shield a second time and collapsing it. ["I've been teaching your captors that you don't bring a wand to a knife fight."]

Naturally, that was the exact moment when the mage was able to cast a spell that connected with the knife, flinging the artifact into a tree where it stuck, unable to fly back to Jason no matter how much it quivered.

Leaving him with nothing more than the sword that Osmond had given him.

Still, if he hadn't ever practiced with his cousin Miles, the ARMA and HEMA enthusiast, everyone knew that the pointy end went into the other fellow.

But while charging forward to skewer the mage worked, two Reconquista warriors came running up into the clearing as Jason was kicking the corpse off his sword.

They advanced, brandishing their own swords in a manner that seemed far too professional, and he fell back as soon as he was free of the body.

Then they stopped, and he wasn't sure what they were waiting for, but it couldn't be good-

Four more warriors emerged from the trees, and closed ranks with their fellows. Then, stepping as one, they advanced. With enough discipline that even a second flash of lightning and thunder failed to distract them enough to give him an opening.

Well, shit.

All he could do was back up, take the occasional swing, and hope he got lucky before-

Behind the warriors, several mages also emerged from the trees. He was too busy to count them, but there had to be at least half-a-dozen.

We didn't even get a third of them, before they managed to run us down. And we thought we were doing well. ["Okay, I know I said to protect Henrietta, but if she's doing okay then follow the sound of fighting 'cause I could really use some support now!"]

Because even if he was immune to direct wind magic, that element had to be about the best suited for indirect attacks-

Such as the heavy branch that came flying in from the side, almost hitting him before Jason yelped and jumped back. Had they figured it out already?

The small rocks that flew at him suggested the mages had, or at least had a specialist in indirect techniques, and this time his leap back had him tripping over something and landing on his ass.

The warriors that had been pressing him across the clearing looked grimly satisfied, raising their weapons for the finishing blows that he wouldn't be able to back away from-

Only to falter as the muted boom that was a tell-tale of Louise's explosions sounded, and two of the mages hanging back crumpled and fell.

Her summons, still ongoing, let him know precisely where to look to see his little mistress hiding behind a tree, only her wand poking out.

["Perfect timing! Now do it again!"]

["I know!"] she replied, and shortly after two more of the mages fell.

The sudden assault from an unexpected direction – one so effective that it was ignoring the mages' Shield spells as if they weren't even there! – was enough distraction to the warriors that Jason was able to scramble to his feet, then lunge forward and thrust his sword through the throat of the man who'd been leading the others.

The five remaining warriors quickly closed ranks and began pressing him once more, apparently content to push him back across the clearing, as Louise finished off the rest of the mages.

["Jason, can you move? I don't want to hit you with an explosion!"]

["Roger!"] He leapt back, and kept backing up. ["Go!"]

Her aim was true, and her casting rapid, and the value of all the time that Louise had spent practicing was proven as the five remaining warriors fell, their defeat punctuated by a third flash of lightning coming from Wales' direction.

"Well done!" Jason called, grinning fiercely. "Now, we-"

"Look out!" his little mistress yelled back, just before two powerful hands, icy cold, clamped down on his shoulders like vice grips and forced him to his knees.

He twisted his head as much as he could, looking around and up . . . and there was the face of King James, now pale as death, his two eyes blazing with eldritch blue fire.

That's why they were content to herd us this way. Oh shit!

He struggled for a moment, but whatever had happened to the king had granted inhuman strength, and breaking free wasn't happening.

["Jason, that's-!"]

["I know!"] he interrupted. ["Going to try to bend down, hit him up top with an explosion and I'll try to get away from him!"]

'Bending' was an exaggeration, but he was already on his knees, and when he bowed his head Louise did as he asked.

He felt it harder than any of the air spells had managed, even though she'd been aiming high. But it was also enough to make King James – or rather once-king James – stagger back, and when Jason wrenched himself forward he was able to break free.

And fall on his face, but then he was up and staggering away from the once-king, back across the clearing he'd been herded down, and there was Butterfly, still stuck in a tree.

Right, let's ping down your Shield! The dagger, freed, flew once more towards its target, and Jason kept his hand raised to catch it when it bounced off-

But the deathly-pale James apparently had no Shield, and Butterfly sank hilt-deep into his chest.

Or that, yeah. Oughta give anyone a bad day. He jogged towards Louise, holding his hand up to catch his dagger as it came soaring back.

But it never did, and her wide eyes and shocked gasp prompted him to turn around before he could reach her.

Once-king James stood snarling, the wound on his chest failing to bleed, and Butterfly help tight in his grip and unable to return. He stalked over to the nearest tree and slammed the blade into the trunk. Now hilt-deep into wood, it was unable to so much as quiver in a futile attempt to return to its wielder.

"The hell happened to him?" Jason breathed.

"Yes, Hel herself!" Louise agreed behind him. "They found an orc to curse him and force him to rise as a draugr!"

Draugr, where's that . . . wait, aren't those zombies from Skyrim or something?

Unfortunately, no matter what odd word choices his translation power picked, he wasn't in a video-game. Or else he could simply sword James in the once-king's hit-radius until its life bar hit zero.

"You have to cut off its head, that's the only way it can die!" she went on.

"Right." ["Gonna give it a shot, little mistress, but that thing's damned strong. Give it another explosion right before I engage, to keep it busy."]

["I will!"] Louise promised.

Now, what do we say? Jason thought as he raised his sword and began advancing. Gotta cut off its head, so Highlander's an option . . . but if it's undead and commanded by the Big Bad . . .

"'Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, if ye be not deathless!'" And if we're casting ourself in Eowyn's role, at least she got to marry above her station afterward!

Once-king James sneered at him as he approached, but then Louise's explosion made the draugr stagger, and Jason cut-!

Only for his foe to leap back, rudely refusing to be snicker-snacked. One hand rose, pointing a pale and bony finger at him, and the winds raged.

Which accomplished nothing at all, of course. But then once-king James' eyes narrowed, and the draugr drew forth a wand, and the next spell it cast caused rippling bands in the air to surround Jason in what proved to be an unyielding prison. The bands of air spun briefly, twisting his sword out of his hand and sending the blade tumbling off into grass.

He felt the terror start to return, and quickly reached inside his cloak to grab one of his empty revolvers, which proved enough to let him stay in the zone.

Then he glared at his cage. Hax. Dammit, we call hax! But it made all too much sense. Since the Tudors had a Zephyr's Kiss, if the draugr had access to the once-king's memory, it'd know to use indirect attacks once it realized he was wearing one.

Still, the ripples defining his sudden imprisonment formed a cage, rather than solid walls, which meant once he reloaded he'd be able to take potshots, so Jason pulled out his ammo box, making sure to keep everything inside the cloak so they wouldn't be ripped away from him like the sword had been, and got to work.

Louise let out a scream of outrage, and vented her anger with another explosion aimed at the once-king. And then another, and another, as it evaded with inhuman speed. Then it responded with a spell that sent a cluster of air-ripples into the tree she was using for cover, and she flinched back as shards of bark and chunks of the trunk were torn free and sent flying.

"Cease this unseemly display!" the draugr hissed, its eyes glowing even brighter for a moment, its voice hollow and echoing as if issuing from a deathly underworld that the bottom of a grave would merely be the entrance to. "My dear girls, Prince Wales is awaiting us."

["Don't meet its gaze!"] Louise immediately warned Jason, looking away herself as he yanked his attention back to reloading. ["That's how it ensnared us the first time, we didn't realize-"]

She broke off with a gasp. "Henrietta, no!"

He risked a glance up for a barest instant, and saw the princess emerge from behind the tree his little mistress had been sheltering behind. Her Highness's pace was slow, but she ignored Louise's hands seeking to drag her back.

["She didn't come out of it, did she?"]

["No, but you said you needed help, and I couldn't leave her by herself-!"]

She broke off with another howl of rage as once-king James cast, trapping her in another cage of air like the once keeping Jason prisoner, as Henrietta broke free of her grip to go stand beside the draugr.

Whose eyes glowed brightly again. "There is no need for this hostility," it said, and suddenly its voice had shed the underworld aspect, once more the voice of a living king, commanding and wise. "Lay down your arms, and you shall be accorded honor and respect when we return."

The way James said it somehow carried the implication of awards, and titles, and the prizes conferred on heroes. But that's not what you'd get, idiot! A bullet in the back of your head, that's the way tyrants respect their enemies if they don't want to bother with public torture and execution!

["Don't listen, Jason, he's lying!"]

["I know, little mistress."] Again, he returned to reloading. ["Think you can cast through the prison bars?"]

["No, it'll pull the wand from my hand if I try,"] she replied. ["And I haven't even begun to learn an elementari to burn away another spell yet."]

At that point, the draugr seemed to grow tired of waiting for them to surrender, and instead murmured something to Henrietta. The princess nodded dreamily, and raised her wand in unison with it, casting simultaneously.

Jason got the last chamber loaded and looked up to see a waterspout surround both her Highness and the once-king, rising dozens of feet into the air, reaching above the treeline.

["That doesn't seem good."]

["No, it's not!"] Louise agreed. ["Only the Thrones of Air and Water can cast that spell, working together! It's a signal that he has Henrietta, and their dragons should come to them immediately, no matter the risk of being spotted so close to Bruxelles!"]

["Ah. Might not work."] Not if that portable zeusaphone did its job.

Even through the sheet of water, the glowing eyes of the once-king were visible, looking around as if to search for the wind-dragons who were to take them all away.

"Stay here, my child," the draugr finally commanded, and through the screen of water they could see the barely-visible form of Henrietta stand there, focusing on holding the waterspout in place, as the twin blue lights that marked the eyes of the undead abomination ascended up the funnel.

["What do you mean, it might not work? Did you already do something, Jason?"]

["That's a long story,"] he replied. But if that waterspout signals anyone, it might not be who the once-king's expecting. Which will put paid to all the effort to keep Wales and Henrietta apart, but at this point that's not something to worry about!

["Do you have anything better to do with your time?"] she asked tartly.

["Try to figure out how to make these air cages collapse?"] he offered.

Even across the small clearing Jason could hear Louise scoff. ["Do you truly believe that King James, the Lord of Air, would cast so shoddily? Even as a draugr?"]

["Uh-"] He broke off as the rippling bars of his cage suddenly disappeared. A glance over showed that the waterspout was still going, so the once-king was probably still up at the top, looking around, which meant-

And there was Prince Wales at the edge of the clearing. Jason bowed quickly, then jerked his head towards his little mistress.

The prince nodded, and glided through the trees parallel to Jason as he jogged over to Louise.

Who began gaping at him as soon as her worried gaze was pulled away from the waterspout. ["How did you get free?!"]

["Like so,"] he replied as Prince Wales raised his wand, manfully resisting the urge to snap his fingers. The prince probably wouldn't find it amusing, even if it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance for the kind of misdirection that stage magic relied so heavily upon.

Louise gasped again as the air-cage imprisoning her faded away. But before she could say anything he took her by the hand and lead her into the trees.

Her third gasp was one of delight. "Your Highness!"

"Low voices," Jason cautioned. "We need to figure out how to get Her Highness out of there. And break her out of her trance, 'cause until we do she's a liability for us and an ally for that thing."

"That spell is Monsoon Asylum," Prince Wales stated darkly. "Our half of it is presently known only to myself and my father. How did they force him to cast it?"

"Because he's a draugr, now," Louise replied quietly, with a sad frown. "Reconquista must have recruited an orc that lost its tribe."

"Overpowered spells shouldn't be a problem, now that you've joined us." Jason gave the waterspout a quick look – once-king James was still up at the top. "We should start by breaking through the Monsoon and getting her Highness back, right?"

"Breaking through?" Wales repeated. "With the air supporting it, the water is as hard as steel. And even if you somehow made it through the layer of water, you'd be thrown out by the layer of air."

"Oh. But, you're here, so, can you dispel it?"

The prince rolled his eyes. "If Queen Marianne were with us, perhaps."

Louise looked thoughtful. "What if you brought Henrietta out of her trance? Jason was able to reach me, after all."

"And how did he do that?" Wales replied.

"I got inside her head and begged her to come out of it," Jason responded. "But that . . . you're both here, maybe you can do it just by talking to her. The draugr seemed to have used that as the lie to put her in a trance, that it was bringing her to you."

"I hope so." But then Prince Wales shook his head. "Nonetheless, if I try while she's behind the Monsoon Asylum, she'll be my father's hostage."

"Shit, that's-" An idea popped into Jason's head. "Okay, the draugr's distracted, and Henrietta's part is the water. If you can't take it down, can you give it trouble? Turn it into something that the Kiss will protect me from, if I can crash through the water?"

"I . . . possibly. But the water will not yield for you."

"Yeah, but-" He turned his head to grin at Louise. "Exploded water shouldn't be as strong. Cast a spell on it, right before I hit it?"

His little mistress blinked. Then scowled. "Asking me to fail a spell on purpose-!"

"Your familiar's plan might work," Wales interrupted. "And if he fails, with their dragons already dispatched we've lost nothing important. Let us make the attempt."

Louise looked doubtful – and still a bit annoyed – but nodded.

Jason holstered one of the revolvers, since he'd need a free hand to grab the princess, then wrapped the Kiss a little more tightly around him. As soon as Wales began casting he charged.

Right before he reached the waterspout, Louise cast her own spell, and the portion of the Asylum in front of him splashed, water splattering all over him. Then he hit the waterspout itself.

It hurt, like belly-flopping into water from 20 feet up, but the pain was remote. Something to ignore now and attend to later. It didn't even start to slow him down as he once again scooped up the (now suddenly drenched) princess.

Her concentration disrupted, the waterspout splashed outwards as the controlling winds collapsed. Wales and Louise were already dashing across the clearing, but Jason only had time to take a single step towards them when a deep thump shook the ground behind him, and a pair of icy hands took hold of him.

Aw, shit, not again. Of course, it was a solved problem and the point was to get Henrietta away, so he shoved her in Wales' direction before the draugr could throw him aside and reclaim her. We're sorry, but your princess is with another Tudor.

But this time, once-king James wasn't content to hold him still. One hand held him in place, while the other wrapped around his chest, the icy arm holding him in a crushing grip that was making it hard to breathe, if his own arms were free the draugr didn't seem to care, and Jason found himself in the embarrassing position of being the once-king's cover as the draugr brandished its wand and began launching spells at the others.

Bullshit! How does he get to hold us still with just one arm! This is hax! HAX! But the universe didn't seem to care, he couldn't get a good breath, and no matter how he waved his arms he couldn't get any leverage.

"Give over, boy. Your allies will tire long before I do," rasped the voice of the draugr, unlovely and gravelike once more.

It could be right, dammit! Okay, things are desperate, even if the royals are willing to leave us behind Louise might not be, so we gotta figure out something to keep her safe. Gotta figure anything. Can't hurt it, Butterfly would have killed anyone else with a wound that deep but it barely paid it any attention, so what can we possibly-

Wait a sec. Butterfly didn't bounce off. It isn't invulnerable, just indifferent to trauma. But what about-?

The positioning was awkward and he really need to get some air, but his best chance was to-

The once-king's wand hand slowed, just for the instant required to finish a spell and aim it, but that was long enough for Jason to fire his revolver. And that close, it was all but impossible to miss no matter how much he needed to breathe.

He could feel the draugr stiffen in shock as the bullet smashed through its wand hand, and then he fanned the trigger with his other hand, once-twice-thrice-!

The wand of the once-king dropped from the tattered wreckage that had once been a working assembly of flesh and bone.

The other three cheered, but once-king James roared and the icy hand that had held Jason rose up, still gripping him, and flung him at the closest tree.

Darkness.

["Jason!? Don't be dead, Jason! Please don't be dead!"]

How-?

Everything hurt. But he found that he could move, and once again the pain was something to ignore. Especially while his little mistress needed him.

["I'm still here, Louise."]

He rose to his hands and knees, then coughed up something that splashed red on the dirt below him. Is that blood? That's not . . . no, don't worry about it. Water mage. Win this and Henrietta will fix us.

He looked up. He couldn't have been out for long. The draugr had passed him by and was slowly advancing, wand in its remaining good hand. Louise and Wales were backing up, and pulling her Highness with them, each trying to rouse her and counter the once-king's spells at the same time.

They were beginning to look a bit tired.

Dammit, when we find whoever set up this boss battle . . . letting that thing use magic is OP. We need to shift parameters again.

He raised one hand, but it was shaking, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to hit the draugr's other hand. Not without getting close. And if he did, it wouldn't give him time to pull the same trick.

But maybe he didn't need to.

["Louise, I need you to get ready."]

["Jason? What?"]

["You're only going to have a heartbeat, so get ready. When I act, I need to you put an explosion into the draugr's hand."]

["My explosions make him stagger, but they aren't hurting it."] And somehow the hurt from hearing the shame in her voice managed to cut deeper than all the physical pain he was in.

You will find your confidence, little mistress. ["Don't cast an explosion at its hand, Louise. Into its hand. Like the pebble, that first day. Get ready. You'll know when."]

He forced himself to his feet . . . and for a moment, as his vision swam, thought he was going to pass out. But he didn't, even if his approach to the once-king was less a charge and more a lurch. Two hands would be best for this, but if he holstered the revolver he was holding his power would end and he'd definitely pass out, but dammit at least he was moving.

But not particularly quietly, and the draugr whirled to face him. Its eyes blazed, glaring at the revolver that had maimed it, and it raised its wand with a snarl.

Jason lunged, desperate to get his free hand on the once-king's left arm . . . and fell to his knees just at he got a grip on his target.

["Now!"] His hands came together, revolver and undead flesh pressed between them, and it wouldn't be more than a moment before the once-king contemptuously tossed him away once more-

But Louise was ready, for that brief moment the once-king's hand was still, and she'd grasped the difference that Jason meant, for flesh and ichor and bone flew everywhere as the once-king was unhanded.

Then the draugr roared again.

Jason couldn't quite figure out why he was lying down again, only it hurt too much to breath, and everything was dark, and-

Oh. We're face-down. Even rolling over was agony, but now he could get tiny sips of air into his lungs, and-

He got his eyes open to see his little mistress standing over him, snarling in utter fury, casting spell after spell at some target that had to be dodging like a bat out of hell, from the way her aim kept shifting-

The draugr's still up, then. At least it's not going to be casting anymore. She'll nail it eventually. We'll just lie here and let her handle it.

But even as he was thinking it, Louise slowed and sagged, wiping sweat from her forehead as Prince Wales came up beside her and began casting his own spells.

Aw, shit, does that thing still have the endurance to outlast both of them?

If it did, they'd need help. Jason bit back a scream as he got back to his knees, coughing . . . yes, that was definitely blood. A lot of blood.

"Okay," he rasped. Standing could wait for a few moments. "Draugr, so we – need to get – its head off. Forget hurting it. Any way you – could just hold it – still?"

"Hold Person only works on the living," Louise told him, kneeling down and doing what she could to support him. And he wasn't going to say he didn't need help, keep staying up on his knees was starting to prove tricky.

"What about – Levitate? You use it – all the time – to carry people. Don't you?"

"Not unwillingly!" Wales got out, then went back to casting.

"He's right," she agreed. "The draugr would have to hold still, if only for a moment or two."

"And he's not – going to – do that. Right." Jason groaned. "For the record? Melee sucks. Help me up."

"Help-?! What do you think you're doing?!"

"Not like he'll – hold still – on his own. But if – I hold him-""

"You idiot! Can you even stand?!"

Then a rush of warmth suddenly flooded through Jason. The pain receded, if only a little bit, and it didn't feel like his legs were about to collapse out from under him.

"He can now," Princess Henrietta said as she came up from behind. Talking and casting and on their side, Wales had broken her free! "And I'll help hold that thing. But this won't last long, Jason. You need true healing, and soon."

"You're not wrong," he agreed, wincing when the process of getting to his feet proved that the spell wasn't helping as much as he'd like. "But we gotta win the fight first, Highness. Zap me again?"

She shook her head. "Mother warned me about soldiers like you. You'll rip yourself apart if you can't feel the damage."

"Never been a . . . whatever. Time to get going, then." He waved one hand around the clearing. "Louise, there's a sword somewhere around here, that air cage spell tore it from my hands. Gonna need it once the draugr's contained. Find it, please?"

She gave him an appalled and disbelieving look, but nodded.

Then Jason turned to the ongoing duel between prince and once-king, the draugr darting around the clearing and obviously looking for any chance to spring at them. Even without his hands, that thing's tough enough to win any leverage contest. How can we possibly hold him still-?

"Highness, let him come over here."

"What?!"

"You need him to hold still. I'll be the meat shield. Let him come!"

Prince Wales didn't reply, but his spells did cease as Jason staggered out in front.

And the draugr sprang forward, clearly intent on casting him aside and getting to the royals behind him-

But even as the arms of the once-king closed around him, Jason bent over and grabbed it around the waist, and picked it up.

"Now, you guys!" The once-king was already twisting in his grasp, limbs raking across his back – but then ground was no longer beneath his feet, and the two tumbled over as the Levitate took effect. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of the prince and princes standing side by side, wands out and moving in unison.

It had worked, but now he was caught with what amounted to a micro-gravity zone with a super-zombie.

Doubt a draugr's trained for zero-gee combat, though. Can we figure it out first? The enemy's gate-

But then Louise was there, clutching the sword he'd asked her to find in one hand, and her wand out in the other, and her Levitate gripped him and gently pulled Jason away from the once-king before he could even try.

She set him down on the forest floor, and started to offer the sword, but then hesitated.

"Little mistress? Oh . . . I must look a fright."

Louise winced. "We'll get you cleaned up." Her gaze steadied, and she handed over the sword. "Go. Finish this."

"By your command." He turned back, and saw that the two royals now had the once-king stiff as a board, hanging in mid-air, looking straight down and thus unable to glare anyone into a trance again.

But just going up and hacking the thing's head off didn't seem entirely right. It had been a king, once. "Your Majesty, I cannot say I like the circumstances of our second meeting."

Then, before he raise the sword to strike, a tired laugh came from the draugr. "It turned out well enough for you, I think. Better than for the monster who bound me."

Jason froze in surprise. "You know who you were? Even though you've fought us all?"

"I am bound, commoner."

"Then . . . why talk now?"

"Why not? My son and his beloved will tire soon, after all, so all I must do is distract you all until I am freed to carry out my orders once more."

Jason blinked. Was the once-king trying to- "Huh. Okay, in the interests of distraction . . . got any interesting gossip? Truths that we'll be willing to waste time to hear?"

"The monster gave me to the orc demon, then pulled me back and bound me to flesh and bone and her terrible will. She planned to force the secrets of my Throne from me, but this chance to capture Tristain's future and an Heir to Brimir was too good to pass up, and so she didn't have time to interrogate me."

"Familiar!" Wales called. "I can't hold this much longer."

Pity, that sounded like the start of something fascinating. But if they didn't have any more margin? "Right." Jason raised the sword, then swung carefully, and the head of once-king James separated cleanly from his shoulders.

Then he grinned an exhausted grin at the others. "That was some interesting sabotage your father did there. Think it might be all real?"

"Sabotage?" Prince Wales had a peculiarly disturbed look on his face as he approached his father's corpse.

"He warned us not to let him go. I doubt the 'monster' would have wanted that. Negotiate? Yes. Remind us that there was a time-limit before he was free again? No, probably not."

"And you wonder if rest was true as well?"

"If he was creatively interpreting orders as much as he could? Might be. Which means whoever sent him may not know you're alive, or where your Relics are."

But then the warmth that had sustained him suddenly vanished, and Jason's legs promptly gave out.

Henrietta was there the next moment, shaking her wand in his face. "Mother was right. Soldiers like you just won't pay attention to how hurt you are, no matter how much pain there is."

"I said I'm not a soldier!" he protested. "New auxilum, just got it today. It seems to work if I'm holding a weapon."

"Then let go of that sword and that pistol!"

"Can you take care of some of the damage, first? I'm worried about how I could react when it ends."

Her eyes narrowed. "Jason! Let. Them. Go."

He sighed. "Yes, ma'am." Oh, this is gonna suck!

And of course, as soon as he did his heart sped up and felt like it would burst out of his chest, and suddenly he could barely breath, and his vision was going black and-

And then the worst of it was swept away in a tide of cool, soothing almost-wet across his body. Henrietta frowned as she finished casting. "You almost died from your wounds, just now. You're going to need to be careful with this auxilum in the future, Jason. If only for Louise's sake."

In the future. Yes, because his little mistress was a target for somebody, and he'd have to kill – oh, god, he'd killed at least half a dozen men that night, he'd lopped off King James' head when the man was helpless and all he'd felt was satisfaction-!

"Turn him!" Henrietta shouted, and three pairs of hands did exactly that as Jason threw up.

"That was the reaction of an unblooded recruit. How could he fight for so long-?" Prince Wales wanted to know.

"Maybe it was part of his auxilum?" Louise's voice was worried, but comforting for its presence as she gently Scoured his mouth clean.

"He prayed to his people's war-god shortly before this skirmish began," Prince Wales offered. "For the fortitude to face combat even unto death. If that war-god is real, perhaps it's a Fury."

"Perhaps it's both. Brimir is merciful, and who is to say that it would be forbidden to one of his Furies to bless a faithful heathen who serves a mage?" Henrietta's voice was grown cool, detached, and professional. "But the battle is over. I need to put him out so I can fix the worst of this."

Cool-and-wet swept over Jason, and he went with it.

The first thing that Prince Wales Tudor, rightful Heir to the White Isle and now Lord of the Throne of Air had done, after the battle, was to secure his father's twice-desecrated body. The head could not be permitted to rejoin the rest of it, Louise had warned, or else the draugr might revive.

Hopefully Headmaster Osmond would know some means of undoing the curse on King James' corpse, so that they would not need to burn it. One day, Brimir permitting, his father would be interred with honor among the Tudor forefathers. Until then, he would curse Reconquista daily for the blasphemy they'd lowered themselves to perform, the torment they'd inflicted upon his father's spirit rather than allow King James to rest in his proper grave.

That task accomplished, he kept his face carefully expressionless as he watched his beloved work to save the life of Louise's commoner familiar.

Partly because it was best not to disturb her in her efforts. The familiar had endured blows that would prove fatal if not treated, and the skill of a medica (as Henrietta was presently performing the role of) was not merely in knowing her healing spells, but also in how to cast them, to ensure that the patient healed despite wounds that the damaged body itself would not know how to recover from. To guide cracked bone, torn muscle, and ragged flesh to their proper places so that they would not heal awry. It was best if there was no disruption during that delicate process.

Still, it was also because he wasn't certain how he ought to feel about the commoner. Who, were he awake, would almost certainly fail to appreciate what a signal honor it was to be personally treated by the Crown Princess of Tristain. The man was insolent and uncouth, and worse yet he all-too-often failed to be amusing about it. In sooth, he reminded the prince of the back-hill farmers of Albion, who lived close enough to the Caledoni clans to catch some of the highlanders' lack of deference and respect for their rightful King.

But who were also shrew enough that it was unwise to ignore them entirely as beneath royal dignity, when they chose to speak their minds.

(If there was any good coming out of the impending royal marriage, it was that his beloved would be spared the particular trial of trying to govern them. Thank Brimir for small mercies, and hopefully they and Reconquista would choke on each other in the following months.)

And Henrietta was his beloved, even if he hadn't entirely known it until he felt the sting of the rumors of her betrothal and impending marriage to Atma Tharoor, Crown Prince and Heir to the Imperial throne of Germania. (And all around boor!) For all that she was diverting company in their youth, back then he hadn't thought of the future enough to see her as more than a beautiful diversion, even if he had found it a delight to be diverted by her once he'd stopped being a child and started becoming a man.

But now it was vexing, the realization that soon another would come to know her enthralling curves more intimately than the kisses and caresses the two of them had exchanged in their illicit trysts. Indeed, it pained him more than he was willing to utter, to contemplate another (and especially a brute of a man like Atma) brought to ecstatic fulness by a mouth that had proven so soft and gentle, but also so daring! And then that man would plunder secrets that Prince Wales had been denied on that last night at the lake, when they'd suddenly been interrupted and he'd nearly been caught with Henrietta.

(Of course, he'd planned to reclaim that lost opportunity as soon as possible. The slatterns among those who served the Lords of Air were always willing enough to serve their princes, but they were no comparison to the beauty and enchantment of his princess. But then Reconquista rose up and there was no time to hold a royal ball, or even to cross over to the continent and attend one . . .)

And he'd been in a dark mood indeed, when he'd heard of the next Tristain royal ball and had been unable to attend. It hadn't been deemed safe to travel, and there'd been too much to do anyway, even for the third son of his father. So he'd done his duty, and brooded over thoughts of other handsome young men vying to catch his princess's eye.

But his ill temper had been alleviated by the letter that had arrived shortly after, which had chided him for his absence, describing in lurid detail everything she'd been waiting for him to do, her frustration at him not being there to do it, and concluding with quite thorough instructions on how he would need to make it up to her the next time they met.

And then, afterward, they hadn't been able to see each other at all.

Until now.

The promise of womanhood that had already shown so sweetly in Henrietta's figure back then had been fulfilled. Wales had seen glimpses of that during the fight, but even when he'd been talking to her to break her out of the delirium imposed by his father there hadn't been time to properly take in the fruits of her maturity.

But there was more than enough time in the present, as she hurried to save a life that admittedly had had no small part in saving hers.

And if an unkind, biased, and clearly unfair observer might have accused him of ogling like an ill-bred commoner lout, both his beloved and Louise were too busy in their concern for the latter's familiar to take note of where his eyes might wander, or whether his countenance had any resemblance to a lost traveler's in Rub' al Khali's desert upon spotting an oasis.

Then Henrietta lowered her wand, sagging slightly and taking a deep breath.

"Will Jason be well?" Louise quickly asked, sounding rather more anxious than any noble should over the matter of a commoner. Although perhaps it was understandable, given that the commoner was also her familiar.

"It would have been easier if he'd been cut," the princess replied, taking another deep breath. "Being slammed into the ground like that . . . bones are governed more by Earth than by Water."

"But he will be well, won't he?!"

"Yes, I think so." Henrietta slowly got to her feet. "I had to be careful, there was so much damage hidden under skin that merely seemed bruised, but he should recover, and without being crippled, either."

"Thank you!" Louise shot to her feet and embraced the other girl. Then: "You made Agnes stronger, didn't you? Would there be any way to do that to Jason? So he doesn't get hurt next time?"

"It's not a matter of one spell," the princess replied. "It would take time, and-"

She paused, looking embarrassed. "I must confess, I made Agnes stronger than I should have."

"Who's Agnes?" Wales asked. "And what do you mean, about her being too strong?" Because as he had reason to know, when it came to the clash and confusion of mêlée, there was no such thing as 'too strong'.

"Agnes was my personal guard, and will be again, as soon as I can arrange it." Henrietta replied. "And so I thought to make her stronger than any man, as a surprise to anyone who sought to lay a hand on me.

"She became clumsy after each treatment, which she remedied through hours of practice. But then she started to grow short of breath when she exerted herself, and finally broke her arm during a spar. So I sought answers, and found that I ought to have been treating her with spells of Earth, Air, and Fire, to toughen her bones, increase her wind, and improve her nerves. Until I remedy my error with her, she must avoid exerting herself to her fullest."

Louise frowned. "Is there any way to do it all at once? With a potion, perhaps?"

"A potion sounds like a good solution," Wales agreed. "I'd be interested as well."

"It's possible," the princess conceded, although she didn't sound certain. "The spells I found haven't been used for generations. The modern treatments . . . you don't want him to end up like a Germanian Imperial Sentinel, do you?"

The emphatic shake of Louise's head sent her pink tresses bouncing. "Of course not! Jason's value lies in his cleverness, after all."

"I thought not. And I can't just adapt the spells I learned to a recipe, either. You need different spells for men and women, and they have to be applied with care. A potion would need to be brewed specifically for Jason, and no one else." Then Henrietta looked over to Prince Wales. "Or for you, or any of your followers who underwent treatment."

"Hmm." It was well known that people who lived on Albion grew a bit lighter – and more fragile – over the generations. A matter of their bones aligning away from Earth and towards Air. "I would still be interested. I am at war, after all, until Reconquista is driven from Albion." And bringing it up with Headmaster Osmond was an obvious thing to do, as soon as he returned to the Tristain Academy.

"She'll find something at the Palace, I'm sure." Then the youngest Vallière knelt back down and touched her familiar's face. "He's still unconscious. Will he be well?"

"His breath hasn't failed, so I'm sure of it," Henrietta confirmed in reassuring tones. "He'll awaken in a little while. But he may be disoriented, so you should stay with him, to reassure him if necessary."

Louise nodded gratefully.

Their only chaperone would be occupied for the time being? No time to lose, then, so Wales offered a hand to his princess, and smiled warmly at her as she rose. "There are matters we must discuss," he said. "Now would be best, if you're willing."

"To discuss?" Henrietta repeated, with a smile full of mischief. "I suppose we must, yes. Louise, you'll want to stay with your familiar, of course." She did not let go of his hand.

"I-" the tiny rosecrown began, but then stopped and sighed. "Of course, your Highnesses."

The smile on his face widened, and with a smooth casting of Levitate the prince of Albion and the princess of Tristain were quickly away.

Wales knew exactly where he was bringing her, to the clearing that his father had known of. And by the catch in her breath and the tightening of her hand in his, as they sped past the trees, it had not taken Henrietta more than a few moments to realize it herself.

"Father invited you here to meet with me," he murmured as they slowed and landed. It had been . . . Brimir, the last time he'd been here was that first hidden tryst with her, when they were still barely more than children and had no inkling of what they were about! But everything remained much as he recalled, as he pivoted and pulled his beloved into a tight embrace. "I thought it would speak ill of Our house if I failed to uphold his-"

He found himself cut off as her arms wrapped around him, one rising to his head to pull him down to unite his lips with hers.

"You destroyed my letter," Henrietta said with an adorable pout, once she released him and they pulled back for air. Then, throatily: "I spent so much time, trying to write it perfectly, but I can only remember most of how it went-"

He bent back down and recaptured her lips for one enchanting moment, before his hands sought the clasp at the front of her cloak, and then back around to where the ties secured her dress. Hands that had learned to undo dresses meant for a royal ball, and so had no trouble with clothes meant for sneaking out of the palace.

"Don't worry," he told her, low and urgent and almost growling. "I remember it all, word for word."

The night had fallen entirely, leaving the cherry thicket illuminated only by a faint Volitat, just barely enough to see by.

In that dim illumination, a princessly cloak had been spread out, and floated a few hand-spans above the forest floor. Two pairs of royal legs, entirely unclad, dangled from one side, while their respective owners snuggled together in post-coital bliss.

Princess Henrietta was the first to speak as their euphoria slowly banked. "If this is what awaited us," she murmured, "then perhaps we shouldn't have feared being caught at the lake."

"Do you think they would have permitted us to stay together, then?" her lover asked, as he stroked her hair. "I thought otherwise, or else I would have stayed."

"There would have been no end of lectures, I'm sure, but you are a prince," she pointed out. "I could've argued that I was seeking an alliance with one of my station, rather than the one of the many rakes at Court."

Then Henrietta smiled impishly, and looked at him with an expression that made him want to begin all over again. "But Louise would have been in even greater trouble, so it might have been best if I'd seduced you even earlier."

Prince Wales started, pulling away slightly. And if he was no longer basking in the warmth of being pressed against his lover, at least he had a better view of all her disheveled beauty, gleaming in the light that floated above them. "Earlier? We were young enough as it was, at the lake. How long were you-?" He broke off, shaking his head.

Her smile widened. "Don't you remember me demanding that you teach me how to kiss?"

He blinked. "I was . . . you were twelve."

Henrietta shrugged. "And? I'd already decided that I was in love with you when I was eight, anyway."

"At eight?!" Wales sputtered. "How could you – you weren't even – who told you about this in the first place!"

She giggled, then shifted so that they were once more pressed together. "Not like that. I didn't learn about this until later, and I had to go behind Mother's back to learn, at that. I just knew that I loved you."

He chuckled ruefully. Then froze as a memory suddenly surfaced. "Wait! You were very nearly nine when Louise . . . and the blueberries-!"

Henrietta flushed and looked away. "I didn't . . . I'd heard some gossip," she mumbled.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I didn't know what they meant, I just like blueberries, so I got her to-"

She waved her hand vaguely.

Then pouted as Wales started to laugh, and punched him lightly in the chest. "It's not that funny."

"Dearest cousin, I must disagree." He captured her hand with his own, raising to his mouth to kiss her palm and make her twitch. "So why only make me kiss you, if you knew enough to want more by twelve?"

Henrietta replied by stroking his chin, then down his neck and chest, to snake over his waist and cup delightfully against his hip. "I didn't. I wasn't ready for this, but I can't help but think that if we'd gotten caught before Reconquista arose, and if they'd made us marry or even just become betrothed? Then perhaps we could have helped, and Albion would never have fallen.

"And," she looked down shyly. "I may have been much too young at twelve, but with everything you showed me at the lake, perhaps I wouldn't have minded so much."

"Ah." It would probably be a bad idea to ever bring up that he'd found it more of a chore than a pleasure to kiss her at that age. She had been merely twelve, after all, and his lust had been directed towards those who'd already blossomed into the maturity of womanhood.

Not that it had stopped her from chasing him down repeatedly and forcing him to practice kissing her. Henrietta could be remarkably persistent when she wanted something, and she'd kept it up every time they'd met until she'd matured enough to begin to be desirable as a woman. After that, of course, there'd been no more need for her to chase him.

"I must confess," Wales said instead, "that I hadn't known what to do when I was fifteen. Richard and Henry woke me up early on my sixteenth birthday, and told me how to go on properly with a women, so that she'd welcome me back to her bed. As a present."

"So when I was thirteen, then."

"Perhaps." The slatterns had seemed appreciative of his newfound prowess, at least.

"And then at the lake?"

"I had no intention of stopping then," he replied. "Not with you encouraging me onward! I only fled to avoid the trouble of discovery, and because I thought we would have more opportunities in the future. Instead-"

He broke off with a resigned sigh, then leaned over to kiss her. "I'd thought to find you at the Sleipnir Ball, although I later learned you hadn't attended. So this has been our first chance . . . but were you ready, at the lake?"

"I thought I was," Henrietta told him. "You know how put out I was, that you fled before we were done." Then she smiled, trailing a finger across his chest with her free hand, and it was his turn to shiver. "And then I read about the Royal spells of Air, and their effects on the endurance of the Lords of the White Isle. I've wondered ever since: How true are the lurid claims in those tomes?"

"True enough!" Prince Wales growled, pressing against her for a moment to demonstrate the state of his endurance. Then he paused. "But is there time? Should you not return to Bruxelles before you're missed?"

She shrugged, the movement of her unclad torso firmly redirecting his attention. "They think that Louise and I retired early, and with Agnes reassigned there's no one permitted to look in on us and violate our modesty." Then her mouth twisted. "Save Mother, of course, but she's been feeling poorly since the news of the fall of Albion reached us."

He nodded soberly. With the news of his father's death . . . but he did not wish to waste their time together brooding, so Wales then began a series of light kisses that began at the corner of her mouth, heading down her neck and then . . . below.

Which was worth the doing for its own sake, but the happy gasp of his beloved made it all the sweeter.

"And!" Henrietta eventually managed to utter. "I've long – enough! – to patch myself up. Once more, or, or twice! – won't make it . . . any harder to – fix!"

As delightful as it was to know that his ministrations were having the desired effect on her, the end of her sentence was enough to make Prince Wales pull back and scowl.

"Don't stop!" she protested, face flushed and almost panting. "What's wrong?"

"You'll fix yourself up tonight, and then that slimy concubine's bastard will tear you open later. I doubt he will care enough to be gentle or patient."

"'Patient'?" Henrietta quoted, her eyes suddenly narrowing. "What do you mean, 'patient'?"

"I-" Wales gaped, suddenly realizing he'd forgotten some of the advice his brothers had given him. Never to admit that going on with a woman properly meant restraining the urge to seek the peak of his own pleasure until his lover was roused and ready to reach her peaks.

"It's not you," he hastened to reassure her, trying not to stammer. "It's – we have to fight ourselves, to-"

Then he noticed that Henrietta was doing her best not to laugh at him, and he sighed. "You already know all about it, don't you?"

"I've known the seals to sneak into Mother's private library for years," she replied, her delightfully impish smile returning. "The spells that my family have accumulated on the subject were worth many a blush, but they did serve to warn me of the . . . difficulties." She gave him an arch look. "And the solutions, if those difficulties arose."

"Ah. The advantages of Water." Prince Wales smirked. "But I've not noticed you casting, so I presume that we've had no such difficulties tonight?"

"Presume as much as you please!" Henrietta urged. Then her smile faded. "But don't worry about my discomfort, please. He won't be able to hurt me. Not much, at least."

His scowl returned. "I still don't like it. We should have-"

"But we couldn't," she interrupted. "And Germania was the best choice. You wouldn't like what Gallia demanded when I first sent out ambassadors."

"Then don't tell me." He sighed. "We couldn't, but we should have nonetheless. Then this wouldn't have to be hidden."

His beloved princess nodded sadly. But then smiled determinedly. "But at least we aren't the only ones with a secret to keep!"

Prince Wales blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't you remember how fierce Louise was, standing over her familiar and holding King James off?" Henrietta's eyes twinkled. "And now we've left them alone together. So irresponsible of us!"

"Louise and that uncouth-!" He boggled, then burst out laughing. "Beloved, as diverting as the thought may be, I saw her with her fiancé, when they visited Albion. She was as sweet and demure as anyone could ask, and . . ."

He trailed off as his lover's expression became exceptionally impish. "What?"

"'Sweet and demure' is how Louise acts when she's around her parents and hoping to avoid their displeasure," Henrietta replied. "Don't you remember what she's truly like?"

"That was when she was a child-" Wales began, before breaking off and frowning. The youngest Vallière had always had a mutable temper, it was true . . . "You think she might have . . . but he's a commoner! Worse, he's her familiar! That's just . . . that's sick!"

She sighed. "Earlier this spring I pledged myself to another man, and now I've given myself to you instead. After that betrayal, do you think we have any right to condemn her?"

"That's not-!" But it was, strictly speaking. Even if his dear cousin should have never been forced to lower herself to agree to marry an Easterling heathen, she had, and if their up-and-down were ever discovered, there would be Hel to pay.

He sighed. "I take your point. But I would never have expected Louise to lose her regard for Jean-Jacques. Especially not for some overgrown barbarian commoner."

"He helped her find her magic, when no one else could," Henrietta gently pointed out. "You know how frustrated she's always been. And if she's never admitted it, I'm sure the thought of being declared inexprimé has haunted her. Could anyone blame her for being grateful?"

"Yes, but to prefer her familiar over Jean-Jacques? The Lightning himself?"

She sighed again. "Captain Wardes has been sharper with Louise than I would have expected, these last few days, and over the danger that Reconquista poses to Tristain." His beloved hesitated, then continued. "I've written to her about some recent discoveries of Reconquista plotting in Bruxelles, and even in the Palace, but the Captain does not believe any such plotting is taking place."

Prince Wales frowned. "I'd be inclined to trust Jean-Jacques' judgment, ordinarily. And surely a few days of arguing is hardly sufficient to undo a lifetime of devotion to him."

"Devotion to the dream of him, you mean," Henrietta corrected. "Don't you recall how gentle he was with her, when they were introduced to each other? That's what Louise remembers, and I've not seen Captain Wardes exhibit that gentleness that she was looking forward to."

He grunted. But it was nigh-impossible to conceive of an insolent, uncouth, and over-sized barbarian heathen realizing the need to be gentle with a women, so there was no need to imagine someone like that deceiving Louise into sullying herself with him.

"Not that I expect anything to come of it," his beloved went on. "I was always the one who had to encourage her in mischief, after all."

"I remember," Wales replied dryly. "Perhaps it's a good thing that she wouldn't have had anyone like that at the Tristain Academy of Magic. Especially since she was always the one punished!"

"That did seem unfair, I admit." Henrietta looked sheepish for a moment. "But she was always willing when I came up with a new idea, so I don't think she minded too much."

"And how will you encourage her now?" Because it almost sounded as if his dear cousin would prefer that Louise have a torrid affair with her familiar, and that couldn't possibly-

"Oh, she'll marry Jean-Jacques once she leaves the Academy," she replied, which was no small relief. "Jason is a commoner, after all. But she's happy around him, something I could never quite manage after she proved to have so much trouble with her magic, so I owe him gratitude for that. And if there were any chance that his heritage was inexprimé rather than purely common, and could therefore hope to sire children with magic despite her difficulties . . . but as it is, her parents would never approve."

Well, if Louise was happy around her familiar, then for all his shortcomings he was providing the companionship that familiars were intended for. And if . . . Jason had ever attempted anything improper then she surely would have corrected him. Besides, she was always dreamily sighing over Jean-Jacques, so being sweet around her fiancé was not a sign that she was sneaking around on him with anyone.

Well, aside from Henrietta. As he well knew, when those two were together there would be mischief afoot.

"I shouldn't like to risk her parent's wrath, myself." He admitted. And it was another welcome reason not to worry about Louise, if they hadn't felt the need to deal with her familiar. "If even half of what's been written about the Duchess is true-"

Henrietta interrupted with a merry laugh. "Hardly!" she corrected him gaily. "Duchess Karina detests those books, for all the lies told in them. But while Mother won't talk about it, I've gathered that what truly transpired was even more fantastic than what Herr Dumas wrote of."

Prince Wales blinked. "More fantastic? Even when the vampires licked-?"

"That I don't know about," she interrupted again, this time with a shake of her head. "Most of what I know is from Mother's diaries, and the Heavy Wind refused to speak to her of that incident."

She paused, then: "And I wouldn't know even that much, if Mother were more careful about the seals on our private library. Even when she thinks to change them, it never takes more than a few days before she's careless enough that I can find them out."

"I see." Then he gave her a lecherous smile. "You're certain there's time to see you to the palace safely? To prove my endurance again twice over?"

His dearest Henrietta gave him a sultry smile in return, reached out for him, and for a time there was no more need to speak.

He didn't want to wake up. The last two times it had hurt, because the draugr of once-king James had been annoyed about losing its hands. And Jason had taken more damage trying to hold the super-zombie still, and he wasn't holding any weapons, so once he woke up he was going to hurt even worse and he wasn't going to be able to ignore it.

So he did his best to pretend that he was still unconscious, so that the pain couldn't find him and make him hurt again.

Although if we're awake enough to want to pretend to still be out, shouldn't we already be awake enough to notice the pain?

Which was all too plausible, but . . . he didn't hurt. Not really. Just some soreness, faded aches pulsing slightly in time with the slow beating of his heart. In fact, despite the slight discomfort, he felt warm. And welcome. And precisely where he needed to be.

No, that's wrong, we need to get back to the Academy before Wales has time to wander off with Henrietta, and she and Louise-

Jason's thoughts cut off as he realized what the slight weight pressing at his side had to be. His little mistress, and she hadn't ever canceled the summons that had allowed him to home in on her.

He cautiously opened his eyes. The evening had faded into night, but the light of the moons was enough to see by in the clearing, and Louise was indeed curled up against him. Even snoring a tiny bit, drool just starting to trickle out the side of her mouth, looking as adorable as he'd ever seen her.

Except we need to go pee, so we need to get up without disturbing her nap. Good thing she's a heavier sleeper than we are!

But she must have only been dozing, because as soon as he started to shift her eyes popped open.

Their gaze met, and for a moment she froze-

"I'm so sorry!" Louise wailed, throwing her arms around his neck. "You tried to warn us again and again but we were so excited to hear he was still alive and we didn't realize-!"

At this point she broke off to bury her face into Jason's shoulder, and shook with suppressed sobs.

"I'm fine," he told her reassuringly, stroking her hair. Then he paused. ["Or I hope I am. Was her Highness able to fix everything, or am I looking at permanent damage somewhere?"]

["She said that you'll recover completely. But you still almost died!"]

["But I didn't. And even if I had, once you and Henrietta were free then Wales could fly off with you if he needed to."]

His little mistress stiffened. Then she lifted her head to glare at him with tear-filled eyes, her hands moving to grip his cheeks.

"You-!" she began, leaning in menacingly and shaking him for good measure.

But then her scolding ended as quickly as it had started, for – and this time it likely was a true accident – she'd leaned in so close that their lips brushed, and that contact made Louise freeze again, her eyes widening.

For a moment, Jason froze as well. But his little mistress wasn't pulling away. So he reached up to cup her cheeks with his hands. And when she didn't flinch at his touch, he pulled her in, unresisting, to make it a true kiss.

And he couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph when her hands softened and she seemed to almost melt against him.

Finally she pulled back, gasping for breath. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide and slowly blinking. His hands followed, still cradling her cheeks as if stuck to the source of heat, and-

"Well. I shall have to do my best not to die in the future, little mistress," he told her softly.

His reward was a giggle and a relieved smile.

"But you were their prisoner, until we arrived. So, are you okay?"

Louise blinked again, her hands sliding down his face and neck to rest on his shoulders. Then she flushed darker, and her eyes narrowed. "You – am I – am I-!"

Her assault followed faster than he could react, and Jason tried not to yelp as her teeth sank into the fleshy part between collarbone and neck.

She was still flushed, and panting with equal parts relief and rage, when she finally let go to glare at him once more. "Not even Father is mad enough to try to grapple with a draugr!"

"Ah-haha," he laughed, a bit nervously. "It seemed like the best idea at the time."

Her glare intensified. "Three times!"

Three? Well, if you count when we were getting Henrietta out of the waterspout. "Letting it use its wand didn't seem like a good idea. And we did win, in the end."

Louise gaped for a moment in disbelief. "You think you-?! We only survived because King James didn't want to kill us! The orcs don't turn prisoners into draugr, they do it to their champions! If it had been someone loyal to Reconquista it would have ripped you apart in heartbeats!"

Jason blinked. That thing almost destroyed us, and now you're saying it wasn't really trying? His heart chilled. If whoever ordered this had known what he was doing- "Let's be thankful that it wasn't loyal to its maker, then."

She kept up the look of furious disbelief for another moment, but then sagged, her forehead ending up pressing against his.

"And how are you feeling?" she murmured, her lips almost touching his own, their heat and the tiny puffs of air from her words tickling the tiniest bit. "Mother and Father make sure that recruits get drunk after they're blooded, but-"

"Not the best idea for me," he agreed. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "'Ah, Mary pierced with sorrow/Remember reach and save/Each soul that comes tomorrow- that came this evening/Before the God that gave/Since each was born of woman/For each at utter need/True comrade and true foeman/Madonna: intercede!'"

He opened his eyes to see Louise pull back slightly, blinking.

"What was that?" she asked.

"A part of a longer poem. A Hymn Before Action, by Rudyard Kipling." Jason took another deep breath. "Tonight has been a time for it, and if some of the Reconquista raiders thought they were serving a righteous cause . . . we should all pray for mercy, on that great and dreadful day with our lives are weighed and our souls judged."

She paused a moment, before slowly nodding, and when he reached up to cup her cheek again she relaxed into his hand, letting him guide her down to meet his lips once more.

After a long moment of that, she broke off and slid down to rest her head against his chest.

He stroked her hair again, but then twitched. Wait, how much are we wearing?

There was fabric underneath him. His shirt, it proved when he looked over his shoulder, apparently having been removed while he was out. But his pants hadn't been removed, at least. Presumably the healing spells worked better with nothing in the way, and we were coughing up blood. Eh, can't complain, and with the jeans on we're close enough to decent.

Besides, if we've still got more belly than we'd like, Louise isn't complaining right now.

"I'm not throwing up again," Jason went on, "so that part's good. You'll have to ask me tomorrow about my dreams, I haven't had a chance to have them yet. Might need a drink yet, but I'd rather wait until you come back to the Academy, so you can keep me out of trouble if that's needed."

"Mm," she responded, her tone one of agreement.

They were both quiet for a moment, as he continued to stroke her hair. Then: "And what about you? Do you need a drink?"

Louise shook her head, still buried against his chest. ["Mother trained us for that, how to react to kidnappers. How horribly wrong it can all go, how it's worse than anything we'd ever read about, and how it'd get even worse than that if we let ourselves be taken. She made Eléonore and even Cattleya practice for months so they'd react correctly if someone ever attacked them.

["And she always told me she'd train me when I was older and stronger – when I had a familiar and my magic finally started working – but they didn't have to wait that long! I was so jealous that I practiced on my own, pretending to cast against bandits. Except I couldn't even make anything explode back then, so I was just the useless, worthless, dead weight, troublesome-"]

Jason winced as she started the list of adjectives. Quick, derail!

"Well, now I know how much trouble you can manage to get into," he began in a teasing tone.

Then: "Ow!" Note to self: Be careful about teasing Louise when her mouth is next to our bare skin. Male nipple pain is real, and we are apparently crunchy and good with ketchup. "I'm just kidding, little mistress! You did great back there. We probably would have lost if you hadn't gotten its other hand."

"I only-"

Then she cut off, and he looked down to see her blinking slowly. "I, I did help, didn't I? Not just as a distraction when you were down and Prince Wales was trying to wake Henrietta up. I truly did-"

She broke off again, and he smiled crookedly at her.

"Yeah, you did. I don't think it'd have let me shoot its other hand off, and it probably had a counter for everything his Highness could cast. You were needed for that fight just as much as they were, and don't you dare tell yourself otherwise!"

Louise's return smile was almost blinding in its brilliance.

"Also," Jason went on, "you were the one who knew how to kill it. Your Dad had to fight a bunch of them, I take it?"

She nodded, and lay her head back down against his chest, but there was a sense of lightness to her that there hadn't been before. "The orcs had been creeping into our duchy for years by the time Father married Mother and finally returned home. He's been campaigning against them for as long as Eléonore's been alive."

He raised an eyebrow. "Returned?"

She nodded again. "Father had a terrible fight with Grandfather before he met Mother. I think it was about pledging fealty to Tristain, but Mother and Father don't like to talk about it. Anyway, after they agreed to marry they decided that the fight didn't matter anymore, so Father made peace with Grandfather and took Mother home with him.

"Only Grandfather had been wasting away for years, and my uncles were all dead by then, which is why the orcs had been creeping in, none of our old retainers had been willing to risk campaigning against them to root them out in all that time. So even though Mother and Father were officially retiring, they've had to campaign against the orcs all our lives to make the duchy safe."

Didn't Mr. Colbert say something about that yesterday? The Vallières bending the knee to Tristain because Germania was pressing up against them? Sounds like touchy family history, though. Good thing there's something else to focus on. "I think I remember you once saying something about the rising generation not taking orcs seriously? Sounds like your Dad's done a good job, if they can get away with that attitude."

"I suppose."

"And I'm sure he'll be impressed that you helped get a kill on a draugr in your first battle. Speaking of which?"

"Mm." Louise took a deep breath. "Orcs often leave angry ghosts when they die, so they give their dead to an underworld heathen goddess named Hel to keep them away from the living. Father says that what they call their necrolytes means 'gravecaller', or at least that's as close a translation as anyone can get.

"But a gravecaller doesn't have to give their dead to Hel. Sometimes they bind their champions to return to their bodies and walk again. Draugr are a blight on the land, and too many will make the very soil wither, but they're also far stronger than any living orc, and orcs are stronger than men."

"Yeah, I got that part," Jason replied, shivering at the memory of once-king James' chilling strength, all but crushing the air of out him when the draugr had used him as a literal meatshield. "If they're proportionally stronger than their mortal forms, I can't blame anyone for keeping out of their reach."

"Three times!" Louise grumbled again. "You'd better have learned your lesson!"

He smiled. "Well, if we have to do it again, let's find out what happens if you put an explosion into a draugr's neck."

She looked thoughtful, then dubious. "They move awfully fast for that."

This time, he chuckled. "Well, there's your incentive to practice. Get fast enough with your aim and I won't need to throw myself at one to hold it still for a moment."

Her head shot up, and she glared at him, but finally sighed. "You'll insist on trying to protect me even if I order you not to, won't you?"

"Seems to be what I do." Then Jason paused. "Now, I do need to ask, because the word that's getting translated shows up in a wide variety of legends among my people, so it's best to avoid misunderstandings here: How hard would it be to make peace with orcs?"

Louise stiffened in apparent shock.

"I mean," he quickly went on, "they'd be lousy farmers unless some of the weird legends apply, but if they could learn to herd pigs and cattle-?"

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" she erupted, interrupting him. "Orcs think a peace treaty just means they can't get caught eating the children they capture in raids!"

"Wait, orcs eat-!"

He broke off as a loud rustling signaled the approach of someone, and Louise sprang off of him and to her feet as a bush parted at the edge of the clearing and Prince Wales and Princess Henrietta entered through it, hand-in-hand.

The prince looked slightly bemused. "Your familiar doesn't know of the unsavory habits of orcs?" he asked.

"They're nothing more than stories where I'm from," Jason pointed out as he slowly got to his feet. The bruises were nothing more than aches, but his bones felt . . . creaky. A bit brittle. Like they could stand to be immobilized for a week or so before he had to do anything vigorous.

Good thing the action seems to be done, he thought as he eyed the pair of royals. Not much of a surprise that they'd avoided Levitating back. The shadows under the trees were pretty deep and that witchlight spell didn't seem to provide that much light unless it was overpowered. And that maybe also explained why the two were holding hands as they'd returned from wherever.

Except that Wales' expression had the smug cast of a groom who'd thoroughly pleased his bride, Henrietta had the blushing radiance of the bride so pleased – she practically outglowed the moons overhead! – and there was a faint odor coming from the two that suggested that whatever deodorizing magic had been at their disposal, those poor spells had just had too much to handle.

"So," he started, "I'd normally offer congratulations, but the important question is, how have things changed?"

Prince Wales gave him a narrow look. "What do you mean, familiar?"

"I mean that there is – or was? – an upcoming marriage with the Imperial Heir of Germania. If that's no longer the case, well, maybe I don't need to know, but Louise and her parents do."

Princess Henrietta winced, and her lover scowled thunderously.

"No one needs to be told anything!" he snapped. "We'll take care of everything with all due discretion. And you will remain silent-!"

"Yes, he will!" Louise interrupted in quick agreement.

"I wasn't planning on bearing tales," Jason confirmed, "but you two need to get that under control before anyone else sees you, 'cause anyone looking at you right now could tell that you just had your wedding night."

"Our-!" the princess began, before blushing even darker and pulling her hand from her lover's. Who did not look any happier at that.

"Jason," his little mistress began sadly, "you can't-"

"When it's just the four of us, and I already agreed to keep the secret back in Albion?" he countered. "Granted, not as big a secret as it is now, but-"

He shook his head. "And like I said, I wish I could offer my congratulations, 'cause not every guy gets clued in enough to give his woman a joyous first time. But all in all, and I say this with an eye towards the extra helping of heartbreak you've just laid up in store, I'm really thinking it ought to have been Mr. Colbert along as the magical heavy instead."

"Instead-!?" Wales began thunderously. "I knew where they were headed!"

"Yeah, but I was the one who could get updates. And then Louise became the cardinal direction of my internal compass, and we wouldn't have found them without that." ["Speaking of which, it's a bit distracting. Any way you can turn it off?"]

His little mistress gave him a tiny nod, and closed her eyes for a brief moment. The pull in her direction faded, and he gave her a brief nod back in acknowledgment.

"Plus I was the one who brought the warning in the first place. So, your Highness, care to revise your claim?"

The prince glared, opened his mouth-

"Your Highness, if I may?" Louise interrupted. "Jason, why did you tell me that Prince Wales was poisoned and dying?"

"He told you what?!" Henrietta exclaimed. "And how did he tell you? We never received any letters, and after you said that you couldn't use his senses I did some research into intelligent familiars."

You did? "Find anything interesting? We've been fumbling along on our own, here." Not that we won't read Familiarity of Thought as soon as we have the opportunity, but if there's anything else-

The princess gave him a level look. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"No, I'm genuinely curious." Jason sighed. "And we've been working on communicating through our bond. Still can't share senses, but we're now at the point where we can talk to each other."

"And you felt it necessary to lie to your master?"

He flinched. "Wasn't quite a lie. His Highness was poisoned. I just had a trick to get the antidote directly into his blood. And the Requiem Mask made it so that he was on the edge of death when we left Albion."

"It's not the first time Father has tried to send me away to ensure my survival," Wales said quietly. "This time . . . this time Newcastle was going to fall before I could return. Better to let Reconquista think me dead while I prepared my return."

Henrietta turned a suddenly hurt gaze on the prince. "And better to let me think you dead as well, then? I had to learn of your survival from a Reconquista trap?"

It was her lover's turn to flinch. "Familiar, I believe it falls to you to explain."

Jason stared for a moment, then rolled his eyes. "I see how you earned the title of Valiant," he replied, more than a little sarcasm present in his delivery.

"But you presented the initial arguments." Prince Wales smirked, just a tiny bit. "The credit surely belongs to you."

"Credit or not, I think I am owed an explanation," Princess Henrietta said sternly. "Now, if you would."

Jason sighed again. "Fine. Highness, we needed your reaction to your cousin's death to be genuine, because of the Reconquista leak in the palace. Same reason the letter was a problem: Their best bet to conquer Tristain is before Germania's might protects this country as well. Also, if a love letter is a problem, an affair has to be an even bigger problem, and you've proven able to show up at the Academy. Unless you got caught last time?"

She shook her head. "No, I returned the pegasus before it was missed. But Captain Wardes has been vigilant, and reports that he cannot find any such spy."

"I'm sure he knows his business, Highness, but Louise can confirm that we were harried by some remarkably determined bandits when we reached La Rochelle. Men fanatical enough to face death by Fireball more than once. Whoever arranged those attacks had to know that we were doing something important, and had enough time beforehand to set it all up. So I'm pretty sure the good captain has missed someone in his security sweeps."

Henrietta gave Jason a narrow look, then turned her regard to her companion. "And when would you have let me know of your survival?"

Prince Wales grimaced. "Headmaster Osmond made a very persuasive case that I should wait until you were married. I'm just a beggar prince now, after all, for all that I'm the only Lord of Air left."

Her voice went flat. "And you were willing to go along with that?"

"Is it different from the letter you sent with Louise?"

The hurt was back in her gaze. "I wasn't going to let you think me dead!"

"No, but he was going to be hiding close enough that you could come visit," Jason interjected. "And Eros mocks Mars, and makes Jupiter his fool."

She gave him a perplexed look. "Who mocks who?"

"That didn't-? Dammit." He sighed a third time. "Heathen gods, worshiped long ago. Passion, War, and Kingship, respectively.

"Passion makes Kingship-" Henrietta broke off, flushing. "That isn't-!"

"Isn't it?! I'm sorry, but it's pretty obvious that you weren't able to keep your hands off each other."

"Don't presume to judge!" Wales snapped. "Louise, your familiar has been far too insolent!"

The diminutive rosecrown looked miserable, but didn't reply.

"Louise?" the princess asked tentatively. "Don't worry, you won't get in trouble this time-"

"That's not the point!" she snapped back . . . then covered her mouth with a horrified look.

Henrietta winced. "But you don't need to worry-"

"Yes I do!" Louise replied emphatically, lowering her hands to give her childhood friend a telling look. "I was supposed to chaperone you two, but then I had to stay with Jason, and, a-and-"

Her hands, now at her sides, clenched into fists. "Y-you weren't s-supposed t-to b-be alone w-with him, b-but a-as s-s-soon a-as y-you w-were y-y-you w-went a-and-!"

His little mistress broke off with a piercing scream.

Huh. As clueless as we were in the beginning, we never made her that furious.

Jason waited until she'd screamed herself out. "The thing is," he then said quietly, "you each made the decision to be responsible for the sake of your kingdoms. It's not something my people have to do anymore, we've elected our kings for a few hundred years now, but other lands where people have to give up their true loves for the sake of obligation have all sorts of stories about how that goes wrong.

"Choosing to be responsible like that? Giving up a beloved after you've spent time nurturing your devotion? It's the kind of strength and bravery that many people can't manage even once. It didn't seem fair to ask you to do it twice, or face-to-face."

Prince Wales suddenly had an odd look. As if he were startled by something but didn't want to admit to it, perhaps. Princess Henrietta's expression was more open: Anger chased bitterness and was pursued by shame. And all was replaced by surprise when Louise suddenly went over and gave her a hug.

"Perhaps it would have been a kindness, not knowing the truth until I was wed and bearing my husband's child," the princess finally said, sadly. "But I cannot regret knowing the truth, and here is a command: By your loyalty to my vassal and friend, do not lie to me again. Not even to spare me grief. Do you understand?"

Jason bowed his head. "By my loyalty to Louise. Very well, unless she commands otherwise."

Henrietta nodded regally, then gave her lover a look. One he understood well enough, for Wales then pulled her into his embrace, where she shook silently, weeping tears but unwilling to utter her sobs aloud.

"I can see how the carrion eaters will clean up the kidnappers after they've been rendered down and scattered," Jason noted, once they'd looted the bodies and Princess Henrietta took the opportunity to practice Twisting Edge on them. The body of King James lay next to said loot, awaiting a more dignified disposal, but- "So what are we going to do about the dead dragons?"

"I shall send a message to Agnes," the princess replied, pausing for a moment. "She'll figure out how to remove them before dawn."

He nodded. ["Would there be any point to asking for dragonhide armor?"] he then sent to his little mistress. Because even if wind dragons weren't quite the epic powerhouses that made dragonhide some of the best armor you could get in old school D&D-

Louise blinked. Then, with a quick glance at Prince Wales, stepped over to Henrietta and whispered in her ear.

The prince looked displeased at his lover's announcement, but grunted acceptance after a moment of reflection. "Better if they could be returned to Harjall for proper disposal, but the apothecaries of Bruxelles will appreciate their windfall, I am sure."

Princess Henrietta nodded. "And it will be helpful to have a purse that the Regency Council has no knowledge of."

After that it was a matter of flying the girls as close to the city walls as they dared, before returning to pick up the body of King James and then flying back to the Academy.

Which they did in silence.

He's been kinda prickly since . . . dammit, since we told him off for a letter he never sent. Jason, you idiot, if we'd handled that with even the slightest tact we wouldn't have thrown away a chance at a royal ally! IDIOT!

"Which tower?" Prince Wales asked abruptly, as they approached the Academy.

"Over there," he replied, pointing. "Not the first one, but the tower after it."

The prince grunted, and soon landed on the indicated roof.

But Jason hesitated before dismounting. "Your Highness, there's something-"

"If you have some idea of convincing me not to meet Henrietta again," Prince Wales coldly interrupted, "I shall not hesitate to fling you over the side of the Academy walls!"

"Even if I did, I'm sure Her Highness would come to the Academy to visit you soon enough." He shook his head. "No, that ship's sailed. The best thing I can do is help you keep the secret, so with that in mind, I'd like to give you a way to speak with her that can't be intercepted at all."

The prince looked skeptical. "You have a means of sending messages superior to emblems? That seems unlikely."

Jason shrugged, doing his best to hide his annoyance. "Believe me or not, as you please. You've got a wand, so you can always smack me around if you feel insulted by what I've got."

With that he started down the stairs. After a moment, the sound of footsteps behind him indicated that His Highness's immediate curiosity had won out over skepticism.

Said skepticism lasted until the pair of windup radios were pulled out and their use demonstrated.

"And you say they will send their invisible signals all the way to Bruxelles?" Wales finally asked, once he'd finished taking notes.

"They should," Jason replied, giving the oversized radios a bit of a stink-eye. "I kinda went overboard when I bought them, 'cause I was planning on going to a place called the Outback. Complete wilderness, famous for dangerous wildlife, and I figured I'd need the range if I got lost. Shoulda waited until I actually went there, they've done nothing but take up space that I could have used for other stuff, but they're here and someone ought to get some use out of them. Might as well be the two of you. Just be sure you both have privacy spells up when using it."

"I shall give one to my dearest cousin when I next see her," the prince confirmed. "But why, after so clearly disapproving of our affair, would you offer this? Some belated attempt to curry favor?"

"No, damage control. Too many birds to the Academy and she'd probably draw attention, but her Highness knows privacy spells, and I'm sure she makes use of them. So using these shouldn't create the context that would lead a Reconquista spy to wonder if she's taken a lover. Or the Regency Council, for that matter." Jason paused. "And I dislike the notion of having to marry for political reasons, so I wish-"

He broke off and shook his head. "Never mind. You can also use it to coordinate building up the army of partisans you'll need to retake Albion. You'll know better than I how to rally the refugees coming out of the White Isle, I'm sure."

Prince Wales grunted, took the radios, and left without another word.

Which was fine, since Jason wanted nothing more than to get out of his clothes and collapse into bed.

And after nights like tonight you gotta figure that the French Revolution had a point. Except they botched it so badly that they ended up killing each other, and then Napoleon became Emperor. And Robespierre is a telling example of what happens when we nerds think we're in charge. Dammit, if we didn't know from history that Reconquista can't help but be worse, now that they've drunk the cup of conspiracy and treason . . .

"Bloody damned nobles," he muttered. "If it weren't for your magic . . ."

But his exhaustion carried him off before he could get very far with that thought.

A/N:

New Spells: Monsoon Asylum – the name is mine but this royal combo spell, which requires a WaterX3 Triangle and an AirX3 Triangle, is canon. Although it wasn't King James who cast it with Henrietta, in the original story.

Volitat – provides illumination, presumably an improvement on Light.