The number of people in the banquet hall was disconcerting, and the appearance of many of them was even more so. Though the leader of the invaders styled himself a king, and his followers an army, the reality was that the whole of the invading force was little more than an oversized band of displaced and disgruntled peasants, farmers and laborers hailing from some of the less prosperous lands surrounding Kippernium. To refer to them as… well, as any kind of organized fighting force, really, was too kind. Which was why Jane could not, for the life of her, understand Cuthbert's weak and cowardly strategy.
So it was true that the invaders had a small – well okay, maybe not so small – advantage in numbers… but in terms of equipment, organization, and basic military training, Jane was certain that the defenders of Kippernium could route these upstarts in a day. Oh, and a dragon. Mustn't forget the fire-breathing dragon. This made the tack Cuthbert had chosen to take unbelievably galling to Jane, as well as to others, she knew. Why, even if Kippernium were to be reduced to arming its own farmers and laborers to take on these glorified bandits, they should still be able to claim victory without undue difficulty – everybody knew that men who fought in defense of their homes, families and livelihoods would fight more fiercely than any invading force.
Glancing around the room, it was apparent that no one was having an enjoyable time except, perhaps, for the invaders themselves. Pepper was bustling back and forth with trays of steaming food, Rake at her elbow like a shadow, never allowing her to be more than arm's length away from him. Apparently he and Gunther were of a mind when it came to the matter of allowing the invaders to mingle with Kippernium's womenfolk.
Of course, Rake was Pepper's husband and had been for over a year; their infant son was being looked after tonight by Smithy in his room off the forge. Pepper being his wife and the mother of his child, it was Rake's right and obligation to protect her from any threat or harm, either real or perceived. Gunther had no such obligation to – and no such rights over – Jane.
Apparently, however, he saw things differently for, despite the sullen silence that had descended between them, he stuck every bit as close to Jane, as she made her entrance, as Rake was sticking to Pepper. Where on earth was this sudden protective streak coming from?
It might almost have been endearing – almost – except for the fact that it obviously meant – (what else could it mean?) – that he had absolutely no faith in her ability to take care of herself. And as such, she took it as a slap in the face. Hadn't she proved, over and over and over again, that she needed no man to look after her?
God, he was absolutely infuriating.
Death of me. That man is going to be the death of me.
Jane stopped walking so abruptly that Gunther actually knocked into her. Where in Caradoc's name had that thought come from? It was completely out of context… and sent a shiver running down her spine. She really was out of sorts tonight, and no mistake.
"Jane?" came the voice of her unwanted knight protector in her ear.
"Gunther," she hissed, "leave me be!"
When he responded it sounded as if he were forcing the words out from between gritted teeth. "Not. Tonight."
Her hands balling into fists, she made her way through the throngs of people, acutely aware of his presence beside her, coupled with the glances that were being sent her way by the glorified peasants that comprised the "elite" of the invading force. Many of the looks were undeniably suggestive, some bordering on downright lewd; and she hated hated hated that Gunther had been right about her apparently being an object of desire this evening.
She needed to make this torturous experience as short as she possibly could. With that end in mind, she wended her way toward Cuthbert, where he stood at one end of the hall, flanked by Sirs Ivon and Theodore. She would pay her respects to the king forthwith – after which she could hopefully beat a hasty retreat.
Unfortunately, such was not to be the case.
No sooner had she reached Cuthbert and dropped a curtsy, very nearly tripping over the hem of her thrice-damned gown as she did so, than the invading "king" himself approached through the crowd. She had seen him before on several occasions, but never in such close proximity. His formal attire was shabby and ill-fitting – probably stolen, Jane thought disdainfully – and he was preceded by a smell that she associated most closely with Smithy's pet pig.
It was all she could do to keep from wrinkling her nose in outward disgust. With an immense effort, she managed to school her face into a coolly polite expression as she allowed introductions to be made.
And then she realized, with ever mounting horror, that the main object of this man's interest – the reason he'd approached at just that moment – was not to speak with Cuthbert at all, but to be introduced to her.
With every passing moment, it seemed, this evening descended further into the realms of nightmare.
And there was nothing she could do, under the scrutiny of Cuthbert, who wanted everything to go smoothly tonight, but to swallow hard and feign interest in the lout. Daring a glance at Gunther, she saw that his jaw was clenched, mouth pressed into a hard line and hands fisted so tightly that his knuckles were white.
Jane wasn't sure she'd ever seen such suppressed fury in his stance… and for Gunther, that was saying a lot.
Just about every emotion he displayed seemed to Jane to be some variation on anger, after all – and usually directed at her. This, though… this was something new.
If the so-called king of the invaders was in any way perturbed by Gunther's silent, seething hostility, however, he wasn't letting on. Jane discovered that he called himself Edgar – right before he asked to escort her to the banquet table.
Jane opened her mouth to say – well, she hardly knew what, she was so far out of her comfort zone at the moment, what with the ridiculous getup she was wearing, Gunther's bizarre behavior, and the knowledge that she was currently being eyed by men all over the room much as a juicy piece of meat would be eyed by a pack of ravenous dogs. In the end she didn't have the opportunity to say anything at all, as Cuthbert exclaimed, "by all means, Jane, please do be kind enough to entertain our most esteemed guest!"
As she and her new escort turned away, Edgar's hand slipping under her elbow in a show of familiarity so distasteful that she had to fight herself to keep from flinging it violently off, she heard Cuthbert, behind her, say, "oh and Sir Gunther, I'll require your presence here beside me this evening."
She should have been glad to find herself rid of his unwarranted attention. So why did her heart sink and her stomach knot at those words? She threw a single, lightning-quick glance over her shoulder as she was led away, her eyes locking for just a fraction of a second on Gunther's. His dark grey eyes were blazing with an expression that could only be described as mute desperation.
The next hour or so was a test of endurance for Jane the likes of which she had never experienced in the practice yard, as she weathered Edgar's fumbling attempts at flattery, and tried not to gag at his smell.
It was as much as she could do to force even a few bites of Pepper's food down, though the castle cook had outdone herself tonight and under any other circumstances Jane would have found the meal incomparably delicious.
"– attendance tonight?"
Jane blinked and gave her head a slight shake, noticing as she did so that several tendrils of her notoriously willful hair were escaping the once-elegant knot she'd twisted it into.
She forced her attention back to the… man… beside her. "Sorry, what?"
"I merely remarked that you appear to be one of the only, if not the only high-born lady in attendance tonight. If I may ask, what is your position here, Lady Jane?" His eyes, a washed-out and somewhat rheumy blue, narrowed shrewdly. "Are you the king's intended?"
"Ugh, NO!"
She regretted the force of her answer almost immediately – it was just that the question had caught her so far off-guard. Cuthbert's intended!? What a plainly horrifying thought!
With effort, she forced her voice, both tone and volume, into a more appropriate register. "No, I serve King Cuthbert as a knight of the realm."
He just stared at her for half a beat, his mouth hanging open – and then burst into a braying fit of laughter, his fetid breath rolling over like a wave.
All right, that was it. She'd been polite long enough.
His laughter died in his throat as she got abruptly to her feet. ""Will you excuse me?" she said icily as he scrambled up after her. "I feel I need some air."
"Please allow me to accompany –"
"Thank you, but no. Stay and enjoy the festivities." Despite her best efforts, the anger and disdain she felt was beginning to creep into her voice. "They are in your honor, after all."
Much to her further annoyance, however, he kept pace with her as she stalked toward the door. "I apologize, lady, for whatever I have done to displease you," he said, as she paused on the threshold. He actually did appear genuinely confused. "Was I not meant to laugh at your jest?"
"You may laugh or not, as you see fit," Jane snapped. "I really do not care." She wrenched the door open – and stopped short as she felt, once again, Edgar's hand settle on her arm. This was not the feather-light touch he had used some time ago, however, which had been distasteful enough. This was a firmer grasp – a restraining grasp.
Jane stiffened, pulling a sharp breath in through her teeth, and whirled back to face him, hr green eyes now flashing. The invading king, however, seemed as impervious to her outrage as he had been to Gunther's earlier on. Before she could utter a sound he spoke again, his voice low and cajoling, and undeniably condescending.
"Come now, love, I told you I am sorry for whatever offense I gave. You do not have to tell me what position you hold at the court if you would rather not, Lady Jane. Now just listen for a moment before you retire for the night. I am going to be staying at the castle this evening, in a suite of rooms I am told belonged at one time to the princess. I trust you know where they are. If you were to see fit to join me there in a little while –" he dropped her a wink, the meaning of which could not be mistaken – "I could see to it that you would be… richly rewarded."
What happened next happened very, very fast.
A heartbeat's worth of time passed during which Jane processed that yes, she had in fact just been propositioned… and a bare instant later Edgar was on his back on the floor, with her foot on his throat.
"If I had my sword you would be dead right now," she spat, so furious that her voice shook.
"Jane! JANE!" That was Gunther, and he was approaching at a flat run, shoving guests out of his way left and right.
Cuthbert was following in his wake, still flanked by Ivon and Theodore, but where Gunther appeared to be motivated by his strange new concern for her, Cuthbert was apoplectic with rage.
"Jane, you step away from him, you step away at once!"
She complied, stepping backward and with the same fluid motion managing to block Gunther's access to the man on the floor by moving straight into his path and flinging her arms out to the sides, forcing him to stop short.
She did this without ever breaking eye contact with the man she'd taken down. She continued to hold his gaze, her heart pounding and breath racing, as Cuthbert pushed past her and extended a hand to help Edgar up.
"– apologies of the entire court, please be assured that she will be reprimanded –" Cuthbert was babbling on, tripping over himself to apologize to a man who would, Jane was positive, be perfectly happy to see the young king's head on a pike.
It made her feel like retching.
She couldn't stand to watch this travesty any longer. She whirled around and, shoving Gunther unceremoniously out of her way, fled the room.