There had been vague, half-formed impressions of being carried, of being lifted, of feeling a horse beneath her. Of galloping hooves, and speed, and Gunther's voice in her ear, telling her that they were going home. There had been a dim, unsettled concern about Dragon. Where was he? Was he all right? Why wasn't he here?

And now she was being lifted again, lifted down this time, and there were running footsteps and torchlight and voices shouting and bits and pieces of questions and answers – "Gunther, Gunther!" and "Did you find her?!" and "Is she all right?" and "Fetch bandages and ointment, warm water too; quick!" and "Oh, Jane, no!"

She thought she heard Pepper's voice, and her father's. There were snippets of other conversations as well, words flying all around her as she was carried indoors – "Cuthbert doing now?" and "How many answered the call?" and "Message to the queen?" and "Yes I am going back, of course I am going back!"

Those last words were Gunther's, and they sparked a dull, sick fear in her.

One of her arms was caught, trapped between her body and his, but she raised her other arm and balled her fist against his shoulder, clenching it in the fabric of his shirt as if by doing so she could hold onto him, keep him close to her.

She felt Gunther falter in his gait; felt his arms tighten around her almost convulsively. Then he was moving again, even more quickly now. "Jane," he murmured. "Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

She nodded her head where it lay in the crook of his arm; cracked her eyes open, seeking his face. Then she was being eased down, turned at the same time, so that a second later she found herself flat on her stomach on a slightly yielding surface. She tried not to let go of Gunther's shirt, but she lacked the strength to hold on when he disengaged.

"Gunther!" Panic took her and she half-whispered, half-croaked his name, trying to push herself up again. Her body was having none of it. A wave of vertiginous pain swept her from head to foot, and for a moment she was sure she was going to start retching again, for all that she had nothing left to expel. She groaned and curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her middle. She was still shivering; harder, now, in fact – now that Gunther had let her go; now that she was deprived of his warmth.

Then he was there again, strong hands and a steady voice beside her in this room that was too loud, too bright, and far too cold. She managed to catch one of those hands – warm and calloused and familiar from a thousand training sessions with wooden practice swords – and held on; felt him lace his fingers through hers and squeeze back. Some of her panic subsided. Wherever he was planning to go, he couldn't very well leave so long as she had a firm grip on him.

For a while her consciousness ebbed and flowed like a tide, waves of grey dragging her under for a minute, two, five… and then she'd struggle back to awareness, back to the solidity of Gunther's hand clenched in her own. Voices broke and receded over her like waves on a beach.

Eventually she felt the soft thing that Gunther had wrapped her in – (cloak, she thought groggily, it must have been his cloak… now it will be all bloody, and he loves that cloak) – being unwound; tugged free. Losing its warmth felt like dying.

There were more hands on her then, pulling her gently but insistently out of her fetal position, straightening her. Peeling and cutting away her ruined clothing. She gave a choked cry when the shreds of fabric were stripped free of her ravaged back, to which they had become glued by blood. Gunther's hand tightened on her own.

"Ungh, no... Guh – Gunther… make it stop!" It was strange; she hadn't let herself cry out when the lashes had been given to her, but she couldn't seem to stop herself now. She was home, her guard was down, she was tired, so tired… and she couldn't hold herself together any longer. She tried to wrench free of the hands that were causing her such pain, but to no avail. She didn't have the strength.

"Jane, you are bleeding," Gunther murmured beside her. "Your back has to be cleaned and bandaged. It is almost done." A second later, when another sobbing cry was torn out of her, she heard him snap, "Damn it, Pepper, do you have to hurt her like this!?"

"I am sorry, Gunther." Pepper's gentle voice floated down to Jane. She sounded shaken almost to the point of tears. "It has to be done or infection could set in. I am being as careful as I can."

Then another blast of pain ripped through her and for while, things went dark.

OOOOO

The next thing she was aware of was Gunther pulling his hand free of hers.

"No," she rasped, tightening her fingers, but to no avail. A second later he was gone.

"Gunther!"

"Shh." She forced her eyes open to find him kneeling beside where she still lay, face-down, her vision obscured by her hair, which had fallen across her eyes. He pushed it gently back, smoothing it out of her face. "Jane, you are safe. Pepper is looking after you, and there is something I need to do. I will be back as soon as I can."

"No…" He hardly looked fit to cross the garden, much less embark on the dangerous errand that she suspected he had in mind. His face was drawn, his eyes tired, grim… but determined. "Gunther –"

"I will come back to you, Jane. I swear it. Now rest." And then he did something so extraordinary that she would wonder, the next time she woke, whether it hadn't been simply a product of her overwrought, fevered mind.

He pressed his lips to her temple, briefly, but hard. It sent Jane reeling.

And before she could even fully process what he had just done, he was gone.

She panicked. Shoved herself upward despite her body's immediate protestations. A quick glance around revealed that she had been placed on a cot in the small alcove off the kitchen that Pepper had inhabited before she'd married Rake and been granted more spacious – and private – accommodations.

Apart from her, the alcove was empty.

"Gunther!" She tried to shout, but it came out as little more than a hoarse whisper.

She swung her feet over the side of the cot, registering as she did so that her entire torso was bandaged now, nearly from shoulders to hips. Outside in the courtyard rose a sudden clatter of hoofbeats.

Gunther!

She knew it was a mistake to try to stand. She was aware enough of her own body that she knew it beyond doubt.

She tried anyway.

And then the floor was rushing up to meet her, and everything went dark again.

OOOOO

She woke to the sound of soft singing and the sight, when she opened her eyes, of Pepper in the kitchen, stirring something in a large bowl with her baby on her hip. Watery pre-dawn light streaked the room dull grey.

Jane was back on the cot in the alcove; someone must have lifted her onto it because she distinctly remembered collapsing to the floor right before she'd passed out again. She clamped down on a groan as she tried to sit up; Pepper heard her anyway and hurried over.

"Oh Jane, you are awake!" Pepper put the baby on the floor where he sat and gazed solemnly at Jane with his mother's selfsame large, dark eyes. "How do you feel?" Pepper asked anxiously. "Are you in very much pain? Is there anything you need?"

"Water," Jane croaked. She was parched.

"Oh, of course!" Pepper fairly flew across the room and returned with a cup of cold water. "This is why Gunther brought you here," she said, handing it to Jane, "to the kitchen, I mean, instead of your own room. So that there would be easier access to clean water when we were bandaging you, and to different ingredients for poultices, and… and oh Jane, you had us all so frightened last night!"

Jane lowered the now-empty cup. "I am sorry, Pepper. I –"

"Do not dare apologize!" The force of Pepper's response was astonishing to Jane. "You have nothing to apologize for, you were put in a hideous position, we all know about it now. Oh Jane, I am so, so sorry for what you have been through. You must have felt so alone!" Pepper actually looked on the verge of tears.

"I… I do not understand," Jane said numbly. "No one was to know. I was told that no one was to know. How, Pepper? How do you know?"

"It was Gunther," Pepper said simply, as if this should have been the most patently obvious thing in the world. "He figured it out, and confronted the king about it right at supper! Jane, you should have seen him! He was like a madman."

OOOOO

So it was from Pepper that Jane learned of the events that had preceded her rescue. Pepper had been in the dining hall serving the young king when Gunther had burst in, Smithy at his heels, demanding to know where Jane had been sent. It had been the first Pepper had known about Jane's having gone anywhere. Cuthbert had flushed nearly purple and spluttered out that Jane's orders were between him and Jane, and that he had absolutely no obligation either to explain or justify anything to Gunther.

At which point, Pepper said, Gunther had actually advanced on Cuthbert, reaching for his sword as he did so. Cuthbert had shouted for Ivon and Theodore, who along with Pepper had been witnesses to the entire exchange, to seize Gunther – and Gunther had shouted back furiously that no one would need to seize him if Cuthbert would just tell him where the hell Jane had gone, NOW!

He'd then stood there glaring daggers at Cuthbert, breathing hard, one hand resting perilously close to the hilt of his sword, as the young king shouted, again, for him to be apprehended. Sirs Ivon and Theodore had looked from Cuthbert to Gunther to each other and back to Cuthbert again. Then Theodore, clearly disturbed, had said, "I was given to understand that Jane was sick in bed. If this is in fact a fallacy, then I for one would also like to know just exactly where she is."

And that was when the whole, sordid truth had finally come out.

"You should have seen Gunther's face," Pepper confided. "He went so pale so fast, I thought for a moment that he was going to fall down. I have never seen a man lose color like that. He looked… positively stricken."

A moment of stunned silence had followed Cuthbert's revelation – and then Ivon, aghast, had said, "But… do you not understand that you have killed the lass!?" This had been followed quickly by the slithery steel sound of a sword being unsheathed, loud in the unnatural stillness of the room.

Gunther had drawn his blade with shaking hands.

"No!" Instinctively, Ivon and Theodore had leapt in front of the king, reaching for their own weapons. "Gunther, this is not the answer," Theodore had said, trying for calm despite the fact that he was clearly shaken as well. "Drop your sword, now!"

"That is exactly what I intended," Gunther had spat, and to the astonishment of everyone present, had hurled his sword to the flagstone floor at Cuthbert's feet. He had looked from Theodore, to Ivon, to Cuthbert himself. "The highest directives of the Knights' Code are to serve one's sovereign with one's life, and to willfully do no wrong. I never thought I would see the day when those two directives would come into direct conflict with each other, but here I stand. I can no longer serve a king who would willfully commit such a heinous wrong. I am no longer this king's knight."

He had turned, made for the door, then stopped. Spun back. "I am going after Jane," he had virtually snarled, locking eyes once more with Cuthbert, "and God help you if she has been harmed. You know damn well what Edgar wanted her for; you knew it when you sent her. It is fortunate that your mother and sister are so far removed from this… fiasco you call a court. Given half a chance, you probably would have sold them to Edgar too."

Then there had been chaos.

Gunther's parting shot had been intended to enrage the adolescent king, and it had hit its mark beautifully. With what could only be described as a howl, Cuthbert had shoved past Theodore, grabbed for the sword on the floor, and lunged at Gunther. After that, Pepper became a little fuzzy on the details.

There had been a confusion of running, shouting, scuffling; Cuthbert had been restrained by Ivon, screaming for Gunther to come back, you coward, come back and say that to my face – but by then Gunther had been taking the steps to Jane's tower room three at a time, vanishing inside to reappear seconds later on the roof, Jane's Dragon Sword in hand.

A blur of activity had followed. Ivon barreling out of the throne room, shouting for runners; Dragon arriving, nearly taking out an entire section of wall in his haste, anxiety deepening to outright panic in his golden eyes when he'd realized that it had been Gunther, not Jane, who had summoned him. And then his rage when Gunther had appraised him of the situation in a few succinct sentences. The dead, black fury in Dragon's voice when he had swung his head toward the dining hall, speaking three short words only; "Cuthbert dies now."

Gunther risking his own life by throwing himself in front of Dragon, shouting that Cuthbert could wait, this was about Jane – Jane, Dragon! We have to get to JANE!

And through it all, Sir Theodore still in the dining hall, speaking quietly and earnestly to Cuthbert, who had collapsed back into his chair and had his elbows planted on his knees, his head dropped forward and cradled in his hands. When Ivon had stuck his head back into the room and bellowed, "Well!?" Cuthbert had nodded, just barely, once.

Theodore had looked around. "Yes. Send the runners. Sound the alarm. Summon every man who will come."

OOOOO

"So Dragon created a diversion at the camp while Gunther slipped in to find you, and the men of the kingdom are massing to attack the invaders at dawn," Pepper finished. "And now, Jane –" she stood and in the same fluid moment scooped up the baby, who looked on the verge of dozing off right there on the floor – "I think Ced and I will let you get some rest. You must not underestimate the importance of sleep to the healing process, you – what are you doing!?"

Jane paused in the act of struggling out of bed. "You said they planned to attack the invading camp at dawn."

"Yes…"

"Pepper! It is dawn! You cannot possibly think that I am just going to lie here while everyone else fights!"

"That is exactly what I think! Look at you, Jane, you cannot even sit up properly!"

"I do not care! I can walk this off! Pepper – Dragon is there! Gunther! Their lives are in danger! I have to go, I have to – "

"To what!?" Standing over Jane with her baby planted on one hip and her fist on the other, Pepper looked uncharacteristically formidable. "There is nothing constructive you can do on a battlefield, in the state you are in! You would only be a distraction to those who care for you; a liability, Jane! Is that what you want? Is it!?"

"No, but… oh, God." Jane's green eyes were beseeching. "Pepper… help me."

Pepper sighed. Placed the baby carefully back on the floor. "I am trying to help you, Jane," she said softly, sinking down on the edge of the cot. She put her hands on Jane's shoulders and pushed gently yet inexorably down, forcing Jane to lie back.

"I am trying to help you," the dark-haired girl repeated, "whether you want my brand of help or not. For once in my life, I am stronger than you, and I will sit on top of you, Jane, if that is what is required to keep you in this bed. Do you understand me? Now rest."

Jane opened her mouth to reply, but the truth was, she was incredibly drowsy in spite of herself. She had almost been on her feet a moment ago, and if she'd managed to get up then the momentum of that act might have propelled her on for a while; but now that she was lying down again the darkness was pressing on her. Heavy; insistent.

"Pepper, you… you do not understand," she whispered, marginally aware that her words were beginning to slow, to slur together. "I love… I love him. Oh, God help me… I… love…"

The darkness was claiming her. The last thing she heard before it carried her away entirely was Pepper's voice saying quietly, "I understand better than you think, Jane. Rake is there too, after all."