Chapter 11

No, I said sternly as I ripped my hand out of his grasp. Are you mad?

We are cousins! What would the church say of this union?

Not only that, I do not fancy you at all.

Raymon's face winced from my verbal lashing.

He stood up, seemingly trying to regain any form of dignity he still had before me.

"It is our only hope. We must stand united against this foreign threat. We must gain more allies, and with Sir Garfield's death, I thought…"

My face was shocked to hear him unravel the truth. I only told my spymaster.

"How did you come to hear of Sir Garfield's death?"

He paused.

"Speak!" I commanded.

"I took the other prisoner and tortured him for information. He told me everything I needed to know. I would've gotten even more information if you didn't order Sir Luke to befriend the other one."

"The other one is the reason why we still draw breath. It was his plan I executed. Had we treated him like a base animal, he would've never told us what we needed to know.

And now I hear you have tortured this man. What else did he tell you?"

I felt the rolling anger from my stomach boiling up, ready to be set free. I did what I could to hold it back.

Raymon's eyes darted back and forth across the room, looking anywhere else but my gaze. My face filled with damnation over his actions.

"You had no right taking my prisoner to torture. He was mine to do as I saw fit."

"I was looking for an advantage so we might keep our land and protect our people," he protested, speaking over me, thinking he was in charge, doing as he liked, as he saw fit.

"That, that right there and many others are precisely the reason why I will never marry you."

Raymon rebutted, changing his tone to a softer one.

"Would it be so bad marrying the likes of me? I am not vile. You are beautiful, and I am handsome. Even your best friend would love for me to choose her."

"You are arrogant," I said, "foolhardy and conniving. If she would have such qualities in her life ruling over her, then she can have you. I will not stand in the way."

The look on Raymon's expression was one of pure disgust and anger.

"But I can negotiate on our house's behalf better than the likes of you. Why would anyone listen to a mere woman?"

I smacked him across the face there on that balcony. My body still ache from the cuts and bruises, but the pain of my weakened body wouldn't stop me from expressing my anger in that moment.

His tongue knew no respect; maybe a smack across the face would teach it to him, I thought.

To be honest, the act was one born from mindless anger. It was below me. But I didn't care—his insult, after everything I've done, made it seem just to give him some inclination of pain to balance the scales of my grievance.

"You forget who you speak to. I am your Duchess."

He looked back at me, his eyes piercing, his teeth clenched shut and protruding, as if I was a piece of mutton and him a dog ravenous for his meal.

I should've known then what I'd done.

"My marriage will be a bargain with an ally worthy of taking my hand in matrimony. You are my vassal. It is your duty to serve me, the house head. Remember it; the sting across your face.

And speak no more of this marriage. We are cousins, nothing more.

You will learn to watch your tongue, or I will have you whipped. I will weather your slights today, but this will be the last day. Leave my sight before I change my mind."

My words were true, they were some of the truest words I ever said.

Raymon left as fast as he could, muttering to himself words I could not make out.

"One more thing," I said.

He stopped just at the top of the stairs. Not bothering to look back, he answered,

"What?"

"Bring the prisoner you've taken to me," I said in a menacing tone.

He turned and met my eyes,

matching my tone but far more evil.

"He is dead.

I ordered his head lopped off for standing idle while you were nearly raped."

I tried my best to not show any reaction to his unraveling of that moment. I would not give him the satisfaction of my anger—not any longer.

"You will speak to no one of what you have uncovered. Anyone who has helped you do this atrocity—command them to silence."

"Yes, my Duchess," he said, cold and stern, as he bowed and took his leave.

The night went on with celebration and laughter in everyone but me. I could not think of anything else but the coming years.

Pondering: who would help me? The church? My neighboring rulers?

Every day was of the essence. The celebration was on borrowed time, I thought—but needed all the same. Sir Luke never returned, probably off doing whatever spymasters do at this time of night, which was approaching midnight within the hour.

And before I knew it, I was giving the feasting speech to commemorate the victory and the dead that gave their life for us to live free from Islamic rule.

Their lioness did not disappoint. I was fiery and true that day.

As the barrels of wine ran dry and the people had their fill, Christine and I made our way to my carriage, treading back towards the Orwil estate for the night.

I could hardly drink alcohol like the rest of my people. I never truly had a stomach for the stuff.

Nor could I sleep—the road too bumpy and my mind too restless. Oddly enough, Christine never said a word. I thought she was drunk, but I knew that not to be the case. She was a messy drunk. I was there when she took her first sips of a wine from Ireland. Within the hour, she was slurring words, her legs hardly capable of walking. This was not the drunk Christine, but the concerned one. So concerned it forced her into silence, a rare event indeed.

"What is on your mind? It's as if you are now Duchess, with so much responsibility resting upon your shoulders," I said wittingly.

The silence persisted for a while until she finally broke it…

"You should've taken his offer. I would have," she said.

The eavesdropping wasn't that much of a shock to me then. After all, she was known to be an excellent eavesdropper. All my life she lurked around the corners, listening to conversation only to later gossip with me. An interesting quality she had since childhood that served up plenty of laughs along the way up until this moment.

"Like I told him," I said, "if you want to have him rule over you, go right on ahead. I will not be in the way."

"But he is strong and willing to rule. Why not just allow him? Let him do what needs to be done, and we can—"

"Can what?" My reaction was quick and harsh.

I cut her off, annoyed with the ramblings of this child in woman's form. I wondered to myself if I was this annoying a few months earlier. I couldn't have been. I could tell my gaze made her uncomfortable.

"What happened to you in Austria?

You've changed so much," she said, concern tethered to her tone.

"I am what war has made me, dear friend."

"I guess the lioness title or nickname is truly you now," she said with wit.

"I never asked for that nickname, nor did I ask for all of this responsibility. I've been doing the best I can since I heard the news of my father's death. Believe it or not, my father the Duke trained me and my brother. I will not roll over and bequeath my station just because I'm a woman. I have a duty, and I will see it through… and make him proud."

I could feel that anger boiling again, deep in my stomach, climbing up to my heart. So much that I didn't realize…

Christine gently reached out to catch the tears coming from my eyes. I didn't notice my tears.

She took them and licked her fingers, pulling me close, embracing me with a hug I never knew I needed.

I… I should've cried earlier. Of course, I cried earlier, but I couldn't truly cry. The pressure of command made me close my heart to such emotion. All that death on the battlefield—all those bodies stacked up on each other in carts throughout the town—it all had taken its toll on me, making my precious open loving heart cold.

"I'm sorry, Justine," she said, whispering in my ear. I held her back and said nothing for a while.

What were you even apologizing for? I wondered.

It wasn't her fault. The series of events…

She moved to comfortably sit closer, reaching her arm over my shoulders, putting my head to rest on her bosom. I flinched from my wounded left shoulder as she rested her arm around me. My injuries still rip. Under my noble attire, laid a bruise and tattered body so I didn't care.

I cried for real then…

I stayed there in her embrace, which seemed like it was forever. My tears soaked up by her beautiful dress as I sobbed uncontrollably.

"Sheeeh, I got you," she said. "Remember, stick by me and I'll stick by you."

I hugged her harder with my good arm, as she said my words back to me. I didn't know how much I needed her—my, my dear friend Christine.

The carriage came to a screeching stop, so much so that it jerked us loose from each other.

"Are you OK?" I said, concerned by the sudden thrashing about.

"Yes," she answered. Christine had been thrown onto the space between the seats of the carriage. The sudden shifted movement stopped my pouring tears as I wiped the rest of them from my cheeks.

"What is the meaning of this, driver?" I said. By this time, I had already gotten up and peeked my head out of the side window.

The sight shocked me.

A burning carriage blocked the path. I quickly climbed down out of the carriage to see truly for myself what was going on.

Christine, clearly shaken up, frantic over these events, tried to pull me back into the carriage.

"Justine, please come back inside. Let the driver deal with it." Fear and dread had taken her.

"It was just a burning carriage. Calm yourself. Everything will be OK."

Suddenly, a black hood was pulled over my head.

Hands strangling me from behind as I struggled. Before I could think to fight back, something blunt smashed itself into my right temple.

And I lost consciousness…