Chapter Text
Of royal forge their hearts were fired
Hearts of silver, hearts of gold
Desolation’s bells have tolled
Our weary armies have retired
To crypt and tomb, for war is done
But peace shan’t rise on wing of dove
Until again two kingdoms love
‘Tween sunlit daughter and moonlit son
~*~
If ever she could catch a moment to herself, Jane would close her eyes and think back as far as her memory could reach. There, the world towered around her with glimmering parapets and golden ceilings, and a soft, pretty hand enveloped hers. Before that, there was nothing, and after that, Jane could not remember the touch of that hand on hers. After the land of gold there was the cozy villa of Crocker Hall, and the few who had decided to take residence in it. There was her cousin, Jake, who even then had been a silly and excitable sort, a defender against the imaginary perils of childhood. There had been Roxy – sweet, wonderful Roxy – who had seemed to spring out of the void of foggy childhood memories and boisterously take up as much space in them as she could. And then, lastly, there had been the Madame who watched over them. She was a good Madame, and while many who had never seen the likes of her before balked at her appearance, Jane never saw anything but beauty in her face. A Cherub, after all, was nothing to fear so long as they were mild-tempered. The Madame took care of their every want and need, teaching the children their letters and rhymes, and in the evenings, she would whisper promises of a bright future into Jane’s ears.
“You are a princess,” She would say, rubbing her knuckles gently along Jane’s back, “And someday you shall fall in love with a prince in an amethyst tower! And he will love you back with all he has. You two will ride into the kingdom of gold and turn it pink like pearls from the sea!” Jane would giggle and imagine this prince in his tower, and how every step they took changed the world from dark and sad to happy and bright. She hoped that he would like Jake and Roxy, and that he would make a good playmate in Crocker Hall. But these dreams were young, and she had never seen anything truly dark and sad – not, at least, until she turned eight years old. That was when the Lord came calling.
The Madame had warned the children of the Lord. He was the Cherub folks knew to fear, the one whose grin was more grimace than sincere. Still, he held himself high and noble as he discussed matters with the Madame, their tones hushed and guttural. Roxy had disappeared, so Jane had hidden from him with Jake, but in time he came to see the children.
“I like these two,” He told the Madame, “There is a fire in them. That I rarely get to see in such small humans. Let me take them to Derse.” Jane hated how stilted his speech was, and she frowned up at him in the hopes that he would change his mind. But it was no use; by sunset he had made a mess of Jane’s room, packing away her plainest frocks and the bare essentials needed for the trip. She remembered hurrying to the Madame’s quarters as fast as her little legs could carry her, and how the Madame scooped her up in her great arms and held her tightly.
“Ssh, little one,” She had said so long ago, “Ssh. I cannot deny him, or he would suspect the truth, and for that he would kill you.”
“Why?” Jane had asked, her throat choked from crying. That was when the Madame took her in her lap for the last time.
“Because you are the princess who will save his prince,” She said, “And he guards the prince very closely. He does not want him to fall in love. He wants everything to be bleak and terribly unhappy. But so long as you live, you can stop him one day.” In a flash of lime light, a beautiful pendant appeared in her hand, and she hung it around Jane’s neck. “This pendant is yours. It will help you, one day, to find your way back to me, and to save the prince, but you must not let the Lord know it is yours! Do you understand?”
It was the most solemn and serious moment of Jane’s young life. When night again lifted with the dawn, the Lord stuffed Jane and Jake into his carriage, and it rolled away, leaving behind Crocker Hall and all that Jane had ever known.
~*~
Back straight. Head lowered. Bend at the knees but keep your balance. Don’t crumple the skirt in your fist, but hold it delicately by your fingertips, and…
“Oh!”
Jane pitched forward, her skirt falling as her arms flailed for balance. Her only book toppled off of her head, and it hit the floor with a smack, opening to a recipe for a legume stew that she particularly detested. Instead of wrinkling her nose at the memory of its taste, Jane let out a tired sigh, and her arms hung at her sides. Her reflection copied, and she wondered if she could ever make a proper queen someday. She wondered it often when she was alone. The only queens she had ever seen were the paintings of those of Derse, and they were all fair and waifish, with dark lips and gemlike eyes.
That was not like Jane at all. She was small, and her hair was like a black briar patch, tangled and painful to handle. Her eyes were more like pools than jewels, but they had terrible sight and were nearly always squinted so she could make out things far away. As for the rest, she was healthy looking at least, but given how gaunt Dersite women tended to be, she stuck out like a tomato in a patch of carrots. She had no grace and little presence, which was fitting enough for a Maid, but a future queen she would never make if she stayed here forever.
Here, of course, was the Dersite House of Lords. It was a grand old house, spacious and luxurious with green velvet on every surface. Thankfully the stuff never reached Jane’s tiny room, but it would have been nice to have a blanket of it in the winter, when her only window froze in its sill and every crack leaked when the meager warmth of a fire thawed it out. Every day she worked to keep that house spotless and its master pleased, for these duties were all she had these eight long years, and it was in little moments like this where she could pretend they did not exist.
Hesitantly, Jane pulled out a chain from underneath her clothes. On the end hung a heavy pendant of amber, surrounded by finely curled gold and still warmed from her chest. The surface was inlaid with a golden curling ‘P’, and Jane ran her thumb lightly across its surface. This was all the proof she had of her childhood, and that the things she was once told were actually true – that she was a princess, and one day she would find her prince! It sounded like something out of a silly fairy tale for children, but at the same time, it was a precious secret, and Jane guarded it with all she had. A smile returning to her lips, she left her book on the floor and sat on her threadbare bed to look at it some more.
Her quiet reverie was shattered by the soft jingling of a bell. Jane stiffened, and her hand clutched the pendant tightly. Every time she heard that bell, she felt her stomach twist into knots. It could only come from one place, and when it sounded, she was needed. Slipping the pendant back in its place, Jane rose and shook out her skirt. It wouldn’t do to look rumpled, after all.
Her quarters consisted of a hastily-erected room in the corner of the house’s cellar, and upon leaving it she made her way around various barrels of stock to the ladder leading up into the kitchen. On a peg by its rungs hung a white ruffled cap, and she grabbed it and tucked as much of her unruly hair into it as she could before she began the climb. Soon, her head popped into the kitchen, still lingering with warmth from when she made breakfast this morning. It had been sweet rolls today, made with cinnamon and apples – not that she had gotten any. Maids did not get fine things to eat unless they paid for them out of their own pockets. Besides, Jane did not care for apples.
The bell rung again, more forcefully than the last time, so Jane quickened her pace. Out of the kitchen and through numerous corridors she hurried, until she came to the drawing room, nestled in a back corner of the house. There, amidst velvet couches, sat not the Lord, as Jane expected, but his current consort. She had managed to curry the favor of the Lord for three years now, which was quite impressive considering how fickle and impatient he was with women. This Lady was one of the many trolls who lived in Derse, slim and grey with her black hair twisted into a bun. Her horns, large and spiraled, sat atop her head as if they were not a great weight, and her eyes flickered to Jane and narrowed slightly. They were unlike the eyes of any troll she had seen before, for they were like a dog’s eyes when they looked straight at you, and the light hit them. She had stretched out on a lounging couch, still in her nightgown, with a long black pipe hanging from her lips, the shaft engraved with foreign symbols Jane could not read. This was Lady Damara.
“Maid is late,” She said, and her cheeks puffed out for a moment as a smoke ring issued forth from the pipe. Her Common Speech was always a bit shaky, but today she was relatively coherent. Jane’s hands tightened into fists at her side, catching her skirt.
“I came as soon as I heard the bell, M’Lady,” She said, and she bended quickly at the knee instead of her usual curtsy. “What can I do for you?”
Damara slowly removed the pipe from her mouth, her claws clicking against the metal spout. “Late is late,” She said, and leaned to the side, where an end table with an ash tray had been placed. As she tapped the ashes from her pipe, she said, “Go to Market and buy tuna for supper. Get the biggest tuna.”
“Yes, M’Lady.” She eyed Damara’s pipe. “Do you need another tin of tobacco, too? Or the incense for your room?” It was nasty stuff too, Damara’s incense, but thankfully her head shook.
“Only tuna,” She said, and when her pipe was back in her mouth she dismissed the maid with a wave of her hand. Jane was all too happy to comply, and with haste she made her way through the house again. Winter was ending, but there was still a chill to the air, so Jane had taken a woolen wrap for warmth before she set out for the market. It waited for all on the main road before the Palace of Derse, and the House of Lords was nearby, so Jane took her time as she walked. This part of the city was fine and well kept, for all who lived here were at least somewhat well off.
She heard the market before it came into sight. At this hour especially, when noon still had yet to come, it was packed with mothers and Maids shopping for meals. Students were beginning to flood the streets to look for a vendor to sell them their lunches, and a few diurnal trolls were about as well. Trolls mostly kept to the night, so to see them functioning so well in the daytime was always a surprise, especially when Jane thought of how languid Damara could be. As she browsed the stands for tuna, she chanced a glance up at the Palace of Derse. It was certainly grand, with its four violet turrets, embellished with silver that gleamed even in the light of an overcast day. In fact, gloomy weather seemed to suit it, for there was a cryptic air about the palace that rattled the hearts of all who gazed upon it.
It was in that palace, Jane knew, that Jake had been taken. He had become a Page, after all, his training sponsored and overseen by their Lord. She rarely ever got to see him, and she missed him terribly. Every time they met again, he had grown taller and stronger and more confident. While she was proud of Jake, and could see that his time in the palace had only benefited him, she wondered if he thought about her at all, in her little chamber in the House of Lords. When they had first arrived, small and shivering, and they had first heard of his new assignment, Jake had held her hands tightly and promised everything he could think to promise.
“I’ll come down from the towers myself to save you if you ever need me,” He had whispered in one of the forgotten corners of the house. He had been brave, but she had been crying, and even at eight years old, he wiped her tears away like a proper gentleman would. “And I’ll tell the prince how wonderful you are so he’ll marry you straightaway! Then we can go home to Roxy and the Madame – we can do whatever we desire! So don’t be sad, please, Jane!”
But that had been long ago, and they hadn’t spoken of it since. It hurt to think of it, and Jane tore her glance from the palace. There was still a glimmer of hope in her that Jake would be able to help somehow. Even if all he could do was gain his own title and take her in from their Lord, it would be enough, but without any way to talk to him, she didn’t know if he had a plan, or what to do with herself.
When she finally found a suitable tuna, she paid for it with the Lord’s credit, for she had permission to do so, and she brought it home to prepare for the night. When she passed by the drawing room, she found it empty save for the lingering smell of smoke and a long-cold pipe.
~*~
There were many things about the people she knew that Jane did not know. Jake, for example, had not forgotten her. He could never live with himself if he forgot his dear cousin! Every day he thought of her and racked his brain for a way to get her out of the Lord’s house, and every day he chased the same possibilities around in his head. In the morning over breakfast, he thought of earning a Lordly title, and wresting the Lord’s control over Jane himself. It was the easiest route, at least for a while. The Lord was a Cherub, and no one opposed them, for Cherubs were the ones who made the world. It was like flying in the face of a God and spitting in his face, it was just not done. Even Jake was not foolhardy enough to try it. In the afternoon, while he trained with the other Pages, he thought about running away with her, but he doubted he would get far. Even for an accomplished fighter, a passage through the Scratchlands would be nigh impossible, and he wouldn’t know how to get through to the kingdom beyond.
But in the evenings, when he took council from the knights and lords, and the two Princes of Derse observed, he thought of admitting everything to them, or at least to the one who made every final decision. Sure, these councils talked of war, but would their hearts not melt at Jane’s plight? Would the magic of love not sway them? The Madame had held this virtue above all others, so Jake always assumed it had the greatest power, dwarfing Cherubs or Kings with its strength. He would sit and steal glances at the princes, as if he could let them know of his turmoil that way. When it came time to sleep, however, Jake would beat these ideas down and refuse them. They were all too risky, and he was afraid. He knew that if he did one thing wrong, just one, it would spell disaster not only for himself, but for Jane. He still remembered their rightful home – the glorious and peaceful Prospit. He remembered his parents. He remembered writing to them in Crocker Hall, not knowing and not caring why he was there, and then slowly, how he learned of Jane’s place, and of his. There was so much he remembered.
On the very same chilly day that Jane went out to purchase tuna in the market, someone called for Jake as he practiced in the training grounds. A message had been delivered, and as he read it, his eyes widened. His presence was requested for an audience with the Knight of the Royal Company! He was Derse’s second prince, and for him to even acknowledge anyone was, to Jake’s understanding, a big freaking deal. He could barely contain his glee as he was led to a chamber. It was one where the younger Pages took their lessons, for there were rows upon rows of benches where they would sit and listen to the Pagemasters’ lectures. Jake would have thought back to his own schoolboy days, had the figure at the end of the room not caught his attention.
It was the Knight who waited for him, slouched against the front board like a fellow waiting for his chums. He was remarkably fair, and remarkably young for a Company leader. Even Jake was older than him! He had been staring at Jake the moment he entered, although it was difficult to tell. He wore the most peculiar round spectacles fitted with dark lenses, and no one could tell where he looked. He also had a marvelous poker face, and it was always so difficult to tell how he felt. Still, the sightless stare made Jake halt, and he watched as the Knight righted himself. He was slow and fluid in his movements, and soon, he stood before Jake, appraising the Page with his eyes.
After a long silence, the Knight held his hand out. “’Sup.”
“Uh…” Was it alright to just shake his hand? Jake didn’t know, but he reached out and did so. “Salutations to you too, Your Highness!”
“Yeah, don’t worry about any titles. Keep it simple. Call me Dave.” The side of his mouth quirked up slightly. Jake could feel the tension in his shoulders fall away when he saw it, for any kind of expression was better than cold indifference. “You can definitely call me Sir Dave though. Still haven’t found a situation where it is not awesome to be called Sir Dave yet.” He jerked his head to one of the benches. “Now what do you say we talk a bit, English? You are Jake English, right? Mister big-shot Page English? I’ve got the right dude?”
Jake nodded, and he tried not to grimace at that name. English wasn’t his name. It was the Lord’s. He had to take it when he came here, because even he knew his identity would draw attention. Surely even Derse’s royalty had heard of the Prospitian Duchy of Harley.
Dave seemed satisfied with his answer, and they sat on the front bench, backs turned towards the front board. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off of him.
“So, erm, what is this all about, Sir Dave? I would think you would know more than anybody not to pull a Page from his training!”
“Whoa now, hold your horses. We’ll get down to business.” He reached into his shirt, and Jake felt his eyebrows shoot up as he watched the Knight pull out some rumpled sheets of paper. “Relax, you’re with me. We got all the time in the world. Can’t a guy get to know another guy before he makes decisions concerning said other guy? Sheesh.”
As quickly as his eyebrows had shot up, they furrowed. “Decisions? Is there something wrong?”
Dave shook his head. “Not a thing. Relax, English, everything’s hunky dory, or whatever.” When Jake’s face did not soften, he sighed. “Alright. You wanna get down to brass tacks? We will get down to brass tacks. We will get so far down we’ll pass the brass tacks on our way to the center of the earth. That down enough for you?”
“Um. Sure?” What could he even say to that?
“Alright. Cool.” Dave shuffled through the papers, the writing on them nigh illegible to Jake’s eye. “So here’s the deal. My Bro – you know, the all-important head of state, the grand poobah of princely pantaloons – he’s been hearing a lot of things about you. The Pagemasters fucking love you, man, I mean look at these reports.” He shoved them in Jake’s face. He couldn’t make heads or tails of them. “Technically you’re not even supposed to know the Pagemasters keep reports on you. But they do, and Bro’s looked them over, and he thinks you’ve got mad potential. He wants you bumped up through the pecking order.”
Jake’s head swam, but he managed to latch onto the last bit. “I’m…getting a promotion?” He ventured. “Golly! Well color me surprised!”
“Don’t get too excited, English.” Dave reached into his shirt again, and this time, he pulled out a thin vial filled with a clear liquid. “You’ve gotta answer some questions before I whip out the paperwork. Drink this first, though.” Jake took it, and held it up to the light.
“What is it?” He asked, but there was nothing too strange about it. For all he knew, it could be water. With a shrug, Jake popped the cork and downed the contents of the vial in one swig. It was impossibly cold in his throat, and it made his lips tingle.
“That? Oh, you know. Nothing special. Just thought you might be thirsty.” There was that smirk again. “You ready to answer my questions?”
“I suppose.” Something was strange about all this, but Jake could not put his finger on it. The trail the liquid took down his throat still felt ice cold. That couldn’t be normal.
“Good. Alright, first question. You’re officially a ward of Lord “I can’t talk correctly so I’m just going to call you a piss-ant” English, right?”
“I am,” Jake said.
“You ever swear your loyalty to him or something? Like get down on one knee and pledge your soul to his creepy Cherubim time magic?”
“No,” Jake said. The answer came quickly – too quickly for Jake’s liking. Dave looked pleased.
“Alright, awesome. One more thing and you’re in the clear, okay? Don’t get nervous.” It was too late for him to say that. “Are you in any way affiliated with Prospit?”
Jake should have balked. He should have been offended, or at least pretend to be. He should have been able to lie, and assure Dave that he had no ties to Prospit whatsoever. But when he tried, the words wouldn’t come out, and his face wouldn’t express what he wanted it to. It felt as if the cold liquid had hooked onto the secrets he kept inside, and was trying to tug them to the surface. He sputtered and willed them down with everything he had.
Dave raised an eyebrow. “Come on, man. This shouldn’t be hard, unless you’re fighting it.” When Jake started to cough, his façade broke. From what little of his face could be seen, it would be obvious to anyone that Dave was in shock. “Shit. You’re fighting it, aren’t you? Okay, look, Jake? What I made you drink? It was truth serum. Grade A stuff, I had to bribe somebody to cook it up for me. You will hurt yourself trying to fight it. Whatever you’ve got to say, keeping it hidden isn’t worth the trouble.”
“It’s worth everything!” Jake exclaimed, and the tugging feeling lessened. An idea struck him then. If he talked, and was careful about what he said, perhaps he could avoid getting hurt and revealing too much! At the very least, it would be best not to say a thing about Jane. Even if it landed him in hot water, she had to be safe. After taking a breath, he said, “I. I am very important in Prospit.”
The shock from before had faded, and Dave’s stoicism seemed harder and colder than before. “State your name and rank.”
“Peer of the realm,” Jake said through gritted teeth, “Jake, Duke of Harley. Keeper of the Princess of Prospit.” It was getting harder to fight the feeling. He nearly bit his tongue in an effort to keep silent.
“Gimme her name,” Dave said, and Jake could feel it sing in his chest, Jane, Jane, Jane, but he could not give him the satisfaction! He refused to! He-
“What the hell,” Dave said as he looked over Jake’s shoulder, and before he could turn to see what was there, Jake felt something hard collide with his temple. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.
~*~
A quiet day with little interruption was something Jane almost never got, and she relished it even as she worked. The tuna had been cut and cleaned and seasoned, and it baked in the oven with a medley of vegetables as she bustled about the kitchen. There was rice and bread to make, after all, and fingerfoods of all sorts, and sweets that made even the best children skip supper for dessert. It was nothing short of a feast, and while it was exhausting to make, the kitchen was where Jane felt best in the whole house. Cooking hadn’t come easily to Jane, but when one serves a Lord, one must put their all into presentation, and to present her own culinary masterpieces was a point of pride for her.
Jane spent most of the afternoon like this, perfecting all she could, and so engrossed was she that the sound of the bell ringing for her went unheard. Three times it rang, and she still did not hear it. It was only when she had removed the tuna from the oven that her concentration was broken, but not by a bell. No, it was a heavy set of footsteps that caught her attention. Her eyes turned to the doorway, and she stood quite still until a figure appeared. At first she could not tell who he was, for he was at least a few inches taller than when she last saw him, and his skin another shade darker from training in the sun. But it couldn’t not be him! The messy mop of black hair was the same, and the green eyes behind a set of spectacles were the same, so it had to be-
“Jake!” Jane thankfully had enough sense to put the tuna down, or she would have dropped it right then and there. She crossed the kitchen and embraced him tightly. “You didn’t send any notice about coming back!” She would have continued, but she noticed that Jake did not laugh and squeeze her tightly like he usually did; when she looked at him, his eyes were unfocused, and at that moment his knees buckled. Jake pitched forward in her arms, and Jane tightened her hold on him to keep him from falling. Slowly, she struggled to set him down on the ground, and propped his back against the doorway. Up close, he was pale, and his skin was cool to the touch.
“Are you alright? Jake, what’s wrong?” His eyes flickered to her, and he tried to speak, his words half nonsense and half stuck in his throat. Jane began to shiver in fear, as if she were trying to sleep in the middle of a snowy night, and all she had to protect herself was an old and threadbare sheet. But she could not let her fear win. She choked it down and, after making sure he wouldn’t topple over, fetched a glass of water for Jake. She helped him drink it, tipping liquid slowly into his mouth, and waited. In time, his babbling ceased, and his eyes began to refocus. When she pressed the glass in his hand, he took it, and once he had drained it of its contents, he looked at her in bewilderment.
“Oh.” There was a blush to his cheeks, and he reached up to fiddle with his glasses. “I’m sorry about that, Miss Jane. I didn’t see you there.” He handed the glass back to her, and she took it hesitantly. “Thank you for that! I was parched.”
“You also nearly fainted on top of me! Jake, what is going on with you?” Jake drew back at her tone, something he had never done before with anyone, not even if they were blazing mad at him.
“Now, Miss Jane,” He said warily, and stood up, “I like you well enough, and I appreciate your help, but being so familiar is unbecoming of you! Landsakes alive, it’s not very genteel at all!”
What was he going on about? Jane pressed the heel of her hand to her temple. “If this is your idea of a joke, it is the worst one I have ever heard,” She said, “Now cut it out and tell me how you’ve been! I’ve missed you every single day you’ve been gone, you big goof!”
“I can assure you that this is no joke, Miss Jane!” Jake said, and his eyes narrowed. “And what are you implying?”
“I’m implying diddly-squat!” Jane exclaimed. She could not remember when she had last raised her voice, or if she ever had at all. “Aren’t cousins are allowed to miss each other?”
“Since when were we cousins?!?”
The kitchen went silent, but Jake’s words echoed in Jane’s ears. She stared at him. Whoever this was – it couldn’t really be Jake, could it? Even he wouldn’t go that far if he just wanted to fool around with her.
“I just wanted to tell you something,” Jake continued, oblivious to her confusion, “I’ve been telling everyone I know.” His face brightened. “I’m going to war! Or, well, I’ll be part of a war. Looks like good old Derse has been slighted, and there will be hell to pay. I’ll be right there on the front lines with the Company of the Head Knight! He told me so himself!” He laughed. “Isn’t that amazing, Miss Jane? I’m finally good enough to join the war march! What more could a Page ask for?”
Jane was speechless. She looked down to the glass in her hand, and with a funny, manic sort of calm, wondered why she hadn’t dropped it out of shock yet. That’s what Jake wanted, right? He wanted her to drop the glass. Then he would sweep her up in a hug and apologize for his terrible joke and assure her that he wasn’t going to war at all.
“Ah, well, I’ve kept you long enough! I’m sure you’re very busy.” He nodded once, and backed out through the doorway. “Sorry to say I can’t stay for supper! The Lord insisted I go celebrate when I told him, so I shall! Goodnight, Miss Jane!” And with that, he was gone.
Jane stared at the empty doorway, as if expecting Jake to come back. She needed Jake to come back. But as his footfalls became fainter and softer, tears began to sting her eyes. “What was that?” She asked herself, “What even was that? Oh my God, Jake, come back…” Her arm whipped forward, and the glass flew from her grasp, shattering on the floor. “Come back!!”
But he did not come back. The broken glass lay before her, and Jane sunk down to her knees and wept. This made no sense! Jake always came back. What had happened to him? Without Jake, she was truly alone, and that frightened her more than anything had before. She curled into herself and wept into her skirt, ignoring the supper she had so meticulously prepared, ignoring the glass that should be swept up. Her pendant was an uncomfortable lump pressed into her chest, and she grabbed at it through her clothes, trying to hold it for comfort without bringing it out into the open.
Jane cried until the tears no longer came, and by then the sun had set. Whatever was in the oven was beginning to burn, and faintly, she could hear the bell ring. It was probably for supper. She would normally spring to attention and heft the food away to serve it, and be grateful if there was a morsel left over for her. But how could she do that when her only family in this wretched kingdom was sick? How could she put on a happy face, knowing that Jake could very well die on the battlefield, leaving her in the care of the Lord forever?
“I couldn’t,” She said to herself, “I just couldn’t!”
Slowly, she stood up again, and wiped her face until it was dry. She hopped over the broken glass and left the kitchen, and with each step, she stood a little straighter. The bell went unheeded, and as she neared the door, Jane thought she heard footsteps behind her, but she dared not look back. If she looked back, she might lose her nerve. It was just as she grabbed her wrap by the front door when the footsteps closed in, and they stopped just behind her. Jane felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle as their eyes raked over her back, and in defense, she pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders.
There was a rattling intake of breath, and then a voice spoke. It was like gravel and smoke, and Jane knew it well – she knew how it could become loud and honking without a moment’s notice.
“Jane human.” She stood before the door, as still as possible, and her eyes looked to the massive shadow the speaker cast. “I rang the little bell. And you did not come. I thought we had an agreement. That you come when I ring the little bell.” A hand came to rest on her shoulder. It was as big as her head, and ended in a set of sharp claws. She had seen those claws tear through wood and through the disobedient like they were tissues.
“I’m sorry, M’Lord,” She said. It was a reflex by now. “I’m sorry. I have to find Jake. I don’t think you noticed it, but he is very sick and I need to help him.” Jane wanted to continue, but just knowing the Lord was present scared her and she dared not say more.
The hand tightened, and Jane felt pricked by the claws through her wrap. “You seem to have your priorities. In the wrong order,” He said. His voice began to grow louder, less like a growl and more like a shout. “The Jake human. Never comes before me. No one comes before me.” She felt him lean closer. “If you turn around now. I’ll forget this and you won’t be punished. Fetch my dinner.”
“You can fetch it yourself!” Jane said, and she pulled herself from his grasp, tearing her wrap as she went. The Lord snarled, and she dove for the door.
“I won’t take you back if you leave!” He bellowed. As Jane flung the door open and ran, he added, “You won’t last a night on the streets!!”