Darlac and the baron retired to the guestroom Lady Jamandi had provided for them. She found herself wishing she had a room all to herself instead, but alas, their host took it for granted that they would want to share a bed. Which was generally true. This time, however, Darlac felt awful as the baron gently undid her bodice and peeled the fabulous, hateful dress off her. How could he even think of sex after what they'd just been through? Loath as she was to fail him on his first night as a baron, she couldn't for the life of her get into the mood. Instead of setting her blood on fire, his touch only made her flinch.

"What's wrong, Felicia?"

She was tempted not to tell the truth. How could she put it all into words—multiple layers of humiliation because of her place by his side, an irrational, visceral hatred at the beast-eyed woman, and disgust with herself, triggered by her own foul emotions? But she couldn't bring herself to just say nothing and let him stew all night long, thinking it was somehow his fault. She knew better, and he deserved better, too.

"I should have worn the uniform," she said softly, avoiding his gaze. "I love being your girlfriend, and wouldn't have it otherwise, but I hate being defined by it."

"You aren't, love. It's only in your head. I've made sure that everyone knows you were instrumental to our success. I told the story of the Noose at least twenty times tonight. Some might even have heard it twice."

Darlac buried her face into her palms.

"You told the story of my succubus cosplay several times to a dozen members of Brevan high society. That helps a lot, indeed. Most of all, it makes me wish I'd made a glabrezu costume instead."

"But it was the ruse of the century!" grinned the baron, tousling her hair. "A great story to tell over a pint of ale. And succubus or not, it was you who finally killed the old hag. The deeds you perform matter more than the outfit you wear doing them. Whoever can't see this simple truth is undeserving of your attention."

Darlac remained silent. Of course, she had been repeating this and similar mantras to herself all night long, to no avail.

He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, and laid a hand on her knee. His fingers slowly made their way upwards, caressing the inside of her thigh. Her body tensed at his touch, but she didn't stop him. She wouldn't say no to him tonight, no matter what. All she had to do was relax. Breathe. Relax.

"You know what, why don't you lean into it?" he whispered into her neck between two kisses. "Just wear the mask of the baron's mistress who achieved everything by warming the right man's bed. Let them underestimate you. And when they face you on the battlefield, leading my armies as the General of Varnhold, they will be in for a very, very nasty surprise."

Darlac raised an eyebrow. She grabbed the baron's wrist and removed his hand from between her legs. This new detail deserved her full attention.

"As what now?"

The baron grinned, enjoying the effect of his words on her.

"Well, someone has to lead us to victory. And as things are, you're the best candidate."

Darlac bit her lip, shoving down her annoyance. On the one hand, it felt reassuring that the baron had plans for her, real plans, based on her abilities, even if it would be hard to live up to them. On the other hand, it was happening again. She was granted a high military rank out of the blue, while being coaxed out of her underwear.

"You're kidding me," she said flatly.

"No. I have it all figured out. All the positions. As to internal and also external affairs, I will rely on Cephal's wisdom, since he knows more about politics than all of us taken together. Quartermaster Kjerdi will do the finances, that's without question. You can't get a better treasurer than a tough and down-to-earth dwarf lady."

"Mhm."

"And as my second-in-command, you will remain at the head of the military. You will help me stabilise the country against whatever we find there, and defend the borders from eventual invading forces."

"And you're totally not doing this because you've never had sex with a general before."

He flashed his iconic sly smile she loved so much.

"In fact, it might have played a part in my decision. Hmmm... That said, I haven't yet had sex with a baroness, either, and I really want to."

Darlac's face darkened at the implications. Of course, she hadn't missed how Maegar had clicked immediately with Baroness Guelder, and the suspicion that this could quickly turn into something else was already gnawing at her heart. But did he really have to discuss this with her, of all people?

"What do you mean?" she asked softly.

The baron remained unfazed by the stormclouds gathering in his ladylove's bright eyes.

"I have another offer for you, separate from the previous one. You can take me up on both, or just one, or neither, it's up to you." He folded his fingers around her hand, and looked deep into her eyes. "Felicia, will you marry me?"

Darlac blushed with shame. How could she misread him so badly? Perhaps because she wasn't prepared for this, not with the captain's constant remarks about how long-term relationships were not for mercenaries. She fumbled for words. Luckily, she didn't need a lot of those.

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As to her promotion, though, the more thought she gave it, the more conflicted she felt. She was clearly unfit for the task. But then again, was this breezy mercenary captain fit to rule a country? Didn't they all have some serious growing up to do? At least, they had an army to build upon from the get-go. If someone wanted to take that useless strip of rocky wasteland from them, she would make them regret it. Perhaps she would even end up expanding Varnhold's borders westwards, if the beast-eyed woman happened to incur her righteous wrath in some way. Darlac relished this idea a little too much for comfort. If she had to let go of her dream to travel to Lastwall and enrol in the military academy, at least she would learn in practice, hopefully at the cost of not too many lives.

She made her decision.

"Yes and yes. I will be your wife and your general. My life and blood for Varnhold and for its ruler!"

"Make sure to keep your blood inside your body, General Darlac," he said softly. "I want you in one piece. And I want you now."

Darlac let the fire of passion burn all her misgivings away. She might be standing at the threshold of a new life with frightening new responsibilities, but tonight she would allow herself to just feel safe by his side.

"I'm all yours, my lord," she whispered.

She put her arms around his neck and squeezed her body against him. Her hands slipped under his shirt and gently stroked it off him, then fumbled for the buckle of his belt to undo it.

"I want to please you in every way you wish," he whispered. "You deserve it, and more."

Now completely naked, Darlac lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, relying only on her sense of touch, trembling as she felt him press close. Her lower body throbbed with the anticipation of pleasure. She pulled him into an embrace, seeking out his lips for a long and passionate kiss, and as he penetrated her with a single, determined thrust...

...someone rapped on the door.

"Dammit," growled the baron, rolling off Darlac. "I told Martyn to keep everyone out. Or did I?"

Another knock. Whoever was out there, they were really impatient.

Darlac's brain switched into high alert mode in a moment. She pulled a dagger from under the pillow, then snatched a cloak from the wall and draped it over her shoulder, covering her body but letting her right arm move freely. The stories the Nightvale crew had told her about the bloodbath at the recruitment event resurfaced in her mind. Assassins in the night, again? Could history repeat itself within such a short time? If so, she was ready to kick their asses into next week, and also angry enough to do so.

"Who's there?" she called.

"Lady Felicia?" asked a quavering voice. "Jesper here, at your service. Can you please come with me? Lady Lariana had an accident."

Darlac cast a desperate glance backwards, checking if the baron had put on something, too (he had). She hid the dagger under the cloak, and opened the door. She found herself facing Martyn, the baron's manservant, and Jesper, her mother's old and frail valet, wringing their hands on the corridor. As the old man realised what he'd interrupted, he muttered an apology, pointedly staring at his toes.

"What happened to Mother?" demanded Darlac, ignoring the awkwardness of the situation.

"She fell off the stairs. Might have broken a bone. Doesn't let anyone touch her. She insists you come help her."

Darlac struggled to decide whether she was more furious than worried or the other way around. Not that it mattered.

"Wait for me in the entrance hall. I'll be with you in five minutes."

She slammed the door on the two men's noses, and let the cloak and the dagger drop to the floor. Guilt flooded her mind in various shades. She'd failed at making this night special for the baron. Also, she'd been indulging in carnal pleasures in her elderly mother's hour of need. She shouldn't have ignored the strange, slurred speech of her mother, while getting pissed off at what she'd said. She should have stayed home and kept an eye on the old lady, instead of making a fool of herself at the inauguration banquet. And there was that evil intrusive thought at the back of her mind, whispering that her mother was doing this on purpose, just to spite her—which was something only an utter trash of a human being would even think of.

With a heroic effort, Darlac shoved the entire wriggling bundle of guilt out of her mind. Tormenting herself would not help anyone. Getting there as fast as possible would. She dug into her travelling chest for some casual clothing.

"I'm so sorry, Felicia," said the baron. "We'll make up for tonight sometime later, I promise. On a different note, I'll definitely want a painting of you with that cloak draped around your body. You looked stunning."

Darlac halted for a moment, with a shirt in her hand, blushing.

"You're goofy, Maegar. I love you."

"I love you, too. And I don't want you to deal with this alone. Shall I go with you?"

"No. I'll be fine."

"I know, but still. I must inform your mother about our betrothal, anyway."

"She hates you."

"This is the best time to change that."

Or the last chance, thought Darlac. I shouldn't take it from them.

Her anger slowly dissipated, and she tried her best to banish her worries, too. If she wanted to help her mother efficiently, she had to remain level-headed and capable.

"Fine," she said. "But I won't be waiting for you."

"I'll go get Father Keeg, in case your mother needs professional help."

"Thanks, Maegar. Also... if this is serious, I won't be able to travel with you to Varnhold tomorrow."

"It's all right, Felicia. Just do your duty. I promise I won't get into a war until you arrive."

Darlac wiggled into her trousers, threw the cloak around her shoulders again, and thrust the dagger into her belt, just in case. A passionate farewell kiss to the baron, and she stormed out of the room, praying she would arrive in time.