The rogue Earl of Hollowstone had given himself up.

They learned after the fact that the defenders had been planning an attack at midday. The cannon shot panicked them, causing them to come out too early and in a disorganized muddle. Upon being told this, Jean remarked to Vero that this was now a second easy victory she had brought him.

Vero felt like a princess being so close to great events. She was on Jean’s arm when he received the grey bearded lord’s informal surrender.

The Earl's son would perform the formal swearing of feudal oaths in a public ceremony the next day. It would be the man’s third and youngest son, according to Jean. The father and eldest son were both being taken as captives for their rebellion. The second son had been killed in the fighting.

By the time the sun set, Hollowstone had been completely secured. Jean gave orders for their sleeping quarters to be moved out of the camp and into the master’s bedchamber. Then they held a raucous banquet in the great hall which lasted until well into the night.

Vero rarely drank to excess. Her master became a terrible drunkard before he died, and she did not like to think that she might be following his example. However, with the campaign now at an end, everyone – including Vero – was in a very festive mood. She tried hard not to allow herself to get completely drunk, but she did become very giddy before the end of the night.

When the celebrations began to die down, Jean carried her up to their room when her legs failed under her.

She realized that it would be tonight. They were going up to the bedroom together. And then…

Then you lay on your back and spread your legs to earn those emeralds he’s given you.

There was not really anything to be frightened about. The first time a man had carnal relations with her it had been terribly painful, but she was sure she knew Jean well enough to be certain he would not be rough with her. So why should she be frightened?

It’s a kindness Mama cannot see the daughter she raised with such care prostitute herself so.

Then they were already in the bedroom and there was no more time left to think. Jean put her down on the mattress, then sat down beside her.

First, he kissed her hand, then her wrist, then her arm, shoulder, and along the nape. “You’ve never taken a lover before, have you?”

What a curious thing for him to ask her. Did he believe she was a virgin? How would he react to finding that she was not?

“I know how a man holds a maid when they’re alone together, if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s not.” He rose back to his feet. “When you’re ready you’ll tell me. I’ll sleep down in the hall with the others tonight.”

“There’s no need-” Vero winced as she heard her own voice crack.

“It's quite alright.”

“What does it matter if a thing happens now- or if it happens later? If it must be done, then let it be over and done with as soon as possible!”

Why was she shouting? It could only have been the drink.

Have you become a lush now too?

Jean sat down beside her again. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“I’m not a virgin, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t.” Vero deliberately kept her voice quiet. Her hands were shaking.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Vero. Take some rest and we can discuss this tomorrow.”

“Don’t leave me!” She grabbed his arm as he moved to go.

Even Jean was surprised to see the how years of slayer training sent her hand launching itself after him, like a viper biting into a fat mouse.

That look in his eyes, he thinks you’re mad.

He held her. “I’ll stay if that’s what you wish.”

She kissed him across the lips.

When she tried to kiss him again more intimately, he kept her away. “Don’t, Vero. There will be time later.”

“I’m not afraid. I want to.”

Jean laughed softly. “My love, I would find that more convincing if you were not crying and trembling in my arms.”

She realized that her face was wet. “I’m sorry-” She felt something caught in her throat. “-I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m weeping like a child.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“I promise to tell no one.”

“I’ll do whatever you wish. I love you; I don’t want to be alone again.”

“I won’t leave you; I promise I won’t. But there’s nothing I wish you to do for me except to try and sleep. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“You think I’m drunk- or mad.”

“I think someone has hurt you very badly. And I’m not certain how I can help you.”

“Just stay here. Hold me.”

“As you wish.” He began to rub her back with careful delicate movements.

Vero was asleep in moments.

There was a sour feeling in Vero’s stomach. She realized that she let herself have too much to drink. Where had her vaunted slayer’s self-discipline gone? She felt as though she were adrift on a great ocean, with no port to be seen.

There was someone near to her, and Vero clung to them in desperation for anything that might offer a sense of stability. Arms wrapped around her in response. She opened her eyes.

Jean’s eyes were smiling back at her. They were so beautiful it was easy to become lost in them. “How do you feel?”

“Sick.”

“What’s wrong, my love?”

Vero could not answer. She had already lurched out of bed to find something to evacuate the contents of her stomach into. As she wretched and vomited, she felt someone hold her hair out of her face and rub her back.

When her nausea began to fade, Vero hid herself in Jean’s embrace. He held her and whispered soothing words to her until his squire arrived with a pitcher of water. The water was fresh and cool, and she drank eagerly.

“There. Things aren’t so bad now, are they?”

Her eyes were watering and Vero felt miserable. The ends of her hair and the front of her dress had been flecked with vomit. “I’m sorry… I-”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I can hardly count the time I’ve gotten legless and left last night’s supper on the floor.”

“I’ve ruined the beautiful dress you’ve just bought me.”

“Nonsense. It just needs a washing. And I’ve bought lots of other dresses for you, so you shan’t have to wait in your chemise while it’s cleaned.”

Vero could not think of anything else to say, so she only stayed silent in Jean’s arms. Eventually, Antoinette arrived and took her to a tub where she could wash. Jean was waiting for her with a light purple dress, something like the color of an evening sunset. Along with it were jewels, rubies set in gold.

The dress was much looser to wear, something Vero was thankful for. Although it did not work the same miracles for her figure which the previous dress had.

When he saw her, Jean appeared not to notice any decline in her appearance. “Beautiful.”

The sleeves of her dress were left bare and he traced the lines of musculature on her upper arm with his finger. He kissed her neck and smelled her hair. “That’s not one of the perfumes I’ve given you.”

“No… the smell of heavy jasmine upset my stomach. Antoinette scents her hair with rosemary, and I asked her to do the same for me.” Vero hoped she had not made him angry; he was the one to give her the perfume. “Do you approve? I could wash it out and change it if you like.”

“There’s no need. I like it very much.” Vero realized that they were in one another’s arms once again.

How had that happened? She could not say. Perhaps her bad leg had failed again- it often did when Jean came very near to her. He was going to spend the day inspecting his newly won demesne.

Would she accompany him? Of course, she would. Vero would not have countenanced them being separated again.

In the hall some of the men were wearing the previous night’s revelry worse than Vero herself, and many were still sleeping soundly. Neither she nor Jean had a stomach for a heavy breakfast, so they took some fresh apples and set out at once.

Their first stop were the field hospitals near the battle site to visit the wounded. However, they were only just through the gate when Vero saw a great mass of men still laying out in the open on the field of battle. The living mingled among the dead.

A barber-surgeon was sewing a man’s side closed, but he looked up to shout at them as they passed. “Hey! Hold there, Lord-Whomever! I need to speak with you!”

Jean brought them to a halt, but it was one of his honor guard who spoke for them. “Show some respect to the Marquis, you bastard!”

The surgeon kept his eyes to his work and took no notice of the knight. “Lord Fer, that’s was what it was. Or Far-er, as they pronounce it here.” The physician imitated the local accent in a way that might have seemed like a jest under other circumstances. No one laughed, and he continued. “I must speak with you once I’ve stitched this closed.”

The man spoke good Velian, but he was not one of Jean’s physicians. Even so, he appeared well educated in surgery from what Vero could see of his technique. The soldier he was stitching up had been one of the defenders of Hollowstone.

Jean’s bodyguard looked to his lordship for instruction.

“We shall see what the fellow has to say. Then we may decide if the subject of our conversation has merit enough to warrant this lack of protocol.”

They waited in silence until the stitches were finished. Elsewhere survivors, who looked half dead themselves, dragged comrades in even more dire condition to be seen to. Vero saw more than a hundred soldiers, unable to walk and slowly bleeding to death, while one doctor scrambled to save the life of a single patient. She saw also a few dozen nearby who had already been sutured back together, and now clung tenuously to life.

The surgeon’s work was done and he stood up to approach their horse. He bowed to them, covered in blood.

“I beg your pardon, my Lord. But it’s urgent that I must speak with you. You can see the deplorable conditions these men are in. Your own troops have been carried into field hospitals, but the soldiers of Hollowstone have been left out here to die of exposure. Or have their throats slit by scavengers.”

Jean dismounted. “Yes, I can see that.” He helped Vero to dismount right after. “What is your name, surgeon.”

Standing beside one another, he was a head shorter than Jean. “Barnabas, my Lord.” Barnabas bowed again, though not so deeply as before.

“Well, Barnabas. You seem to be the most knowledgeable about conditions here. Speak your mind.”

“I’m the only one to look after them. I’ve nearly run out of catgut; the antiseptic and clean bandages are long gone. I’ve been using dirty rags as tourniquets…”

Vero had lost the thread of the others’ conversation as she looked out at the field of the dead and the dying. She saw some who still drew breath, though they were beyond hope of saving. Others she saw still had a chance, though they were all fading fast. Most of them were going to die, there was not enough time to save them all.

The surgeon had left his tools unattended. Vero took them and called for water from Lyam. He gave it to her and she used it to wash the wound of the most urgent case nearest to her. Then she took up the needle and catgut to begin making sutures. There was no antiseptic to be seen. Perhaps it would be brought and applied later, perhaps not.

The lacerations were new, probably inflicted by scavengers. The patient’s left leg and arm were also both broken, probably why they were left for dead after the battle. Maybe her work would make the difference and they could be saved, maybe not.

“Vero, what are you doing?” She felt Jean’s hand on her shoulder.

“We haven’t much time. Every moment is important. Get more help here quickly, please!” She could not look away from her stitches.

“Yes, as you say.”