“The infantry will push the advance straight into the middle of town if it can and the mounted knights will enter through the country trails here and here,” Marvo was explaining, “cutting off any escape and taking the barracks back as quickly as possible.”

Jara nodded and Brack sat back on his stool also satisfied. Nyssa stood away from the table, still wrapped in Jara’s cloak. Both hers had been used to bury children.

Madras stood at the head of the table, his eyes fixed on the map.

“The plan is sound, General Marvo. You are all released to make your preparations. I will head the infantry, Colonel Rabb,” he said and Marvo bowed. The new colonel, an extremely tall man with jet black hair, also bowed deeply and left with Cord, another knight and general from the academy that Nyssa knew. Jara had turned when Nyssa did, but Madras called her back.

“Nyssa, a moment,” he said gruffly. Nyssa just stopped walking but didn’t turn back around. Jara caught the look on her face as he walked past her, but he continued to the flap and turned to block it, waiting for her. Brack walked past him to stand outside the tent, the two of them exchanging a knowing glance.

Madras came around the table but didn’t get closer to her.

“Now is not the time for suffering, Nyssa,” he said to her. Nyssa didn’t respond. “The general who seems to be looking for you will be there. Against my better judgement, I am allowing you to participate, but you need to be aware of the danger this poses. I’m asking you to once again stay with the infantry.”

“No,” she replied solidly. “I am a knight and Roan has significant ability. I will not waste it because you are having parental sentiments over my welfare now. A little late, Sire, frankly,” she added, dropping her affectionate term for him since the incident with the baby.

“Yes, I can see that,” he said unhappily. “Jara will look out for you. I know that at least...”

“NO!” She turned on him in an instant and Jara moved closer again to stop her, but she was in control. “Jara doesn’t give his life for your wishes,” she said angrily. “He doesn’t give his life for anyone! He serves his oath, as I do! If he can die, then so can I! He has no less worth than me! He is a better man than me! He gave up his heart for me!!” she said low, but she was angry and tears overflowed her eyes.

“You picked right, Sire,” she spat at him, but Jara had come forward and was pulling her back now, his face a mask of pain. He was whispering to her not to do this. “You picked the best. He’ll never fail me, right, Jara?” she said and looked at him now. “We were going to be married, with or without you, Da,” she said with venom, her head whipping back to stare her father down. “You took the only person who’s ever loved me away to serve your will. You win! Jara is the best and now so am I; we serve only Orak’Thune now and forever; on your command, I will never love, never have children of my own, but I will always serve Orak’Thune! As you intended, I will always lead the charge, I will always try to save a dying a child, I will always take that risk if it means no mother need die before her child is born, I will always try to save that mother!”

“Aren’t you proud of me, Da?!!!” She was crying openly now, her rage and pain at him overflowing. Jara picked her up and removed her from the tent.

---

“Marvo says five minutes,” Jara said as he moved his horse into position beside Roan.

Nyssa nodded and pulled her face guard down. They weren’t in the front row, that would be an unnecessary risk, but they were ready. Nyssa patted Roan strongly to let him know it was almost time.

She had been thinking of the previous night, how it seemed not to end. She’d returned to her tent by Jara’s forced hand, he practically having deposited her in the middle of it. But she’d calmed down significantly by the time they’d arrived. She’d said nothing to Jara though she felt he wanted to say something himself. When she’d stayed silent to see if he would start, he didn’t and had grabbed his bed roll instead. Nyssa had tried to lie down and sleep, but the baby still called to her, waking her often with dead features. When she drifted again, Kila had come to chat with her and she’d told her all about her new baby whom she’d named ‘Blue.’ Nyssa had bolted upright and felt the sweat on her body. She’d grabbed Jara’s cloak and tripped over him when she’d exited the tent. He’d sworn and chastised her, but Nyssa had just turned and run away. When he’d caught up to her, she wasn’t fleeing. She’d needed him too much.

“Please, Jara!” she’d begged him. “Just tell me where they are buried!”

Jara, annoyed at the hour and desperate to appease her distress, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the fresh graves. Nyssa hadn’t said another word but lay down beside them and promptly fell fitfully asleep.

The road they were going to take could fit only four horses abreast. It was a service road that fed the country paths, connecting the villages along the coastline where Nyssa had spent the last month securing and putting down skirmishes. There would be a long line of enormous beasts bursting into the city streets and making for the barracks, where it was understood the majority of the supplies and arms still were. Intelligence indicated the Rogun raiders were well informed of the Orak infantry advancing toward the city and they were formed up and ready to meet them at the outer walls that faced the wide-open plains of Divik’s countryside.

The cavalry was to secure what they could in the barracks and the docks. As an enormous and almost excessive use of force, their role was to shock and discourage the enemy encamped there, eliminate the attacking army’s reinforcements and block the enemy’s escape when they funnelled back through the city to make for their ships, which was Nyssa’s addition to the plan.

Madras was at the head of one hundred men and twenty archers. The Rogun were numbered just short of that by a good dozen or so, thanks to Nyssa’s earlier raids. She tried not to think about how much more they could have done if her father had only been doing what she had sooner. Nyssa saw Marvo pass on the side at a run. She leaned over to Jara.

“If you get the chance, Jara, kill Izik,” she said to him.

“Your father wants him-“ Jara started say but Nyssa clucked her tongue impatiently.

“Stuff what he wants. The man kills our countrymen and every moment he draws breath he threatens me. If we get the chance, it ends quickly. Leave the king to me,” she added. He nodded and slammed his own face guard down.

Seconds later, they heard the horn blast from the infantry arriving at the gates. Marvo’s pennant went up and the mounted knights began to move.

Nyssa heard the thunder of fifteen heavily mounted hooves on the ground and doubted they’d have the element of surprise for long. As described, they reached the city’s side entrance in a matter of minutes. They followed Marvo’s lead like a snake slithering through the streets. The local population was conspicuous in that they weren’t there.

But the Rogun were there and defending the barracks. They had not expected the mounted knights, however, and the first three rows of them managed to kill or maim every raider from the entrance to the dormitory. The second wave had run past the barracks and continued straight for the docks. Nyssa was in the lead for this one and was also successful in surprising the raiders left to guard ships.

Nyssa was down and off Roan by the time they’d reached the piers and the hand-to-hand combat was fierce. She was dispatching a third raider when a cavalry horn blew at the top of the hill above them. It blew five times, the signal for all troops to rally to the king. A serious threat.

Nyssa looked for Roan and ran for him. She was stopped by another raider, but Jara ran him through from behind, ending it quickly. He’d adjusted his helmet already and was rushing to gather his own mount. When they were again mounted, he took the lead and bellowed at anyone on the roads to make way.

At least a dozen armoured knights burst from the burning and crumbling city gate and out into the field beyond. Nyssa was shocked to see the state of things here and now felt panic in her stomach while trying to locate her father. A small force of raiders was engaged with a similar size of Orak infantry, but beyond, she saw the officer’s pennants and her father’s.

“Jara!” she yelled loudly and pulled her sword out to point in Madras's direction. She didn’t wait and spurred Roan to run his fastest. Nyssa flew over the battlefield, knowing Roan was stepping and jumping over bodies, but her eyes were on her father’s pennant. The king himself still wasn’t in her view.

Nyssa found a flat spot in the field and noticed that more than just Jara had heard her call. She was flanked by her comrades, equally fast and strong.

Nyssa saw him suddenly, locked in a sword fight with a man she could only surmise was Izik. The stranger looked up and saw them approaching at speed. He danced away from a massive stroke by her father. Brack was engaged by another man behind them. As Nyssa approached, she saw the man her father was fighting could not have been a real man; he was too enormous. Nyssa saw now how he towered over her father, making him look small.

The normal man fighting Brack yelled at the bigger one and broke off with Brack to run and jump a horse. He’d seen the cavalry approaching. The oversized man snarled and pushed Madras back. Brack tried to stand in front of him, but the giant brushed him aside, nearly throwing him several feet away. The giant swung high from over his head and Madras blocked the swing, but it took all his energy. Nyssa knew it. When the next one put him on his knees, she screamed at the top of her lungs.

The fleeing man who’d fought Brack whipped around at hearing her turning his horse. He steered back toward her but had to change course again when four knights zeroed in on him and gave chase.

The giant swung wide and Nyssa didn’t hear anything after that. Madras took the hit on his sword, but it was short and the longer strike caught him in the shoulder and went deep. He howled in pain. Nyssa threw her daggers and both hit their targets.

The giant turned to see her now. He pulled the daggers from his chest and shoulder like they were pins and tossed them aside. The fleeing man managed to yell something at him and the giant sneered at her. Nyssa saw the shimmering waves all around him. Large thermals wavered upward and out from his frame and he seemed to no longer be in living colour. The giant raised his sword directly at her, the point unmistakably meant for her. Then he simply disappeared; the shimmering stopped.

Nyssa was so startled, she doubted what she’d seen and blinked several times trying to explain it. She looked in every direction, trying not to panic. Jara was right beside her, barking orders that someone put eyes on the assailant, the giant, black-robed man who’d attacked the king.

But Nyssa saw him first after twisting left and right in her saddle. Roan shuffled around undirected as he huffed from the run. The giant was impossibly a hundred feet away already. Torn between catching him and seeing her father, Nyssa called the order to chase the fleeing enemy and kill them at all costs, but she kept forward to Madras.

Nyssa jumped from Roan before he’d stopped completely. She hit the ground running and was upon her father before Brack had recovered and returned.

“Da!” she screamed at him. Madras was on his side, a pool of blood forming just underneath him.

“Nyssa!” he growled and held out a hand for her to take. She did, sliding her own into his and gripping him hard. Her eyes were everywhere, trying to find and assess the damage. When she tried to move him on his back, he growled in pain. He gripped her hand hard to his chest and tried to catch his breath.

“Nyssa!” he said through clenched teeth.

“I’m here, Da!” she said and she couldn’t help but panic. She called for help. Jara was there and took the king onto his lap. Madras looked up and saw who it was.

“They thought you’d be with me,” he said. “It was smart that you acted within the ranks,” he said. Brack came and put his hand on Madras’s chest. He lifted his hands and saw the blood.

“Where?” he was saying and started patting him everywhere. It was difficult to see with the armour and underpadding. Everything, though, was soaked through.

“Here!” Jara said and shoved his hands hard onto the gaping wound at Madras’s shoulder and neck. Nyssa cried out but started stripping her clothing. She’d long ago thrown her gauntlets and now ripped her sleeves off and laid them over the wound at her father’s neck, Jara replacing his hands after both strips.

“Da,” she said to him, trying to keep him focused. Brack had gone to organize his extraction.

“Da!” she said quieter and put both her hands on his face. “I’m sorry, Da!” she said and started to shake. “I’m sorry. Please, stay with me, Da!”

Madras was losing consciousness from blood loss. Jara was watching his pulse and it was becoming irregular. Suddenly, three men pushed toward them. Nyssa recognized the physician. The man nodded to Jara and put a hand on her arm.

“Go with your guardsman now, Princess,” he said firmly. “We need to move the king to a more secure location to treat him.”

Nyssa backed up but had no intention of leaving her father.

“It was Izik,” Brack said to her and she turned to see him lifting her father on the stretcher with the two other men. Their eyes locked.

“Jara, with me,” she said and ran to find Roan. She found him, unbuckled fast the heavy plate in the front and back and ripped off his blanket. Jara had followed her lead but nearly missed her departure. She took off for the city again, the blood of her father fresh on her hands.

Nyssa burst through the city gates, but it was more crowded than before. The civilians, obviously set free, were trying to secure the city again and Nyssa nearly killed at least three who almost didn’t move out of Roan’s way fast enough.

Nyssa came to the wharves and saw the fighting was still happening; panicked remnants of Izik’s forces were pushing hard to make it to their escape. She spurred Roan to run to the end. She guessed where Izik would be. At the pier, she dismounted, grabbed burning debris and started throwing it onto the deck of the closest ship.

“Burn the ships!!!” she screamed and some of the people heard her. Nyssa saw one, the smallest, was pulling away and a man was running to catch it.

She burst into a sprint to catch up to him before he and the ship left the edge of the dock. She was nearly coming up behind him, but she saw it. He would make it. She would not. Her eyes started searching for something burning, but there actually was nothing there. Her daggers too were spent.

She watched with rage boiling in her veins as the man leaped wide, arms open to just clear the edge of the deck and be caught by his men to secure him. Nyssa skidded to a stop at the very edge of the pier.

“Princess Nyssa! There you are!” She heard her name called from the ship. Izik stood and brushed his clothes off and straightened them. He seemed none the worse for wear for sprint or the battle. “Don’t worry, sweetheart! I’ll be back for you!” Nyssa eyed him angrily. Tall, sandy blonde hair, scarred face. Not a large man, but not small either, yet he exuded malice and sneered at her with undisguised malevolence.

“I’ll find you first, Izik!!” she screamed back at him.

“Even better!” he replied. “Give a kiss to your dear old Da for me!”

Nyssa was breathing so hard her body was shaking. She yelled after the ship in frustration. Izik waved at her and blew her a kiss just as the sails bellowed with a boom in catching the wind. In minutes, the ship was out of earshot and any weapons range.

Nyssa sank to her knees at the end and Jara came up behind her. The other two ships were burning now, the heat and the wind whipping her hair around her face. She felt his hands on her arms.

“Come on, Nyssa,” he yelled at her over the roar. “The whole pier is going to burn!”

She was slow to respond, so he lifted her and shoved her down the pier. Her instinct to survive drove her legs to keep her moving, a wall of fire on either side of her. When they made it out the other end, Nyssa collapsed on some crates. Jara was huffing too and leaned on his knees to keep from falling in front of her.

“We’ll get him, Nyssa,” he said to her. When she didn’t look at him, he gripped her face hard and lifted it so she saw his. “We will get him,” he reiterated. She still didn’t reply. She went back to catching her breath, too mad to safely reply.

Nyssa made her way back to their camp, barely still on top of Roan, who’d long ago spent his energy and was flagging badly. She kissed his nose and patted him hard when she left him.

Nyssa was half running, half walking to her father’s tent. She was exhausted, but she was terrified. Her mind was frozen on the angry words she’d said to him. How or should she retract them? They were true, but perhaps they weren’t entirely his fault. Nyssa chastised herself for such an immature outburst and she couldn’t stop the anxiety she was feeling from bubbling to her surface.

Her father had made his mistakes, but he’d pushed her for his reasons and she’d succeeded in those, hadn’t she? She wasn’t long to seventeen or maybe she was now? She couldn’t remember her birthday; she walked faster.

Nyssa entered the tent and was caught by Brack, who tried to stop her from seeing behind him. Her father let out a blood-curdling scream, though, and Nyssa shoved Brack to the side.

“Da!!” she said and fell on her knees at his head. The physician was working, but it was a difficult battle. The sword hit had cut through Madras’s shoulder down to his lung. Bones stuck out in jagged edges and blood spurted from exposed veins. He was dripping blood on the floor and Nyssa found the smell of it overpowering. The physician was working to sew major arteries. He moved fast with the needle, but his hands were slick; everything was slick.

Nyssa was losing her control. Her father was a mess and that was something she had never seen in her life. She patted his forehead and cheeks and she couldn’t stop her tears. She let her head rest on his.

“Nyssa,” he said, but it was gurgled and unclear.

“I’m here, Da,” she said and sat up again. “I’m scared, Da.”

“No,” he said quietly, “no, you’re not.” He tried to laugh, but it caused him to cough horribly. The doctor gave her a frustrated glance.

“You’ve never been conquered by fear a day in your life. You won’t start today,” he said.

“You’re the king, Da,” she sniffed. “We’re all scared.”

“What is a king but a man with a crown?” he replied. “A leader is the one who takes action.” She rolled her eyes at the mention of one of their recent arguments. Not wishing to discuss it, she laid her head back down on his.

“Nyssa,” he said again. “My beautiful Nyssa. Don’t be scared for this old man.” Nyssa felt the tears again. “What I do want is for you to solve this little problem with Rogun.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll bring Izik’s head to you, Da. I will.” She patted his cheek.

“I know you will,” he said seriously. There was a long pause before he spoke again.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“I never stopped looking for answers about your mother,” he said after a tense minute where the doctor started on a new area. “It’s what led me to Izik.” Her father grunted and tried to take a big breath, but he coughed and Nyssa saw blood on his lips. “Dascus is responsible, but he doesn’t leave the island anymore so Izik does it for him. Yes, they want you, Nyssa!” he said then and tried to reach her in his distress. It caused intense pain and the doctor yelled at her in frustration. Nyssa was caught in the middle and her anxiety was losing control.

“Me?!” she babbled uselessly.

“Nyssa, they want you and I have failed to discover why. I brought you here because I knew you would defeat them, not to put you at risk. The big man, he was magicked somehow. I don’t know enough of that. Your mother, though, she knew! You must get to them first, Nyssa! Kill them before they kill you! Arrr!!” He had been talking very fast and he sounded like he was beginning to babble before he lost focus.

Nyssa was so startled by his outburst that she fell backwards. When she tried to return to her position, the doctor waved her away, ready to work on his shoulder. She called to him, but he didn’t respond; he’d passed out.

“Nyssa, this will take some time,” Brack said, coming up behind her and taking her by the shoulders to walk her to the door and hand her to Jara. “Go get changed. I’ll call you when he’s awake again.”

Nyssa suddenly found herself outside. She blinked in the setting sun. Jara pulled his cloak tighter around her and started walking her away. When they made it back to the tent, he had to sit her down. He poured a strong liquid for her, but it just stayed in her hand until he looked in her face and told her to drink. She did and coughed when it burned down her throat. It did little to unfreeze her mind.

Jara decided to leave her a while but busied himself instead with changing out of his armour and then hers. She didn’t make a move to resist him. She blinked, breathed and responded to his removing her clothing and washing her hands and face of the blood, but she clearly wasn’t there. He reached his limit with her when he offered her food. Nyssa had no interest in even taking it.

He sighed and put the bowl down on the floor beside him. He was on his knee in front of her. He took her hands in his own.

“He will pull through, Nyssa,” he whispered to her. Nyssa’s eyes instantly looked down.

“Do you believe that?” she said harshly. But she brought one hand to his cheek. “The old dog has played out all his tricks, Jara,” she said sweetly and it sounded lost. “And now he’ll leave us all in the wake of his inexplicable life and the darkness he created.”

“Nyssa, your father loves you,” Jara said then, standing and moving away from her. He was enormously relieved she was coherent again. She didn’t answer so he went back. She was staring again.

“Is that what he calls it?” she said weakly after a while, her voice distant again.

“Yes. I’ll admit he’s never been good at showing it, but it’s true. You must find strength in that,” he said. He put his hands on her upper arms and looked into her face. She stared back at him and her face crumbled.

“My father is going to leave me, an enemy wants to kill me — unbelievably, the same one that succeeded in ruining my mother — and without him, my Da and our king, where do I have left to go? If Madras couldn’t save her or himself, how am I supposed to do it, Jara? If he dies, will the new king even care?” she said barely above a whisper. The tears welled over and Jara pulled her against him. Nyssa collapsed against his shoulder.

“Princess Nyssa!” a soldier said from the front of her tent flap, making them both jump. “The king requests you attend him.”

Nyssa looked at Jara and tried wiping her eyes. She stood quickly and Jara rose and stepped in behind her.

When she entered, the scene was considerably more civilized. Her father was bandaged and clean and the blood-soaked rug was removed. Brack and the physician stood in conference to the side, but Nyssa noticed all the other generals and officers were there. When Brack saw her, he moved to stand by her father. He nodded for her to approach.

“Sire, the princess has come,” he said loudly. The room went silent.

Madras hadn’t moved since she’d arrived, but his eyes opened then. His hands were folded over his chest.

“Nyssa,” he said, his voice soft.

“I’m here, Da,” she said and cleared her throat. She knelt beside him and put one hand on his forehead, the other over the top of his hands. “And I’m sorry for all the stupid and insubordinate things I’ve ever said,” she added. Her father smiled, but Nyssa just checked another sob.

“I have called you here to announce in my own voice my will and my vote for a successor to the throne of Orak’Thune. I have already set these before the council. My brother and my son will read them upon receipt of the notice of my death.”

“Stop it, Da,” Nyssa said to him and tried to pull her hand away, but he caught it. He was clammy and cold, too cold.

“I vote my daughter Nyssa shall be queen and overlord; to deny her abilities and her leadership will be to the detriment of Orak’Thune. She is and will be the finest queen we have ever seen. I say this because you have already seen it for yourselves. In her abilities to master our ways and traditions, in her compassion for the unprotected, her determination to vanquish the evil that has been brought to these lands, she alone can defeat it.”

The king lifted his hand and Brack moved forward. He removed the ring from his hand and turned Nyssa’s over to put it in her palm. Nyssa was frozen, wide-eyed in her knelt position.

“Nyssa,” her father said , “in the interim, until such time as I am passed and the vote is confirmed, will you defend our country with your dying breath? Will you honour her allies and uphold her great laws? Defend her great people to the last child…” Her father was reciting one part of the lengthy code from a coronation. Nyssa could not find her voice. Her father shook her hand and she blinked.

“I will,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“All hail, Queen Nyssa,” her father said, but his hand went limp. Nyssa didn’t realize it right away, but she saw his face and his mouth had gone slack.

For a long, deafening moment, the tent and the dozen or so occupants were completely silent. Not even the wind shifted the canvas, not even a voice outside, a scrape of armour or crunch of leather. Nyssa had been gripping her father’s ring so tight in her palm it was hurting.

In unison and so loud the sound assaulted her ears like she had surfaced from underwater, they said:

“All hail, Queen Nyssa!”

Nyssa didn’t realize she had begun screaming. She was clawing at his clothes, trying to shake him awake. She tried to smack his face, but someone was pulling her away. She heard herself calling to her father over and over again and it sounded like it had when she was a little girl. A horn blew outside the tent, one blast that lasted nearly a minute.

“Un-hand the queen!” A booming voice came from somewhere behind her. She was almost immediately released onto her hands and knees and saw the floor getting closer in slow motion. Before her face hit, an arm reached across her chest and lifted her up, tucking her against a torso and under a cloak.

Nyssa closed her eyes and felt the pressure between her ears, the ringing that wouldn’t stop and that blocked out everything else in a terrifying void; she felt the heaviness to breathe. She was disconnected, adrift from the physical world and her mind wanted to return. Her body struggled for the need of the oxygen and the light, but it felt impossible.

When she opened them again, she was gently released by Jara to a low pile of blankets and rugs behind trunks piled high and one dim lantern that hung on the centre pole of the tent. It was hers, but the storage part was kept in the back. Calmed by the moment he’d stolen for her to breathe and not speak, she looked to his face and she saw his pain. Ache gripped her chest, ribs and all. She felt Jara’s anguish too. In addition to his daughter, Madras had been hers and their king.

She couldn’t bear it, the coming sorrow and the pain of a nation mourning its leader. Her father, her only remaining parent, had left her. He’d just…left. Jara watched her, leaning now on one knee beside her, his mouth covered by one hand, the other on her arm in comfort. His face was everything she wanted and didn’t, everything that was right and strong and failing.

Nyssa turned her head away from him. She was starting to shake; the tremor had been building and it was becoming more violent. She was going to run.

“Nyssa,” Jara called out to her and, in one arm, had caught her before she’d risen, but she’d twisted from him. “No, Nyssa, no,” he begged, nearly lying over her so his arms and hands were holding her to him. “Don’t go there, Nyssa, please!”

Nyssa, now free of the tether of Jara’s eyes, was feeling the blanket of grief and despair descending, like all the air was being sucked out of the room. She started to cry, gasping sobs that drained all her remaining strength to fight. She collapsed, limp in his arms.

“You left me,” she said to him, “just like him. I can’t have anyone!” Her head fell limply backwards when he rolled her and he was forced to lie her down.

“I have never left you, Nyssa!” he whispered quickly and directly above her. Heavy tears fled her eyes and tracked wide across her cheeks and into her hair. Her lips were swollen from crying and he rubbed them with his thumb. She saw him fighting back the same sorrow, the same regret. “I have never left you; I am right here.”

Nyssa watched him. He was so close. She’d had him like this once; strong and capable, sworn to her without legal pretext and fancy ceremony — they’d not needed it.

Jara slowly backed away. Again she saw the regret in his eyes.

Nyssa turned strongly away, not to run but to turn from him to put her back purposely to him. She pushed his hand from her body with a rough shove but collapsed to sob in the rugs, her hands gripping hard the fabrics.

“You are no better than them,” she sobbed hopelessly. “It’s OK, Jara. No one can love me.”

Jara sat back where she couldn’t see, but his hand remained on her ankle. He would not let go.

He heard little commotion outside. His orders to stand back and to allow no one seemed to be holding. Anyone in their right mind would not disobey him; he was the highest-ranking guardsman now. He shuddered once to feel that reality for the first time.

In a matter of less than a day, everything in their lives had changed. They’d been catapulted forward decades ahead in the plans for their lives. He knew Nyssa too expected to have more time to get used to this, to him, to campaigns and to learning under her father. Six months ago, maybe a day or two less, she’d been in his arms and then he’d been on his knees under her crown. Nyssa was no longer that girl, that young woman who had shocked him to his core with her sensuality and spirit. The girl of his youth, his friend turned woman and lover. Now his queen.

Jara sat up fast and looked around the tent. He leaned when he saw it tucked neatly in her personal things, the small satchel she usually wore on her body when they travelled. He went for it, dragging it back to them. On his knees beside her, he dumped it out and found what he was looking for. Nyssa had rolled her face to see him, sniffing and crying but she saw him. He moved back to her, lifting; he rested her across his chest.

She was crying softly but didn’t want to run. She rested her face against his shoulder, too beaten to fight. Jara kissed her forehead and then his hand moved to tilt back her head and he kissed her mouth. Nyssa didn’t resist him. It was soft, searching.

“I have never left you,” he whispered to her, tears standing in his own eyes.

“You promised,” she said to him, “but your oath. I know, Jara. It’s OK…” She kissed him anyway, crying the whole time. She needed him.

“You are loved,” he said, breaking the kiss and he took her face to turn it to see him more directly.

“You are loved, Nyssa!” he repeated. He moved her back and began removing her shirt, kissing her to keep her warm. Nyssa was beyond caring and let him go with most of it. He normally helped her dress in her armour and knew every inch of her garments and she wanted nothing of her role or rank now.

When she felt his warm bare skin against hers, when he lifted her head under his arm to cradle her again, she did look at him. Winds, he was beautiful. Warm skin, smooth and scented like armour and him, Nyssa felt her body calming but warming. Jara, naked around her, was taking over her mind. It didn’t take much, but right now, she understood.

He kissed her with consuming passion and Nyssa felt the burn grow and explode in her body. She gripped his arms and held them, anchoring herself to the only thing she knew for certain was real.

“Open your mouth, Nyssa,” she heard him say into her ear. She looked down and saw he had one of her blue vials. She felt her failure right then, her weakness for her love in him. She was already crying for so many reasons; if it killed her, this tincture, she would die in the arms of someone she loved. She held out her tongue. Two drops landed and she swallowed. It tasted like juniper.

Jara watched her mouth close and then the dip of her throat to swallow and it took every ounce of his strength to hold back. He took her face in one hand so she would have to see him. He hesitated just watching her beauty and her pain and feeling it break apart his insides. “You are not alone in anything, Nyssa. Especially not in this,” he whispered strongly. She felt the tremor in his hands that held her face. He kissed her hard then, tasting something faintly like juniper.

Slowly and gently, he laid her down against a pile of loose blankets. Hidden behind the trunks, Nyssa thought it felt like a new room, a different space, away from her father’s death and the camp they were in the middle of. Jara was kissing her entire torso, freed from the underpadding and shifts, and his hands moved to remove her pants. She felt the warmth of the length of his nude body and arched her back to meld hers to his. She didn’t know what to do, what to expect, but she was ready to be unclothed with him and she thought he could sense it. Jara began kissing her more intensely. His hands roamed over her chest, a few times. They found her nethers and she gasped to feel the heat between her thighs, but he backed away. Nyssa felt Jara strongly against her, his hands rubbed her thigh to her breast and she let her knees fall apart to rest open, hoping to wrap her body completely around him; he sort of fell in between.

“Brace yourself,” he whispered in her ear out of nowhere and didn’t wait for her reply. His hands grasped hers and linked them and then Jara rose above her.

Nyssa felt him large and warm slide slowly into her until it pinched like a needle piercing skin and then burned a little bit. She cried out in surprise at how big he felt and how intensely right at the same time. She stopped gripping his hands against the uncertainty; now it was for everything she needed to take. He had kept his face close to hers to listen for any reason to stop, but she’d have died first. She’d bitten her lip and moved a bit now on her own, feeling something building, something she wanted, even, but she’d wanted it more. Now that he was truly with her, she allowed herself to breathe.

“Nyssa, I love you,” he breathed into her ear. “Tell me if you don’t want this. Do you want me to stop?”

She turned to look at him but shook her head. He let go of her hands to pull her face closer. Watching her deeply, his eyes roaming across her face, he was searching for anything, a reason to hate himself, a reason to blame them for everything they were denied. But it was Nyssa; she was his only dream, his only wish, and his heart would not let him keep this from them.

He kissed her again while one palm traced the length of her body to her thigh and gripped hard. She felt him back out and re-enter and this time she nearly cried out.

She’d been surprised at the pleasure, mixed now with some of the newness of feeling him, which was driving her body and mind to new distraction. She reached between them, her fingers finding his girth deeply embedded. Jara stalled to let her explore, but he was inside of her. He couldn’t wait long. Starting again, her hands flew back to his shoulders to hold on to something. The rest of Nyssa’s body was betraying any of her remaining control and she moved with him, arching her back and hips to meet his, learning his rhythm with every thrust.

Nyssa let herself go. Jara moved again and again, thrusting the depths of her body to her soul and the noises he made in her ear sent vibrations down her spine and seemed to pool in between her thighs. She arched her back again, her legs opened more to him, and one large and warm hand grabbed her thigh and held it firmly high against his own, over and over with the new angle. Jara was close, but suddenly, he arched higher above her, his breath coming thickly, his mouth too far away to kiss her. His eyes watched hers, lidded but intent on seeing her. He was incredibly hot, it was slick between them, and Nyssa thought her mind would explode; winds, she loved him!

“Jara!” she exclaimed in a heated whisper, arched stiffly in his hands and against and deeply around him. Her eyes shut involuntarily while her body took over.

Nyssa climaxed out of nowhere, surprising herself, and Jara shoved his tongue in between her lips to muffle the sound after she called his name. He himself had made as little noise as he could control, but he bent to her ear to call her name like she’d never heard it before. She was still crying. Tears unchecked streamed down her cheeks and her body tingled from every pore while her breath came in heavy gasps, but the spasms she felt deep inside and around him gave her everything else. It was more than she could have imagined. It was everything she had hoped and more. It was physical bliss and it was him.

She felt his body relax on top of her but not pull free. It was incredible to be attached to him like this, but as soon as he cradled her to keep her warm and deeply protected against him, she remembered her worst fear was coming. She didn’t even try to hide her tears, but she held him just as tight, to keep him there so she could delay it as long as possible.

Jara waited until she’d fallen asleep to move from her. She was smooth and warm and her smell to him was intoxicating. He’d tried his best not to hurt her and in the end, he had to settle for just giving over to her. They were not in a place they could spend all night — but it was as he’d imagined it; she was everything and so, so much more.

He got up to wash his face. Her smell he wanted to wear forever. He looked at his reflection in her small dressing mirror. He looked the same, maybe older. He saw the marks on his shoulder, a tiny bit of smeared blood from her fingertips from where she’d touched her body between them, then moved to hold on strongly for the rest.

Jara gripped the table so hard it cracked. He wanted her so bad right there and again; he wanted her always. He looked back at her; divine beauty greeted his eyes and he felt weak with it.

She was sprawled against the blankets, one long leg uncovered and bent lightly at the knee. Her breasts were exposed where the fur blanket he’d pulled over had slid low. Her long hair was splayed out behind her and her face was calm. He saw the smoothness of her inner thigh and swallowed hard the urge to strip and take her all over again.

He was her first; he would always be Nyssa’s first and he concentrated on making himself believe that it had to be enough to sustain him. This wasn’t a victory; it was a promise fulfilled to her and to his own heart. That he hadn’t had to break it before Nyssa met someone else just made it purer to him, more important.

It was everything he ever wanted to give to her: to show her how it should be, how he loved her, why’d he’d insisted that they wait because it was worth it, that she was worth it. He hoped he’d succeeded in that at least because he had no idea how to protect her from everything else. His plan had been to give her something real, something permanent, something good in the midst of it all collapsing around them.

He stared at the smudge on his shoulder and gritted his teeth. He wanted it there for the rest of his life. She’d given it to him at their most meaningful moment and likewise at their most desperate and final. It was very likely the last thing he would ever receive from her that would mean this much, that would remind him of who they were in this moment — for each other and no one else.

Jara dressed and left the tent, posting a sentry with orders that no one enter and she not leave. He found a lone soldier still up, sitting outside his tent working a pestle. The soldier, a knight in the cavalry from Jara’s year, looked up and recognized him.

“Well met, Sir Jara,” he said very quietly and Jara nodded to him. He knelt down and pulled the shirt off his shoulder.

“Can you make this permanent?” he asked him. The soldier looked at it and nodded. “Exactly as you see it?” he reiterated; the man nodded again. He held up the pestle.

“Just finished a new batch of red,” he said and indicated that Jara go in his tent. Jara stopped at the door.

“No one can know,” he said low to him. The man agreed and stood to follow him in.

---

Nyssa was still asleep at the hour before dawn when he returned. Jara stood at the foot of their makeshift bed to watch her, praying time would slow down to give her more of itself before she would wake to the horrible truths she would face that day and during the weeks to follow. He knelt down quietly, but she stirred. He removed his cloak and wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her skin, but today meant all that was closed to them, one more thing he did not want to see in her face.

Nyssa sat up suddenly, the fur cover barely above her arm. One breast was exposed. She blinked the sleep from her eyes.

“Jara?” she whispered and the one lantern that still burned dipped lower. He reached out and dragged his knuckle down the perfect curvature of the inside of her breast. He knew she wore nothing underneath the rest of the fur, the way he’d left his lover, his only woman he’d wanted this way.

He nodded but just sat back heavily on his rear against a trunk to watch her. His knees were up and his arms rested on the peaks. He was so tired suddenly. He wanted to be with her anywhere in the world but here, but that was not their fate and it was defeating him. He just needed a minute to adjust.

She noticed something and moved quickly closer, almost in his lap.

“You’re bleeding!” she said and touched the bandage on his shoulder with light fingers; he took her hand from touching it. She was full nude inches from his face and he felt the heat flush across his skin.

“It’s nothing, I just had it looked at. Fine,” he said and kissed her fingers but put them down between them. Nyssa was looking at him. Suddenly but slowly, she moved to sit directly in his lap. One long bare thigh reached over to straddle him while her breasts brushed his face as she settled, her hands leaning on his arms. He’d looked up to her face, desperate to keep his mouth from closing on a nipple that was millimetres from his lips. He felt his breath quicken, his shaft stiffening uncomfortably already, but her eyes held his and she was calm.

She brushed the hair from his brow and he let his head fall back to see her face, his hands moving to hold her body over him, but it was in surrender. He was tired but knew sleep was nowhere near in his future. He had his hands on her back and then moved to her thighs. They were smooth; he wanted to rub them but instead gripped them firmly to keep her from feeling his willingness beneath her.

He was trying not to see her, her nakedness, her incredibly beautiful nakedness.

Nyssa pulled something from the blankets and it crossed in front of his face. He tried to grab it.

“We can’t, Nyssa!” he hissed at her and tried to yank the bottle from her hand. It uncorked, but she ended up with the bottle end. He was about to chastise her when she brought her hand between them and he smelled the juniper in the drops that had spilled on the back. Nyssa dragged her tongue across it slowly, licking every drop and Jara let out the breath he’d been holding in, but it came out a moan. His hands gripped her hips harder.

“Nyssa,” he started, but she was crying now. Her other arm was held out away from them and he looked to it. She held the vial upside down and it was dripping the last of the tincture into the carpet.

Nyssa wanted to give something back to him, something only they knew mattered. It felt harsh to pour out her only chance for comfort in the future, but she didn’t want anything else. She didn’t want anyone else. If he could make this choice for them, she could support it.

Jara held her and watched while Nyssa helped with his laces. She freed him, incredibly hard already, and positioned herself, holding the trunk behind him to brace herself. She watched him as she lowered her body. She huffed once at the start but didn’t stop and Jara sat absolutely still to allow her to settle. He seemed otherworldly. He seemed a dream and Nyssa’s mind swam trying to understand the intense physical sensations mixed with the pain of her broken heart.

When she was filled with him, she was still with her head against his, their breath between them and Nyssa’s crying had ebbed. She kissed him, lightly at first.

“I take you, Jara,” she whispered between his lips, “like you’ve taken me. Between us, this last time, I love you!”

Jara grabbed her mouth with his, crushingly hard and he moved her hips to start her and Nyssa felt the world melt away. He kissed and nudged her breasts where she sat a little raised above him, rolling her hips against the depths of his body, naturally gifted. Their breathing was faster and hotter and Nyssa felt she couldn’t wait for something. Nyssa pushed back against his knees, feeling him deeper and deeper. His hands moved firmly up her stomach and pulled her on her arms, pushed her shoulders, pinched her nipples. And then she was pulled forward by his hands wide against her shoulder blades and his mouth took in nearly a whole breast, but he let it go to see her eyes when she felt him tensing.

“Look at me, Nyssa,” he said and she felt faint, more riding his wave now than the intense one she’d started. “Look at me when you feel you can’t anymore!”

“I can’t, Jara!” she whimpered and was leaning back, but he held her forward and grit his teeth.

“Don’t forget that I love you always. Never forget!”

Nyssa tried to hold his eyes and managed. Almost. When her pleasure exploded and washed over her, she cried out his name against his mouth and trembled with the strength of it. She was so incredibly hot; she thought her body would burst into flames.

Gasping, she held his head, her fingers tense and gripping his hair, her eyes on his. She wanted to tell him things, sweet things, loving things, but voices and armour made noise outside. She didn’t jump or hesitate, but it killed the words in her mouth.

She felt the wet warmth between them; it tickled when he moved. She relaxed her grip and let go of her hold of him.

His chest heaved and he collapsed against the trunk behind them, his hands finally limp on her thighs.

She let go of what that wetness could mean for them.

And then she let go of him forever.