The Maid's War (Kingfountain 0.5)

“They won’t ransom you, Genette. If you go there, they will kill you. They will throw you into the river and let you rush over the falls.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s not easy to kill someone who is Fountain-blessed. As you can plainly see.”

“Do you think they will let you keep the scabbard?” he chuffed. “No.”

“Of course they won’t. But the scabbard needs . . . it needs to go to Kingfountain, Alensson. You must bring it there, for I cannot. That is why—” She stiffened suddenly with pain and moaned weakly. He felt absolutely helpless and terrified in the face of her suffering. “I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry,” she panted. “It just hurts so much. Do you think a waterfall . . . .hurts this much?”

“I have no idea,” he said in despair. Kingfountain? He had to go there next?

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Hold my hand.”

He leaned over her, wishing he could take her pain on himself. Her arm was stretched out before her, elbow bent. He put his hand on top of hers and squeezed it very gently, watching to see if she flinched.

“It’s the only part that doesn’t hurt,” she gasped. Her thumb grazed his. “I had to jump, Alensson, because you would have been captured tonight,” she explained in an almost matter-of-fact way. “You were very foolish to come here and hide at night. The Fountain whispered to me that you’d be caught. That you brought the sword and that it would be taken away from you. You are not following the will of the Fountain.”

“But how am I to even know the will of the Fountain?” he said, feeling desperate and confused and shaken by the knowledge tumbling from her lips. “How was I to know?”

“You knew before you left the cottage,” she whispered. “You’ve been seeking your own will for so long, Gentle Duke. All now is confusion and despair. So I had to go alone to fulfill the Fountain’s will in all things. Even though I do not want to. When I learned you came, when I learned you’d be captured, I paced and paced, trying to understand what I could do to save you. This was all. The Fountain said if I fell, it would draw attention to my escape. They would forget about seeking the intruder they know is here.”

She blinked, gazing at him adoringly. “If I was to save you, I had to jump. I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid of heights, Alensson. Truly I am. I’ve always been afraid, but the Fountain gives me the strength to conquer my fears. Scaling the battlement walls that day in Foucaulx was . . . it was my test. Sometimes we must face our greatest fears. If we obey, the Fountain will bless us.” A crooked smile came on her mouth. “I knew if I fell, I wouldn’t die because you would come to me. You would save me. So I must ask you now to save yourself. Hide in the bushes over there, behind us, against the wall of the moat.” Her voice was getting stronger and stronger. “The magic is healing me quickly. When the guards come, you must hide and let them take me.”

“But I want to take you away!” His heart was full of anxiousness and confusion.

She shook her head slowly. “That cannot be! If you carried me, how far would we get before the hounds found us? Hmmm? No, you must heed me. You must believe in me still, Alensson. Go before me. Go to Kingfountain. Both scabbard and sword must go there. You must bring them there.”

“What about Jianne? What about my child?”

She closed her eyes. “I know this is difficult, Alensson, but you must trust me. I serve the Fountain’s will. There is nothing more I could want . . .” She stopped, swallowing, then shook her head slowly. “It is such a temptation. Please, you must stop asking that. It tempts me. But I will be strong. I will do my duty.”

“What are you talking about?” he said, growing even more confused.

“I’ve seen what happens, Gentle Duke. The game must go on. Trust me. Please, you must . . . just . . . trust me. I save you. Then you save me. At Kingfountain.”

Alensson heard the sound of hounds and the crunch of boots, and panic seized him. The guards had descended into the moat and were coming from the direction of the bridge he had hid under.

“If you hide in that bush,” Genette whispered, her gaze piercing him. “They will not find you. It’s a thorn bush. It will hurt. But there are berries in it that will confuse the hounds. And they will find me because your scent leads them here. Take the scabbard. It will protect you from the thorns. Then heed me, Alensson. Wait for me there. Stay at the sanctuary of Our Lady. They cannot arrest you there. You will be one of many pilgrims who will come and pray at the fountain of Our Lady. There you will find a little boy. Nine years old. He’ll have cropped black hair. He’s Fountain-blessed. Give the boy the scabbard, not the sword. If I have the scabbard, I will survive the falls. The boy will help me get the scabbard when I need it. Trust me, Gentle Duke. Do your part. Go to Kingfountain and wait for me.”

Her voice was racing with concern as she spoke, her eyes glittering in the moonlight. “Take it and go! Go!”

“But your wounds!” He didn’t want to take it from her. What if he used the sword to fight the guards and the hounds? Would there be time to escape?

Her fingers dug into his hand, snapping his attention away from the violent thoughts. “Please, Alensson! You must hide in the thorn bush. Please! Or all is ruined!”

From the corner of his eye, he saw the light of torches coming their way. The guards were sweeping the entire length of the moat. In moments, the light would expose them both. He wrestled with indecision, wanting to obey her—he believed in her—but not wanting her to be taken away, not when he was so close to rescuing her. She had literally fallen from the sky to him.

“Please, Gentle Duke,” she whispered, squeezing his hand.

He bowed his head, kissed her hand, and then snatched the scabbard from her back. He slid the sword into it and dashed over to the thick foliage-wreathed thorn bush growing from the base of the moat like a nest. The hounds barked at his movement, and the guards released their leashes to let them bolt. He heard their snarls and growls and the padding noise of their paws as they charged ahead of the guards. Alensson held his breath and plunged into the thorn bush, feeling the sticks and thorns jab and poke him as he wrestled himself farther into it. He winced with pain as he was pricked and pierced all over his arms, side, and legs. The bush was too short to conceal him, so he was forced to crouch. Stings and cuts covered his body—an exquisite agony—but he was certain it was nothing compared to what Genette had suffered from her fall.

The hounds reached her still body and began barking fiercely as they sniffed her from head to toe. She lay there still, her back rising and falling as she breathed.

Alensson watched as the guardsmen arrived next, their lanterns showering light on the area. While he hadn’t noticed before, she was still dressed in men’s clothes, a bloodstained tunic and pants that she’d worn previously into battle.

“Bless me, it’s her! It’s the Occitanian strumpet!” Alensson could only grit his teeth as the guards discovered the body.