Enter The Champion

Death Comes in Many Colours

[Author's Note: This is going to be a long chapter, and it's going to be a turning point. So I suggest my readers buckle down for this and tuck their feels in their back pockets! Good luck surviving. As always, comment and vote if you please and remember, my messages are always open for questions and suggestions! I love you guys.]
Jeremiah lurked in the grand hall, gaze raking the decrepit war banners in which hung dull from the lack of the typical draft in which leaked in from the grand entrance. Some dated back long before her great grandfather's time, hinting at some long ago struggle for power and freedom. Something, in relative, that she could relate to. She steadied herself against the base of statue of what her father, in a long past conversation, had told her depicted the Queen of a world far off from their own. He had described her kingdom in great detail, telling of how evil ran free and the subjects were that of nightmarish demons. He had called the woman The Unseelie Queen, and the name itself was almost as beautiful as the stark, skillful detail carved into the worn stone. She was beautiful, and she was powerful. Something Jeremiah someday hoped to be known as.
    "Countess," the cold length of the title coming from Lenore chilled her to the bone. It was only ever in public that he called her by her title, and only then when he was angry with her. Jeremiah turned from the base of the statue with a start, clutching at the folds of her skirts. Lenore looked her over, an arctic sort of chill radiating from him. The icy shards in his eyes seemed to glitter, as if he had frozen from the inside out.
   "The Earl has ordered that both the half breed and I accompany you on your shopping expedition. Let us hope he can remain civil."
  The formality slapped her in the face. He handed it over to her like something expendable and well past its use. Like something he should have been using all along but had failed to employ. Something coiled in her stomach at the thought of both of them escorting her, and the many ways it could fail to prove a wise decision clouded her head. She suddenly felt pricked by nerves, and turned so only a fraction of her body was exposed to the glacial radiation of her father's Captain.
   "Very well, we're waiting on him," she bit back an addition that he was to call Parvati by his title, unwilling to stir any further animosity before they had even gotten out the door.
   After a moment of being sure Parvati wouldn't interrupt upon arrival, she cast her eyes to the floor and tossed a question into the space between them.
   "Why do you hate him so much? What has he ever done to you, except take the place you wanted?"
  The space between them seemed to hum with the impact of this question, but Lenore rose to the queue effortlessly.
   "What he is should not be allowed. Half human, half monster. He is unnatural. Centuries ago, his kind were driven out of the human lands and back into the cesspool they came from. They have stayed there since. He is more one of them than he is one of us, he should not have the grace to cross over the veil. Nor be here, in this household, guarding you or anyone else. The reason he has that grace is a simple fact, his father is the King. And it would seem the King only honors his own laws when it best suits him."
  Struck down like a tree in a storm, Jeremiah remained silent, soaking up what he said like a sponge exposed to a puddle of water. There was little time for this, as a rhythmic thudding on the grand staircase signalled that parvati had changed his clothing and was now ready to leave. The descent stopped abruptly, a sound like a feral feline animal trapped in a cage echoed throughout the hall before Parvati was at Jeremiah's side, sword drawn in a singing of metal and whisper of leather.
    "Countess Hale, step behind me," this was an order.
  Jeremiah obeyed, confusion striking her at his sudden reaction.
    "Ah, now what use is that?", Lenore appeared calm, unwilling to rush for his sword. 
   "Show yourself, trickster, immediately. Your are ordered by the pacts of this land and our own, to show yourself."
   Trickster?
Jeremiah bit her lip in an attempt to recall what exactly that was. Her father had given her lessons on the creatures under the Unseelie Queen's rule, and she'd now wished she'd paid more attention. Clearly, whatever this was was not Lenore. How she had not noticed, was beyond her, and she reprimanded herself for it.
   "I assure you, I have no inkling as to what you're on about," it sounded like Lenore, there was no difference in pronunciation or word use.
    Parvati coiled in front of Jeremiah, teeth bared back like some animal readying for battle. His head had tilted to one side, spilling inky black hair into his face.
   "You're not alone, I can hear their gibbering thoughts. Show yourself, or I'll strike you down where you stand in the name of the King and the grace of the Earl Hale and his guard," came that ancient, echoing voice.
Something shifted in the thing masquerading as Lenore. It became nervous, less posture, less like Lenore. It paled at the sound of this new voice, the demonic nature and inhuman tones of it.
   "Son of Tian'nach Aoiche," came the hissing reply.
"That's right," came the ancient voice, "your kind of all sorts should know the most about my lineage."
  "Guard to our Queen, family tithed to protect, what are you doing exchanging your duty for that of a human girl?"
   Parvati ignored this, attention turned to a gibbering bubble of laughter behind Jeremiah. He whirled, sword raised high above his head, and brought it whistling nearly down on Jeremiah, missing her by centimetres. However, the sword went through something very much solid with a sickening sound, and Jeremiah found herself sprayed with hot, black blood. She shrieked and stumbled backwards, wiping at her face and dress. The thing that had been Lenore no longer took on his face, and what was in front of her shook her into another scream. Something inhuman, with golden skin and eyes as black and featureless as onyx, with high cheekbones and robes the color of garnet stones left in the dirt.
   "Countess," it gave a hiss and lunged.
  Jeremiah screamed again, unwilling to stay in the thing's path. It was fast, much too fast for her to evade, and the weight of it slammed her into the stone wall behind her. Her head cracked off the wall, spurring spots and sparkles in her vision. Another pain came after, a searing and horrible pain in her side like none other she had ever experienced. She seemed unable to scream, she was choking on something that tasted metallic and hot at the same time. Blood. It was her blood. It was filling her airway.
  She glanced down through swimming eyes and realized why she was choking on blood.
She had been stabbed, and her blood had made a pool on the floor. She was vaguely aware of someone screaming her name, the sound of pounding boots and unsheathing swords, a symphony of blades ringing against each other. Then, the darkness closed in on her. Someone caught her, and their skin burnt her like the flames of hades. She was going to die, she thought. She was dead already.

   It was to the crackle of flames and angry voices that Jeremiah floated back into consciousness, aware of a daunting and horrific pain in her side. When she drew breath, she coughed and choked, and the taste of metal wrought across her tongue like a drought of sour poison. She lurched to the side of the bed and spat out the lot of blood in her mouth, the movement wrenching a new pain up her spine.
   "Countess," the voice was familiar but her attempt to place it brought up short in her confusion.
   "Parvati?", the name came out before she concluded who it belonged to.
  There was a rush of fabric and the clicking of boots.
    "Yes, Countess," suddenly, he was by her side, illuminated by the firelight and blazing with hatred.
   "I- Did you apprehend that...?"
     "Yes, Countess, the trickster is dead," he knelt down in one fluid movement, a hand snaking out for hers.
The fire suddenly jumped, and she saw lines of dread in his face. He looked grave, almost fearful.
   "What happened?"
  Parvati's metallic gaze snapped to the fire, unwilling to reveal what he was thinking.
    "Your Father's Captain has made orders."
  Her heart leapt into her throat, and she nearly choked on it. He was leaving, she was sure of it. He was ashamed of himself, she could see it in the rigid posturing of his body.
   "Orders for?"
Please, don't say your removal.
He stood, towering over her bed in such a way that made her feel the need to shrink back into the bed like a dog cowering from its master.
   "For my punishment for neglecting you."
  She sat upright, startled.
   "You didn't-"
He held up a gloved hand to stop her, drawing the folds of a set of black robes he must have changed into around the broad width of his shoulders.
   "I did. I allowed you alone in an open, vulnerable area. I failed to protect you from harm." 
   Fear stuck in her throat, tangible and threatening to crack her voice like fine china tipped off the table.
   "What are they going to do to you?"
  The golden pits of his eyes seemed to harden.
    "My punishment for neglecting the safety of the heir to the Hale household, is one hundred lashes with no reprieve, and an order to take blood oath to the heir by the midday in no less than a fortnight."
   Jeremiah sat up, swinging her feet from the bed in her haste. Pain rocketed up her side, wrapped her like a winter coat.
    "No, no. They can't whip you. They can't whip you, they'll kill you. One hundred lashes is fatal. Lenore cannot order you be killed," she nearly made it out of bed before her legs collapsed and she fell, caught by a silent Parvati.
    "Stay in bed, please," the pleading in that still ancient voice made her stop struggling. She allowed him to tuck her back into bed and wipe aside the mess of her hair.
  "Jeremiah," that ancient voice crackled, "I promise you, it won't kill me."
Jeremiah glared up at him, trembling with the idea of it.
   "It will come damned near close," her voice had risen, vengeful, "And Lenore will hear about it. He will mend your back and wrap your wounds, by my order, or I will have him dismissed."
  Parvati settled into the bedside chair, his image swimming in front of her as the pain took over and offered her sleep. She fought with claws, but it won. She did not fail to miss what was said after her eyes had closed.
    "Please, stay asleep until after it's over. By Lilith's great kettle, stay asleep."