Divine Corruption
Manon felt like she hadn't even been home that long and already it was time to load up on an airship again. Though, this time, Jacques was going to be accompanying her.
In their continuing mission to piece the country back together, they had been going to various cities to oversee cleanup and repair efforts. It was a slow process because, unlike Vasconia that had very few, but large cities, Gascony had multiple smaller towns and villages dotted throughout the landscape amongst the larger cities. While the invasion force had cut a nearly straight path through to Ambraude, they had still stopped at multiple cities along the way.
And destroyed them.
It was a dark time. One of grief and rage. Manon had understood everything her father had done, even as she condemned it.
And now, she made amends in his place by returning to those cities and helping set them to rights. This next city in particular, they had been putting off for some time.
Isaie. The capital of religious life in Gascony. And the city that had most been obliterated by her father's efforts. By rights, it should have been the city to get their attention first, but the scope of destruction meant that it couldn't be properly made safe for their arrival. There was no secure place for them to stay at night. The citizenry were homeless, desperate, and highly conservative due to living in the religious seat. If there was anywhere in the country Manon was truly unwelcome, it was Isaie. She had even asked Jacques if he would prefer to go alone just to make his job either.
But he said no. She was his queen. They would do this together, expressly because the citizenry were so against her. They needed to see her there, helping them, not being evil incarnate. It was for the benefit of everyone. Them and her.
Manon wasn't averse to danger. Her main concern was making sure her people didn't hate her more. He was right to say that being amongst them, helping, would do more to help ease tensions than locking herself safely away in the palace.
Emilien, their general, had been there for a few weeks already. He had been preparing for their arrival alongside his wife and the new Vasconian ambassador to Gascony – Lady Paladin Lea Severine. She was more than capable of defending herself if something went wrong and, using her as a template and test subject, Emilien was able to create a safe place for Manon and Jacques to stay
Manon was fully confident in his abilities as she climbed the gangplank of the royal airship, her hand in Jacques' arm. They were the very image of elegance and regal countenance. They were doing a great job of hiding that he was using his grip on her arm, partially hidden by her jacket, to occasionally tickle her side, the underside of her arm, her back.
He was trying to make her laugh or squirm. Break character in any way at all. And she was breaking her back teeth she was gritting them so hard to keep that from happening.
Turned out, she was ticklish. It was something Jacques had discovered yesterday when they had been racing down the halls in their stockings, slipping and sliding on the marble floor, running into each other and the walls, and laughing like maniacs.
He was wasting no time in attempting to use this weakness against her. And she was wasting no time in plotting her revenge. She was imagining putting something harmless but devious into his tea or putting crumbs in his bed or any other number of wicked schemes that she used to pull on her older brother like the bratty little sister she was.
This relationship was not at all what she expected. She would have thought being an adult and settling into marriage would mean she had to stop these childish games. Instead, she was pulling classic pranks that definitely would have earned her, at the very least, a lecture. And then receiving those same pranks in return - which was even more odd.
But also the most fun she had enjoyed in years.
It seemed like, ever since she had followed Nina into Gascony on a mission to rescue her captured brother, she had been doing nothing but studying and training and learning. She hadn't known what for when she began, but when she decided to take over as queen, her goal became clear. And she thought that would be it. Her fate was decided and there was no more fun to be had.
But now Jacques was surreptitiously tickling her as they stood at the rail of their ship and waved goodbye to the servants and nobles that were excited to see them off. This wasn't a big event, and they had done this many times already, but, for some reason, the people wanted to celebrate the flight. Especially today when their target was Isaie.
She barely managed to hold herself together as they waved goodbye, the captain gave his report - that she didn't hear - then Jacques excused them to their room. His excuse being that his queen was just so tired from staying up late working so hard.
She was so putting something in his tea.
They retired to their rooms and the moment the door shut behind them, Manon gasped for the breath she had been holding and her knees collapsed. Jacques threw back his head, laughing as she panted, chills and shivers dancing over her body. Like every reaction she had been forcing down was trying to hit her all at the same time.
"You... are... evil," she gasped, her legs shaking weakly.
Jacques kneeled down beside her, smugly smirking. "Surrender already, my dear?"
"Revenge... will be mine... and... it will be... sweet," she promised, giving him as ferocious a gaze as she could manage with her body so weak.
Jacques grinned and booped her nose before standing and crossing the room to the tea tray that was already waiting for them.
The suite of rooms was the same as it had been when she had traveled alone before. Only this time, two rooms had been prepared. If the servants thought anything of their king and queen not sharing a room or a bed, they made no comment on it. Jacques assured her that it was fine and that, in Gascony, it wasn't uncommon for married couples to have separate rooms their entire marriage. None more so than the king and queen since the king was typically involved in running the kingdom and so kept late hours while the queen reared her children and thus kept odd hours.
Of course, Jacques and Manon ran the kingdom together and had no children to rear - yet - but they still had odd, late hours and still kept separate rooms.
Manon found the strength to get back to her feet while Jacques was pretending to innocently read over reports from the northern territories while sipping tea. She gave him a dark glare as she sat beside him to find that he had already poured her tea as well.
"You should sleep with one eye open," she threatened, delicately adding cream.
Jacques grinned at her. "If you are threatening to sneak into my room at night and expect me to be put out, you will be the one disappointed, pretty wife."
Manon's face heated. Jacques smirked as he sipped at his tea again. Damnably handsome idiot.
She tasted her own tea, reaching for her own stack of reports - these on the overfishing in the bay that had occurred as a result of fishermen struggling to keep up with wartime demand. There needed be some rules and regulations in place now to allow the fish to replenish their numbers as well as going forward so this problem didn't occur again.
And it was up to Manon to go over recommendations from experts, help put together a plan, then put the royal seal on that plan. Regulating fishing lanes was, admittedly, not one of the glamorous parts of the job, but it was necessary.
And it passed the time on the days long journey to Isaie. And since they were in such close quarters, Jacques and Manon found themselves really working together for the first time since they had taken their crowns. Questions about advice turned into queries about what the other was doing turned into them discussing their individual topics at length until, by the last day of journey, they had consolidated their work piles to work on together and, somehow, managed to halve the time it would have taken them to do it individually.
And to Manon's own surprise, it was just as much enjoyable sitting down and working alongside him as it was playing around with him. Maybe not the same kind of fun, but there was a definite sense of purpose and fulfillment that she hadn't found working on her own. It was like they were a proper team for the first time.
Then, they arrived in Isaie.
The holy city had practically been obliterated by the invasion. It had always been flat, but the one exception had been the massive, rounded Sacellum building that speared up towards the sky. A monument of faith and ingenuity and durability.
A monument that now lay in rubble.
As the ship came in for a landing in the largest city docks, she flinched at seeing the massive pile of stone and debris. It looked like a fist from a giant slammed down through from the heavens and, like a child stomping a sand castle, it had collapsed around that central point. She knew that was almost exactly what happened, because she had been there to see the heavy anchor of the massive warship beating down on the building. She had seen the stone collapse. Heard the screams of those trapped inside and the people below watching their church, their monument built in loving dedication to the Lord, destroyed.
Manon had been unable to do anything. Helpless and under the command of her king. Though she could help now, even she knew it was too little, too late. It would take too long to rebuild the Sacellum and, even if it was perfectly recreated, it would never be what it was before.
Not for the first time, when she descended the gangplank on Jacques' arm, she was greeted with hostile glares and loud hisses and yells of disapproval.
She held her head up high. Walked with confidence. Jacques wasn't even trying to mess her up this time as he glared at the people that dared boo the queen that wore his coat.
The citizens were being kept far at bay, however, by a line of Gascony soldiers - all done up in their red and brown finery. Standing at the base of the gangplank, bowing formally, was General Emilien. A good man with an 'X' shaped scar on his cheek and a smile on his face. Manon had known him for years and she could admit that he never looked so good as when he was proudly wearing the uniform, insignia, and cape of his rank.
"Your majesties," he greeted with warmth in his voice and a smile that the two of them returned with full feeling.
"Been keeping busy, general?" Jacques asked, looking out at the line of men protecting them.
"There's a lot to do. I've had the soldiers helping with repairs when they can, but there's a lot to do. A great deal of the city was destroyed when... Well, it's done now and the important thing is that you're finally here."
"And honored to be," Manon said, looking around at the city she had visited now on multiple occasions. And none of them good. She wasn't sure that this time was all that good either. She hadn't stepped foot in Isaie during the attack, but the people clearly didn't care. The fact that she had been on the opposing side, even unwillingly, was enough of a crime.
But Emilien was a superb general and his soldiers trained to the highest degree. The docks the royal airship landed at were so close to the manor they would be staying - a short flight by the city aircabs away – that she could see it as they were walking down the docks towards the aircab that was already waiting for them. The path there was clear. The streets they had to fly over to get there was clear. The mansion itself was cleared and heavily guarded.
Emilien had thought of everything. Manon was sad that's what it had come to, but she wasn't safe here in Isaie.
Though, for the first time, Jacques was getting a heavy dose of disdain. She was surprised to see the people directing their displeasure at him as well. Not in equal measure, they still reserved the most of it for her, but that he was getting anyway was strange.
Neither of them broke rank as they were flown – by a soldier – the short distance to land directly in the back gardens of the mansion. By the near flawless state of the building and garden, either this place had somehow had been untouched by the invasion or, more likely, it had been completely repaired and renovated before their arrival.
"Was this a nobleman's mansion?" Manon asked the soldier as he was leading them inside.
"Yes, your majesty," he replied calmly. "He was one of those you stripped of their rank for an assassination attempt early in your reign."
"Oh." She started, surprised. But when she looked to Jacques, he had a smug, self-satisfied grin on his face. She nudged him, catching his attention.
She wouldn't say anything in front of others, but she gave him a look that said clearly, 'you don't have to look so happy about it'.
His grin widened. Unrepentant.
She had no doubt that the assassination attempt had been against her – because the overwhelming majority were. Jacques was either a secondary target or he wasn't targeted at all. She also knew that it was Jacques' decree that had stripped the man's title and wealth. He was making sure that, anytime such a thing happened, he himself was the one who was taking from the would-be assassin. Partially so no one could accuse Manon of abusing her power, but mostly because he insisted he had to do it. He was protecting his wife. Showing the people that attacking her was an affront against him and that the punishment, therefor, would come from him.
Just as it would for any other couple in the kingdom. Attacking a man's wife was just begging for his retribution. And for a king, that meant he could not only imprison a man for that crime, but he could claim everything he owned as recompense.
Moving into his mansion just seemed to be adding insult to injury. Not that Jacques seemed at all to mind. If anything, he stalked through the halls as though he had conquered them personally, head held high, shoulders back, still smirking.
Manon didn't think anything of it when they led them to their rooms. She was looking around, admiring the splendor, thanking first the soldier who guided them, then the servants who brought their belongings. She didn't even stop to wonder why they were giving her a strange look.
Until they left and she realized that she and Jacques were sharing the master bedroom. The only master bedroom. A singular bed in a room just off the sitting room. One bathing room. A joined space like a married couple would be expected to have.
The moment she realized, she looked over to Jacques to find him already grinning at her. He had already realized it.
"Do you need a separate room, my darling?" He asked sweetly, all innocence.
She put her nose up. "We are married adults, Jacques. I'm sure if you can't control your passions, I shall not say a single word to stop you."
"Oh, really?" His grin widened. "So confident, are you?"
He started walking towards her. Slow and deliberate. Taunting.
Manon turned to face him head on. Back straight. Eyes on his. She refused to back down even as every hair stood on end with eager anticipation and a small amount of fear.
Jacques stopped in front of her, close enough to touch if they tried. Leaning over her. Her head had to tilt back to continue meeting his eyes.
Had Jacques always been this tall? This manly? Or maybe it was just the sensual confidence that made him seem so much bigger than she remembered. Or maybe it was because it was the first time she had been close to Jacques like this, in this way.
"Shall we test if you will speak any words?" He asked and, for a few, long seconds, she didn't even know what he was talking about.
But she had told him she wouldn't say a single word to stop him. So she said nothing. Just continued to stare up at him.
Jacques kept his hands behind his back as he leaned over her. Deliberately not touching her in any other way except the tiny, chaste kiss.
Manon shivered in longing. She wasn't unfamiliar with kisses. She wanted a proper one. She wanted him to kiss her like his wife, not like an acquaintance that he was greeting politely.
When Jacques looked over her face, he must have seen that longing in her eyes because his own gaze lit with approval before he closed the distance again.
He still didn't touch her with his hands. Following his lead, she kept her own hands at her side. Fisting into the fabric of her skirt as she resisted the urge to grab hold of him. His lips moved gently over hers – slow and sensual and seductive. Kissing her top lip. Her lower lip. The corners. Then back to center so he could lick gently at her lower lip.
She obediently, even eagerly, opened her mouth for him.
A small rumble of approval vibrated through his tongue as it entwined sensually with hers. Their movements were slow and deliberate. Tasting each other. Feeling each other. A kiss that was both a greeting and a new understanding.
And over far too quickly for Manon's liking.
Jacques pulled away, drawing a soft, delicate sound of protest from her. Hearing it, her face immediately flamed red. Manon didn't even know she was physically capable of making such a sound. Hearing the memory of it echoing in the air made her heart skip a beat.
Jacques smirked at her, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.
"Better get used to it. I'm going to be pulling far more pretty sounds from you than just that." The overtly sexual threat contrasted by the still completely innocent tone and smile sent a shiver up her spine. She honestly wasn't sure if it was good or bad.
Jacques chuckled as he turned from her to leave. "I'll have them make me up a new room. You can keep this one, my dear."
Her face remained burning long after he left and her lady's maids came to help prepare her for bed. They were professional enough not to ask.
~~~~~~
The next day, the hard work began.
Jacques and Manon, dressed down so as not to ruin their finery, wearing matching golden circlet crowns on their head, met with the church leaders.
In most cities, a mayor was in charge of running everything from street upkeep to keeping track of supplies and population. In Isaie, however, the church ruled everything. The few nobles that lived in the holy city were highly devout and, if they had any ruling power left over their land, they almost always deferred to what the church decreed.
So, instead of meeting with the mayor and various city leaders, Jacques and Manon met with a council of old men - twelve in total, that oversaw the running of the city in particular and one of whom who was currently acting as the Sacellum Master. The former one hadn't been killed or injured in the attack, but he was an old man and the stress had been too much for his heart and he had died in the weeks immediately afterward.
The acting Sacellum Master had been decided on by vote by the rest of the council of old men, but he had yet to be approved by Jacques and Manon. The men had sent the two of them a missive requesting they do just that some time ago, before she had even left to attend her brother's wedding, but it had gone ignored because neither of them wanted to approve him without meeting him.
And now meeting the council, Manon was glad they had deferred that choice.
The old men were stuffy, overly conservative to the point of being detrimental, outright ignored her through the entire meeting, and all they wanted to talk about was when they would get the funds to rebuild the Sacellum. They didn't care about the rest of Isaie – or the rest of the kingdom for that matter because there wasn't enough gold to rebuild the Sacellum, not without depriving the rest of the country of desperately needed funds. And the old men definitely didn't like being told that they would not be getting those funds.
"But your majesty!" They protested loudly, only to Jacques. Other than a cursory bow of greeting when she came into the sitting room in the mansion they had all gathered in, not one of them had even looked at her. She was pretty sure they had coordinated beforehand to make sure they all knew they were going to be ignoring her.
Like adolescents in school.
"I value the church and it's good works," Jacques replied evenly as Manon sipped delicately at her tea, seated beside him on the sofa paying the old men as much attention as they paid her. "Rebuilding the Sacellum is certainly a matter of importance, but surely the Lord's good words about taking care of each other would indicate that repairing the city comes first."
"The priests and acolytes are without a home, your majesty," the acting Sacellum Master – one of the younger priests named Laurent said. He was a weaselly man who was short in stature, with pinched features, and permanent scowl lines etched on his face.
"Are they sleeping on the streets right now?"
"No. They stay in the various churches-"
"Then they'll be fine there." Jacques gave the obnoxious man a mocking smile. "Church leaders are there to serve the people. Not the other way around. Is that not what it is taught?"
Laurent sputtered. Manon could see his hands tightening in frustration where they held them together in the sleeves of his white robe. He was the priest wearing white, the others wore gray. Though they all wore sashes marking their rank. Laurent wore a very flashy gold, with golden thread woven through the vibrant color that sparkled in the light, while the others wore plain gold trimmed in white. It was all very ostentatious.
"Your majesty, if you ignore the spiritual needs of the people-"
"I believe their physical needs come first. Very hard to be concerned about church teachings with an empty belly or without a roof over your head." Though Jacques was smiling, his voice was steel. It matched the hard look in his eyes that only deepened the more they ignored Manon. He did not appreciate the casual disregard of his queen. "The Sacellum will be rebuilt, but not before I tend to the needs of the city as a whole."
"Your majesty, that is not-"
"We are done speaking of this. Tell me how many are still without a home."
"The priesthood-"
"Are living in the church. Tell me what I want to know, Laurent."
"This is blasphemy!" His face was red and blotchy as his temper rose along with his voice. "You will not be able to retain your throne if you disregard the Lord's servants!"
"And that is treason." Jacques' eyes flashed. "You will not be able to retain your head if you continue to disrespect us so openly."
Clearly unprepared for a threat against his life, Laurent stared, mouth open wide with shock. Manon took a deliberate sip of her tea - violently loud in the stillness. That act earned more than one glare. The first time many of them had even looked at her.
Manon smiled sweetly as Jacques' expression darkened.
"Is that a threatening glower you just gave my wife? Your queen?" He asked coldly.
None of them responded, but she saw more than one jaw tighten as they bit back angry retorts. She wasn't sure if Jacques would actually kill them or not, but she did know that him doing so would, in fact, earn them more enemies.
Reaching out, she covered his hand with hers. "Now, now, my dear husband. I'm sure they are just frustrated after everything that's happened."
"Not as much as they're going to be if they continue to insult me by treating you so shamefully," he promised with a dark rumble in his voice.
Manon fought the urge to shift her weight on the sofa. She wasn't sure what it was about that voice, or what it was doing to her, but she was pretty sure that she rather liked it. Which probably wasn't a good thing. She didn't need to encourage her husband into tyranny. That was definitely something her mother would not approve of her doing.
"I think they're right," she said, earning a bunch of surprised looks from the old men. And a wicked grin from Jacques even as he continued to glare at them. He knew her better to think she was actually agreeing with them. "I think we should do something about the state of the priesthood. In fact, I think we should do it sooner rather than later."
Laurent finally gave her a self-satisfied smile, finally looking at her. "Ah, your majesty, you are a wise young woman indeed. You lead our king true."
Jacques turned his hand under hers, interlacing their fingers together. "My queen is indeed wise. Far wiser than me. Do you really think we should do this now, my dear?"
"Tomorrow. Today, we need to learn all we can about the state of the city and its population. I'd like to get a full understanding before we move forward."
Laurent was still smiling unpleasantly, but some of the others had bitter grimaces on their face. As though they hated that Manon was agreeing with them, but it was giving them what they wanted, so they couldn't say anything against her.
Jacques pretended to think for a moment. As though there was any chance he wouldn't listen to his queen. He took the time to look each old man in the eye, making sure they saw him doing it. Taking the time to memorize each other their faces before finally nodding once.
"Very well. I will bow to my queen's greater wisdom. We will deal with the problems of the priesthood tomorrow. For now, give me the number of those still without a house as I already asked you to do or I will have you punished for ignoring your king's order." That threat was back in his voice, but so was that smile. And honestly, it made his threat all the more unnerving.
And arousing, Manon realized as her palm warmed in his.
Laurent was much more forthcoming with his answers this time. To his credit, he did have all the information that they needed immediately at hand. He knew where all the shelters were in the city that were taking care of those that had lost a home in the attack and possessed reports on how many those shelters were servicing. He already had estimated costs for the various repairs neatly broken down into the most necessary to the least – with the repair of the Sacellum being put to the top, somehow even above the broken sewage system that had been damaged in the bombing.
Talking with the old men took all morning. It might have gone faster, but anytime Manon spoke, no one responded to her without Jacques threatening them. So, every question she asked took twice as long to answer and was usually done with a lot of attitude which led to more threats and anger.
Manon spent their luncheon trying to calm Jacques down and talking him out of going through with his threat of claiming their heads for their insult.
Part of her wondered how much of it was for the benefit of the servants and soldiers that watched over them as they ate so word would spread about not only how protective he was of her but also that she was the only who kept him calm and rational and how much of it was genuine.
She didn't get a chance to ask, however, as after they ate, they began the flying tour of the city. Taking stops at multiple locations. Partially so they could see the damage, but mostly so they could see the people and the people could see them.
This was the part that Emilien was dreading the most and Manon could tell by how tight their security was the next day. It wasn't just him, but also his wife, Lady Lea, and Manon's own personal bodyguard, Amorette, coming with them. The two of them combined – the paladin who could steal the strength of any who fought her and the paladin whose strength was already boundless – were a near unstoppable force. They had been instrumental in the siege that claimed Ambraude just months ago.
It was also very well known that both of them were paladins. Their presence was a source of anger and disquiet to the people but the benefits of them being there outweighed the potential dangers because, though Manon wasn't – to their knowledge – a paladin, the people were no more fond of her. At the very least, the presence of paladins distributed the hate amongst many rather than let it settle solely on her.
Still, despite how unwelcome she clearly was, Manon kept her head high and her comportment regal as she walked around on Jacques' arm.
It was their only chance to do so. Tomorrow was going to be a very busy, upsetting day for most of these people and it really wouldn't be safe for them to walk around in the open anymore.
Their presence also provided a distraction as the soldiers got in place. The church may be against Jacques and Manon, but the military was loyal and, outside of Isaie, the majority of the population was either appreciative of the new regime or, at least, indifferent to the change and therefore disinclined to change it back. That was not true in Isaie where the population was mostly loyal to the church and therefore heavily against the new regime.
And for what tomorrow would bring, they needed the military's power.
They had discussed it for a while before coming. Debated the best way to do this. Debated if it was even worth doing at all. They hadn't come to an agreement and, for a long time, even upon landing, they weren't sure they were going to go through with it.
But seeing the leaders of the church snub Manon so obviously, seeing how corrupt and greedy they were, caring only for themselves when so many in their own city suffered, it had finally tipped to scales in Jacques' favor. Manon had been the one arguing against the action.
But she had agreed in the meeting and Jacques had given the order to Emilien to begin executing the plan this afternoon.
So, while the soldiers were getting in place, Jacques and Manon were playing as a distraction. They did genuinely want to see the damage to the city and meet the people, of course. Manon could even admit that not everyone was rude to or angry with her.
Some of the kids were cute and open minded. Until their parents pulled them away, jerking them back by the arm like she was a leper about to ooze all over them. A few of the adults gave her looks that were only suspicious, not outright hostile.
The priests were split into two groups.
Half of them glared at her with the heat of a thousand suns. Turning their noses up as their lips curled in disgust as though she had spat on their robes. She wasn't surprised by those. That was exactly the reaction she expected from a church that decried her people – Vasconians – as evil for daring to treat paladin women like people.
It was the other half of the priesthood that surprised her.
She met those when they stopped at one of the shelters for the homeless. This one was catering specifically to families with very young children. There were a distressing number of single mothers that had lost their husbands to war and battle. Too many of them didn't have the strength left to look at her with hatred. Instead, they gazed at her with dead eyes that made Manon wish they would look at her with hatred.
The priests there hadn't come to gawk and stare and throw insults. They weren't living in the churches or begging for money for the sake of their own comfort. They were staying in the shelter with those they looked after and begging for charity for the sake of others.
And they weren't precisely warm or friendly towards Manon, but they were respectful and they actually acknowledged her and answered her questions. That was almost a novelty by that point. But Jacques was fully pleased and left the place after making promises that they were going to work on getting everyone settled back in their homes as soon as possible.
It was a long afternoon that led into a longer evening. They didn't return to the mansion until long after the sun had set. Tired, covered in grime and sweat from the long day of meeting with the less fortunate and helping where they could, but satisfied with their choice.
Manon didn't return to her room at first though. She followed Jacques to the smaller one he had made for himself. It didn't have a separate sitting room, so she sat beside him on the sofa in front of his cold fire place, the room dark because neither of them bothered to turn on the lamps.
Their hands were clasped together. He was gripping her so hard, he was shaking.
"Are you sure about this?" Manon asked, her voice soft.
"It's what's necessary."
"But is it what you want?"
He didn't answer for a long minute and she was about to tell him to forget it. But he spoke again, "I want it. I just don't know if I want it for the right reasons."
"The officials are corrupted. We've seen that now with our own eyes. People are starving on the streets while the priests are forcing them out of the few homes that are still standing. They're begging us to rebuild a monument to their power before helping those starving mothers in the shelter."
"I know. But I keep thinking that the only reason I want to topple them is to punish them for daring to treat you the way they did."
"Jacques, that's not the reason and you know it." She scooted closer, leaning into his side. "It's just the one that finally decided you."
He chuckled darkly. "You're more generous than I, Manon."
She kissed his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jacques. I know this will hurt you."
"That's just the thing." He put his arm around her, holding her close. "It won't."
~~~~~~
Early the next morning, there was rioting in the streets.
Jacques and Manon remained tightly, safely, enclosed in the mansion. Not without argument. They had wanted to be involved, but Emilien, Lea, and Amorette all talked them out of this. What was happening wasn't going to be bloodless, though they would try their best, and if the truly fanatical saw the rulers responsible for ordering it, there would be more.
The army was going through the city, capturing all the corrupted priests that the two of them had identified yesterday, including the temporary Sacellum Master himself. They weren't being killed, but they were being detained. Technically, nothing they had done was illegal, even if, morally, it was reprehensible. So, they weren't being put under arrest. However, they were being kept sequestered and powerless while the two of them worked on transferring power and restructuring the priesthood among those who they had identified as genuine men of faith and goodness.
And while the army was doing that, Jacques and Manon were writing and signing new proclamations into law. Breaking down a great many laws and statutes that continued to exist only because they hadn't been ready for this fight with the church.
Reward for reporting suspected unnatural women? Rescinded.
Laws permitting the detainment of unnatural women? Rescinded.
Laws protecting priests who perform otherwise inhumane, cruel things on unnatural women in custody for the protection of the people? Rescinded, now illegal.
The right of the Sacellum to govern Isaie as a government body? Rescinded.
One thing after another, receiving both of their seals and signatures. They had to write and sign each individual priests' writ of dismissal from the church as well as absolution of all powers any previous titles might have given. They made sure that they only did so to priests they knew had lost their way. For everyone else, they were either among those they had seen serving the people yesterday, or they were unsure and so were deferring judgment.
A proclamation was written ordering any priests being housed within civilians homes - regardless of whether they had been welcomed there or not - to be evicted and returned to their churches. They weren't going to risk anyone being forced to take on someone they couldn't afford because they were threatened. In the same proclamation, they announced that anyone that had been forced from their home could return and any damages or losses should be tallied and reported to the crown.
It would be repaid using gold that was being confiscated from donations given to the greedy priests. Gold that was also being redistributed to the shelters that actually needed them.
It was a long day. Every so often, a captain would come inside and report on the progress being made and it was always steady and in their favor. There were warrior priests among the Gasconite priesthood, just as in Vasconia, but their numbers had been greatly reduced in the invasion and, being completely unprepared, those that remained were easily defeated.
Jacques and Manon finished with their task before Emilien and the army. They wanted to go outside and aid him in whatever way they could, however they remained in place. They weren't going to leave the mansion without their general's knowledge and approval. They may have been his king and queen, but despite having lived through a war for many long years, they hadn't actually led an army in that war. He was the expert here and they deferred to him.
But it was a strain on their nerves. They had to pretend it wasn't as they drank tea and discussed matters of state and their plans when they returned home. Anything to keep themselves busy and focused off the waiting. They were being watched closely by soldiers. Emilien and Lea had made sure that, today and every day going forward, they were guarded closely. After this, they were going to make a lot of enemies in Isaie and had to be extra careful of possible attack while here.
And since they were being watched, they couldn't even attempt to distract each other through their silly games.
It was late evening by the time Emilien returned. He looked just as put together and calm as he had this morning. If he had been forced into battle today, he didn't show it. There wasn't a drop of blood on him – either his or someone else's.
"Your majesties," he bowed to them at the waist. "Isaie is yours."
Jacques stood, nodding his head to him. "Good work, general. Any dead?"
"Three priests. One killed himself before we could stop him, but the other two fought my soldiers and could not be successfully restrained. No civilian deaths. No soldier deaths. There are injured from all groups, but nothing serious."
Manon let out a small breath of relief as Jacques nodded again. "The priest leadership?"
"All of them successfully captured. None of them attempted more than a small resistance. Sacellum Master Laurent has been demanding to speak with you."
"We spoke with him yesterday," Manon said, standing as well. "We can have nothing more to say to him. Leave them under guard until we finish restructuring the church. See they are treated fairly. We will figure out what to do with them once we're done."
"Yes, your majesty," Emilien inclined his head in her direction
"Any push back from the civilians?" She asked.
"A lot of grumbling. A few picked up weapons, but no one seriously tried to attack. Mostly, they are just filling the streets, yelling and causing a ruckus. My soldiers are keeping a close eye on everything. It is well under control."
"We should go out now," Jacques said, looking to Manon for agreement. "The people will be frightened. We need to speak to them."
She nodded once. "I don't want them to go to bed scared and without answers. Emile, can we make that happen?"
"I'll have my soldiers spread the word that you will speak to them from the gates of the mansion. Give me some time to have protection prepared."
Jacques nodded and dismissed the general with an expression of gratitude.
"We're quite fortunate to have him," Manon said, smiling as she crossed the room to put her empty teacup back on the tray.
Before he could respond, Jacques was cut off by a strong knock from the door.
"Your majesties, you have a visitor," called one of the soldiers from outside.
Manon and Jacques shared a look. The soldier should have announced the person. Only those who were explicitly trusted would be allowed near the two of them right now. But the fact that the person wasn't announced was telling.
Manon smiled. "Let him in," she called back even as she was gesturing for the guards in the room to leave.
The door opened, just a crack. Just enough for the man to slip in and the guards to slip out. A man that their personal guard knew could be trusted and knew better than to announce by name. Their spy master. A man completely and utterly loyal to Manon.
"My queen," he bowed to her, lowering his dirty blonde head.
"Gosse!" She eagerly came forward, hugging the older man. Surprising him. Shows of affection always seemed to surprise him. She had discovered thus when she hugged him before he left Ambraude on the mission that brought him here. She had resolved since then to make sure that she hugged him as often as possible to make up for the affection he clearly lacked in his life before.
"My dear, you shouldn't embrace other men in front of me," Jacques said playfully as she pulled back, still smiling at Gosse. "I could be the jealous type."
Manon tossed him a grin. "Don't be silly, Jacques, my darling. Gosse is practically my son."
Gosse, who was still flustered by the hug, didn't mention that he was easily twice her age. He had been made her ward in Vasconia, meaning she was his guardian wholly and completely. No different than how a child depended on their parent. That aspect of their relationship had dissolved when she became queen and she had made him their spy master.
But she still liked to tease.
"Your majesties," he bowed to both of them this time, most especially to Jacques. "I have news."
"I expected you to check in much earlier, Gosse," Jacques said, his voice without censure, only questioning.
"Forgive me, sire." He bowed again, obsequious to a fault. "I had only a few more priests to vet. I thought it best to get a complete list before checking in."
"Great. What do you have?" Manon asked, gesturing for him to sit across from her and Jacques.
He waited until both of them were seated before sitting himself.
He was wearing the drab, dark gray robes of the acolytes. Playing one was easy for him since he had been trained as an assassin in the church and there were always so many acolytes training to be priests that no one would ever look twice at him. Manon had expressed some worry that the priests that originally trained him would recognize him and his mission would be a failure, but he told her not to worry about it and that he would never betray her if discovered.
That was not even close to her worry. He seemed to think she was more concerned about the mission and herself and not his safety if he was discovered as a spy. But Gosse had been rather careless with his own life since he had reformed from being an assassin. He seemed to think it had no value because of his past actions. Nowadays, he only lived as a form of repentance for his actions.
It was another reason Manon was eager to shower him with affection. She wanted to remind him that he still had worth.
From within his dark gray robes, he pulled the list he had spent the last few weeks making. Not, this time, of priests that were unworthy of their positions. Isaie had become so corrupt, those men hadn't even felt the need to pretend to hide. They had been easy to find, and Jacques had known they would be after knowing those men all his life.
Instead, Gosse's task had been to find the good priests.
Those are the men that had been in hiding. Greedy, powerful priests, threatened by the changes they might bring against them, had done their best to push them out. To give them nothing. Those priests had been the ones that had been running the shelters. But their tendency to hide and be hidden meant that Manon and Jacques would need help identifying them.
And they wanted to be absolutely sure this time, before putting their trust in a new Sacellum Master, that he was worthy of the title.
While Emilien was working on getting a place for them to speak set up, the two of them went over the list with Gosse.
It was somehow both shorter than she hoped and bigger than she expected. And that was just the priesthood in Isaie. There were priests all over the country, trained in Isaie, that were serving in communities with that same greedy, corrupted viewpoint.
This job was a big one. Quite possibly one of the biggest they would tackle during their rule. Seeing the scope of it spelled out in the few names that Gosse brought forward as candidates was disheartening even as it filled her with fierce determination.
After all, one did not become the palace brat by being discouraged by a challenge.
"This is good work," Jacques praised as he looked over the list one last time before putting it away with his important documents. "You've done well, Gosse."
"I am your servant, your majesty."
"We have your next task ready for you. Unless you would like a chance to rest."
"No, sire. I am eager to work. Tell me what you need done."
Jacques looked to Manon, checking for her permission. Her lips were pinched with displeasure. Gosse had been working non-stop since they took over. Doing a great many things that were dangerous, difficult, and taxing both physically and emotionally.
But he was also the only person they could both trust to do this and had the capability of doing it.
Jacques nodded once, accepting his decision. "Return to Ambraude. The loyalists there are becoming bolder. There have been some... incidences. We need you to infiltrate the loyalists. Learn what you can from them. Their aims, their plans, their numbers. Anything and everything."
"I will go tonight, sire." Gosse immediately stood, bowing to both of them. "Unless you have further need of me...?"
Manon gave him a smile. "Be safe, Gosse."
"I won't let you down, my queen."
He bid them both luck and left. The door hadn't even shut behind him before Emilien stepped back inside. No doubt, he had been waiting for Gosse to leave. The pair had told him that he was free to be privy to anything their spy master said to them, but he insisted that he did not want to know. If it was relevant information, he trusted them to pass it on to him, but otherwise he wouldn't accidentally risk outing Gosse's positions or plans to anyone.
Emilien smiled at them both, bowing again as the soldiers took their place back in the room as though they had never left it.
"Everything is prepared, your majesties."
The gates to the mansion remained shut and a line of soldiers stood guard both out and inside the metal fencing. The crowd of people that had gathered was clearly agitated, but not yet riotous. There was caution as Jacques and Manon stepped onto an aircab with an open top so that they could be lifted up and seen over the crowd.
"More than we wanted," Manon said between her lips that were set into a careful, calming smile that she hoped wasn't going to earn her more vitriol.
"But less than we feared," Jacques responded in a similar manner.
He stepped forward, holding up his hand for silence. It came slowly as the people looked to him with varying degrees of fear, anger, and insult.
"My people of Isaie!" He called out, his voice projecting far. It was a skill that Manon had yet to master and so he was often in charge of their speeches. "I know you are afraid. I know you have questions. Let me assure you that you are all safe. None of you shall be harmed. What happened today was a long time coming and our justice does not fall on your heads but that of the corrupt Sacellum."
There was a ripple of unease through the crowd. As though even the suggestion that the priesthood could be corrupt was somehow blasphemous. But Jacques maintained his calm as he waited for the few murmurs to die down before he continued.
"My soldiers today have gone through the city and removed priests from your homes where they were squatting. They have removed them from positions of power that they have been abusing. And the gold that you have donated to them as well as the gold I have sent from the royal treasury for the upkeep of Isaie that was all misappropriated has been reclaimed and will be redistributed appropriately.
"This is not another attack. None of you are in danger. The priests that were taken today have not been killed, just detained. The Sacellum will return, and it will return stronger than ever, because it will be lead by good, Lord loving men who respect His words and teachings and who would never take gold meant to provide and protect you for their own luxury."
There was outright murmuring this time. Surprise. Disbelief. Manon saw it all as she scanned through the crowd looking for potential threats against herself or her husband. Acting like she was just gazing fondly upon her people as she stood supportively at his side. She could do both at the same time, they weren't mutually exclusive.
It truly didn't occur to these faithful people that their priests would betray them in such a way. It was far more likely, in their minds, that Jacques and Manon simply hadn't cared enough to send aid to the worst hit city of the war.
Jacques, again, had to wait for it to die down before he continued. "My queen and I have come here to restore order, safety, and purity to Isaie. It will not be easy. So much has been taken from you. Isaie has suffered more than any other, and then wicked men in the guise of priests took advantage of you. Your kindness. Your goodness. Your devotion to the Lord and your faith. That is why we have come. You deserve our direct attention and our promise that, by the time we leave, you will have good priests in charge once again and you will all be back in your homes."
Manon had to resist the urge to grin. Jacques was so good at this. He was making it sound like Isaie was the only one getting their attention when they had gone to many cities already. He put the blame, not on the priests, but on wicked men while praising them for being such good people. Petting their egos, giving them a target for blame, promising them help.
He was definitely trained from birth for this exact thing. Manon was glad that she wasn't the one capable of projecting her voice because she wouldn't be able to talk to them like this.
He continued. Promising them that the coming days would bring changes to help them all and that they need not worry. Encouraging them to continue to live as they had been. The soldiers were there for their protection. They wouldn't harm them. Be at ease.
By the time the two of them were coming down, the people were still a bit uneasy, but they were no longer agitated.
"Are you tired my queen?" Jacques asked, holding up his hand for her to take.
She rested her hand over his, giving him a small smile as soldiers them walked alongside them back towards the mansion. "Only a bit, my king."
"We have on more thing to do tonight, if you can."
"I've more than enough energy," she said, giving him a flirtatious smile.
He grinned back at her. "Good. Emile."
Their general immediately stepped forward, walking on his other side. "Yes, my king?"
"Bring the priests that you're unsure of here. We'll decide whether they need to be locked up with the others or can be put to work now."
"Yes, sire," he inclined his head before turning to pass on the order.
It was getting late, the sun already setting, the sky darkening. If they could finish this task tonight, however, they would be able to start completely fresh tomorrow. It would mean being up even later, but they could eat supper while the priests were being brought over.
And it was hardly the latest they had stayed up since they took the throne.
Supper was a more intimate affair. Since the people had been calmed, they didn't feel the need to have soldiers in the same room with them. It was sufficient to have them outside. Easily summoned inside if necessary, but giving the two of them privacy for the first time today.
They sat side by side at their table. Close enough to pick food off each other's plates. They had discovered on their trip here that they liked opposite foods. They had started to trade them to each other without even asking. And that task was made easier if they were seated beside each other, able to pick off the other's plate by barely reaching.
And while they ate, for the first time that day, they didn't work.
They just talked.
"It's a really good book," Manon was saying after she finished describing the novel she had come across in the library. "I mean, I've only got to read about a third of it, but it's good so far."
"How long have you been working on it?"
She grimaced, admitting sheepishly. "Since I got here."
He started laughing and she nudged him with her arm.
"You mock me, sir."
"I do indeed, lady," he returned her stuffy tone with one of his own. "That's is some impressively slow reading, I must say."
Manon's smile dipped a bit. She wasn't a slow reader. She simply didn't have time.
Jacques' own face fell, contrite, as he realized what he said a bit too late. "Sorry. I didn't mean... I'll be sure to pick up the book myself. We can have a race. See who manages to finish it first."
She chuckled a bit, pushing the remnants of her super over her plate. "Sometimes, it feels like we're never going to have time for things like that again."
He reached out, covering her hand with his, stilling the movements. "We will. My father always told me that the first year of my reign would be the hardest. It's when I'm still new to this and the transition is slowing everything down. And we have it twice as hard because we are also cleaning up this war. It will get easier. We will have free time again."
She nodded. "I know that. It just really seems like..."
"Like what?" He prompted when she fell silent.
Manon dropped her hands to her lap and turned sideways in her chair, looking at him. "Jacques, what if the people never warm to me?"
"What are you saying?"
"It's been months already. I feel like we are still stopping assassination attempts far too often. There are protests in the street every time I return to Ambraude. And the way the people looked at me today? The people of Isaie hate me. And they don't even know that I could be-"
Jacques' hand pressed over her mouth, silencing the word before she could speak it. Even here, surrounded by those loyal to them, he wouldn't risk danger coming to her by admitting out loud that she had a paladin's powers.
His army accepted her. For now. But feelings could change so quickly and he still sometimes saw soldiers staring at Amorette with disdain or fear. Amorette was indeed incredibly strong and she did have a tendency to leap across rooftops like a giant frog, but she looked so harmless and she acted like an innocent that had never been exposed to the world. Probably because she was, but she never lost her happy smile and was eager to be nice to everyone, even if they weren't nice to her. She had no reason to fear anyone with her great strength, and that made her sweet and friendly.
But if the people, if the army, discovered that their queen was a paladin as well, the danger to her would increase tenfold. And she was not gifted with the same great strength. Manon's abilities were so subtle and, in a way, so useless. Squeezing into a tight space could not help her fight, it did not help her survive, it could only give her an advantage in extremely specific circumstances.
"They will not know. They can never know," he said, his voice hard. "That is a secret we must take to our grave, Manon."
She said nothing. She didn't even attempt to move out from under his hand. She simply stared at him for a moment before her eyes lowered in defeat. Guilt pricked at his chest at the sight and he lowered his hand to her shoulder, pulling her into an embrace.
"I am not ashamed of you, Manon. Were we in Vasconia, I would proudly declare that my wife was... But we are not in Vasconia. We are in Gascony and the steps we are taking now will only benefit women generations into the future. The hatred and mistrust must have time to shrivel and die. Minds will not change in a lifetime."
She hesitated only another moment before lifting her arms and clutching at his back. "You're right. I know you're right, but that just makes me more afraid."
"My people will come to love you, Manon. Just as I will. It will take time. But I already carry great affection for you and I know most of my people feel the same. They are simply not as loud as the ones who yell in the streets."
A gentle knock at the door drew them apart and they adjusted themselves properly in their chairs before bidding the servant to enter.
The priests had arrived and were awaiting them at their leisure.
"It would probably be rude to make them wait," Jacques said with wicked amusement.
Manon chuckled, getting to her feet. "It probably would. Come, my darling. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can take our rest for the night. We have a long day tomorrow."
"So we do," he agreed, standing as well and offering his arm, which she accepted with a gracious smile. "Let us finish this quickly then."
It wasn't over quickly.
They were testing these old men. Making them wait. Inconveniencing them and making them just a bit uncomfortable. They provided water, but not enough for everyone. Snacks, but not enough to go around. Chairs, but ones of various comfort and still not enough for every person inside.
They watched from behind a portrait with hidden holes to let them peer into the large meeting room to see who offered their seats to the older members, who surrendered their snacks, and who tried to make sure there was enough water for everyone to have equal share. Those who kept calm and patient and those who ranted and raved about their inconsiderate rulers.
They made them wait for over an hour. Saying nothing. Just watching. Making notes. Only once they had come to an agreement on every priest in the room did they finally decide to enter.
Their decisions were confirmed when the ones they had marked as unworthy immediately began to gripe and complain. A few decided to keep silent but couldn't hide their disdain. They had spent so long in power that they didn't even fear the king and queen anymore.
The ones they were keeping did bow, their faces clear or filled with more than a little concern. For themselves or for the others. They were at least cordial.
Jacques and Manon wasted no time.
"Line up before us," Jacques ordered, his voice hard and uncompromising. "We will separate you into two groups. When we gesture, either line up on that wall or that one."
There was grumbling, but no one disobeyed. Two soldiers stood on either side of the door, watching calmly, unafraid of the group of two dozen older men. The youngest was probably just a bit older than Jacques.
They were orderly, if unhappy, as they split them into the two groups. By the time they finished, a little less than a dozen were pulled out from the rest.
"You all are free to leave," Jacques said addressing them.
"The soldiers will lead you out," Manon continued. "You may return to your homes or your shelters, wherever you came from. Apologies for the inconvenience tonight."
"We'll be in contact with you and the rest of the church soon enough. Enjoy the rest of your night, gentlemen," Jacques gave them a small smile.
The priests were confused, but they didn't question their rulers. They bowed to them as they filed out, meeting up with different soldiers in the hall who respectfully told the priests to follow.
The other priests, however, did question their rulers. They spoke over each other, demanding to know why they got to leave and why they were still here and did they know how blasphemous it was to keep them here against their will.
Jacques and Manon said nothing, letting them talk themselves quiet, watching for any hold outs that might actually not deserve to be among their number. Not even half being worthy seemed like such a low number.
But, to their disappointment, there were no others and, when they had finally stopped talking, looking to their king and queen, demanding answers from them as though they had the right to speak to them that way, Jacques gave his order sadly.
"You all will be joining the other fallen priests. Your names have been taken and we will write our orders this night stripping you of your rank, your power, and your robes. Come sunrise, you will be priests no longer. You will be ordinary citizens. You are not under arrest, but you will be detained until we have finished restoring power to the good men of the Sacellum.
Jacques hadn't even finished talking when the old men were yelling. Shouting over each other, their words lost in the cacophony. Once again, Jacques and Manon let them yell themselves before she continued where her king left off.
"None of you will be harmed or punished. Though, after tonight, you will be if you-"
"Silence, whore!" One of the men snapped, glaring at her with hatred. "A Vasconian bitch has no right to speak to us like equals."
Manon hadn't even had time to realize what was said before Jacques moved. He ran forward, grabbing the older man by the neck and slamming him against the wall. His skull cracked against the wood of the paneling as the other priests called out in surprise.
Jacques' hand tightened. "You disrespect my wife?"
The priests couldn't respond, clawing at Jacques' hand, struggling to breathe.
"You will be punished for that. What you've done in the past was not yet illegal, but using such foul language towards a lady, speaking in such a way to my queen, is and you are fully aware of that. You will suffer for those words. Soldiers. Take him."
He threw the man away, his gaze cold and uncaring as the man collapsed to the ground, coughing and choking as he gasped for air. He hadn't even been given the chance to catch his breath before two soldiers grabbed him under the arms and dragged him from the room.
Jacques fixed the others with his hard glare. Now, there was proper fear in their eyes for the ruler that could end their life on his whim.
"You may not like our actions, and I will not tell you that you must. But you will obey our command and you will respect my wife. She is a lady and she is your queen. If I hear such vile language from your tongues, I will cut them out."
"Now, my husband," Manon came closer, putting her arm through his. "We are not tyrants. We're not going to cut out their tongues."
Jacques grinned evilly. "Very well, my queen. You know, I would do anything you say. I shall make them suffer in prison instead."
Manon giggled. "As is appropriate. Regardless, we are done with this lot. They can join the others in their confinement. It is time for us to seek our beds."
"Of course. You must be tired. Come, my queen."
The two of them turned their backs on the fallen priests. Ignoring them. Dismissing them as unimportant.
That was why they didn't notice when one of them pulled the thin, long spike from his voluminous sleeve where it had gone unnoticed by the soldiers' search. They didn't see the decision come into his eyes a second before he broke into a run.
But they certainly heard his sandaled feet striking against the floor. Both of them turned at the same moment as the soldier's gave out cries of warning, rushing forward. Too late. They wouldn't be able to reach them in time.
Manon and Jacques moved at the same moment.
She yanked one of her daggers from inside her poofy sleeves, ripping the fabric in the process. She struck out, knocking aside the lethal needle – a dull metal that barely caught the light, slight and thin, but sharp and long. An assassin's weapon. Meant to be hidden, to be driven into the neck, or straight into the heart.
It clattered against the marble floor as the priest cried out in pain, the tip of her thin dagger having cut across his hand in her strike. His blood splattered against the floor even as Jacques slammed his booted foot into his chest, kicking him down onto his back.
The soldiers were on him before he finished bouncing. The room was deadly silent as the priests stared at their rulers as though they had never seen them before.
"He attempted to kill my wife," Jacques said, his voice frozen with fury. "He will be executed at dawn."
The soldiers dragged him away as he continued to scream obscenities at Manon and Jacques. His blood left a smear on the floor.
Manon calmly returned her dagger to her arm sheath as Jacques put a hand to her lower back. Once again, they turned on the priests and walked away, their boots tracking through the blood that the doomed man had left behind.
They weren't out of hearing range when they heard the priests once again break into outraged cries as soldiers rushed into the room to escort them away. There would be no mistakes. They couldn't leave one corrupted priests free to undo their work.
Jacques walked Manon to her room then, to her surprise, he followed her inside.
The moment the door shut behind him, out of the view of their guards, he gathered her into his arms and squeezed her close.
"Are you all right, Manon?" He asked, his voice tight.
Surprised by the depth of his concern, she slowly returned the embrace, her hands grasping the back of his tunic as he buried his face into the curve of her neck.
"I'm all right. He didn't even get near me."
He said nothing for a second. When he finally pulled back, holding onto her shoulders, as he searched her face as though looking for a lie.
He growled, angry. "He will die at dawn. I will be there to watch it myself."
"And I will be beside you." She couldn't deny him the execution. If they allowed even one assassination attempt to pass without punishment, it would encourage others. And the punishment was hardly unprecedented.
Jacques smiled approvingly, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Our soldiers shall be reprimanded in the morning as well. That he was able to get a weapon so close to my wife is unacceptable."
Manon nodded once in agreement. "I'm sure, between you and whatever punishment Emile devises, it will never happen again."
"I will make sure of it."
He tilted her head back with a finger under her chin, raising her lips, offering them to himself so he could take a kiss.
He shivered in relief at the taste of her.
He was fortunate indeed that his wife was so competent. He didn't know how other men slept at night if they constantly needed to worry about wives that couldn't fight. And the men that had daughters? A shiver of fear swept over him and he prayed only for sons.
He kissed Manon, grateful that she was all right. Grateful she was so well trained and her reactions honed into instinct. The needle had come only as close as she needed to get within striking range, but that was still too close.
No matter how competent his wife, protecting her was his task and he had failed today because one of those priests managed to get a weapon so close to her.
Their kiss was deeper this time. Their tongues battling together for dominance in a fight that neither of them lost. He took hold of the back of her neck, keeping her close, as her grip on the back of his tunic tightened.
Silently begging him for more.
But no. Not this night. She still wasn't ready. He felt her hesitancy even as she tried to push her body against his.
He hated and loved the waiting. He wanted to claim his wife, but the anticipation was making the kisses even better. The yearning, the tension – frustrating and perfect. She was a woman worth waiting for. Worth slowly seducing until she could finally look at him only with longing and none of the uncertainty that still lingered in her.
He pulled back, brushing back her hair. "Sleep in peace, my dear," he whispered, his voice rough as he fought the urge to join her in bed. "Dream of me as I will dream of you."
She shivered, her hands not lowering, but she didn't fight as he pulled back and left her alone, his body aching with desire but his heart content to be patient.