Lingering Feelings
Morning brought with it a strange, tense sort of peace.
Ambraude had nearly torn itself in half through the night. The mob at the front gates had turned violent which, in turn, only prompted more parts of the city to turn violent. People wearing purple were fighting with people wearing red - the old color of the military. The two groups had come to blows, leaving the streets covered in blood, more than one building on fire, and the hospitals and clinics of the city overloaded.
And now, this morning, soldiers had to take to the streets to make sure that no more violence broke out from either side.
"Jacques, are you okay?" Manon asked her brooding husband where he stood at the window of his childhood bedroom. Unlike the royal suite that looked out over the brilliant blue ocean, his childhood bedroom looked out over the city.
Dark smoke was still rising in some areas.
At her question, Jacques turned, his brow furrowed. "Me? Manon, you ask after me right now? You're the one who was nearly killed."
"But I wasn't." She smiled from the bed. He wasn't letting her out of it, and not in the fun way either. Her injuries, he had decided, were too much. Honestly, she just thought he wanted her in a place where he could always look over and see that she was okay.
The night had been long. Manon had fallen asleep thanks to the medicinal tea, but she didn't think she would have been able to otherwise. Jacques could not bring himself to leave her side, so he had instead coordinated the efforts to calm down the riots from her bedside.
His short brooding session at the window was the furthest he had gone from her side. He wasn't leaving the room, he wasn't letting her out of his sight, even to relieve himself, and every so often, he would just reach over and gently touch her. As if he had to remind himself that she really was okay and safe.
Sore and aching and a bit dizzy from blood loss, but safe.
He returned to her, a pinched expression on his tired face. She lifted her uninjured arm so he could take her hand as he sat beside her.
"You're okay?" He asked, not for the first time.
"Wonderful," she promised, smiling as much as she could. She was tired too and she could feel the thud of her heartbeat around her wounds, but the medicine in the tea she had been drinking had dulled the pain in her head and face allowing her some small expressions.
Jacques' brow drew down further as he looked her over.
"Is it really that bad?" She reached up but didn't touch her cheeks. Her entire face was throbbing and she knew it would be worse if she applied pressure.
"You're beautiful," he promised, taking the hand she held up.
"So, yeah, it's bad."
He chuckled, but the sound was tired and weak.
Manon cocked her head curiously. "Jacques, seriously. Are you okay?"
He didn't answer this time. His jaw clenched tight as his gaze moved over her carefully. Cataloging each of her wounds, every bruise, every cut.
Jacques hadn't allowed Manon to look into a mirror yet. He had helped her to the toilet when she needed to go, but had stood between her and the mirror and escorted her back out immediately. He didn't want her to see.
As she said, it was bad.
Both of her eyes were blackened and swollen, her lip was broken and puffy, her nose had been broken and forced back into place. There were a multitude of bandages covering various parts of her body. There were places where blood had dried because it had been missed when they had tried to wipe it away.
He knew she would see it eventually. She was going to want to bathe and her lady's maids would not block her from the mirror as he had. He also knew the bruising would get worse before it got better and, in the process, would get uglier.
The sight shamed him.
The guards were already being castigated for their failure. Not just because Manon was attacked and no one noticed, but also because someone had managed to find their way to the royal suite through a hidden passageway. That passageway should have been found before Jacques and Manon ever moved into it.
It had already been followed to the end but it appeared that more than one person – or, at least, the same person multiple times – had been all throughout the tunnels. There were multiple entrances that had been unlocked, uncovered, or unhidden. There was no way to figure out where the man that had attacked had come from.
He had survived to sunrise, but he hadn't regained consciousness. Every so often, his body would twitch or seize. Jacques was pretty sure he would not have recovered even if he had been given the best medical care possible.
The man had been identified as a very low ranked castle guard. He typically worked in the back courtyard, near the cliff, where the odds of anyone threatening coming near him was so low as to be impossible. It was literally the first position castle guards were given because it allowed them to get comfortable with the shifts and doing rounds.
How a traditionalist got into the guard at all had yet to be determined.
But this was getting out of control and Jacques couldn't help the bitter sting of guilt as it sat heavy in his gut.
He was failing his country, his city, and his queen.
He couldn't bring his people together and because they refused to do so, Manon had been attacked, and this latest, most violent attempt on the queen had set Ambraude aflame. It had taken most of the morning to get things back under control and now he had to have his military out on the streets to maintain that calm.
How could he not feel like a failure as a king?
And now his broken and beaten queen was looking at him, worried about him, while she laid there still bleeding through her bandages in some places.
"Jacques?" She squeezed his hands worriedly.
"I'll be all right," he said, and it was as close to the truth as he could get. He didn't want her to make him feel better. He deserved the guilt. He deserved the sense of failure. At the very least, until Manon was fully healed.
"You need sleep," she said. "Lay down. Let me-"
"No."
"You didn't even let me finish!"
"You were going to tell me to let you do some of this work." He gave her a hard look. "My answer is no."
"Jacques, we're a team. You've been up all night and you worked by yourself yesterday."
"You were stabbed."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You can't just end the argument with some minor stabbing."
"Multiple stabbings."
"I had sleep."
"I have all my blood."
The two of them stared at each other for a solid few seconds before the laughter they were struggling to keep back burst forth. It hurt to smile so wide, but laughing felt good and it banished some of the shadows from Jacques' face.
It was a small victory for her. Followed by another when he climbed into bed beside her. She adjusted herself so they were sitting side by side, leaning back against the pillows that had already been stacked to allow her to be upright while she rested.
He held her hand in his lap, their fingers laced together, his other hand covering them both. His finger circled the inside of her wrist slowly.
"This can't happen again," he said, his tongue finally loosened.
"So, I should take the next one off my schedule?"
He didn't laugh this time, shaking his head. "It was too close a thing. Manon, even seconds later and you..."
He couldn't bring himself to finish the statement. If he had read one more report, if he had dithered by just a few steps in the hall, if he had lingered over his evening drink, and he would have lost his love and his life.
Jacques considered himself an even tempered fellow. When King Cyrille had lost his wife, he had empathized with the grief had driven him to madness. But now, after seeing what happened to Manon, he truly understood. He didn't think he'd ever let that helpless anger drive him to conquer a country, but he understood.
"We could do another sweep of the employees," she suggested.
Jacques shook his head. "We've done three already. Clearly, our screening isn't working."
Manon laid her head back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. "Anyone can lie and pretend not to hate us for a few questions, I suppose."
"But the other servants have been ordered to keep watch for anyone displaying any worrying ideas or feelings towards us." Jacques frowned..
"How many people know of those secret tunnels?"
"A lot, apparently," he sneered, thinking about all the signs that people had been using them.
"No, I don't mean the potential assassins. Though, they do explain how the last guy was able to get all the way to my bathing chamber. I meant, before they found it. How many people would have known about those halls?"
Jacques shook his head. "I wouldn't think very many. I only knew about them because I overheard someone talking about it with my father when I was young. They were closed off in my grandfather's generation."
"So, someone older might know."
"Yes, I suppose."
"Someone that's been working here for a while, hates us, and knows how to find and hide servants who would be willing to kill us, then show them how to find the tunnels and get to our rooms. Someone who has the ability to sneak those people around where the tunnels don't reach."
Jacques turned his head to her. "Why do you sound like you already have a suspect?"
Her lips pinched together.
"Who?"
"You're not going to like it."
"I like not knowing even less. Tell me."
She dropped her head to the side, looking into his eyes. "Arnaud."
He started in surprise. "The steward? No."
"Jacques..."
"He's loyal to me, Manon. Sure, he's got some conservative views, but he would never. He doesn't have it in him to kill. He's an old man."
"Doesn't take any strength to point a maniac in the right direction."
Jacques shook his head. "No. Not Arnaud. Surely there's another..."
"Last night, I told Arnaud to send you dinner because I knew you would be gone for hours more. Did he?"
"Yes, of course."
"And what did he say to you then?"
He had asked how much longer Jacques had expected to be. How long he was going to be away from his room and Manon would be alone and vulnerable.
"Jacques, my hand..."
He cursed, releasing the grip he had tightened around her fingers. "Sorry."
"It's okay."
"It's not!" He snapped, sitting up straight, slamming his fist onto the bed. "I vouched for him. I personally promised you that he was trustworthy."
"We have no proof that it's actually him."
"He's in charge of screening our servants. It would have been only too easy for him to slip a few dissenters in with the others."
Manon said nothing because she had already thought of that. Of course, she had. Jacques' wife wasn't a fool nor was she blinded by old loyalties.
Jacques had grown up learning and playing with Arnaud. He had always seen him as a kindly figure that had helped Jacques immensely after his father's death. Arnaud had always said that Jacques was going to be a good king. That he was going to make Gascony stronger.
Though, when he thought about it, Jacques had never heard Arnaud say a single kind or complimentary thing about Manon. He had bowed his head when Jacques introduced her, but whenever possible, he preferred to talk only to Jacques.
He would know about the tunnels because he had worked in the palace his entire life - starting as a messenger boy when Jacques' grandfather had been in power. In fact, Jacques was pretty sure Arnaud had been the one his father had been talking to when they discovered them again later. It had been Arnaud that told the previous king about them.
It hurt because it made entirely too much sense.
"Jacques..." Manon called to him gently, rubbing his back.
Taking in a breath, he looked to the guards that were still on duty. He had yet to banish them from their room. "Bring Arnaud here."
"Yes, your majesty," the one on the right said before stepping out. He passed the order along before returning to his post.
A post he wouldn't need to hold if Jacques hadn't been blinded by childhood affection.
"It's not your fault," Manon said, seeing the tension settle over his frame.
"I promised you that he was trustworthy."
"And if he made you a liar, then the fault lies with him. Not you."
Jacques turned, putting an arm around her and pulling her into a gentle embrace, being careful of her still healing wounds. "We'll have to do another sweep. If he's truly let those with murderous intention pass the inspection, then there's no way of knowing how many others there are."
"We'll find them." Manon leaned her head on his shoulder. "And we can't guarantee anything yet. He could be innocent."
Jacques was grateful for her optimism, but he already knew it was misplaced.
A feeling that was only confirmed when it was discovered that Arnaud was missing.
Despite searching through the entire palace, including in the secret tunnels, the palace steward had vanished along with the servant who had been sent to fetch him. Apparently, there were already more who were loyal to his cause than they thought.
It was all the admission of guilt that Jacques needed.
A warrant for the arrest of Arnaud Amedee was issued and a manhunt was started.
Another search and interrogation of all palace staff was initiated, this time headed by Jacques, Manon, and Emilien working together. They were taking no chances and, though it heavily weighed down all of their workload, the fruits of their labor were immediately obvious.
Arnaud hadn't just put murderous maniacs into positions in the palace, allowing them access to the king and queen. He had put a great many traditionalists into the ranks. Every person who worked for Arnaud directly was let go, two of them were arrested for conspiracy to commit treason. More than half of those working for those people were let go as well, five more from that group were arrested for conspiracy to commit treason and one was arrested for conspiracy to commit assassination.
Most of those working in the lowest ranking positions were fine. However, by the time they finished, a full third of the palace staff was let go.
And Jacques was furious and eaten up by guilt.
He hadn't realized just how bad the problem had been. Arnaud had single-handedly made sure that nearly everyone around them was untrustworthy. Not only because of the potential assassins, but because there were many that had been leaking information to the traditionalists.
That was how the attempted assassinations had gotten out. That was how the people seemed to know the very minute a decision was made.
Following the purge of traditionalists, the palace became understaffed but, somehow, far more efficiently run.
Jacques hadn't realized just how much Arnaud had been slowing things down. Sometimes, just by a simple refusal to do something. Like the fact that he had never told the chefs about Manon's order against fish, and that's why they kept suggesting it for the menu.
Small, petty, purposeful things.
But when Manon took charge of his duties, things suddenly became much faster. More efficient. She was only there until they could finish the investigation of current employees and could hire a new steward, but her job was done impeccably.
The secret tunnels were all bricked up. Any secret furniture doors were removed, the wall bricked up, and then replaced with something that wasn't a door. Orders for food and supplies were made simpler. Staff were being paid on time - because apparently, Arnaud had been sewing discontent with the few loyalists he did hire by making it seem like they couldn't pay them reliably,
Surprisingly, their understaffing problem proved not to be much of a problem at all.
Along with hiring and keeping mostly traditionalists, Arnaud had been deliberately not hiring loyalists for any important positions. Those he did hire, he either employed in menial tasks or he had hired people who were completely incompetent.
When taking over his position, Manon found that there were plenty of applicants who were known and proven loyalists that could work. All of them were eager to hear from her and to take up the jobs that they had asked for weeks or even months ago.
The loyalists that had been missing payments or had been delayed in getting payments were offered compensation for their trouble as well as an apology and the absolute truth about the real reason their pay had been delayed.
Those people spread the good word and, though they were understaffed for a few days, they quickly refilled those ranks.
They also hired a new steward. An older woman who had helped Arnaud for years but never got any recognition or pay due to being a female. When Manon heard about her and the small role she played - she was in charge of the few female staff that was employed for any female guests or female problems - she had immediately sought her out. It hadn't taken long for Manon to decide that she wanted to hire her for the position.
She passed the loyalty questions with flying colors. She was strict and severe, but fair and honest. She had a great work ethic and a lot of experience.
Hiring her proved one of their best decisions.
The moment they handed things over to her, it was like their workload suddenly cut in half. Not just because Manon was no longer acting as steward either.
They no longer needed to ask for food or tea - it was just brought to them. Their office was suddenly better organized. Their staff was restructured and those closest to them were not only trustworthy but hard workers that were able to take some of their burden. She coordinated with the captain of the royal guard to make sure that there were always servants nearby that could be sent for anything, that would take on any task, and that would follow any order. She didn't come to ask them for their preferences on every little thing, she just either knew or found out through other means.
It was like they had spent this entire time walking around with their feet bound together and suddenly that rope was cut and they had discovered running. Everything became easier and while they still had a lot of work, they were no longer overwhelmed with it.
That relief only brought Jacques more guilt.
He had been so certain that Arnaud was trustworthy, that he was a good and diligent steward, that he hadn't even realized just how bad he actually was. Had he always been like this, or was it just because Jacques had married Manon? If he was being charitable, he allowed the possibility that, with his mother's insanity, Arden had simply become complacent since she never needed him and the council certainly had no use for him.
But he was afraid that was being too kind.
He remained missing and, when Gosse came around to give them a report, they finally learned where he had gone.
Their new steward, Moise, learned who Gosse was, brought him to a room, then brought Jacques and Manon to see him with absolutely no issue. Arnaud never bothered to even learn who Gosse was, probably had never even seen him coming because he wasn't nearly as observant – which, considering his true loyalties, was probably a good thing.
Gosse still hadn't managed to track down Firmin through the traditionalists, but he did tell them that Arnaud's arrival amongst their number had made waves. The traditionalists were hailing his efforts as steward and his escape from their punishment a victory.
Never mind that, with his loss, they were fixing every problem he had caused. He had been victorious for a while, but this was actually his defeat.
Gosse also told them that Firmin and the other leaders of the group were encouraging people to go out and riot. To burn, to mob, to destroy everything they could. To do it in the name of the true queen and to remind the false queen that she had no power here.
But he also brought them confirmation of what they had already expected. The loyalists, all done up in purple, were forming their own hierarchies in order to fight back. Jacques had been the leader of the rebels of the original loyalists that had helped claim Ambraude. However, the groups now were forming of their own accord.
"I'm going to contact my old leaders," Jacques said after he and Manon left Gosse to return to his task and they had locked themselves safely in their office, away from any potential listeners. "I can all too easily imagine them wanting to be part of this."
"I thought you brought them with you," she said, sitting at her desk.
"Some of them. I put them into key military positions. Most of the others though, I sent home. I told them that they had served me enough and that I wanted them to go home to their families and enjoy the peace they helped bring."
"Aw. That's a nice sentiment," Manon smiled.
He shrugged. "Most of them only fled from the cities and joined the rebel camp because they wanted peace. They rose in the ranks because they wanted to protect that peace and those were the kind of people I wanted around me then. How could I ask them to continue fighting for me when what they fought for was the right not to fight?"
"But you think they might be fighting again?"
"I can almost guarantee it. Though all they wanted was peace, they were the kind who wouldn't sit back and let something threaten that peace just for the sake of keeping it. If they thought the kingdom they fought for was in danger, I've no doubt they'd resist."
Manon nodded along. "I find myself hoping they have come back. If only because we need more allies on our side."
Jacques gave her a look.
"What?"
"How are you feeling, my dear?"
She frowned at him. "For the third time today, and the hundredth time since that day, I'm fine, Jacques. Really."
"You limp."
"There's a cut right on the front of my foot and it hurts to put pressure on it. That's all."
She wasn't even downplaying her pain. At least, not anymore. She had been the first couple of days when the bruising had been fresh and it seemed like her headache was unending. But her head didn't hurt anymore and though the bruising was uglier, it wasn't as painful. The multitude of cuts and lacerations over her body still throbbed along with her heartbeat, and they would for some time. Especially the one on her foot that she was constantly aggravating, as well as the one on her back. She didn't even realize how much she used her back until it hurt to do so.
But the aches and pains that remained were minor. She had even stopped drinking her medicinal tea to help alleviate them.
She hadn't shown her face in public yet. Mostly because the bruising made it look far worse than it felt and she didn't want the people to see her that way. Not even because of vanity. On the whole Manon wasn't really concerned about how she looked. Jacques was pleased with her appearance and that was all she needed.
But she didn't want everyone to see her like this. She was their queen. Like Eleonore said, they couldn't see her failure and her failure was obvious on her face. The swelling had gone down, but none of her make up could suitably cover the bruising yet. It would probably be days more before she could show her face again.
Her refusal to be seen by the public clearly bothered Jacques. Not because he didn't agree with it, but because he was still obviously overwhelmed with guilt. No matter what Manon said, or how many times she assured him that it wasn't his fault, it didn't banish that look from his eyes.
Before he could press the topic further, however, a knock at their office door interrupted him and she eagerly bid the person on the other side to enter.
"Amorette, Lea." Manon smiled at her friends as they stepped inside. "Thanks for coming."
"Happy to help," Lea grinned back as Amorette smiled.
Jacques looked between the three of them, a frown forming between his brows. Like he had already guessed what was happening but didn't want to believe it. "Manon, what are Amorette and Lea doing here together?"
"We need to discuss my training schedule," she replied immediately, not at all surprised when Jacques' expression turned obstinate.
"No. Absolutely not."
"It's fine."
"You're not even healed yet!"
"Jacques," she gave him a firm look. "Being attacked and losing that badly tells me that I need to do more training. Not less."
"That's not the point." He crossed to her quickly, standing between her and the lady paladins as though to physically protect her from the very prospect of training.
"Your majesty," Lea inclined her head towards him respectfully. "Please, don't worry. I'm not unfamiliar with training soldiers. Including injured ones. I know exactly how much to push her and when it would be too soon to do so."
Jacques' jaw was tight, his expression hard. He wasn't willing to listen to logic right now and faced Lea like she was an enemy.
"Jacques," Manon said gently, running her hand along his arm. "You can trust Lea. There's no one better to train me."
"You can trust me," Lea added. "Amorette is strong, but she's not a leader. Not a trainer."
"I'm really not," Amorette chirped brightly, clearly unconcerned. "I mean, I'm happy to help, but Manon has really been doing all the planning for her training sessions. I kind of feel like she would do better with instruction."
"Self-training isn't bad, but it's not ideal," Lea continued. "Not if there is someone with more experience and more skill to help instead. I'm more than happy to help Manon improve her skills in combat to better protect herself."
"It's not that I don't think it's a good idea," Jacques turned back to Manon, "but it's only been a few days."
"It's been over a week."
"It just happened. You're not healed enough to push yourself like this."
"You know," Lea interjected calmly, "if you'd like, your majesty, you can join Manon in her training."
Jacques turned back to her. "I don't have powers, Lea."
"No, but you don't need powers to learn how to defend yourself. I know you do some basic training on your own. You can learn more advanced skills from me alongside her. And you can see that I'm not pushing Manon too hard."
Manon watched as her husband looked thoughtful for a second before nodding.
"Agreed. I'll happily join you. And if I call an end to it, then it's over. Got it?"
"I'll keep that in mind," Lea said, subtly not agreeing to the condition.
Jacques' eyes narrowed, not missing the difference. He didn't get the chance to call her on it, however, as a frantic knocking disturbed the meeting.
"Your majesty!" One of the castle guard rushed inside, clearly frazzled. "The citizens have begun fighting in the streets again!"
"What? Why?!" Manon stepped forward, dismayed. They hadn't even done anything today. What could have possibly set them off?
They didn't get their answer until hours later.
As they took command of the military and worked to get the city back under control, they got reports about what had happened leading up to the moment.
The traditionalists had taken to the streets, celebrating loudly and obnoxiously. Like they had achieved a great victory. They had been declaring that the false queen was dead. That the reason no one had seen her since the attack was that it had been successful and Jacques was trying to cover it up because he was still under her spell.
Their fractious display had attracted the attention of the loyalists – who had just been waiting for an excuse to take to the streets themselves. Hearing the traditionalists calling the king a liar, the queen dead, and still somehow an evil seductress, had been enough to drive them to violence. They had taken to the streets as well.
It started off as yelling.
Then rocks had been thrown.
Those rocks turned to blows.
The blows turned to a full out fight.
The fight turned into a riot.
The riot was turning into flames.
Though the streets had been patrolled by soldiers specifically to prevent this, it had happened so quickly and in such large numbers, they hadn't been able to do anything.
By the time news had reached Jacques and Manon, one of the docks in the lowest tier of the city was already ashes, more than one home had joined it, and there were so many injured that they had overrun the nearby clinics.
There was no choice for it. Though she wasn't ready, Manon had to go outside.
Her face was heavily painted, attempting to hide the bruising, and she wore long sleeves and a high neckline that, fortunately, wasn't out of the usual for her personal style.
She and Jacques, together, made an announcement from the top of the castle walls telling the people that she was all right, that there was no need to panic, and that everyone needed to return to their homes for their own safety.
A great many were arrested. More were injured. They tried to prevent the soldiers from harming anyone, but it was impossible that no one got hurt.
The loyalists celebrated that Manon really was alive and well.
The traditionalists called her a fake, called her an unnatural beast returned from the dead, repeated their cries of her being the false queen. Promised that she would die soon.
By the time they managed to get back to bed, Jacques was finally in agreement about training. Now also determined to become as skilled a warrior as his queen.
~~~~~~
A flash of heat rushed through Manon. She bit her lip, fighting back a moan. Her weight shifted in her seat, rubbing her thighs together, stroking the fire between her legs.
Oblivious to what he was doing to his wife, Jacques used a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow, his body glistening, his muscles thickened with blood. He was shirtless, having divested himself of the garment soon after he began his fight.
Emilien, his opponent, was similarly shirtless, but Manon didn't really care about him.
Lea, who was sitting beside Manon, a similar expression on her face, did care about him, however, and stared at her husband as the two men took a break to discuss bare handed tactics.
"This was the best idea you've ever had," Lea said, leaning just forward just a bit more.
"Hail to the king," Manon agreed, practically purring as she watched as Jacques slowly punched forward, getting some tips on proper form from their general as he did so.
Manon was supposed to be training too, but she and Lea had been immediately distracted by the guys and sat down to watch them instead. When they saw them and asked what they were doing, Lea had quickly assured them that she was explaining to Manon what they were doing. Since, you know, Manon was still recovering, they were taking it easy.
Emilien looked confused, but Jacques seemed pleased. Since the king was all right with it, Emilien just returned to their training. The two of them were much better at focusing than Lea and Manon who weren't even actually talking. Just staring.
Enjoying.
Manon knew Jacques' body very well. She had taken it many times. She even knew that he did some training to keep his figure and to make sure he wasn't helpless. He had learned to fight years ago, only getting better when leading the rebels that would become the loyalists.
It seemed her husband preferred swords, but he was highly adept at hand to hand. Which was what Emilien was training him in now. They were going to move onto swords later. They would wear basic leather armor then. The swords they were using were dull, but to avoid unnecessary bruising, they would still wear some basic protection.
A shame, because Manon couldn't imagine anything she wanted to see more than Jacques bare chested, swinging a sword, muscles bulging, eyes dark and focused.
She shivered just at the imagining.
The guys continued, completely unaware of the lustful gazes upon them. Their blows were focused, their movements concentrated, their actions serious. And that only made it better.
When they finally took a break, drinking water and discussing what they were going to do with the sword training, Lea sighed contentedly, leaning back on the bench, her head resting against the wall with a dull thunk.
Manon couldn't help but giggle. She understood completely.
"We should probably actually do some training," Lea said. The guys were pulling their shirts back on to protect them from the leather armor. The show was over.
"A shame," Manon sighed.
Lea hummed in agreement, nodding slowly.
The two of them finally stood and moved to the other side of the large, but empty, training room. There were four separate areas with mats to protect from falls. Training weapons were held up on racks and there were benches in each area to watch the fighters. It was a place where the castle guard typically practiced, but it had been cleared for the royals this morning.
"So, tell me about your powers," Lea said as they stopped to remove their boots before stepping onto their own mat.
"Amorette didn't already tell you?"
"She gave me a basic understanding. I want to hear it from you though."
Manon nodded slowly. "I don't think there's an easy one word description for it. My body just kind of adjusts to pressure and squishes down. It allows me to slip into tight spaces and escape from holds easily."
Lea nodded along as they stood and came to the center of the mat. Lea was usually wearing trousers and leathers, but it was the first time in a while that Manon was dressed on the same. It felt freeing to have all of her limbs capable of easy movement.
As Lea had promised Jacques, she was easier on her than Manon anticipated. But, within only a few minutes, she found that Lea and Jacques were actually right.
She got tired and she got tired fast.
It seemed like training with Lea had just started and already she was clumsy, her limbs were heavier, and her reaction times were slowed.
"What in the Lord's name is wrong with me?" She asked, glaring down at her hands after Lea had easily knocked her aside and nearly to the ground in a move that was obvious and easily avoidable. Normally.
"You're injured," Lea assured her. "Head injuries do that, you know?"
"I feel like I'm doing this all for the first time again," Manon growled, her hands tightening into fists in annoyance. "Do head blows just knock away all of your skills?"
"They make your body react slower. They make you tired. Your brain can bruise just as easily as your flesh. That comes with side effects. Don't expect too much from yourself."
Manon sighed, dropping her hands to her side.
"Let's try something else," Lea said, touching her shoulder gently. "You're not going to learn anything if you're frustrated."
Manon hated to admit it, but Lea was right. This entire session was counter productive. It was infuriating to be so weak, even if it was temporary.
"Talk me through what happened when you were attacked," Lea said. "Show me what he did and what you did in response."
Manon went through it with her. From hearing the noise to Jacques' arrival. She used Lea as a stand in for her assailant, going through the motions of the attack slowly. As she did so, Lea would occasionally stop her and explain what she had done wrong, how she could have reestablished the upper hand or how she could have escaped.
Lea was a highly trained and experienced warrior, and it showed. A few of the things she pointed out made Manon want to smack herself with how obvious it seemed in hindsight. Of course, nothing worked out perfectly, and who was to say that Lea's suggestions would have been successful, but trying them would have been better than letting her head get repeatedly bashed into the floor.
They even practiced a few of those evasions and attacks, but Manon's weakness severely hampered her abilities.
Then, Lea asked her to demonstrate her power by asking her to escape holds just by slipping through her grip instead of through any specific move or defense. It involved the two of them being very close, locked in each other's arms.
They had only been doing that for about twenty minutes or so when they looked over and noticed their audience.
Jacques and Emilien were seated on a bench, watching them very closely. The apparent lust in their eyes was tempered only slightly by amusement. Apparently, Lea and Manon's earlier stares hadn't been as overlooked as they thought.
"Aren't you two supposed to be training?" Lea asked, her grin taking the sting from her words.
"No. We're good, right?" Emilien looked to Jacques who nodded along sagely.
Manon laughed as she detangled herself from Lea. "I think we're about done ourselves."
Lea nodded in agreement. "I want you to start stretching in the morning, and maybe before bed as well. Loosen yourself up. Stretch yourself out."
"That's probably smart." Manon rotated her shoulder. "Might help with the stiffness."
"That, and it's a good way to stretch your power. Get Jacques to help pull or push you deeper into the stretches. Go as far as you can. Learning to use your power reflexively in danger is important, but that reflex is also born from constant use in non-dangerous situations."
Manon nodded along. Stretching herself was obvious in hindsight. It really was something she already should have had Amorette doing with her.
Lea talked her through the stretches she wanted Manon to do, even demonstrating a few, before finally calling an end to the session. They would be meeting up again regularly to keep their skills sharp and improve their abilities though.
"You two go ahead," Jacques said, grabbing Manon's shoulder as they started to leave. "I need to discuss something with my queen first."
Emilien bowed his head and Lea looked suspicious, but neither of them argued as they led the way from the training room. The door shutting was loud in the large chamber. Manon turned to face Jacques to ask what he wanted to talk about-
-only to find her lips claimed as he jerked her body against his.
She responded immediately, meeting his unleashed passion with her own. Both of them fueled by seeing each other fight.
She was definitely not too tired for this.
He grabbed her by the waist and, obligingly, she jumped as he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his hips. He clutched her thighs, his fingers digging into the meat of her flesh, as he lowered them both down to the mat.
By the time her back was on the ground, she had already divested him of his shirt – his leathers had been removed before he came to stare – and she was running her fingers along those very muscles she had spent so long admiring.
Jacques hadn't meant to do this.
When he and Emilien had realized the women had wondered away, they had stopped their training to check on them. The decision to go over and stare at them as they had been stared at first had mostly been made in jest.
Jacques hadn't been prepared for just how exciting it would be to watch his wife grappling and struggling against Lea. The way she moved her body was unintentionally sensual and each time she stretched her limbs apart, he couldn't help but think of how far he could stretch her, how far apart he could spread her legs, as he claimed her.
His mind was spinning with the possibility. With the potential.
He really hadn't intended this when he sat down to stare at her, his only thoughts of being playful and mocking.
But the more he watched her, the more he desired her. The more he understood exactly why she had been looking at him so intensely.
It had taken everything in him not to grab her while she was in the middle of working with Lea. To force himself between them and claim his queen right then and there. The only thing that spared her was wanting to see more and knowing that Manon would not appreciate being taken like that in front of their friends.
But they were gone now and his queen was just for eager for him as they desperately grabbed and ripped at each other's clothes.
Eager to see if he could, he grabbed her legs and forced them up. Pushing, pushing, pushing. She whimpered but didn't resist.
Jacques's mouth was dry, his hands were trembling, he had an eager fire burning in his loins as he pressed Manon's knees to the ground beside her head. He had her fully folded in half and she had no problems stretching that far.
And the position opened her up to him. Gave him full access to her.
He wasted no time in taking advantage.
Manon moaned, her hands clasped around her own thighs, keeping her stretched for him. Keeping her folded and open as he eagerly thrust inside.
She cried out, her entire body shuddering in pleasure as he held her down, spread and completely at his mercy.
Mercy that he didn't show as he claimed her ruthlessly on the training room floor, her cries and moans echoing around them in the massive room.
When they climaxed, it was together and, once again, Jacques roared his love to the heavens as he filled her with his seed.
~~~~~~
He had said it again!
Manon frowned as she balanced a quill on a single finger. She should have been using it to sign the various documents that Moise had brought her. Instead, she was completely distracted by the memory of Jacques shouting that he loved her.
Again.
At the height of his climax.
Again.
She grumbled, losing control of the quill. It hit her desk, smearing ink across the protective felt that covered the wood. She sighed, leaning back into her chair.
Did it mean more or less that he said it during sex again?
On one hand, it had to mean something, otherwise, it wouldn't be the only thing he was shouting anymore, right?
On the other hand, the fact that he had only said it at the peak of his pleasure had to mean that it wasn't as special, right?
Manon sighed, crossing her arms as she looked across their office to his desk.
He wasn't here at the moment. Instead of working in the office today, he was hunting. She had finally managed to convince him to take a day off, the same as he had offered her. Instead of relaxing in the palace, he had opted to go hunting with some friends instead. Since the friends in question were actually current and former leaders of the rebels turned loyalists, Manon was suspicious about this really being time off.
However, it was something fun and, even if he was using it as a chance to speak to his comrades, at least he was being entertained while he did it.
That left Manon alone by herself, trying to figure out if Jacques actually loved her or if he just loved having sex.
"Frustrating..."
"What's frustrating?"
Manon, unaware that she had spoken, jumped in her chair as she looked over to where Amorette was sitting in the corner, reading a small book. She really enjoyed reading. Probably because she didn't get to learn until she was much older.
Jacques had refused to leave the palace if Manon was alone. One of his conditions for him to go out hunting was that Amorette did not leave Manon's side until he returned. That had been easy to agree to, even if she was confident in her safety now.
Since ridding themselves of Arnaud and hiring Moise instead, there hadn't been a single instance of a potential assassin. Either by direct attack or because someone had been found to be planning an assassination.
Amorette had been so quiet – reading was still a hard task for her and it required a lot of her concentration – that Manon had forgotten she was there.
"Nothing. Sorry," she said, sitting straight in her chair.
"Is the work frustrating?" She asked, lowering the book.
"No. No, it's nothing. Just thinking out loud." Manon forced her attention back onto her paperwork – and even slightly succeeded.
Unfortunately, Amorette wasn't willing to drop the subject.
The head of her personal guard was exceptional and a great friend, but being raised separated from society meant she had a very low understanding of hierarchy. Anyone else would have heard the queen's tone and known better than to push.
Amorette came to stand on the other side of her desk, looking from the paperwork that Manon still wasn't signing up to her face.
"Are you okay?" She asked, seeing only her friend, not her queen.
Manon's lips pursed.
Amorette watched her curiously. "You don't want to talk about it?"
"It's nothing that you can help with."
"Sure, I can."
"No, really. It's something I have to figure out myself." Or, more likely, talk to Jacques about it and get the truth. Even if the idea of bringing up the conversation made her guts twist up with nerves and anxiety.
"You're having issues with Jacques?"
Manon jumped, startled. Had she spoken aloud again?
But no, not this time. She had just forgotten that Amorette, for all that she was uneducated and still read at a childhood level, wasn't unintelligent. She was great at reading people, at understanding them with just a look.
Manon didn't need to say anything, Amorette could see it on her face.
"You'd be surprised how much just talking about it can help." Amorette gave her a peaceful smile that actually hurt in Manon's chest.
Friendly. Unintimidated and unchanged by Manon's rank.
It had been so long since Manon felt that kind of gaze. Lea and Felicie were nice to her, but there was a barrier between them now that she was queen that hadn't been there before. It felt like she had become somehow untouchable.
But Amorette barely recognized social structures. Manon being queen was no different from Manon being a princess which, to Amorette, meant nothing. She was just another person to her, regardless of whatever titles she had.
And she was so emotionally intelligent, her gaze understanding and empathetic, it was like she was drawing up the words from Manon's throat.
Before she even realized it, she was telling Amorette everything.
Amorette didn't even bat an eye when Manon stuttered over explanation of how Jacques kept announcing his love for her. Just like she had no respect for social structure, she had no real comprehension of social niceties. She had no problems talking about sex like it was as banal and innocent a topic as the weather.
That made it even easier to explain herself and her worries. She blurted it out like vomit, forceful and desperate and a jumbled mess that barely made sense.
When she finished, she was actually breathing hard, like she had sprinted her way through the rushed explanation.
Amorette stared at her thoughtfully. Her expression inscrutable. Then-
"I don't understand the problem."
Manon deflated. She didn't know why, but she had been expecting some sort of wisdom that would give her clarity or new understanding. Amorette's words made her slump in her chair as a strange sense of defeat came over her.
"You're upset?" She asked, head cocked curiously.
"No. I just... I don't know why I thought you'd have something more helpful than just that."
"Sorry." Amorette looked confused. "I just don't understand why you're obsessing over something you can clear up with a conversation."
"That's not an easy conversation!"
"Why? Just ask him if he meant it."
"That's not..." Manon's mouth kept moving even as her voice failed. Amorette just kept looking at her like she was the odd one.
Of course, this wouldn't a problem for Amorette though. She never had any problem saying anything that came into her head. She didn't care if people thought her odd and she had no comprehension of what was considered odd anyway.
But what really stole Manon's voice was the fact that Amorette was right.
This could be cleared up with a conversation. A single question. A question that even thinking about asking made her feel sick.
"What are you scared of?" Amorette asked softly.
"That... he'll say he didn't mean it."
"Did you want him to mean it?"
"Of course, I do!"
"So, what if he does mean it?"
Just thinking about it made Manon's belly swoop in excitement. If she could have Jacques look her in her eyes and tell her he loved her – without being buried inside her. She could have a complete marriage in truth.
"There, see?" Amorette smiled at the hopefully expression that came over her face. "Doesn't even just the thought of it make it worth the risk?"
"But what if he doesn't mean it?"
Amorette shrugged. "What if he does?"
Manon gnawed on her lip.
Amorette chuckled. "And besides, what is the worst that could happen?"
"He could laugh in my face and call me a fool."
"Manon." Amorette gave her a dull look. "What is the most realistic thing that could happen?"
Manon frowned at her desk. If she was being realistic, she knew that Jacques wouldn't laugh at her feelings. That was just some deep, buried part of her that was afraid of the rejection.
"I suppose, he could lie and say he loved me and not mean it."
"And do you really think he's the type to do that?"
No, of course she didn't. Jacques might be gentle to spare her feelings, but he wouldn't outright tell her a lie like that.
"There's no law that says you both have to love each other," Amorette continued. "There's nothing written that says you can only love someone that loves you back. Love is a gift to be given with no expectation of return. You're married, Manon. If you love him, even if he doesn't return those feelings, will it make your marriage worse? No matter what, you two will be friends and partners and lovers. He won't laugh and he won't lie, you know that. Even if he won't give his heart to you in turn, you know that he will take care of yours if you give it to him."
Of course, Manon knew that. She didn't know how Amorette could just break down something that seemed so complicated and confusing into something so straightforward.
Amorette smiled as some of the tension faded from her face and frame. "See?"
Manon laughed. "How do you see things so simply, Amorette?"
She shrugged. "Things are simple. You uppers are the ones that feel this strange urge to make them more complicated."
She returned to her couch and dropped back, picking up her book. Her brows furrowed with concentration as she returned to her story.
Manon chuckled to herself, looking back at her papers. For the first time all morning, actually seeing the words written there. She didn't know how, but talking to someone had actually helped ease her burden. Put it into perspective.
And now she was eager for Jacques to get home.
She wanted him to clear up his words, but she also wanted to give him her own in return. Because she had never responded to his declaration and it was possible that he was just as uncertain and confused by her silence as she was by his timing.
Reinvigorated, she returned to the signing of papers with renewed vigor.
But she was interrupted only minutes later by frantic knocking.
"Enter," she said, preemptively getting to her feet, her gut clenching.
In the few seconds it took for the servant to open the door, approach, bow, then approach again, a hundred different terrible things went through her head.
Was there another riot?
Was something else on fire?
Was Jacques all right?
Oh, Lord, what if he had been attacked while he was out hunting? What if the servant was come to tell her that her husband was injured or dead or-
No. She had to force herself herself not to follow that path further.
But she couldn't help but continue spiraling into depressive, panicked thoughts.
Then, the servant smiled.
"Your majesty. Arnaud has been arrested."
"What?"
She was so prepared for bad news, that she wasn't ready to comprehend what he did say.
"The former palace steward has been arrested," he repeated eagerly.
It was clear that he expected her to be excited, but she felt a sinking sensation in her gut.
He had been captured?
But how?
They knew Arnaud had been hidden amongst the traditionalists thanks to Gosse's report. They fully expected he would remain hidden until they made the choice to conduct raids of the hide outs that Gosse had identified.
But they had not made that choice and they had agreed to let Arnaud remain free until they were ready to deal with the entire group as a whole. He couldn't do anything to them and now that he was out of his position, he was harmless.
How had he been arrested?
~~~~~~
"Manon!"
She turned as Jacques came into their room.
Like her, he had a troubled expression on his face.
It was late. The capture of Arnaud was disturbing to Manon, but not so much that she felt the need to end Jacques' day off. Especially since everyone working in the palace and all of the loyalists, were celebrating the capture as a good thing.
They saw an enemy captured. A criminal punished.
But the look on Jacques' face told her that he had the exact same thought as her.
How, exactly, had Arnaud been captured?
Jacques nodded to Amorette, dismissing her with a thanks for staying by Manon's side through the entire day. Manon said nothing as Amorette assured him that it was fine, gathered her book, and left the room, wishing them a good night.
"What happened?" He asked after the door shut behind her.
"He was caught walking down the street," she said, tossing her hands up helplessly. "Just... out in the open."
"What was he doing?"
"Just walking. It was a residential neighborhood. A pair of city guard saw and recognized him. He didn't even try to run."
Jacques grimaced and she could see the very same unease that she had felt when she had been told crossing his face.
"Why?"
She shook her head. "I haven't had him interrogated yet. I was waiting for you."
Jacques nodded once, accepting the decision with gratitude. "I want to do it myself."
"A proper trial?"
"Yes. For his part in multiple attempted assassinations. He will be executed, but he will be given a trial first."
Manon grunted in agreement. She wasn't upset with the execution, just wondering why Arnaud would suddenly give himself over to it. He had to know that he wouldn't live through his capture. He had to know that his execution was assured.
So, why was he just casually out in the open, walking about like he was going for a peaceful stroll in the park?
It was unnerving.
"We'll need to be careful," Jacques said, like her, anticipating a trap. "Has he said anything? Done anything?"
She shook her head. "The city guard brought them to the castle. He was given over to trusted castle guards, escorted to the dungeon, and locked inside. He has been cooperative, but he hasn't said anything. By all reports, he's been outright polite."
An uneasy shiver went up Jacques' spin. Something was very wrong.
His hunting trip had proved very productive. Not really because he had succeeded in killing anything – though there was a buck being butchered in the kitchen – but more because he had spoken with his leaders and gotten back in contact with the loyalist cells. He wasn't stepping back into a true leadership role among them, but he was giving them his tacit approval.
The loyalist groups gave him an extra arm of power, but royal oversight would also hopefully help to keep them under control. He didn't want his city to keep going up in flames. If he could control the loyalists, even just by proximity, he could hopefully prevent more fighting from breaking out in the streets.
But to come home to this unsettling news...
"We'll talk to him first thing tomorrow," he declared. "Have him watched closely throughout the night. Only by guards that we are absolutely sure are trustworthy. And at least in threes. No one watches him alone."
"I've already passed on those orders, actually."
Jacques grinned at her, some of his tension easing. "I don't know why my forefathers never had their queen's helping them like this. It's a massive weight off my shoulders knowing I can count on you, my dear."
Manon smiled. "I could say the same. This is much easier working with someone I know I can trust to help and thinks like me."
Jacques reached out a hand for her. She didn't hesitate to put hers in it and let him pull her into his embrace.
"Did you enjoy your day out?" She asked, the tension that had been building all day relaxing somewhat now that he was here.
"Very productive," he said, rubbing her lower back affectionately.
"Did you actually do any hunting, or were you just scheming?"
"I'll have you know, I'm fully capable of doing both," he said haughtily, making her laugh, banishing the last of the disquiet on her face.
"You didn't even try to hide it!"
"Why? You know what I was doing."
"You know, when you made me take a day off, you forbid me from doing anything."
"Then, you got attacked. So, at least I ended my day off still in one piece." He shrugged as though he didn't still have nightmares about coming into their rooms that night.
She sighed sadly. "I suppose, we'll never get a day off."
"We will." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "What did you today, dearest?"
He released her so he could go about taking off his hunting gear. He had come right to their room when he heard the news and so was still covered in dirt and sweat from the hunt.
Manon watching him move around, chewing her lip nervously.
This was the moment. She should say something now.
"Just some paperwork," she said dully, cursing her own weakness. This seemed like such a simple thing when Amorette had spoken of it. What had happened in the last minute to turn her legs to jelly and twist her belly up into knots? "Did some work with Moise. You know, just some things I've been putting off." Like having this conversation. "How was the hunt?"
"Very well, actually. Brought down a buck. Spotted some geese, but we opted to let them alone. Wasn't really in the mood for goose tonight."
He continued, telling her about his trip out. Mostly about the men he had spoken to about the loyalists – including Emilien's brother-in-law. All of them had been loyalists that he had sent home but who had come back of their own recognizance.
Manon was listening to him, making appropriate sounds where necessary in response, but mostly she was lost in her own thoughts.
The two of them prepared for bed while discussing their separate days. It was such a normal thing for married couples to do, but it was something they didn't usually do on account of the fact that they normally spent their entire day together.
Manon followed him into the bathing chamber. She had already bathed for the night, but she helped him remove his clothes before washing his back.
Easy intimacy. It was such a loving, simply thing to do that she easily forgot that she had told herself she was supposed to be talking to him.
Especially when, after washing his hair, he pulled her down for a wet kiss. He very nearly pulled her into the bathtub and only her laughing protest stopped him. She also refused to let him come to bed dripping from the bath.
She made him dry off, teasing him with small flashes of flesh as she danced just out of his reach while he hastily ran a towel over his body and hair, staring at her with hot, desirous eyes that promised punishment for her actions.
She waited until the very last second, when, still naked, hair still wet, he charged, before squealing and running from him.
He chased her into the room. They played a game of keep away, dancing around their furniture, before he finally captured her as she was trying to run to the sitting room. He grabbed her around the waist and tossed her onto the bed.
She was laughing and bouncing on the mattress when he climbed over her. He swallowed her laughter with a kiss that quickly turned passionate.
And she completely forgot to bring up the topic of love.