"So what happened?" Jane cocked her head to the side, regarding Edward curiously across the campfire. She had found out what that funny metal box was for after all when he pulled out one almost exactly like hers. He'd showed her how to hook the metal "C" around her fingers and strike it against the stone until it threw off sparks - that part had been easy. Much harder had been convincing those sparks to catch on anything. She'd refused to give up, though, trying over and over again until full darkness had fallen and Edward had lifted the flint and steel - since that's what they were - out of her hands with a gentle apology and lighted the fire by feel in a matter of seconds. Jane tried not to resent that.
Edward took a moment to realize that he had been addressed. He was staring into the fire as though he did not really see it, his legs tucked up under his chin with his arms wrapped around them. He'd refused to let her give his cloak back, even when the temperature dropped and a chill wind blew through the trees. Finally the sound of her voice must have processed through and he blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"I said, what happened?" Jane repeated. "What happened that has you running to the borders with assassins on your tail?"
He straightened, and Jane thought he looked a bit insulted. "You mean to say you have not heard?"
"Heard what?" Jane asked. He still stared at her, and she shrugged uncomfortably, angry again that he seemed to expect something from her that she could not provide. "I'm not from around here."
"It began when my father died," he said. His eyes had gone distant again.
"Oh," Jane said, "I'm so sorry." She meant it. What do you say to that? The silence stretched out painfully, and she groped for something to break it. "When did it happen?"
"About three weeks ago."
"Geez! I - I'm sorry. I didn't know." Now she felt like a jerk. She searched desperately for another topic, one that wouldn't rip open any fresh wounds, and she blurted out almost the first question that sprang to mind. "How did he die?" She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Good one, Jane, she thought. Real smooth.
"He was poisoned," Edward said, his eyes glinting in the firelight as Jane gasped, horrified. "Poisoned by his brother, my uncle, for the sake of his throne." He paused dramatically, seeming perversely satisfied by Jane's rapt attention. "Of course, no one knew that at the time. We thought it was tragic, that he had died in his sleep. It wasn't until later that my man Alwyn heard that one of the maids had slipped a dose of what she thought was medicine into my father's wine at my uncle's behest. The court physician re-examined my father's body, and he found the telltale signs of poison. We planned to bring the maid before the council and have my uncle executed for treason, but she vanished that same day. I fear that she is dead, and now there is no way to prove my uncle's guilt."
"Well, you know he's guilty - can't you do something about it anyway?" Jane asked. "Aren't you the new king now? You said you were the heir to the throne."
Edward looked chagrined. "I cannot take such direct action against someone so high ranking, especially not until I reach my majority and am confirmed in the full powers of my position. My eighteenth birthday is not for three months - which will give him plenty of time to find some way to be rid of me, I assure you. With me out of the way, there is no one left to stand between him and the throne."
Jane suddenly felt as interested in the fire as Edward seemed to be - and no wonder. It crackled and leapt, burning merrily, unburdened by fear or doubt. Talk about a hard situation, Jane thought. Your uncle murders your dad, but you have no proof. And if you wait until you can do something about it, he'll probably find a way to murder you, too. "Hang on," she said, struck by a sudden thought. "Why didn't you just tell the council what you found out? You said the doctor - I mean, physician - said he was poisoned. Even without the witness, that should be enough to throw suspicion on him."
He smiled, but the expression was tainted by bitterness. "Do you think that I did not try? I approached each of the councillors in turn, pleaded with them to support me against my uncle, but it was for nothing. My father's councillors, you see," he explained, "are old men, with old men's fears. Many of them have known my uncle for decades, and would rather see an old friend on the throne than a young man who may or may not have poisoned his own father to secure power."
"They thought you did it?"
Edward nodded, stripping dead pine needles off of a branch without really looking and tossing them one by one into the fire. They blackened almost instantly before turning red, twisting and curling like ribbons inside the flames. "Who else had so much to gain? With my father gone, I would be king in a matter of months. Had he lived, he might have ruled twenty, thirty - even forty years more. Many of the councillors have ambitious young sons of their own, and it was a simple matter for my uncle to plant the seeds of doubt in their suspicious minds."
"He beat you to the punch," Jane murmured.
"Nay, we did not spar with one another," Edward said, frowning, "but he was quicker than I to sway the council in his favor. There is little wonder in that, as he had the advantage of foreknowledge on his side." He sighed, discarding the denuded branch by flinging it into the fire after its needles. "Bereft of allies at home, I gathered supplies in secret for a journey to the border, where my father's closest friend, Lord Robert Welton, guards the marches."
Jane thought that over for a moment. "You think he'll believe you?"
"Without question!" He clenched his fist and brought it down on his knee, hard. "He was more a brother to my father than my uncle was, and his son has been my friend since childhood. He knows my character, and more importantly, he knows my uncle's character far better than the courtiers in the council do. He will believe me."
"Your uncle must expect you to go to him then, right?"
"Indeed," he said with a grimace. "Hence the assassins. It is my hope that the detour through the forest will throw them off of our trail, and we may slip through to the border undetected."
Jane made noises of agreement, but privately she thought that there wasn't much chance of that. Someone who had planned a few murders and a government takeover so carefully probably also knew where his nephew would run when there was trouble. Depending on how important Edward's death was to his plan, assassins along the way would probably turn out to be the least of their problems.
"But I have been monopolizing our conversation!" Edward cried. "Pray, tell me more about yourself. What led you to wander alone in search of adventure?"
"Oh," Jane stalled, surprised. "Um, well - I guess I just... saw an opportunity. I've never really... had the chance to do something like this on my own, you know? I've always had to follow someone else's schedule, someone else's plan, and never got to see who I could be, what I could do. Out here," she smiled, breathing deeply of the breeze that blew through the wild wood, feeling the heat of the small fire on her face as the light drew a circle between what she could see and what she could only imagine, "out here, anything could happen. I might do anything - I might be anyone."
Jane shook her gaze away from the flames, glancing sharply up at Edward's face. She had spoken more freely than she had meant, swept up by the fire and darkness and the sheer headiness of her adventure into baring more of her real self to this random guy than she ever did to anyone. To her surprise, he was not wearing that superior smile he had when she had first told him she was looking for an adventure. Instead, he seemed almost sad, although he still smiled.
"It can be difficult, my lady, to fill the roles that are expected of us. Few, I think, would understand that better than I. But what of your parents, your family? Will not they be worried for your safety?"
"Oh, no," Jane laughed. "They don't even know I'm gone."
Edwards eyebrows twitched upwards in astonishment. "Truly?" he asked. "How long have you been traveling?"
Here we go, Jane sighed. "One day," she admitted.
"One day? Will they not soon be seeking you?"
"No, they won't," Jane insisted. "They won't find out I'm gone, because to them, I'm not missing. I'm - I'm always there when they look for me." She struggled to explain why she wasn't worried about it without coming right out and saying, Sorry, Edward, but you and everything in your world doesn't really exist, you're just part of an incredibly detailed and realistic dream I'm having so obviously, I can't be missing if I'm just sleeping in my bed at home.
He seemed to turn that over for a moment. "You used magic, then?"
"Yes!" Jane seized on that with relief. "It's magic. I'm always there when they expect me to be there, so why would they come looking for me?"
"Are you an enchantress, then?" His eyes seemed darker, and Jane wondered if that would make her seem dangerous to him.
"I wouldn't say enchantress," she said, trying to make her voice reassuring while simultaneously looking as innocent as possible, "but I can do a few tricks."
"Such as?"
"Oh - well," she groped for something to do. Make gold? No, almost certainly a bad idea, no need to let anybody know she was a walking mint. A weapon? No, she was trying not to seem dangerous. Another squirrel? No, too easy to dismiss as a random woodland wanderer. I've got it, she thought. Food.
"Okay, watch this," she said, her voice more confident than she was. Jane closed her eyes and cupped her hands in front of her. Right, then. What kind of food could she make that wouldn't be too strange to Edward? She had a brief craving for brownies that she shoved aside. Pretty sure they didn't have chocolate in the middle ages, self. Best to try something simple, something universal, something she'd already had here - bread. A thick, round loaf of bread like the one she'd had back at the tavern, but softer so they could eat it without soup. Also fresh. Fresh bread was the best.
She concentrated on that image and felt a warm, dry weight cover her palms. The aroma of fresh-baked bread drifted upwards and Jane opened her eyes. For once, she had gotten almost exactly what she had tried to create, and she smiled in triumph. Edward, on the other hand, looked alarmed. It occurred to Jane that she had no idea how magic was used in this world, like maybe creating bread out of thin air was something that only demigods or dragons or evil fairies could do and she was about to get staked or possibly dragged to a church for an exorcism.
"Here," she said, extending the warm, fragrant bread in his direction. While she was concerned about his reaction, she had suddenly remembered a spotted baby deer she had coaxed into eating clover from her hand on a childhood camping trip - he reminded her of it so much. If he started sniffing the air she was seriously going to break down into giggles, and that probably wouldn't go well. It had certainly startled the deer.
Before he had a chance to decide whether the bread was safe to touch or not, the dizziness and exhaustion from creating it washed over Jane, and she sagged. Edward leapt to his feet and rushed around the fire to steady her before she slipped from her seat, taking the loaf from her hand in the process.
"My lady! Are you unwell?" Edward bent and peered into her eyes, one hand bracing her shoulder, the other holding the bread that had apparently ceased to be alarming. Or perhaps, a distant thought occurred to Jane, fainting damsels trumped dangerous magical bread.
"It will pass," she managed to say, but it seemed to linger longer than it had earlier. Perhaps that was because she was so tired, but she was forced to accept the steadying hand on her shoulder for some minutes more until the world stopped spinning. When she felt she could sit unassisted, Edward sat down beside her on the fallen tree rather than returning to his spot across the fire, his posture alert as though he was prepared to catch her at a moment's notice.
"Well, we might as well eat it," Jane said, masking her embarrassment with annoyance. Edward tore the loaf in two without a word, and Jane began to eat her half with appetite. It tasted so good. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, but she had no difficulty devouring the whole thing. At first Edward nibbled cautiously on his half, but either hunger or the fact that Jane was eating hers without hesitation quickly led him to finish his as well.
Once she had eaten, Jane sagged with exhaustion that had nothing to do with magic. She started yawning and fumbled with her pack, trying to extract her blanket, and she didn't even feel annoyed when Edward moved her hands away and pulled it out for her. Then he pulled out a knife and cut a few armloads of leafy vegetation and laid it down on the ground, spreading her blanket over it. Jane lay down at once, pulling the blanket over her as well so that she was fairly well wrapped in it. Either leaves on the ground were surprisingly comfortable, or she was too tired to care. Her eyes drifted closed without asking her permission, but before she quite fell asleep she thought for the first time in hours about the magic ring. She touched it to reassure herself; it was still on her finger. What a day, she thought.
"Sleep well, Lady Genevieve," Edward said, his voice quiet, "and fear not; I shall guard your rest. Perhaps the morrow shall bring a different adventure."
You have no idea, Jane thought, and then she slept.