Posted on

Vero wasn’t quite to the top of the hill, but she could already see the top of the stone tower ahead of her. She was too jaded to be excited at the sight. The tower had become visible every time she was near the top of one of the damned hills, and each time the summit just revealed a descent followed by yet another godsdamned hill.

This time however, as she crested over the top, she saw a broad flat plain stretch out between her and Kaer Longus. Or at least it initially appeared to be a flat plain. On closer examination joy turned to despair. Vero could see the light of the setting sun reflecting off a few small pools of standing water. Thick vegetation covered surface well, but when she drew closer she could identify nymphaeales, aquatic flowering plants.

She sighed as she realized that the entire length, from the bottom of the hill all the way to the outer walls, was a massive marsh. Past the marsh was the tower, jutting up out of the midst of a walled city. Finally, just barely visible on the edge of the horizon, she could make out the flying banners and tents of the Marquis de Fer’s encampment. The city was not yet under siege from what she could tell, though with the army camped so near the threat was clearly implicit.

The sun would be down by the time she crossed the swamp, and the city gates would be closed. She had considered scouting the city before going to the camp, but the timing of her arrival settled the question for her. She took a swig of water from the skin on her belt and began hiking the rest of the way down.

The trip through the marsh was agonizing. She slowly slogged through the tepid stagnant water, in the late summer sun, while being eaten alive by mosquitos. Her master had once told her that he knew a warding spell against insects, but he never taught it to her and she never saw him use it, no matter how badly they were beset by pests. She chalked it up as just another of the lies he’d told her. That list was already long enough that another late addition didn’t appreciably change her opinion of the man.

The sun sank and at last Vero was nearly free of the muck. The marquis had set down his men on relatively solid ground. His troops were in the process of erecting a wooden palisade around the site, but it wasn’t yet completed. They must have arrived only recently since, from what she had been told, the marquis was not a man to neglect the defense of his camp. One of the soldiers on patrol challenged her as she approached.

“Who goes there?”

Vero held up her hands to show she posed no threat. “A friend. I am apprenticed to master Aquinas, here in response to the marquis’ request for aid.”

“Remain where you are boy.” The patrolman departed back into the camp, but two other crossbowmen had arrived and kept her in their sights.

She used the lull as an opportunity to sit on the shore and drain the water from her boots. The swamp had come up to her waist and her pants clung uncomfortably to her body.

 Another soldier arrived, he seemed to be a sergeant, and waved for the others to lower their weapons. “Follow me lad. Milord wishes to see you as soon as possible. He has ordered fresh clothes and a bath for you, then you will join him for his evening meal.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Vero was starving. She hadn’t eaten anything all day beside a few strips of dried meat at noon.

She also felt filthy from her trip through the swamp and looked forward to prospect of a warm bath, despite the difficult explanations her undressing would entail. The soldiers had taken her, with her short hair and trousers, for a boy. Her breasts were also tightly bound to her chest to aid the notion. Although she would never have overtly lied if pressed.

She had serious doubts that the marquis would hire a woman as his agent, and she desperately needed the employment. Since the death of her master, she had yet to receive a single contract. What little coin they’d had was gone and she was nearly out of provisions. It wouldn’t be much longer until she would need to begin pawning her equipment to buy food.

The soldier extended a hand and helped Vero climb out of the ditch surrounding the planned line of the camp defenses. Once she was up onto solid ground, he led her inside. Even if they threw her out, she would at least get a bath and a meal out of the adventure.

The peasant levies had been put to work finishing the palisade but they, and the camp followers, made up only a fraction of the population Vero saw. The rest had the look of a professional fighting force, knights and mercenaries. She observed several crossbowmen, but few horses. Obviously, the marquis had been better informed about the local marshy terrain then herself.

Looking at the organization on display, her precursory estimation was that the marquis seemed a very able commander, which confirmed what her master had told her of him. From what she had seen of the surrounding region so far, the only thing that might have the capacity to stop him was pestilence. Remaining in this swamp for a long siege would only court disaster, and she hoped the she could use his desire for haste to recommend her services.

The soldier stopped in front of a small tent, and not far away Vero could see the gilded commander’s quarters. He moved aside the tent flap and pointed her inside. “You’ll find a bath inside. A serving girl will take your clothes to be laundered and dress you in a new outfit. Milord is anxious to speak with you, so don’t keep him waiting any longer than necessary.”

“I assure you; I am equally anxious to eat. I’ll proceed with all haste.”

Inside the tent a steaming hot bath had been drawn in a wooden tub. A pretty girl, who looked perhaps even a year or two younger than Vero herself, stood waiting with a brush and a cake of soap.

It seemed the marquis intended to allow her every luxury the camp could offer. That spoke well of her chances on two fronts. First, it showed the value he placed on the services she could offer him. Second, and more immediately, she thought that a woman might be easier to keep a secret from than a male valet.

Vero set down her pack and checked to make certain the soldier had left and closed the tent flap. She allowed the serving girl to help her remover her armor.

“Would my lord like me to take his equipment to be cared for by the camp armorer?”

“Yes, I think my chain shirt could use some mending. Leave the sword, but have the dagger sharpened. I also have a pouch with a few crossbow heads I’d like fletched onto new bolts, the heads are special though so make sure I get those exact bolts back; new ones won’t do me any good.”

“Very good my lord.”

“What’s your name?”

“Antoinette-” Antoinette tried to removed her tunic before Vero pushed her away. “Ser?”

“You’re very pretty Antoinette, and I’m really very- I really can’t afford to offend… I’m just very shy.” Vero tried fumble her speech like a nervous young man might. “Could you perhaps allow me to wash myself?”

Seeing Vero acting so flustered must have made Antoinette suddenly self-conscious because she began to blush and stammer herself. “Of- of course… ser. I did not mean to offend you.”

Once Antoinette had left with her things Vero undressed herself. She tested the water and found it almost scalding. Gingerly she placed one foot inside and then the other. She was working her way downwards slowly when Antoinette rushed back into the tent.

“I’m terribly sorry ser. I’ve forgotten to give you the towel! I’m such a dullard I-”

Vero immediately sat down and hoped that the girl hadn’t seen anything. She turned away to try and hide as much of herself as possible. “Just put it down and leave please.

“Yes, my a- ah… lord.” Antoinette placed a towel next to a set of clean clothes before leaving once again.

Vero soaked lazily in the warm water. Her secret was either out, or it wasn’t, and either way she decided to enjoy herself while she could. She scrapped the muck off herself and rinsed her hair until she finally began to feel clean. Once she was clean and dressed, she called Antoinette back to dry and comb her hair.

“Are you a part of the marquis’ household?” Vero asked.

“Yes my… um… yes. My father is one of his huntsmen. I’ve lived in his house since I was born.”

“And how does he run his household?”

“Oh, he’s very strict, but not at all cruel. I know he’s very honorable. All his retainers think very highly of him, although they sometimes complain about his discipline.”

Antoinette finished, then brought a mirror for her. Vero examined herself, really clean for the first time in months. While naked her feminine features were more obvious than dressed, but were still not pronounced in either case. Her skin was naturally fair, but she had been constantly out of doors all summer which gave her a ruddy complexion over her face and lower arms. She was unusually tall for a woman, but thin enough she had easily seen the line of her ribs while in the bath.

‘Nothing but muscle, skin and bones’ was how her master had once described her, and she admitted he wasn’t entirely wrong. She tried on a smile and adjusted the line of her fire red hair. It had been cut short, but she would need to trim it again soon; it nearly came down over her face and she hated when it got caught in her eyes.

The outfit she wore consisted of plain breaches with a doublet in a dull reddish brown. Sewn into the fabric over the breast was the badge of the marquis’ house, a white stallion raised onto its back legs.

“The marquis, he always pays his soldiers on time?” Vero continued her questioning after the short lull.

“I’ve never heard anyone in the camp complain about him being late.”

“Well, that’s good then. How do I look?”

Antoinette nodded approvingly. “Very fine my lord.”

Vero gave herself one final check in the mirror. She looked, to anyone who didn’t know better, like a young squire to a wealthy noble. Her figure was a bit slight, and free of grime her face was rather pretty, but she was satisfied that nothing appeared too far out of place. And after all some nobles preferred their squires slight and rather pretty.

Vero stepped out of the tent and Antoinette lead her over to the commander’s quarters and drew the curtain aside for her. Inside was a freshly set table with spiced goose as the main course, trimmed with berries added for color. A bottle of vino, of course, sat ready for consumption as well. It wasn’t exactly peasant’s fare, but nobles had been known to set more extravagant tables, even when on campaign.

A man in impressive attire, presumably the marquis’ body servant, stood by the table and pulled out a chair for her. “My lord is currently delayed with a messenger. He will be here momentarily. He graciously invites you to begin eating without him.”

“Whatever his lordship wishes.” Vero sat down and tucked in. She showed the slightest restraint to try and keep the grease from running down her borrowed clothes, but otherwise spared no time in eating as much as she could, and doing so as quickly as possible. The wine was fortified and quite strong, so she limited her intake to avoid becoming lightheaded.

She was kept waiting for only a few minutes before her host arrived. Vero was positioned facing away from the entrance, so her first indication his presence came when the servant pulled out the chair opposite her.

A young man in his twenties sat down. He was handsome and clean shaven, with long auburn hair he kept tied back by a band, and a big athletic frame. His features were distinctly aristocratic and his impressive height made it clear he was a man of distinction. She ought to have found him intimidating, but he had such entrapping sensitive eyes it didn’t occur to her.

He wore an awkward friendly smile which gave Vero the impression that he was approachable and didn’t hold himself aloof from those of lesser rank. Vero had to remind herself not to become too enamored with someone she had, after all, not even met yet.

One thing was certain. He was not the dour old man in his late sixties, with loose skin hanging from his jowls and hair like a thatch of straw, her master had described.

The marquis also spared no time before filling up his plate. He cut slices of goose for himself as he spoke. “Well, I can tell you’re not master slayer Aquinas. I take it you’re his apprentice.”

Vero swallowed what was in her mouth and sat up a little straighter in her chair. “Yes, my lord.”

“Will master Aquinas be joining us shortly?”

This was the moment Vero had been dreading. “Unfortunately, my lord, master Aquinas passed on more than a season ago. I accepted your message for him on his behalf. I am prepared to accept the contract you offered to him, if your lordship so wishes.”

“I suppose it’s fitting that I should call upon one of my dearly departed father’s old allies, only to find him also deceased. I imagine I’m not the marquis described to you.”

“I confess, I was expecting to meet a man my master’s age.”

“I’m not too much of a disappointment to you I hope.”

“Absolutely not my lord.” The marquis paused while cutting his meat for just a moment and smirked. Vero hoped she hadn’t sounded too excited.

“If master Aquinas took you as a student you must have some talent, yet I’m still not certain I should trust this contract to a mere boy.”

“With respect, I’m not a ‘mere boy’ my lord.”

“As you wish.” He waved her objection away and took a large bite of goose, which he chewed and swallowed down with a gulp of wine before continuing. “I’m not certain I should trust this contract to a woman either.”

Vero choked on a bit of black berry, and the marquis nearly burst into laughter to see her surprise. “My lord I-”

“Please there’s no need for concern. What’s your name?”

Vero took a sip of wine to recover from her coughing. “Veronique my lord.”

“Veronique then, I’ve spent my whole life pursuing beautiful women, and I certainly know one, even if she cuts her hair short and pulls on pants.”

“My lord is a diviner.”

“Perhaps. You must let me keep some secrets. Regardless, I sniffed you out.” The marquis tone had turned flirtatious, but a moment later he became more businesslike once again. “But as I said there’s no need for concern, I have a very liberal point of view when it comes to those of your profession. Priests may say a woman taking work as a man is a sinful, but they also condemn your magic in general, as well as anything else they can’t control.”

“Does my lord not approve of priests?”

“I approve of priests very much when they are solving my problems, not adding to them.”

Vero took a substantial gulp of wine. She decided that it was time to make her pitch and hopefully win the marquis’ respect. “And in this case your problem is a hostile entity, non-corporeal, which has established itself inside the keep of your vassal, and has altered his mind to turn him against you. Your priests have prayed but their exorcisms must have proven ineffective, or you and I wouldn’t be here.

You could take his home and kill him but that just weakens your force camping in this bog and laying siege for weeks, possibly months, and it still doesn’t destroy the thing responsible for all this in the first place. I know spells for hunting ethereal creatures your priests don’t. They’ve been trying to exorcise it, but obviously whatever ‘it’ is has an anchor within the keep. I’ll go straight to the source and kill it.”

The marquis ate in silence for a few moments and considered what she had said. “You’re certainly very confident Veronique.”

Vero was glad she’d given that impression, because it was certainly not how she felt, even with the wine propping her up.

The marquis continued. “As I see it, I don’t have much to lose. Your description of my situation was most apt. What I shall do, is allow you to enter the city then continue my own preparations for a siege. If you destroy the creature, you’ll be rewarded. But I’ll warn you that I don’t plan on staying here long and if my men breach the walls, you’ll be just another resident in a sacked city. Sound fair to you Veronique?”

Vero didn’t like the sound of the arrangement, but knew that she also had no other source for coin since the death of her mentor. She also noticed that the nature of her reward was kept vague, but then her master always told her that one didn’t haggle with nobles. She nodded. “I won’t fail my lord.”

“I think I like you Veronique. I very much hope we meet again.”

***

Vero’s eyes fluttered open and she found her face buried in the long strands of Antoinette’s hair. The marquis had graciously offered her a servant’s services while she was in the camp. Vero gratefully accepted the offer and requested Antoinette if she was available, as they already knew one another. Vero gently shook her head free and turned over to her other side.

There was no more need for feigned shyness since the marquis already knew her secret, and Vero suspected it was Antoinette who had informed him, so they had slept next to each other for warmth the previous night. The early morning was still much colder than Vero cared for and she pulled her blankets tighter around herself. She was in no hurry to get underway, so she let herself drift back to sleep.

When she woke up again, the sun had fully crested over the mountains and it was time to depart. She would have to trust most of her weapons and armor to the marquis to keep for her. At least she was able to fill her pack completely with fresh rations. When she tried to collect her dagger, Antoinette told her that the camp smith refused to return such a rust eaten weapon. Instead, she was returned a poniard, forged from oasis steel.

The marquis must have been even more astonishingly wealthy then she had heard, if his smith could take it on his own authority to give her something so expensive. It was a finer weapon than her disguise called for, but it wasn’t ornamented so its plain appearance belied its true value. It was perfectly balanced, she expected no less.

Rather than return to her trousers and tunic, she borrowed a plain green dress from a member of the marquis household. She had tried on some of Antoinette’s things, but the servant was a bit too short or too wide in too many of the wrong places. She kept her weapon in a leather sheath attached to her thigh, hidden from sight under the dress.

Vero was just about to leave by the main gate leading out of the camp when she found the marquis’ steward waiting for her. He subtly directed her into an unmarked tent nearby. Vero wasn’t sure why but she followed his directions and found the Marquis inside. He had been waiting for her but still seemed surprised when she arrived and said nothing to her.

“Is there something else you wanted from me, my lord?”

“Yes, there was something I wanted to give you.” He took a moment to examine her apparel. “You look very beautiful Vero.”

“You prefer me dressed thus?”

“Prefer?” He smiled like a man delighted by his own cleverness. “Clothes change and the woman stays the same.”

Vero’s heart was beating fast and her mouth felt dry. “You said you had something to give me?”

“Ah yes.” The marquis produced a small roughhewn box from behind his back. “I want to make sure you have everything you need to have the best chance at success. My armorer has equipped you with a suitable weapon from my stores, yes?”

“Yes.” Vero took the box from him.

“Well, I realized I also had some local luxuries I purchased as a gift, for when I returned home.”

Vero opened the box. Inside was perfume as well as several colors of cosmetic paint.

“I thought these might help your subterfuge.”

“Thank-you my lord.” Vero knew she ought to say something more, but every time she tried to think of what, she drew a blank. “Who was it you bought these for?”

Vero couldn’t really believe what it was she had said when she had, at last, spoke. But if the marquis was offended, he didn’t show it. “I don’t remember anymore.”

“Couldn’t you have given me these last night at dinner?”

“I wanted to see your disguise for myself before you left.”

“And what does my lord think?”

He didn’t bother to pause for consideration. “You’re a woman. I’m sure of it.”

“May I ask your given name my lord?”

“I’m not certain why you’ve begun asking permission to question me now, but my father named me Jean.”

Vero let out a titter of nervous laughter before stifling it. “I should go…” She tried to sound decisive. She didn’t really want to leave, but she didn’t really want to remain and continue to embarrass herself either. “Perhaps we could speak more- after I return.”

“I would like that very much. Good luck Vero.”

She stored the gift in her bag and left the way she had come. This time she hurried out the gate as quickly as she could, ignoring everyone else she passed along the way.

There was a single rough hard packed earthen road which led through the marsh to the city. The exercise was a great benefit to her and her head began to clear. The tower’s height played tricks with her perspective of distance. It appeared close, but it still took her nearly an hour of walking to reach it.

On the way she had plenty of time to consider her recent encounter with the Jean, she caught herself, with the Marquis de Fer. He was trying to seduce her, she felt certain of that. Surely, he knew many women fairer than her? Of course, they were not close to hand, and he was much too disciplined to allow prostitutes into his camp.

The real question she decided was, would she let him seduce her? She was very infatuated with him, that much was clear. Even in the afterglow of his presence she felt rather giddy. It would certainly make him more favorably disposed towards her when he determined her pay. She wasn’t a virgin by any means, so she didn’t know what virtue she could stand to lose from the affair.

Even so, she had never been with a man besides her former master, despite some accusations by her master to the contrary, and that had never been a matter of choice. And what did she really know about the marquis? At the moment she was solving a problem his priests couldn’t, but in time he might just as easily view her as a problem for his priests to solve, and she didn’t fancy being burned as a witch.

As Vero came closer to the city, the noise of humanity grew louder, until at last, she could see the gates. There she found a rolling mass of foot and cart traffic trying to move both ways at once, resulting in a complete blockage.

The city was surrounded by water, a natural moat. A stone wall protected the small urban island in the center of the swampy lake. The path she was on wound through the water and terminated at a wooden bridge to the front gate. On the bridge was a jam of farmers, with their goods, looking for safety from the invading army inside the walls going one way; and burghers, thinking that they and their property would be safer by not being in the city when it was taken, going the other.

Vero had no choice but to line up with the farmers, and their foodstuffs and animals. The morning passed with only the most gradual progress and more peasants continued to queue behind her. She used the time to apply the perfume, as well as to paint her eyes, her lips, and her cheeks. Soon she was lost in thought, considering if she should make up her face again when she returned to the marquis.

The shadow of the tower fell over the bridge and Vero felt a terrible chill emanating from it. All around her the peasants unconsciously held themselves and drifted closer together as they felt the same malingering presence.

That put an end to her daydreaming. Her master had once told her that on a hunt, sex is just another distraction that will get you killed. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but she decided he was right. And she didn’t intend to die in that dreadful tower.

At midday she shared her lunch of dried meat, nuts, berries, and hardtack with an elderly woman who was nearly blind with cataracts. She claimed to be traveling with a son-in-law who, as far as Vero could tell, had vanished.

At last, mid-way in the afternoon, she reached the gates themselves. In addition to the traffic passing both ways through a gate, which was none too wide to begin with, guards were checking travelers in either direction looking for spies attempting to enter, or traitors taking necessary war supplies out. A fat barrel looking knight approached as her turn came.

“Open you bag.”

“As you wish, ser.” Vero took her pack from her back and opened it up. The knight peered inside and rifled through the contents, more bored then suspicious.

“You have a resident to vouch for you?”

“No ser, I’m afraid I do not.”

“You’ll be questioned to ascertain if you have legitimate business inside. Spies will be apprehended. If you wish to leave now, then do so. Otherwise talk to the man over there.” After his rote delivery, the guard pointed to another man who wore armor and a tabard like a knight, but sat at a wooden table with a pile of vellum and writing implements.

Vero nodded and the knight handed her pack back to her. As she got closer, she could see that the tabard on the man at the desk showed the sign of Thesmos, goddess of learning. He was definitely wearing armor and had a sword at his waist, so she supposed he was a knight of the temple. There was no seat for her so Vero was forced to stand once she had approached the clerk. The man watched her walk up to him, then took a sheet of vellum and began to write. “Name?”

“Veronique, ser.”

“Address me as fra, please.”

“My apologies, fra.”

“No surname?”

“None, fra.”

“Place of birth?”

“A village in the barony of Loix.”

The clerk looked up to read her expression. “That’s to the east isn’t it?”

It was plain enough to Vero that he was trying to trap her in a lie, but it wouldn’t have been apparent to the peasant girl she was trying to portray. She allowed some hesitation to contradict a superior tremble into her voice. “I suppose slightly so my lord, but mostly to the south.”

“I’m not a lord. Address me as fra, please. Who owned the land you lived on there?”

“The baron Mattias, who was called ‘the bold’.” Her father had owned his own farm, and Mattias may well have died since Vero had left home years ago, but it was mostly the truth.

The clerk nodded and turned back to the vellum. “Reason for entrance?”

“I’m a prostitute ser- fra. I’m looking to make some money.”

“Shouldn’t you be going to the marquis camp then?”

“The marquis is still trying to maintain discipline by keeping whores out of the camp. I need to wait until they’ve been here long enough to turn lax, and I have to stay some place in the meantime. I don’t plan on remaining more than a few nights.”

“That’s a very mercenary attitude you have.” He didn’t bother to hide his displeasure.

“I don’t like war. When cities are taken nobles are exchanged for ransoms, but prostitutes are killed or abused with everyone else. It’s just a fact of life, and I can only do what I have to in order to eat.”

The clerk snorted derisively but continued to write. “You need only justify your beliefs to the gods, not to me. Are you host to any infectious diseases, venereal or otherwise?”

“No fra, absolutely not.”

“If you are found to be spreading any illness which undermines the defenders of this city you will be hanged.”

“I understand, my lor-” She stopped herself. “I understand, fra.”

He wrote a few more lines. Vero tried to read what he was recording, but her grasp of letters was uneven to begin with, and upside down she couldn’t make out anything. “Now I need to see physical proof of your sex.”

Vero was only too aware of the knife belted to her thigh. The clerk looked up at her and she tried a devious smile. “Usually, I receive some coin first.”

The clerk turned even more terse. “I don’t need jests or barbs, but I do require proof that you are not an enemy spy masquerading as a woman.”

Vero looked around and tried to position herself so as to hide her front form as many of the crowd to queued up to either side of her as possible and lifted her dress up to her ribs.

The clerk craned his neck downwards with an expression of total disinterest, then motioned for her the lower her dress again. “You’ll be required to turn over your weapon before entering.”

“Fra, please. You well know how easily I could be raped, robbed, and killed. It’s only a small knife for self-defense. Please.”

The clerk kept his eyes pressed to his vellum to avoid looking at her but she noticed him begin to chew of his lower lip. “If a guard within the city sees the weapon you will be executed as a saboteur.”

“I understand fra.”

The clerk finished what he was writing and left a seal in wax upon it. He then handed it to Vero. “This states that you are authorized to remain within the city. A guard may ask you to present this seal at any time. If you lose it you will be imprisoned, and probably hanged. There’s no order left in this city, so sell yourself in wherever quarter you like. I recommend you leave before we burn the bridge and close the gates, because after that no one is going anywhere.”

Vero began to tell him. “Thank-you fra.” But he just waved for her to move on and make room for the next entrant.

Past the gate the line of people going the other way stretched on and on, but there were also families reuniting with city dwelling relatives. Once she was inside Vero stepped off the main road into the tightly packed alleys of the city. She kept a close eye out for threats. Like most cities, the alleys formed a maze for the non-resident.

The tower showed her the direction of her destination, when it wasn’t obscured by the dirty overhanging upper stories of the surrounding buildings. Even knowing the location of her ultimate goal, there was still no telling which directions led into dead ends. With what passed for the law focused on the threats outside the walls, the threats inside the walls would be looking for victims. Vero had killed a man in self-defense before, but she didn’t enjoy it. She couldn’t sleep right for months afterwards, so she preferred to do what she could to avoid conflict.

In particular she was frightened of being cornered in a dead end by a gang. She was confident that she was more than a match for a single robber, but without a slashing long sword she wouldn’t stand a chance against multiple foes. She doubled back on herself several times, each time looking for the same face to appear more than once, which would indicate she was being followed.

Despite her healthy paranoia, no one was following after her, and eventually Vero made her way through the labyrinth of cramped muddy streets to the curtain wall which surrounded the tower. She felt the chilling effect of the tower there again, despite the warm September evening.

The earl therein must have lost interest in maintaining the defensiveness of his fortress some time ago, because the houses of the city had been allowed to creep right up to the walls. The defenders would only have a very limited range of fire in the event of an attack. In fact, she couldn’t see or hear any sign of defenders at all.

The wall was tall, but some of the surrounding buildings went up three stories. Vero walked until she found one such building, which looked abandoned. It didn’t take long. The neighborhood was more thoroughly abandoned than any other she had seen since her arrival. It didn’t look like one of the wealthier districts, which struck her as odd, since she expected only those who could afford some other place to go would dare to leave the safety of the city walls.

Vero went inside and ascended to the top floor. Then she looked for the sturdiest table she could find. Standing on top of it, she used her dagger as a chisel to open up the ceiling. It was much easier than she had anticipated, which gave Vero some concern that the roof might not support her weight. Up through the hole, it looked to be perhaps eight or nine feet higher from the roof to a handhold on the wall she could grab. A difficult leap, but not an impossible one for her.

It was early evening by this time and Vero decided to wait until it was dark. She laid out a dinner for herself which was identical in composition to her mid-day meal. Once she had finished, she took off her leather traveling boots to don a pair of cloth slippers, then hiked her dress up to above the knee and tied off the excess into a knot to keep it out of her way.

She prepared to conduct a working by filling a plain bowl with a mixture of herbs and other reagents. Even after her preparations were complete, she waited to begin the casting until she was certain the sun was completely below the horizon and the moon had fully risen to hear her.

First, she ran the dagger horizontally along her left palm just above the wrist. As the blood welled up, she let it fall into the mixture and combined it all together. She wiped the resulting compound along both of her legs, and then across her eyelids. As she did so she chanted an entreaty to Queen Moon to hide her presence but to illuminate her eyes, and then another to Mother Earth to lighten her grip. Once she was finished, she pinched some aloe into the wound and uttered a prayer to Vedio, the lord of medicine.

Keeping her blade in hand, Vero re-ascended the table and easily climbed onto the roof. She touched the stone wall and found it unnaturally cold. Even with her steps lightened, her feet still caused the roof beneath her to tremble slightly. After taking a moment to test her footing and shift the knife to her left hand, she took a running leap up to the wall.

She kicked off the wall to push herself up higher, and then just caught the edge before drifting too far away. In the end, she was left easily holding her near weightless body with just her finger tips. Below her, even the reduced impact of her leap had proven too much for the decrepit building and half the roof collapsed in on itself.

Vero flinched at the crash of falling timber, but even after a minute of waiting, still no one had arrived to investigate. Finding a bit of leverage for her feet on the uneven stone wall, she poked her head above the edge. No one was walking the grounds of the keep, but she could see firelight through windows in base of the tower, and more light from inside what appeared to be a set of barracks.

Vero pulled herself onto the top of the wall and shifted the weapon back into her right hand. Wooden scaffolding on the other side allowed defenders to look over the wall, and Vero used it to descend into the inner courtyard. She shied away from the barracks. Instead, she approached what looked like a set of stables, although no horses were present. She also climbed this structure and, after taking several minutes finding handholds, she climbed the tower itself up to a dark window.

Inside no one present, in fact the room was completely empty. She clambered inside and caught her breath before putting her dagger away and untying her dress. If someone caught only a glimpse of her, she hoped to be mistaken for a servant in the poor light as long as no one saw her face, to say nothing of the dried blood around her eyes.

Inside the tower the feeling of chill was much more intense. She placed her palm directly onto the floor, and then felt as high up on the wall as she could reach. If her guess was correct, the cold was only an imagined physical response to the spiritual pressure emanating from something in the tower. The floor was cold, but the wall felt as though it was covered by a layer of frost. Vero surmised that her goal lay upwards.

After listening at the door to make certain there was no one on the other side, she slipped through. To complete her disguise as a servant Vero would have liked to find something to carry with her, to give the impression she was in the middle of some task. However, she couldn’t find even the most basic furnishings in any room she passed.

None of the rooms on that level were occupied and after finding the stairs she began her ascent upwards. Even as she neared the top, she still found no sign of any of the tower’s residents, until she reached the top of the tower. By this time, she was shivering from the cold.

The first few rooms she searched were empty just as those on the lower levels, but at last she found one which was outfitted as a bedroom. Vero peered her head inside and had to suppress a start of surprise when she saw a figure sleeping in the bed, a mere few feet away from her.

She had fortune on her side for once, he hadn’t sensed her presence and remained fast asleep. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the man before, but his orange-red hair and full beard matched the description of the tower’s earl.

Beyond him, Vero could see another figure in the bed, but she couldn’t make out anything about his sleeping mate other than a lump beneath the blankets. She knew the earl wasn’t married. Her employer hadn’t mentioned anything about a lover, which must have been an obvious subject for investigation by the marquis, once he had noticed the wavering loyalty of his vassal.

Nothing in the room showed any obvious signs of being wrong, although a number of items, like the implements for needlework in the back corner, suggested the residence of a woman there. Besides that, everything else there seemed typical for the apartments of a nobleman. She balked at the prospect, but for more information Vero knew she had to actually go inside for a closer look at whatever was beside the earl in his bed.

Slowly she worked the door opened far enough that she could slip inside, praying that the hinges would not creak. Once there was enough space, she held her breath and sidestepped her way inside brushing within inches of the earl who slept facing her direction. She stepped around the side of the bed until she was on the opposite side from the earl. She found that the blanket had been pulled up on that side of the bed, over the lump’s head.

Vero should have known not to expect anything less, but a litany of curses ran through her mind regardless. Any chance of a ruse could be gone if either of them woke up, so she drew her dagger once again. Slitting the earl’s throat was certainly one way to solve the marquis’ problem, but it was also certainly not her preferred method, and she would take it only as a last resort. As carefully as she could, Vero grabbed a hold of the blanket near the lump’s midsection, and pulled it downwards, as gently as she could manage.

She bit her knuckle so as not to scream. Beneath the blanket was the desiccated skull of a human. She released the blanket where it was, but she had seen enough to surmise that the full naked corpse of a woman lay beside the earl. No longer held in place by the blanket, or perhaps by the thing’s own design, its head slowly turned over to face her with gaping hollow eye sockets.

Vero backed away around the bed again, and was nearly through the door, when a sudden iron grip on her arm brought her up short.

“Thief! Thief!” Spittle flew from his mouth as the earl bellowed, uncomprehending in his rage.

Acting more in instinct than as a reasoned defense, Vero drove her dagger directly into the man’s wrist. The earl let go and clutched at his arm, screeching in pain. She took the opportunity to pass through the door and yank it closed behind her. The earl continued to cry out for assistance, but didn’t pursue her.

Vero began heading towards the tower stairs as quickly as she could manage. The shouts for help followed her down, but she hoped that they wouldn’t be heard all the way down in the inhabited parts of the tower. She had only gone a single level before she heard the sounds of boots coming up towards her.

“Drop the knife!” A man called up to her. He was armed with a longsword but, as he was fighting up the tower, he would be at a disadvantage. He hadn’t pulled on any mail and Vero felt sure that she could kill him, but she could also hear that there were many more behind him, though they were still out of sight.

Vero dropped her weapon as she had been ordered, and held out her hands to surrender. “You need to listen to me! There’s something wrong with the earl!”

The man climbed towards her cautiously. “I understand. I’m listening to you.” More men appeared behind him, but he motioned for them to stop and they did so.

He obviously thought she had lost her mind and was just trying to keep her calm, but Vero didn’t have any other options but to try and win his support. “He’s keeping a corpse in his room. I believe he may be possessed.”

The man put away his blade as she spoke. “I assure you the earl is just fine. Come here and I can help you.”

“I’ll go with you, but please you must check the earl’s room. You’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

“A man does not simply barge into his lord’s bedroom demanding to search it.”

Vero was about to object, but it was too late. The knight was close enough, and he darted out a hand and grabbed a hold of her wrist.

“I’ve got her!” He cried out, and the other guards sheathed their weapons and began to come up towards them.

“You need to listen! If he’s possessed this battle against the marquis may all be a mistake. You could all die for no reason!” Vero looked right into the face of the man who held her and recognized him. It was the templar who had questioned her at the gate. A look of recognition passed across his face as well.

“You?”

The brief moment of confusion was the last chance she had, so Vero took it. She rammed her knee between the clerk’s legs as hard as she could. He started to crumble to the ground, but as he did so Vero thrust her head forward to knock into his. The attack caused him to release her wrist to grab his head as he fell backwards. Her own head was spinning, and she could barely see through the pain, but she ran backwards the way she had come through memory.

Vero reached the door to the earl’s room and threw herself into it. She wasn’t sure if she got it open or not. She felt it give for a moment, before an arm wrapped around her waist from behind and tossed her to the ground. “It’s in there!” She tied to explain, but only managed the first word before feeling a heavy boot strike her on the side of the head and she lost consciousness.

***

When Vero woke, she was lying in a bed of filthy straw. As her mind slowly moved into motion, the first thing she became aware of was the overpowering odor of dung. She held a fistful of cloth from her dress across her mouth and nose as a mask to offer some relief from the smell.

The room she was in was dark, the effects of her spell had worn off, but Vero’s eyes began to adjust naturally to the lack of light. She was in a prison cell. It felt damp but not as cold as the earl’s room had been. Vero presumed she was located somewhere beneath the tower. The smell came from the walls which were covered in human waste. There were no windows, and as far as she could tell the only way out was a single solid wooden door.

She didn’t fancy the prospect of checking for secret passages behind the walls, so she focused her attention on the obvious exit. The only light in the room creeped in from beneath the door. It emanated from torches or candles somewhere in the hall beyond. A tray of food had been slid underneath the door from the hall.

At first eating was the last thing on Vero’s mind, but after a few minutes of looking she couldn’t think of anything else she should be doing. There was some moldy stale bread and a tin cup with water. She said a prayer to Vedio, scraped off as much of the mold as she could manage, and pressed it against the wounds on her wrist and head. She drank the water and ate about half the bread, leaving the rest for later, since she had no idea when she might be fed again.

She stayed there for what felt like hours, but it was difficult to be sure. Eventually she did relent and checked the walls for any weaknesses, but found none. No footsteps ever went up or down the hall, but listening at the door she could hear the sounds of someone in the room off to the left of her cell. She considered calling out, but she still had food for the time being, and she realized that the attention she drew onto herself might be very hostile. Instead, she lay back down on the small patch of straw and did her best to conserve her energy.

It was impossible to tell how long she slept, but Vero woke to the sounds of voices. She couldn’t quite make out what they said, but they sounded harried. As she crept towards the door for better hearing, the voices began to recede, taking the guttering light of the torch with them. She was left in complete darkness, and silence.

“Hey!” she called out. “What’s happening?” But there was no response.

A potential crisis represented her best chance for escape so she stuffed the last of her bread into her mouth and waited for opportunity to present itself. She was still uncertain of just where she wanted to go even if she got out. If the marquis had launched some kind of attack, she presumed his men would be just as hostile to her as the earl’s. It would do nothing for her reputation, but her greatest prerogative was to preserve her own life. If she could find a way out of the city, she planned to take it and run.

Then she heard the sound of approaching steps and saw the dawning light of a torch. They stopped outside her door. Vero crouched near the wall and hoped she was out of sight.

“Veronique are you there?”

The possibility of remaining silent and hoping that the man would come inside where she could disable him, played across Vero’s mind. But she could think of only one man in the city who knew her by name, so she decided to try cooperation.

“Who is it?” She tried to sound confused and vulnerable, which wasn’t difficult under the circumstances.

“Fra Hamilton, we met at the gate.”

“What’s happening? Has the marquis attacked?”

“The city wall was breached and they’re pouring through. Everyone is retreating to the tower.”

“I keep telling you, something is wrong with the earl. If you don’t let me out of here, you’re all going to die.”

The door swung open, but the templar stood back with his sword drawn and he wore a chainmail cuirass under his tabard. He eyed her wearily.

“What are you Veronique? Not a prostitute certainly, some kind of Guild assassin perhaps?”

“A sorceress fra, hired by the marquis to cure the earl. Please, I beg you to release me and allow me to complete my contract.”

“A witch you mean. I saw the corpse only briefly through the doorway when I subdued you. Is that what’s causing this?”

“In a manner of speaking, where is the earl?”

“He’s fallen into a stupor, and has been taken to the temple hospital.”

“The corpse at the top of the tower is the anchor. Let me destroy it and the earl will be restored. Then he can negotiate with the marquis and end this pointless war.”

The fra looked wracked with indecision. “I can’t abet your blood magic. If there is a restless spirit in need of exorcism then it is a matter for the priests.”

Vero sensed the weakness and felt this was the time to push the knight. “Your lord has been possessed for months, and your priests have done nothing! Go out and find them, if there are any left in the city. In that case, I’ll wait here for the marquis to free me, and then I’ll destroy the spirit once you’re all dead.”

The fra wrestled with himself for a few moments then relented. He put away his sword and stood aside to let her out.  “Very well, what would you have me do?”

 “Save as many lives as possible. Gather as many defenders as you can manage and tell them to stop resisting.”

“Is there anything you need?”

“A torch,” Fra Hamilton proffered the torch he had carried with him to her. “and oil.” She added.

“Our stores are nearby I’ll lead you to them.”

Vero followed as he led her out of the dungeons into a storeroom. There were several barrels of oil. She grabbed a large pitcher and filled it to the brim. The fra stayed by the door until he was sure there was nothing else that she needed, then nodded and left. Vero reacquainted herself with the layout of the tower until she found the familiar set of stairs and began to ascend.

She approached the door back into the earl’s bedroom trepidatiously. She held the lit torch aloft and put down the pitcher of oil to open the door. There was no one inside just as the templar had said. Vero had believed him, but she was glad to have her trust confirmed.

She placed a foot inside, and suddenly found that it was no longer underneath her. Like she’d stepped into a noose, Vero was yanked forward with tremendous force by the ankle. She landed on her back and felt the wind knocked out of her lungs; the torch went flying from her hand. A moment later she was being pulled into the room. As she was pulled inside, she snatched the handle of the pitcher taking it with her, sloshing a trail of oil behind it. The door slammed shut behind her blocking the light from view.

Inside the bedroom, Vero scrambled to her feet and overhand threw the jug at the wall over the bed, spraying what was left of its contents all over the room. Then, when nothing else leapt out to attack her, she stopped to examine her surroundings.

The room was silent. The only illumination came from the moonlight streaming in through the window. First there was no movement, and then a misty vapor began to emerge from beneath the blankets on the bed, ultimately coalescing into a roughly humanlike shape.

“Identify yourself spirit.”

“You come into my home and demand that I identify myself? Who are you thief?” The echoing voice seemed to come from all around her. It was vaguely feminine and definitely disdainful.

“My name is Veronique and I’m no thief. I’m here to remove you from this place. What keeps you here? I’d like to help if I’m able.”

Spirits could be exorcised by removing the bonds of pathos which tied a wraith to the material plane. Her master had taught her it often wasn’t worth the bother, since it often required the ghost’s cooperation, and a lot of legwork. A burning pyre would serve just as well, and was much quicker. She began scratching at the scab on her hand with her fingernails in a way she hoped would appear like nervous fidgeting.

“You want to help me?” The disdain in the voice was lessened, but without any physical body language to read Vero found it difficult to determine the thing’s feelings or intentions.

“If I can, yes. What’s your name? What’s your connection to the earl, and this place?”

The spirit laughed and the temperature of the room dropped further. “My name was Enid. I grew up here when I was a girl, and I was imprisoned here when I was a woman. You asked about my connection to the earl? I was his sister and I was his whore.”

It had become so cold Vero’s breath turned to mist as she exhaled. “He locked you in here?”

“That’s what I said isn’t it?”

“I’m very sorry Enid.”

“Are you?”

The smoky shape left its position over the bed. It came towards Vero and mingled with the mist of her breath. Vero ripped the wound on her wrist open and began reciting an incantation under her breath as quietly as she could manage and tried to work the signs with her numb fingers.

The spirit continued. “When our father died, he sent our mother off to die in a hermitage and locked me in this room. ‘To ensure that I remained chaste until my wedding’ so he said. Although he never bothered to begin looking for suitors to arrange such a wedding.”

“Why would he do something like that to a member of his own family?”

“Why do men do anything?” Vero could no longer see the distinct form of the wraith although she could feel it probing the ends of the hair on her arms and legs. “When he was still just a boy, I had a friend, a young squire. The two of us would make love hidden in the stables and he would hide away watching us, although I didn’t know it at the time. The night father died he brought me here and said it was disgusting the way I disgraced the family, spreading my legs for any man who asked my favor.” The spirit’s voice had turned to cooing by the end.

Vero felt the probing of her body continue. The spirit was looking for a weakness to try and take a hold of her mind. She relented where the spirit pressed her so that the ghost would notice nothing, and depended on her meditative techniques to protect her thoughts. She continued her mantra and could feel her wound burning, even as the rest of her was freezing. She tried not to show any signs of discomfort that might give her intentions away. As the heat increased, life returned to her fingers and it became easier to work the signs.

“How did you die?”

“After raping me every night just short of a year my brother noticed that I’d become pregnant. He lost his mind and accused me of having an affair with one of his men, as if that was even possible, locked away in here as I was. Maybe he believed it and maybe he just didn’t want to accept that the baby was his, I don’t know. That night he raped me again, but this time as he held me down to violate me… he wrapped his hands around my neck…” Vero could feel the probing of the ghost turn to a grip around her own neck.

“Please stop.”

“That was what I asked him. I wonder if I sounded as pitiful then as you do now. I confess I don’t remember.” Vero felt as through unseen hands were shaking her as they throttled her. The ghost continued to speak, her voice rising in crescendo as the pressure on Vero’s throat continued to increase. “He strangled me until I was dead, and kept raping me even after my heart had stopped. When my body was cold, he claimed I was ill and needed rest. He locked up my body in this tower to hide his crime.”

Vero’s vision began to tunnel, turning dark in the peripheral as she struggled to breathe. “Please, you’re choking me. I want to help.”

The wraith began to show herself again, coalescing with vaporous arms wrapped around Vero’s neck. “Help? Help me put my hatred of my dear brother to rest? I’m already doing that myself. The marquis won’t find anything left of him but a rotting cadaver, the same way he left me. What I really need is another body to inhabit. Don’t worry I won’t hurt you.”

“You’re killing me.”

“Just relax and let me inside. You’ll feel so much better. It only hurts like this because you’re fighting me.”

Vero yelped in pain as the blood oozing from her wrist finally ignited. The sleeve of her dress began to smoke and burn. She whipped her arm as hard as she could manage sending flaming droplets of blood flying across the room. The bed erupted into a tower of flame as the oil ignited.

Instantly the pressure on her neck released and Vero was left gasping for air. The wraith shrieked, but with its body and prison burning it didn’t have the power to do anything besides venting its impotent rage. Once she’d recovered Vero beat out the flame on her arm.

She ran to the door and pulled at it, only to find it stuck fast. She could only stay near for a few seconds before being forced to retreat from the flames. Through the smoke she could just see that after closing the door the wraith had warped the hinges.

The room was rapidly becoming an inferno and Vero began to choke again, this time from the smoke in the air. She fled to the window. It was large enough for her to squeeze through, but only just. There were no handholds that she could see below her, just a straight drop. The side of the tower she was on overlooked the swamp rather than the city.

Already the fire was running totally out of control and room was full of smoke. Vero kept her face as near the window as she could for fresh air. She desperately smeared runes on her singed dress, and chanted as best she could manage between the coughing.

The working to slow her fall was quick and dirty, but she had no time to test it. She eased herself out of the window keeping a hold of the sill. The city wall was directly beneath her, and though it was closer than the swamp, she thought she would stand the best chance by landing in the water. As smoke continued to billow out of the window, she leapt out as far as she could manage and prayed that the swamp was deep. At least she wouldn’t die in that dreadful tower.

***

Vero woke up in a bed softer than any she’d ever felt before. The crypts in the Lady of Bones’ Mausoleum were all hard-white marble, and she didn’t believe in the embodied resurrection, so she supposed she must still be alive. She tried to open her eyes but her eyelids only fluttered weakly and what she did see was too blurry to make out. She tried to speak but emitted only a faint moan.

“Vero?” Her hearing was Vero’s only sense which seemed to be working properly. And her sense of touch, she felt a hand move the hair away from her face, and then grasp her own hand. She tried to respond in kind but nothing occurred. Then she became aware of the tremendous pain which she felt all over her body. Almost as if responding to her thoughts the voice called out. “She’s waking up; bring her something for the pain.”

She tried to open her eyes again, and this time the image coalesced into the sight of two man-shaped blobs. One bowed to the other. “As you wish my lord.”

Vero must have been crying from the pain, though she was scarcely aware of it. All she could feel was wetness on her face. A hand wiped her cheeks dry. “Don’t worry Vero, I’ve sent the healer to fetch something that will help you go back to sleep for a little while, until he’s finished fixing you.”

“Wha…” Vero tried her best to form words. “Wha… hap…”

“Don’t try to talk. You’ve done everything you promised. Now you can rest, I promise you’ll be safe.”

The second blob returned and gave an object to the first which he then placed to her lips. A cool fluid flowed into her mouth and a warm soothing sensation radiated outwards from her stomach, the familiar anesthetic effect of poppy milk. The cup passed from her lips.

“Now just go back to sleep darling. We need you to get well.”

Even if Vero had wanted to argue, she couldn’t have managed it. As slowly as her senses had come, they began to recede, and the last thing she was aware of was the hand holding hers.

***

Vero woke up intermittently over the next three days, only to be quickly dosed again and put back under after only a few minutes. Each time her thoughts were a little clearer when she would wake. The marquis was always there, and at last she realized that she must have been sleeping in his tent. He never told her anything except that she was safe, and that the physician said she needed rest. Sometimes she woke up and felt as though she were being moved.

At last, she woke and didn’t feel such terrible pain. She moaned, and as her vision cleared, she could see a group of men leaving the tent. It was a cold draft of air from the open flap of the tent which had brought her to her senses. The last one to leave was the earl of Kaer Longus. He was pale and emaciated like a man recovering from a grave illness, but it was definitely him. He looked at her with a mixture of embarrassment and hatred before departing.

“The doctor says you’re well enough to stay awake now Vero. How do you feel?” The marquis appeared from behind a curtain which gave her cot some privacy from the rest of the tent. He approached her and took a seat which had been placed beside her bed.

“Tell me what happened.”

Jean smiled, and moved the strands of hair which always seemed to fall in such a way that they covered her eyes. It reminded her why she didn’t let it grow long. “You did it. Fra Hamilton called an armistice and came over to our lines with a dazed and very concerned earl. He told me what you had gone to do and we could both see the fire in the tower. I sent a squad of knights to help you, but the top of the tower was totally engulfed by the time they reached it.”

“The release of energy… caused by the spirit’s destruction… increased the intensity… of the fire.” Vero managed to explain with effort.

“Well, the tower burned hot enough to melt stone like wax. The whole thing looked like a burnt candle when it was over. I feared you were dead, but I sent out search parties for you anyway. They found you half drowned, out in the marsh. Over the past few days, I think I’ve had every priest of the healing god in the province come to look at you.”

“You have my thanks… my lord. What… did they find?”

Jean gently pulled down the blanket covering her. She could see that she was dressed in a plain white shift, and that both her legs were immobilized below the knee in hard clay, as was her left arm. “They’ve worked their spells, forgive me, ‘miracles’, and claim that you’ll regain all or nearly all your mobility in time.”

“In time?”

The marquis’ smile turned a shade sad. “They say it will take months, perhaps years.”

“I see.” Vero felt like crying, but she was mindful that she wasn’t alone and couldn’t allow her control to slip.

“Who was the spirit?”

“The earl didn’t tell you?” Vero’s mind was still on her own problems.

“He claimed not to know its identity, though he made a quite a show of his helplessness to resist it.”

“I can’t comment on his helplessness, that all depends on his strength of will, or lack thereof. But he’s still lying to you, he created the wraith in the first place. He’s joined you on campaign further west?”

“Indeed.”

“The ghost was the spirit of his sister. He raped her, and eventually murdered her, alongside their unborn child. Her spirit was trapped in this world by her desire to destroy him.”

Jean scratched at the day’s growth of stubble on his chin. “Well, I didn’t trust his loyalty to begin with, but I thank you for this information regardless.”

“You’re not going to arrest him, are you?”

Jean shook his head. “Unfortunately, no, not yet. I need his men for battle in Umbria. This disturbance, and my father’s death, has caused a great deal of unrest among my vassals here in the west. Once my position is more secure however, I promise you, I will try and give this woman justice.”

“It’s not my place to ask for more.”

“Vero I-” The marquis seemed unsure of himself. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since you left. You were injured in my service, and I would like you to stay with me during your convalescence, if you would agree to join my household as a retainer.”

Vero began a grim laugh, but the terrible pain that shot through her whole body when she did so quickly dissuade her from continuing. “That’s rather unusual isn’t it? What would your priests say about a female retainer?”

“If they complain, then I’ll get rid of them and find new priests.”

“You have no one else who might object? A wife? Mother?”

It was Jean’s turn to laugh. “My mother retired to her paramour’s estate the day after my father’s funeral, and my wife and I are very tolerant towards one another’s right to privacy.”

Vero had no notion of how she had drawn the marquis’ attention, but she wasn’t prepared to let the opportunity simply pass her by. “I would be honored my lord.”

Jean leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.