The Jade Star of Athering

Major Damien

Major Damien

Damien paced and fumed outside in the foyer while his husband met with the gypsy Queen.

Normally a mild-mannered man, he now found his blood boiling at the realization of how many lies Agate had spoon-fed him over the years. Southlander, his arse – the woman was a gypsy! Why hadn't he seen it before?

Because, dazzled by her strength, her intelligence, and her passion, a humble Harbourtown lad refused to see that she could be one of the enemy.

Was she really, though? Agate had lived and breathed Athering for most of her life. She had only a Southland accent, faint by now and blended with the dialect of his hometown. She had never failed in her duty to Queen and Country – or Empress and Country for that matter. Nothing had ever suggested that she was truly gypsy in spirit. Only body.

But then she's been lying to me the entire time I've known her, so how am I supposed to know what's real and what's not? As her major, he knew she kept things from him. As her wife, he knew it doubly. It had never bothered him. Until now. Perhaps because he'd always assumed the things she kept were minor – of no import to anyone but herself, her own wellbeing.

This, however – this was no minor thing, no inconsequential lie told to smooth social situations. Agate was gypsy, or Ixile'a or whatever they were called. She still spoke the language – how he knew this, he wasn't sure, but he hadn't been fooled by her earlier affectations of confusion – and right now she was in there speaking with the gypsy-bandit Queen. Alone.

Plotting who knows what.

It was that thought that made him stop short in his pacing and shake his head. Is my heart so fickle that at the first sign of trouble I would forsake my own husband? Suddenly filled with disgust at his own thoughts, he rejected them all – but kept the anger.

"About damn time she got some anger back from me," he muttered out loud, and ignored the looks from the gypsies who guarded him. They didn't have the slightest idea what he was muttering about, so he could mutter all he wanted. "And I may seem like a crazy person, but I'm sure they all think that anyway," he continued; then almost laughed. Hands on his hips, he started pacing again, trying to walk out the doubts. "No. For better or worse, you've known her for ten years. Been married for four. That has to count for something. Even if it's only ten wasted years." As soon as he said it, he regretted those words, for they brought tears to his eyes.

Damien shook his head again to clear his thoughts. Nothing was wasted in service to a good bellica, a good Queen – a good woman. And despite her lies, he knew in his heart that Agate was a good woman.

He'd confront her, she'd say nothing, probably get really angry, and they'd fight – long and hard, no doubt. He'd do it anyway, because getting things back on track between the two of them was worth any effort – and he couldn't live with her lying to him. Not with a situation so portentous.

His mind set, he continued pacing out the wait for his husband and bellica to re-emerge from the room where she'd secluded herself with the Gypsy Queen. He hoped she had stayed true to the course; had not betrayed her country – but even if she had, he was willing to go the distance and stay beside her. Come Tyvian or high water.

~

Agate did not emerge for another quarter of an hour. By then, Damien was a tangle of nerves. He nearly jumped when she exited through the large doors, and he came up to her eagerly, like an anxious puppy happy to see his mistress home.

"What's the news?" he asked, searching out her eyes with his own.

She met his gaze almost reluctantly. "She's willing to negotiate in person with Queen Yarrow, so long as I accompany. She needs three days, and then we head back to the capital."

Damien fell into step beside Agate as she walked towards the exit of the building. "What about that show-cot-back thing you two were talking about?" he asked, his voice falling to a whisper.

Agate looked at him sharply. "Nothing. Just superstitious Ixile'a manure." She was lying. He could tell by her voice and her use of the word Ixile'a instead of gypsy.

Damien said nothing, though his jaw tightened and his steps became more tense. "Who stays?" He was referring to the Regiment, of course.

"Captains Shelley and Alexandria, six lieutenants each, some medics. Captain Castor, Chief Medical Officer Isabella, and the remaining lieutenants and medics will come with us, Queen Rain-Looking, and her entourage, to Atherton."

There was a tense pause while Damien did the math in his head. "They'll outnumber us on both sides."

"I'm aware. Rain-Looking has agreed to release the Southland prisoners as long as her people remain unharmed while here. Life in Southland will go on as normally as possible under an occupation." Agate looked quite unperturbed.

Damien wondered what she didn't say.

"What about our group? Five, six days on the road with little more than three units for protection?"

Agate took a breath and looked around. They were walking down the main street in Southland. It was deserted, either because the prisoners hadn't been released yet or because it was midday, when most people would go straight from the prison at the town hall to a siesta. When she spoke, her voice was so low Damien had to stoop a little to hear her.

"Queen Rain-Looking will ride with me. I'm more than a match for her in strength. These Ixile'a won't fight without her."

Even as Agate told Damien her plan, he knew she'd never follow through on it. He'd seen the way she and Rain-Looking had interacted. There was something between the two women that he couldn't understand – especially in the speed with which it had appeared. They barely knew each other but already he could see a bond forming.

"Agate," he said, stopping in his tracks. She stopped a short way in front of him and he could see the stiffness with which she held herself. She didn't turn to face him, but he knew she was listening, regardless. "What are you hiding from me?"

There was a pause and for a moment Damien allowed himself to hope she might consider answering him truthfully. But her reply was the same one she always gave. "Nothing. You're imagining things."

The words "I can't accept that this time" were on the tip of his tongue when a noise from behind them cut him off. Turning, he saw a large group of people being let out of the town hall – the Southland prisoners. None looked the worse for wear, and no families had been separated.

He turned back and saw his husband looking at the large group of people coming steadily closer with pain in her eyes. Her face remained stony as ever, but he could feel her sudden urge to run away and never come back.

He stepped towards her and placed his arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "Let's get back to the regiment," he said, and she nodded, a numb silence around her now.

As they walked back to where the regiment waited, Damien could see the tasks that the rest of the day held for him as clearly as his reflection in a mirror: he would be busy, fielding questions from curious Southlanders while keeping a large distance between Agate and her father, Pieter.