Alliances Offered, Part Eight

It was only a couple of hours before the dawn when the hound began baying, before the sound was abruptly cut off. Jacqueline Bouvier snapped awake, and turned her head in time to see the human paladin Anica give her a nod and then start shaking her husband Tarric awake. She did it by grabbing his foot, which seemed odd until Jacqueline realized that doing it that way kept her out of reach of fists or daggers as he flailed his way into consciousness. 

Following her example, Jacqueline reached over and shook Aesa's foot. The half-elf priestess came awake immediately, reached for her armor, and started pulling it on. "Direction?" she asked, almost breathlessly. 

"North wall," said Anica, almost as quietly. 

Tarric groaned, rolled over, and started grabbing for bits of armor. Like Anica, he was a human paladin. Their husband, the true elf paladin Werendril, was already on his feet and slipping into his armor; he wore a suit of enchanted elvish chainmail, and was ready to go almost immediately. 

"It's a raid," Jacqueline said quietly. "Thesean won't be leading it; he'll use it for a distraction. Anica, Aesa, and Werendril, will you go and meet them, so they don't do too much damage? I need Tarric here."

Anica nodded. "We'll handle it. You're sure you can handle this Thesean?" 

Jacqueline nodded back. "With Tarric's help." She'd spent a full day watching them spar; Tarric wasn't the best, but he had a solid defense. Not as untouchable as Werendril's, but Jacqueline wasn't quite prepared to put that much trust in an elf just yet. 

Outside the window, someone screamed. It didn't sound like it was close by, but it was still a call to battle. 

Tarric took a moment to check the arrangement of the cushions on the bed that were supposed to be mistaken for Tavros, then stepped back into his corner, just beside the bed and opposite the door, on the same side of the room as Jacqueline. Jacqueline took her own place behind the door. Anica, Aesa, and Werendril rushed out, pulling the door closed behind them. As they departed, Jacqueline heard Anica mutter, "His Majesty will be safe here. Let him sleep. Protect the walls."

Several long, nervous breaths passed before the door eased open and a pair of cloaked, hooded, masked figures slipped into the room. They paused, eyeing the bed suspiciously, and then moved closer... 

One of them shook his head, leaned down, and shook the pile of cushions beneath the blanket. Tarric stepped out from behind the dressing screen and cut that one down with a two-handed blow of his longsword... then shuddered as a broad-shouldered figure appeared from nowhere behind him, and plunged a dagger into his back. He stumbled forward, hit the bed, and twisted around. 

Thesean. Despite her determination to end him, Jacqueline Bouvier targeted his remaining assistant instead. Searing Rays slammed into that one's back, and it spun around and charged her instead of climbing across the bed to flank Tarric.

Tarric got his sword up and laid a line of blood across the front of Thesean's thighs, then took a precise step back with his shield raised. Jacqueline lost track at that point, because Thesean's flanker had reached her, and was trying to stab her, and it took every bit of technique she could remember as well as the magical protections she'd laid on earlier to avoid being cut. 

That's more than enough. She touched the small crystal sphere in her pouch, spoke the words, and worked the necessary gestures into her dodges. A Freezing Sphere engulfed most of the room, just far enough away to catch her attacker but not her. The shrouded figure shuddered and collapsed; unfortunately, so did Tarric. Thesean turned to her... and then stopped and gaped. "My lady?"

"So not yours," she told him, and fired off another set of Searing Rays. 

He staggered, but didn't go down. "You... Your father..." He came at her then, dropping his dagger, hands extended to grab her. 

She met him with Shocking Grasp, and he gasped and collapsed. She stepped past his helpless form, picked up his dagger, and regarded it. She knew how to use such a weapon; any noble lady worth her bloodline did. She turned back to him, approached him, knelt down beside him. "You should have learned how to take 'No' for an answer," she told him, and delivered the coup de grâce. 

It was possibly the most satisfying thing she had ever said. Her father might never hear it, but this ridiculous servant of his had. She straightened... and then remembered Tarric, fallen on the far side of the True Heir's bed. 

He wasn't dead, at least, but he wasn't far from it. My fault. Sweet Helios, my fault. She had no spells for healing, no knowledge of how to bind his wounds. But she had readied Message, and she spoke it now. "Aesa, I need you back in the bedroom. Thesean brought friends, and Tarric needs healing."

The half-elf priestess responded with a single word: "Coming."