Marching on Antietam, Chapter Eleven
We're winding down, folks. Chapter Twelve and the Really Short Epilogue of Not As Much Doom will be up during the day tomorrow.
This is for queenof1000days, because she ROCKS. Like, whoa. You are the angsty Statler to my "I'm way too mean to these characters" Waldorf.
Disclaimer in Chapter One.
Chapter Eleven: Becoming
The new day dawned brightly, with barely a cloud in the sky, as though the gods were ignorant of the hellish goings-on beneath their feet.
The landscape of the O.Z., particularly the small plot of land between Central City and the former tower of the Sorceress, began to stir with both men and trees groaning and stretching into wakefulness.
In the tower, several bleary and red-eyed individuals sat at a long, ornately carved wooden table. Stacks of paper traded hands so quickly that the fluttering of the parchment barely registered. The smell of coffee permeated the room, and several of those gathered there wished they had more than rations to snack on for breakfast.
The hall doors opened, and those seated at the table rose to greet Her Majesty and the Consort. The Queen was well past the point of exhaustion, and the medic in the room wondered if she was bordering on delirium for having been awake for so many hours. But outwardly, the Queen gave no indication that she was fatigued; as she glided into the room, it was as though she was approaching with plans for a ball and not there to strategize on how to keep her kingdom from falling into further ruin.
After she seated herself, the medic and the other assembled members of the Royal Army followed suit. The Queen looked down the table, and the medic saw her try unsuccessfully to stifle a sigh. “Where is DG?” the Queen asked, looking at Ainsley.
“I left her in the infirmary with Princess Azkadellia and Mr. Cain, Your Majesty,” the doctor replied.
“I can go get her, my dear,” the Consort said, pushing his chair back from the conference table.
The Queen shook her head. “No, that’s quite all right. I’ll speak to her later. Now,” she continued, folding her hands and placing them on top of the wooden surface, “I have just met with the resistance negotiators.” Her tone and face indicated the meeting had been less than fruitful. “They will keep fighting until the House of Gale is overthrown.” She looked down the table at Ralph Emmersly, who had come from his home near the crack in the O.Z. when he heard of Jeb’s death. “Casualty reports?”
Ralph made to stand, but the Queen shook her head minutely, and the man remained seated. “Of our two hundred and ten fighters, Your Highness, we have forty-seven dead. We estimate the total opposition numbers to be closer to four hundred and fifty, maybe five hundred. From our vantage point, we saw them dig about fifteen to twenty graves overnight.”
The Queen turned to the medic. “How many injured?”
“Thirty-nine with major injuries, and who are required to stay in the ward for further treatment,” the medic replied. “Those with minor wounds have already reported back to the battlefield.”
The Queen looked to the opposite end of the table. “Ambrose, do you have any further information on the opposition?”
Glitch nodded and slid a diagram to the Queen. “They’ve regrouped into a box formation. Any time the front line is damaged, or has been exposed for a certain length of time, they simply alternate them to the back. In essence, after a full rotation of their lines, the men are rested and refueled.”
“But they do not advance.” The Queen tapped her finger thoughtfully against her chin.
“No, Your Majesty. The firepower we stole from the Longcoats is stronger than theirs, but it cannot cross great distances. They know that if we want to really damage them, we’d have to come from behind our defenses and approach them. I think they’re waiting for us to run out of supplies and munitions, and give up.”
“Well, I intend to do no such thing.” The Queen turned to her husband. “Tell me about these charges you found.”
Ahamo looked quickly at Ainsley, who focused on her small cup of coffee, and the moisture ring it was leaving on the tabletop. “When the former Resistance stormed the tower on the night of the Eclipse, Jeb Cain and his men wired the base of the tower with explosives. Once they detonated, the Longcoats diverted from guarding the tower. Once the coast was clear for DG to get inside undetected, the remaining charges were not set off.”
“We examined the wiring last night, Your Highness,” Glitch added, “and we think we can surround the rebels’ east and west flanks.”
“In order to do that, you’d have to divert men from the tower,” the Queen countered, and after a moment, Glitch nodded.
“We would require at least five men per side.” He slid another paper toward her, and the Queen quickly picked up the plan and scanned it. “We’d still have enough for a skeleton crew to guard the outer walls, Majesty, though the risk for casualty would be greater.”
“It’d be a suicide mission,” the Queen said bluntly, letting the paper fall to the table with a sigh.
“Several of Jeb Cain’s men have already volunteered to reroute the wiring. I’ll lead one team, and Ambrose will lead the other,” Ahamo said, placing a hand on his wife’s arm. “Tactically, this is the best we can do right now. They still refuse to negotiate; they think they can win.”
The Queen rubbed the back of her neck, and the medic had to look away as the Consort massaged the base of her skull. Jeb had done that for her countless nights, as though the mere feeling of his fingers on her skin could rid her of the long, painful day she’d had. She needed that touch more now than she ever had before.
The conversation in the room stopped, and when Ainsley looked up, she saw that all eyes were trained on her. She cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon?”
Glitch looked at her, obviously annoyed. “The Queen asked you if there had been any changes with Princess Azkadellia and Wyatt Cain.”
Ainsley fought to keep the blush from giving away her embarrassment. “The Princess continues to recover. Mr. Raw and Mr. Kalm’s quick efforts ensured that the damage from the bullet remained relatively minor. However, given her already weakened state, and the fact that she used so much of her magic when not at full strength, she needs to remain under observation.”
“And Mr. Cain?”
“I’ll begin preparing him for surgery as soon as we’re done here.”
The Queen pursed her lips. “That will leave us one medic and one commander down.” She looked around the table to the various section leaders. “Do any of you men have anyone with enough skill to take Mr. Cain’s place in the trenches?”
The four faction leaders looked at each other, and then shook their heads. “If I may, Your Majesty,” one said-Angus Phillips, the medic’s mind supplied, you fixed his daughter’s broken arm last annual-“most of our fighters are young and inexperienced. They’ve never dealt with Longcoat style firepower before. It’s trial and error at best.”
“I can do it.”
The room shifted and creaked as the assembly members turned to face DG, who stood in the doorway. If her mother had looked exhausted, the princess was nothing more than a walking corpse.
Her father leapt to her aid, and guided his youngest daughter to sit next to her mother. DG took the lukewarm coffee pot and filled a mug as though the liquid was the only thing sustaining her at the moment.
“Out of the question,” the Queen replied, and DG’s eyes sparked.
“I know how to shoot. I’ve got a good eye. Soda cans didn’t stand a chance against me when I was on the Other Side.”
Phillips cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Your Highness, this isn’t target practice. These are large weapons with uncontrollable recoil for someone who’s inexperienced.”
“You need somebody in that foxhole. I can do this.”
“I think it’s easily said you’ve done quite enough at this point,” Ainsley replied, unable to keep the bite out of her voice.
DG did not blink, meeting the intensity of the medic’s stare with equal fervor, her voice just as hard. “I’m not going to hole up and hide. I’m not going to wait for them to rush us, and catch us off guard. If I can help, I’m going to.”
“You tried to help before, and it’s gotten people killed.” Ainsley’s grip tightened around her coffee cup, knuckles whitening under the strain.
“DG,” the Queen broke in, “you will be an even greater target the closer you are to the opposition. Should-should something happen to me or to your sister, we will need you available to lead our men.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you or to Az. Besides, putting me out front will distract those bastards. It’ll make it easier for Glitch and Dad to get their men into position and blow ‘em all to hell.” The youngest princess stood, palms flattened against the conference table. “They’re not going to sit back and wait on us forever. They’ll advance eventually, and God only knows what they’ll do once they reach us. This is our only chance. We have to take it.”
“I think the men will listen to her,” Ahamo said after a long, tense moment. “And she’s right. It could give us the opening we need to push them back.”
“It seems we have no other option,” the Queen sighed. “Ambrose, Ahamo, gather your men. Box in the opposition, and detonate the charges.”
“Mr. Cain said there are Longcoat cars facing the south,” Ahamo said. “Our remaining men can patrol by car along the exteriors. We won’t lose that much ground, even if we move the men to discharge the explosives.”
“Very well,” the Queen replied. “Do it.” She rose, and the assembled parties rose with her. Ainsley finished the remainder of her coffee and started to walk back to the infirmary when a hand on her arm stopped her. “A moment, if you please, Doctor Lowry.”
The other parties left them in silence, and the medic suddenly knew what it felt like to be scrutinized and examined as though under a microscope. The Queen’s knowing lavender eyes raked quickly over her before settling on the medic’s eyes.
“I appreciate that you have been under a great deal of stress for several days,” the Queen began, “and for that, I am truly sorry. However, you would do well to remember that when addressing my daughter, you are addressing the Royal House. No matter your personal feelings toward her or her actions, you will refer to her with the respect befitting her station. Am I clear?”
Cowed, Ainsley swallowed, the remnants of the coffee catching in her throat. “You have my sincerest apologies, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again.” She made to leave, stopped again when the Queen spoke.
“You have suffered life’s greatest and most cruel tragedies, Doctor. I cannot begin to fathom how difficult it must be for you to remain here, given the circumstances.”
The medic ducked her head as her stomach dropped. “I’m just doing what I think is right.”
The Queen stepped in front of her and took the younger woman’s hands within her own. “As we all are, Ainsley. We are not going to agree on how to go about it. We’re going to lose those we love to the fight. But in the end, I have the utmost faith that good will once again triumph over evil. We must focus on the larger picture, the end result. And we must, above all else, support each other. No matter our differences, we must work together. Our enemy cannot be from within. The true enemy is on the other side of those trenches.”
The medic nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. I understand.” At least, I’m trying like hell to.
“Very good.” The Queen stepped back, allowing the blonde to finally pass. “I shall be seeing you quite soon, Doctor.”
Ainsley curtseyed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She threw the door open, fiery, embarrassed tears burning the back of her eyelids. She bypassed the infirmary and ran to a lower level, hurling the back door to the kitchen open in her haste to escape. Immediately, she had four rifles trained on her, and she instinctively put her hands up in defense.
“Stand down,” she heard Glitch say as she willed her heart to return to a normal sinus rhythm. “It’s just the medic.” As the guards turned away from her, moving around the tower in preparation for their counterattack, the medic sank to her knees, breathing heavily. She couldn’t bring herself to look to the heavens, for she’d only expect to see Jeb’s face looking down at her, and her heart could not take it when it did not appear.
She saw a shadow move to her right, and then a hand came in front of her face, grasping a glass of water. The medic looked up and saw DG with a concerned look on her face. “Go on,” the princess said when the medic didn’t move, “it’s not poisoned or anything.”
Obediently, the blonde took the glass and sipped shortly at it. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“DG,” the princess replied, sitting in the dirt next to her. “Just DG, remember?” The early morning breeze tossed both women’s hair behind their shoulders, and DG shook her head, trying to rid the curls sticking to her cheeks. “I didn’t mean for them to kill him.”
The doctor nearly choked on the water. Her sputtering allowed DG to continue speaking with little interruption. “I didn’t think they’d do it, Ainsley. If I’d thought it was really a possibility, I’d have done something else, anything else to get them back. I thought they just wanted us to listen.”
Coughing a few more times before she could speak, the medic saw the heavy lines around DG’s eyes, matched only by the dark circles beneath them. She saw the way the princess ‘s shoulders dipped in resignation, and the way the young woman was curled up within herself, as though she were in severe physical pain, not just emotional. As the doctor opened her mouth, DG finally looked up from the ground, eyes shining with tears. “I took away his only son, Doc. I took away the love of your life. Believe me when I tell you that I will never forgive myself. Ever. But Cain said something to me at the beginning of this whole thing…he said that while we may not be able to move on, we have to move forward. I can’t make this right, but I can do something to make sure nobody else loses their son, or their husband.”
“The minute those bastards realize you’re in those trenches, they’re going to do their damndest to kill you. Then your parents would lose their daughter, and Cain would lose…whatever you are to him. You’d just continue the cycle.”
The princess leaned towards her. “I’ll tell you something,” she said, lowering her voice, “If they try and take me out, I really don’t care. I have to do something, and this is all I can do. I’m just doing the only thing I’m good at: fighting like hell. If I can take some of them down with me, I’ll do it in a second.”
When the medic did not reply, DG stood and moved to the kitchen door. Ainsley finally looked up at the morning clouds, the threatening tears finally freeing themselves when she saw nothing but vast expanses of white. She rubbed tiredly at her eyes, and then turned her head when DG spoke softly.
“Thank you for staying, and for helping Az and Cain.”
Ainsley nodded absently. “It’s like you said. I’m just doing the only thing I know how to do.”
Both women were silent for a moment, and DG made to move back into the castle, stopping when the medic said her name.
“It wasn’t your fault.” They were the four hardest words she’d ever had to say. She saw DG’s shadow shift across the ground as the princess turned to look at her directly, but the medic did not raise her eyes to meet the other woman’s. “You didn’t have a choice. You had to get him back no matter what.” She looked at her hands. “I understand…loving someone that much. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing.”
The blonde finally looked up, and caught the last traces of DG’s wavering smile in the sunshine. “Just be safe. He needs you.”
The medic watched as the princess nodded, squaring her shoulders and swinging the kitchen door open. Neither woman said another word before the heavy door clanged shut like a reverberating call to arms.
***
After another brief strategy session with Glitch and her parents, DG walked through the tower hallways and down the few floors to the infirmary. Her sister was still sleeping, but Cain was up and looked grumpier than hell. He was keeping his voice low, but it was obvious to the princess that he was arguing with the nurse, and was becoming quite pissed off that he wasn’t winning.
DG crossed the room and sat down on the cot next to his. Cupping her chin in her hand, she couldn’t control the smirk on her face as she watched the battle of wills rage before her.
Finally, Cain looked directly at her. “Something funny, Princess?”
DG pretended to pout. “Don’t stop on my account. I was enjoying the show.”
The nurse hastily curtseyed when she realized she had royal company. “Good morning, Your Highness.”
DG smiled. “Good morning.” Inclining her head to indicate Cain, she said, “He giving you problems?”
The nurse fought to find a diplomatic reply. DG merely laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Cain all but growled at her amusement. “Are you here just to make fun of the man in the infirmary bed, or did you have something you needed?”
Okay, definitely not a morning person, Tin Man, DG thought. “Why so cheerful this morning?”
Cain sighed. “I need to be out there,” he said, motioning to the thin windows overlooking the battlefield. “We’ve lost too many men as it is.”
Tentatively, DG put a hand on his arm. “You need to focus on getting better. You can commence with the ass-kicking later.”
Cain’s eyes were serious. “Kiddo, I don’t know how much of a later there’s going to be.”
She leaned in, memorizing every line, every tint of blue to his eyes. “I’ll let you in on a secret. We’ve got a plan.”
He didn’t hesitate in his reply. “I don’t like your plans.”
She sat back, brows knotting. “Excuse me?”
He tilted his head at her. “You’re a magnet for trouble if there ever was one, kiddo.” When she did not reply, his inspection intensified. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She swallowed. “Everything’s going to be fine. I just thought you should tell me to break a leg, since you seem to be the expert on that right now.”
“Don’t bullshit me, DG.”
She sighed. “The night of the Eclipse, Jeb laid more charges than he detonated. My father and Glitch are relocating them, and we’re going to surround and take out the opposition that way. Or, we’re going to try.”
“Glitch mentioned that yesterday,” Cain confirmed, eyes still trained uncomfortably on her. “That means he found a…” He shook his head as realization dawned. “No. Absolutely not.” He started to throw the blankets back and sought to find purchase on the infirmary’s stone floor.
“Hey, hey!” DG protested, pushing him back down on the mattress. “You’re not going anywhere, Wyatt Cain, except to the OR.”
“You can’t go out there and be the sacrificial lamb, DG. You’ll be playing right into their hands.”
“I can handle myself, Cain. I know how to handle a gun.”
“You ever been shot, kid?” At her silence, he continued. “DG, you can’t go out there.”
“I’m of no use sitting pretty in here. I have to do something to help, and if taking your place in the trenches is a way to do that, I will.”
His hand found hers, and he hung on tightly, eyes piercing hers. “They could kill you.”
Her voice was little more than a strained whisper. “I know.”
“Sacrificing yourself won’t bring him back. It won’t assuage any of our guilt.”
Our. The word rang in her head for a moment. She knew he felt as responsible as she did, but somehow, the simple phrase tightened the rope tethering them together, repairing its frayed, damaged body. She found strength and something she thought she’d lost-faith-in the reclamation of the bond that had lingered between them for so long, and under so many circumstances. It warmed her just as much as his hand on hers did, and she used it as impetus to push her furthermore into the inevitable.
She realized he was looking at her expectantly, and she replied, her voice much stronger than it had been. “I know that. But it’s not about me, though, or even you, really. It’s about trying to fix what needs fixing.” She tilted her head down at him, features softening as she reassured him. “I can do this.”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have to like it.”
“I’m fairly certain nobody does.” She turned his hand beneath her palm, threading their fingers together. “All you’ve wanted these past years was to make a better O.Z. That’s what I want, too. This is the only way I know how at this point. Let me do that, Cain.” For you. For my family. For Jeb.
He dropped his chin to his chest briefly in resignation. “You’ve made up your mind.”
“’Fraid so, Tin Man.”
“And I can’t stop you.”
“Have you ever been able to?”
The comment pulled a sad half-smile to his lips. “Promise me something.”
Her throat became suddenly dry. “Anything.”
“Be careful.”
She tried to smile. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“I’m serious.” He looked exceptionally, painfully uncomfortable, and DG knelt on the floor next to him.
“Do you need something, Cain?”
“I need you to be careful.” He cupped her cheek as he repeated himself. The plea in his eyes was implicit. Come back.
“I promise,” she replied, lacing her fingers with his. “I’ll be back before you know it.” She stood, squeezing his hand one more time. “No driving the nurses crazy,” she ordered. “And keep an eye on my sister for me.”
“Always,” he promised, and she leaned down, placing a lingering kiss on his cheek.
“Take it easy, Tin Man.”
As she tried to walk away, their hands remained clasped, as they had when she’d traded herself for him. This time, though, she swore they hung on tighter.
When she was finally able to separate herself from him, she strode out of the room and to the front lines, barely able to see through her tears.
End Chapter Eleven
This is for queenof1000days, because she ROCKS. Like, whoa. You are the angsty Statler to my "I'm way too mean to these characters" Waldorf.
Disclaimer in Chapter One.
Chapter Eleven: Becoming
The new day dawned brightly, with barely a cloud in the sky, as though the gods were ignorant of the hellish goings-on beneath their feet.
The landscape of the O.Z., particularly the small plot of land between Central City and the former tower of the Sorceress, began to stir with both men and trees groaning and stretching into wakefulness.
In the tower, several bleary and red-eyed individuals sat at a long, ornately carved wooden table. Stacks of paper traded hands so quickly that the fluttering of the parchment barely registered. The smell of coffee permeated the room, and several of those gathered there wished they had more than rations to snack on for breakfast.
The hall doors opened, and those seated at the table rose to greet Her Majesty and the Consort. The Queen was well past the point of exhaustion, and the medic in the room wondered if she was bordering on delirium for having been awake for so many hours. But outwardly, the Queen gave no indication that she was fatigued; as she glided into the room, it was as though she was approaching with plans for a ball and not there to strategize on how to keep her kingdom from falling into further ruin.
After she seated herself, the medic and the other assembled members of the Royal Army followed suit. The Queen looked down the table, and the medic saw her try unsuccessfully to stifle a sigh. “Where is DG?” the Queen asked, looking at Ainsley.
“I left her in the infirmary with Princess Azkadellia and Mr. Cain, Your Majesty,” the doctor replied.
“I can go get her, my dear,” the Consort said, pushing his chair back from the conference table.
The Queen shook her head. “No, that’s quite all right. I’ll speak to her later. Now,” she continued, folding her hands and placing them on top of the wooden surface, “I have just met with the resistance negotiators.” Her tone and face indicated the meeting had been less than fruitful. “They will keep fighting until the House of Gale is overthrown.” She looked down the table at Ralph Emmersly, who had come from his home near the crack in the O.Z. when he heard of Jeb’s death. “Casualty reports?”
Ralph made to stand, but the Queen shook her head minutely, and the man remained seated. “Of our two hundred and ten fighters, Your Highness, we have forty-seven dead. We estimate the total opposition numbers to be closer to four hundred and fifty, maybe five hundred. From our vantage point, we saw them dig about fifteen to twenty graves overnight.”
The Queen turned to the medic. “How many injured?”
“Thirty-nine with major injuries, and who are required to stay in the ward for further treatment,” the medic replied. “Those with minor wounds have already reported back to the battlefield.”
The Queen looked to the opposite end of the table. “Ambrose, do you have any further information on the opposition?”
Glitch nodded and slid a diagram to the Queen. “They’ve regrouped into a box formation. Any time the front line is damaged, or has been exposed for a certain length of time, they simply alternate them to the back. In essence, after a full rotation of their lines, the men are rested and refueled.”
“But they do not advance.” The Queen tapped her finger thoughtfully against her chin.
“No, Your Majesty. The firepower we stole from the Longcoats is stronger than theirs, but it cannot cross great distances. They know that if we want to really damage them, we’d have to come from behind our defenses and approach them. I think they’re waiting for us to run out of supplies and munitions, and give up.”
“Well, I intend to do no such thing.” The Queen turned to her husband. “Tell me about these charges you found.”
Ahamo looked quickly at Ainsley, who focused on her small cup of coffee, and the moisture ring it was leaving on the tabletop. “When the former Resistance stormed the tower on the night of the Eclipse, Jeb Cain and his men wired the base of the tower with explosives. Once they detonated, the Longcoats diverted from guarding the tower. Once the coast was clear for DG to get inside undetected, the remaining charges were not set off.”
“We examined the wiring last night, Your Highness,” Glitch added, “and we think we can surround the rebels’ east and west flanks.”
“In order to do that, you’d have to divert men from the tower,” the Queen countered, and after a moment, Glitch nodded.
“We would require at least five men per side.” He slid another paper toward her, and the Queen quickly picked up the plan and scanned it. “We’d still have enough for a skeleton crew to guard the outer walls, Majesty, though the risk for casualty would be greater.”
“It’d be a suicide mission,” the Queen said bluntly, letting the paper fall to the table with a sigh.
“Several of Jeb Cain’s men have already volunteered to reroute the wiring. I’ll lead one team, and Ambrose will lead the other,” Ahamo said, placing a hand on his wife’s arm. “Tactically, this is the best we can do right now. They still refuse to negotiate; they think they can win.”
The Queen rubbed the back of her neck, and the medic had to look away as the Consort massaged the base of her skull. Jeb had done that for her countless nights, as though the mere feeling of his fingers on her skin could rid her of the long, painful day she’d had. She needed that touch more now than she ever had before.
The conversation in the room stopped, and when Ainsley looked up, she saw that all eyes were trained on her. She cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon?”
Glitch looked at her, obviously annoyed. “The Queen asked you if there had been any changes with Princess Azkadellia and Wyatt Cain.”
Ainsley fought to keep the blush from giving away her embarrassment. “The Princess continues to recover. Mr. Raw and Mr. Kalm’s quick efforts ensured that the damage from the bullet remained relatively minor. However, given her already weakened state, and the fact that she used so much of her magic when not at full strength, she needs to remain under observation.”
“And Mr. Cain?”
“I’ll begin preparing him for surgery as soon as we’re done here.”
The Queen pursed her lips. “That will leave us one medic and one commander down.” She looked around the table to the various section leaders. “Do any of you men have anyone with enough skill to take Mr. Cain’s place in the trenches?”
The four faction leaders looked at each other, and then shook their heads. “If I may, Your Majesty,” one said-Angus Phillips, the medic’s mind supplied, you fixed his daughter’s broken arm last annual-“most of our fighters are young and inexperienced. They’ve never dealt with Longcoat style firepower before. It’s trial and error at best.”
“I can do it.”
The room shifted and creaked as the assembly members turned to face DG, who stood in the doorway. If her mother had looked exhausted, the princess was nothing more than a walking corpse.
Her father leapt to her aid, and guided his youngest daughter to sit next to her mother. DG took the lukewarm coffee pot and filled a mug as though the liquid was the only thing sustaining her at the moment.
“Out of the question,” the Queen replied, and DG’s eyes sparked.
“I know how to shoot. I’ve got a good eye. Soda cans didn’t stand a chance against me when I was on the Other Side.”
Phillips cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Your Highness, this isn’t target practice. These are large weapons with uncontrollable recoil for someone who’s inexperienced.”
“You need somebody in that foxhole. I can do this.”
“I think it’s easily said you’ve done quite enough at this point,” Ainsley replied, unable to keep the bite out of her voice.
DG did not blink, meeting the intensity of the medic’s stare with equal fervor, her voice just as hard. “I’m not going to hole up and hide. I’m not going to wait for them to rush us, and catch us off guard. If I can help, I’m going to.”
“You tried to help before, and it’s gotten people killed.” Ainsley’s grip tightened around her coffee cup, knuckles whitening under the strain.
“DG,” the Queen broke in, “you will be an even greater target the closer you are to the opposition. Should-should something happen to me or to your sister, we will need you available to lead our men.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you or to Az. Besides, putting me out front will distract those bastards. It’ll make it easier for Glitch and Dad to get their men into position and blow ‘em all to hell.” The youngest princess stood, palms flattened against the conference table. “They’re not going to sit back and wait on us forever. They’ll advance eventually, and God only knows what they’ll do once they reach us. This is our only chance. We have to take it.”
“I think the men will listen to her,” Ahamo said after a long, tense moment. “And she’s right. It could give us the opening we need to push them back.”
“It seems we have no other option,” the Queen sighed. “Ambrose, Ahamo, gather your men. Box in the opposition, and detonate the charges.”
“Mr. Cain said there are Longcoat cars facing the south,” Ahamo said. “Our remaining men can patrol by car along the exteriors. We won’t lose that much ground, even if we move the men to discharge the explosives.”
“Very well,” the Queen replied. “Do it.” She rose, and the assembled parties rose with her. Ainsley finished the remainder of her coffee and started to walk back to the infirmary when a hand on her arm stopped her. “A moment, if you please, Doctor Lowry.”
The other parties left them in silence, and the medic suddenly knew what it felt like to be scrutinized and examined as though under a microscope. The Queen’s knowing lavender eyes raked quickly over her before settling on the medic’s eyes.
“I appreciate that you have been under a great deal of stress for several days,” the Queen began, “and for that, I am truly sorry. However, you would do well to remember that when addressing my daughter, you are addressing the Royal House. No matter your personal feelings toward her or her actions, you will refer to her with the respect befitting her station. Am I clear?”
Cowed, Ainsley swallowed, the remnants of the coffee catching in her throat. “You have my sincerest apologies, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again.” She made to leave, stopped again when the Queen spoke.
“You have suffered life’s greatest and most cruel tragedies, Doctor. I cannot begin to fathom how difficult it must be for you to remain here, given the circumstances.”
The medic ducked her head as her stomach dropped. “I’m just doing what I think is right.”
The Queen stepped in front of her and took the younger woman’s hands within her own. “As we all are, Ainsley. We are not going to agree on how to go about it. We’re going to lose those we love to the fight. But in the end, I have the utmost faith that good will once again triumph over evil. We must focus on the larger picture, the end result. And we must, above all else, support each other. No matter our differences, we must work together. Our enemy cannot be from within. The true enemy is on the other side of those trenches.”
The medic nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. I understand.” At least, I’m trying like hell to.
“Very good.” The Queen stepped back, allowing the blonde to finally pass. “I shall be seeing you quite soon, Doctor.”
Ainsley curtseyed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She threw the door open, fiery, embarrassed tears burning the back of her eyelids. She bypassed the infirmary and ran to a lower level, hurling the back door to the kitchen open in her haste to escape. Immediately, she had four rifles trained on her, and she instinctively put her hands up in defense.
“Stand down,” she heard Glitch say as she willed her heart to return to a normal sinus rhythm. “It’s just the medic.” As the guards turned away from her, moving around the tower in preparation for their counterattack, the medic sank to her knees, breathing heavily. She couldn’t bring herself to look to the heavens, for she’d only expect to see Jeb’s face looking down at her, and her heart could not take it when it did not appear.
She saw a shadow move to her right, and then a hand came in front of her face, grasping a glass of water. The medic looked up and saw DG with a concerned look on her face. “Go on,” the princess said when the medic didn’t move, “it’s not poisoned or anything.”
Obediently, the blonde took the glass and sipped shortly at it. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“DG,” the princess replied, sitting in the dirt next to her. “Just DG, remember?” The early morning breeze tossed both women’s hair behind their shoulders, and DG shook her head, trying to rid the curls sticking to her cheeks. “I didn’t mean for them to kill him.”
The doctor nearly choked on the water. Her sputtering allowed DG to continue speaking with little interruption. “I didn’t think they’d do it, Ainsley. If I’d thought it was really a possibility, I’d have done something else, anything else to get them back. I thought they just wanted us to listen.”
Coughing a few more times before she could speak, the medic saw the heavy lines around DG’s eyes, matched only by the dark circles beneath them. She saw the way the princess ‘s shoulders dipped in resignation, and the way the young woman was curled up within herself, as though she were in severe physical pain, not just emotional. As the doctor opened her mouth, DG finally looked up from the ground, eyes shining with tears. “I took away his only son, Doc. I took away the love of your life. Believe me when I tell you that I will never forgive myself. Ever. But Cain said something to me at the beginning of this whole thing…he said that while we may not be able to move on, we have to move forward. I can’t make this right, but I can do something to make sure nobody else loses their son, or their husband.”
“The minute those bastards realize you’re in those trenches, they’re going to do their damndest to kill you. Then your parents would lose their daughter, and Cain would lose…whatever you are to him. You’d just continue the cycle.”
The princess leaned towards her. “I’ll tell you something,” she said, lowering her voice, “If they try and take me out, I really don’t care. I have to do something, and this is all I can do. I’m just doing the only thing I’m good at: fighting like hell. If I can take some of them down with me, I’ll do it in a second.”
When the medic did not reply, DG stood and moved to the kitchen door. Ainsley finally looked up at the morning clouds, the threatening tears finally freeing themselves when she saw nothing but vast expanses of white. She rubbed tiredly at her eyes, and then turned her head when DG spoke softly.
“Thank you for staying, and for helping Az and Cain.”
Ainsley nodded absently. “It’s like you said. I’m just doing the only thing I know how to do.”
Both women were silent for a moment, and DG made to move back into the castle, stopping when the medic said her name.
“It wasn’t your fault.” They were the four hardest words she’d ever had to say. She saw DG’s shadow shift across the ground as the princess turned to look at her directly, but the medic did not raise her eyes to meet the other woman’s. “You didn’t have a choice. You had to get him back no matter what.” She looked at her hands. “I understand…loving someone that much. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing.”
The blonde finally looked up, and caught the last traces of DG’s wavering smile in the sunshine. “Just be safe. He needs you.”
The medic watched as the princess nodded, squaring her shoulders and swinging the kitchen door open. Neither woman said another word before the heavy door clanged shut like a reverberating call to arms.
***
After another brief strategy session with Glitch and her parents, DG walked through the tower hallways and down the few floors to the infirmary. Her sister was still sleeping, but Cain was up and looked grumpier than hell. He was keeping his voice low, but it was obvious to the princess that he was arguing with the nurse, and was becoming quite pissed off that he wasn’t winning.
DG crossed the room and sat down on the cot next to his. Cupping her chin in her hand, she couldn’t control the smirk on her face as she watched the battle of wills rage before her.
Finally, Cain looked directly at her. “Something funny, Princess?”
DG pretended to pout. “Don’t stop on my account. I was enjoying the show.”
The nurse hastily curtseyed when she realized she had royal company. “Good morning, Your Highness.”
DG smiled. “Good morning.” Inclining her head to indicate Cain, she said, “He giving you problems?”
The nurse fought to find a diplomatic reply. DG merely laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Cain all but growled at her amusement. “Are you here just to make fun of the man in the infirmary bed, or did you have something you needed?”
Okay, definitely not a morning person, Tin Man, DG thought. “Why so cheerful this morning?”
Cain sighed. “I need to be out there,” he said, motioning to the thin windows overlooking the battlefield. “We’ve lost too many men as it is.”
Tentatively, DG put a hand on his arm. “You need to focus on getting better. You can commence with the ass-kicking later.”
Cain’s eyes were serious. “Kiddo, I don’t know how much of a later there’s going to be.”
She leaned in, memorizing every line, every tint of blue to his eyes. “I’ll let you in on a secret. We’ve got a plan.”
He didn’t hesitate in his reply. “I don’t like your plans.”
She sat back, brows knotting. “Excuse me?”
He tilted his head at her. “You’re a magnet for trouble if there ever was one, kiddo.” When she did not reply, his inspection intensified. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She swallowed. “Everything’s going to be fine. I just thought you should tell me to break a leg, since you seem to be the expert on that right now.”
“Don’t bullshit me, DG.”
She sighed. “The night of the Eclipse, Jeb laid more charges than he detonated. My father and Glitch are relocating them, and we’re going to surround and take out the opposition that way. Or, we’re going to try.”
“Glitch mentioned that yesterday,” Cain confirmed, eyes still trained uncomfortably on her. “That means he found a…” He shook his head as realization dawned. “No. Absolutely not.” He started to throw the blankets back and sought to find purchase on the infirmary’s stone floor.
“Hey, hey!” DG protested, pushing him back down on the mattress. “You’re not going anywhere, Wyatt Cain, except to the OR.”
“You can’t go out there and be the sacrificial lamb, DG. You’ll be playing right into their hands.”
“I can handle myself, Cain. I know how to handle a gun.”
“You ever been shot, kid?” At her silence, he continued. “DG, you can’t go out there.”
“I’m of no use sitting pretty in here. I have to do something to help, and if taking your place in the trenches is a way to do that, I will.”
His hand found hers, and he hung on tightly, eyes piercing hers. “They could kill you.”
Her voice was little more than a strained whisper. “I know.”
“Sacrificing yourself won’t bring him back. It won’t assuage any of our guilt.”
Our. The word rang in her head for a moment. She knew he felt as responsible as she did, but somehow, the simple phrase tightened the rope tethering them together, repairing its frayed, damaged body. She found strength and something she thought she’d lost-faith-in the reclamation of the bond that had lingered between them for so long, and under so many circumstances. It warmed her just as much as his hand on hers did, and she used it as impetus to push her furthermore into the inevitable.
She realized he was looking at her expectantly, and she replied, her voice much stronger than it had been. “I know that. But it’s not about me, though, or even you, really. It’s about trying to fix what needs fixing.” She tilted her head down at him, features softening as she reassured him. “I can do this.”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have to like it.”
“I’m fairly certain nobody does.” She turned his hand beneath her palm, threading their fingers together. “All you’ve wanted these past years was to make a better O.Z. That’s what I want, too. This is the only way I know how at this point. Let me do that, Cain.” For you. For my family. For Jeb.
He dropped his chin to his chest briefly in resignation. “You’ve made up your mind.”
“’Fraid so, Tin Man.”
“And I can’t stop you.”
“Have you ever been able to?”
The comment pulled a sad half-smile to his lips. “Promise me something.”
Her throat became suddenly dry. “Anything.”
“Be careful.”
She tried to smile. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“I’m serious.” He looked exceptionally, painfully uncomfortable, and DG knelt on the floor next to him.
“Do you need something, Cain?”
“I need you to be careful.” He cupped her cheek as he repeated himself. The plea in his eyes was implicit. Come back.
“I promise,” she replied, lacing her fingers with his. “I’ll be back before you know it.” She stood, squeezing his hand one more time. “No driving the nurses crazy,” she ordered. “And keep an eye on my sister for me.”
“Always,” he promised, and she leaned down, placing a lingering kiss on his cheek.
“Take it easy, Tin Man.”
As she tried to walk away, their hands remained clasped, as they had when she’d traded herself for him. This time, though, she swore they hung on tighter.
When she was finally able to separate herself from him, she strode out of the room and to the front lines, barely able to see through her tears.
End Chapter Eleven