My Lady Jane(110)

There would be wounded. There would be dead.

“All they have to do is look scary.” Edward came outside his tent and saw Jane brooding over the infirmaries. “It’s like you said. They’ll distract Mary from us.”

“I know.” Jane hugged herself. “But some will inevitably be injured. They’re here to draw fire.” Archer was out there among the assembling troops, ready to lead the Pack into battle. Gracie, she knew, had insisted on joining him in the fight. What if Gracie was hurt? What would it mean to Edward if she were killed?

A chill ran through her. What if Edward himself was killed? Her plan wasn’t perfect. There were variables she couldn’t possibly account for. He could die.

She didn’t know if she could survive his death a second time. Or Gifford’s.

Gifford.

(At this point we as the narrators would just like to say something about the true danger of this entire situation. We should remind you now that we only promised to tell you an alternate story to what the history books record. You’ll be lucky if you can find a history book that mentions Jane at all—since she’s often skipped over in the line of English monarchs—but if you do, that book will say that Lady Jane Grey ruled England for nine days, was deposed by Mary, and then had her head chopped off. Well. We already know that didn’t happen in our tale. Our Jane still has her head.

But we can’t promise that Jane’s always going to be safe in the part that’s coming up, or Gifford, or Edward, or any of the other characters you’ve come to know and love. The truth is, any of them could die at any moment, and then, well, Queen Mary would undoubtedly spend the next five years living up to the nickname Bloody Mary by having hundreds of poor E?ians burned at the stake. So keep that in mind as you read onward.

Anyway, back to Jane and her worrying.)

“We’re all doing this for the same reason,” Edward said gently. “The soldiers know it. They’re willing to sacrifice everything for that reason, if sacrifice is what they must do.”

“What reason is that?”

“To make England the kind of place that we would have it be: a land of peace and prosperity, a kingdom where we are permitted to be our true selves without fear.”

“That’s worth maybe dying for.” Gifford’s voice came from behind her.

She turned. At seeing him as a man again, a shiver ran through her, both delight and sorrow. She’d begged him not to change this morning, and he had anyway.

“See?” Edward nudged Gifford with his elbow. “Even the horse agrees.”

Gifford bowed.

“Screw your courage to the sticking-place, right, G?” Edward said. He clapped Gifford on the shoulder and leaned to kiss Jane’s cheek. “Now I’d better change. To make sure I have time to get hold of the bird joy.”

He’d better get hold of the bird joy, Jane thought. And truly, he’d improved, as far as she’d seen. But if he wasn’t there when she was ready . . .

Her cousin became a kestrel and flew into the starry sky. She watched him go.

“You don’t have to be the one to do this, Jane,” Gifford said, when they were alone. “There are others who could.”

She smiled at him sadly. “I must do this. I was queen for only nine days, and I don’t wish to be queen again, but I do love England. I want to fight for it. For E?ians. For us.”

Gifford searched her eyes, stepping close, but he didn’t touch her. Didn’t kiss her. His change this morning was still too thick between them.

“Then let’s go, my lady.”

They returned to the tent and found Pet sitting with her chin on Edward’s chair.

“Come on, Pet.” Jane kept her voice soft. “I know you want to help Edward. We’ll do it just like I told you earlier. Come on.”

Pet whined like maybe she found this whole thing a very dumb idea, but she followed Jane and Gifford out of the camp.

“Don’t worry, Pet,” Gifford said as they walked. “I can defend us, should the need arise.”

Pet whined again, and Jane agreed. She wasn’t totally confident in her husband’s skills as a swordsman. Although she supposed he’d managed well enough with the giant bear.

Trumpets sounded in the distance—the attack on the city had begun. Jane, Gifford, and Pet moved swiftly in the opposite direction, moving parallel to the old Roman wall that protected the city.

“Here.” Jane guided the group to a wide ditch that ran alongside the wall. The high weeds would provide the perfect cover, as long as they stayed quiet. “Keep low.”

Gifford snorted. “That’s easy for you to say.”

She arched her neck to look up at him. “No one asked you to be so tall.” But she was pleased her demure stature was finally good for something. It was an advantage at last. A boon. An asset. A virtue— She stopped herself from continuing her synonym spiral. There was work to do. “We’ll head for Saint Katherine’s.”

The three of them sneaked as quickly as they dared. Every shout from beyond the wall made the two (at the moment) humans duck. Pet always turned her ear toward the sound, growing statue still, and then wagged her tail when she was sure that all was clear.

It had been a last-minute idea to send Pet with Jane and Gifford, and Jane was glad for the companionship, even if Pet was sometimes a naked girl and that made everyone uncomfortable. Pet was always good to have in a scrape.