Jerrol frowned in thought; he shifted awkwardly as a spike of pain flashed through his side. His ribs burned and, to be honest, he hadn’t checked under the bandages when possibly he ought to have; maybe he had overdone it. His stomach roiled as he eyed the food on his plate. “Jennery, share what you found at the Grove,” he said, as he surreptitiously wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Birlerion peered at him. “Captain? Are you alright? Have you done yourself more harm?”
Jerrol reached under his shirt and came out with a reddened hand, just as Healer Tyrone entered the hall. Tyrone hustled Jerrol out of the room, complaining under his breath about idiot Rangers. He marched him to the infirmary, leaving Jennery and Birlerion to explain everything to Jason.
Jerrol was confined to the infirmary. His wound was painfully restitched, and Tyrone warned of infection. With his foster mother, Hannah, frowning over him in concern, Jerrol stopped arguing. He drank the disgusting potions Tyrone was forcing on him and carefully lay down. Closing his eyes, he caught up on some sleep. It made a change to leave the problems to someone else.
The next morning, he was unable to get Tyrone to release him. Lady Alyssa was still asleep in the bed next to him, a screen separating them. He lay in bed, musing over the incidents in the Watches. Events were happening too fast for it not to be coordinated. He was worried about the King; that last audience with him was even more concerning.
For the King to defer to Prince Kharel was unheard of, yet, as soon as Kharel had entered the room and spoken, the King had stopped mid-sentence, even though he had been talking about oaths, the King’s Oath. There had been that resounding crack that echoed across the throne room before fading to silence.
He was also annoyed about the Prince confiscating his sword. The King himself had presented it to Jerrol on the conclusion of one of his shadier missions out of Terolia that he wasn’t supposed to talk about. He had liked that sword. It took time to train a sword to your hand and that one had been coming along nicely.
His thoughts circled back to the Watches. Who would gain the most by killing off Guardians and destabilising the Watches? Why was it so important to remove him from the equation? What had he been doing that had made him a target? He was only one of many Rangers the King could call on. It was true the King did have a preference for using him, but that only meant he got the difficult jobs.
In return, Jerrol had set up some pretty strict protocols around the King which he knew had caused issues with both the Chancellor and Prince Kharel. Jerrol grinned viciously; they would find them difficult to overcome. Good. Maybe he had been a thorn in their side, and they had decided it was simpler to remove him.
The evening was drawing in when Jerrol caught Tyrone for a last plea. “I’ve rested long enough. Give me my clothes, Tyrone, and let me out of here.” The inactivity was driving Jerrol mad.
“You’ll have rested when I say you have.” Tyrone wasn’t giving in. “Give your body a chance to heal. As soon as you get up, you’ll be tearing off somewhere, and doing more damage.”
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
They were interrupted by Alyssa’s pale face peering around the screen. “Captain Haven?” she asked, tugging her blanket more tightly. “I understand I have you to thank for my rescue.”
Jerrol stopped mid-complaint and glared at Tyrone before smoothing his face and smiling at Alyssa. “Call me Jerrol, please, and it wasn’t just me,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “Birlerion helped too.”
“I feel terrible that you were hurt saving me. I don’t remember much after I fell off Firefly. Do you know if she is alright?” she asked, her face tightening in concern.
“I expect she’s fine. I bet she’s munching her way through Lord Jason’s feed supplies, and anyway, my condition isn’t anything to do with you. I picked this up before we came across you. I just overdid it,” Jerrol said while Tyrone snorted in disdain and walked away. “Honestly, this...” and he indicated the bandages around his chest, “was nothing to do with you.”
Alyssa’s eyes filled with tears. “So many people killed to protect me,” she whispered as if he hadn’t spoken.
“They were there to protect you, that was their job. They died with honour. I swear by the Lady, my injuries were not caused by you. In fact,” he said ruefully, “you can confirm it with Silene. Though please not when I am in the same room; she will be very upset with me seeing as she stitched me up in the first place!”
“Silene? You know Silene?”
“Yes, we stayed with her and her husband, Reese...” Jerrol fell silent as he counted back: no wonder he was exhausted! “Two nights ago. We were on our way to visit your father when we got caught out in the storm, and they kindly offered us shelter for the night.”
“Oh,” she said, closing her eyes. “But you were on the field. I’m sure I saw you and your friend amongst all the bodies.” She shuddered as her face paled.
“What made Lord Hugh leave the main road, do you know?” Jerrol tried to distract her from her recent horrors. She looked young and vulnerable perched on the chair next to him with her auburn curls shoved behind her ears, and her brown eyes large in her unnaturally pale face. She should be the one lying down, not him.
“I’m not sure; there was a shout from the front of the column
