Jean was very apologetic after everything that transpired, but Vero was still dazed at how bizarre it was seeing the Lady Dahlia. It was as though she were looking at her own reflection in an enchanted mirror that made one look absolutely beautiful, a surreal experience.

  The Lady Dahlia had gorgeous flowing red hair that came about half way down her back. Her skin was very fair, as Vero’s turned when she could not find her way out of doors. Her eyes were a piercing green, and she wore her paints and jewelry like a princess. Her breasts were tremendous, and very pleasing to look at, Vero could only imagine how they felt to hold. Her waist was almost wasp like, but her bottom was equally as tremendous as her chest. Even her feet looked delicate and perfect.

  Vero kept a short list in her mind of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Mama’s place was forever reserved at the pinnacle of female perfection, but below her were Jean’s wife, Dora, Elizaveta, and now this woman.

  The salient point of difference between the Lady Dahlia and the others being that, in every possible way aside from her extraordinary beauty, she almost exactly resembled Vero herself. It was like her own basic features were described to an artist who had never seen her in person, and he proceeded to draw a goddess from his imagination in her stead.

  The revelation brought so many new questions to the fore of Vero’s mind, she hardly knew where to begin. Where had Jean even found such a woman?

  Well, Mattie told her plainly enough that she was from Claremont, just to the south of them. The Duc there had taken a Pictish princess to wife, and the Lady Dahlia was the result of that union.

  Why had Jean chosen the daughter of that union as his mistress? Mattie and Saul could only look at her uncomfortably after a question like that, but Vero was not really expecting an answer from them.

  Vero knew she, of all people, had no grounds to be envious upon. It was hardly as though she had been living as a nun in Jean’s absence, and it was she who had chosen to leave him in the first place. No, a sense of indignation was simply unjustifiable.

  In some ways, it was almost flattering.

  What Vero simply could not grasp, was why the Lady Dahlia rode on the dusty road back to Claremont, while she herself sat at the head table of the banquet hall. It was only too clear which of them was a poor reflection of the other. The Lady Dahlia appeared the superior in every way- except that she was rather shrill, and evidently could not press up her own body weight.

  It must have been the ample teats and posterior weighing her down.

  Perhaps she made love like a cold fish. Women who were too beautiful sometimes became that way, if they started to believe fornication was beneath their dignity. Everyone became a little ugly as they made love, it was simply that by that time it no longer mattered. Only the remarkably vain cared about such things, so long as the groin continued to send happy messages to the brain.

  Perhaps because she did not consider herself beautiful, Vero never cared how she appeared once she started making love. If she had already made it that far, then further attempts at attraction were irrelevant. For her, fornication always had the effect of shrinking her personal view of the world down to her pelvis, and excluded all else.

  She tried to put the matter out of her mind and questioned Mattie and Saul about all the things they did while she was away. Mattie participated in several tournaments, placing second or third in nearly all, and becoming champion once, after a fierce final match. He had been on campaign with Jean, during a border skirmish against the Lusitanians. And he was married to his fiancé, Lara.

  As a wedding present, Jean gave them a grand home with some land nearby his own favorite hunting lodge. Lara was very happy there, and that was where both he and Jean spent most of their time, when they were not needed in the Iron Hall- hereditary home of the Marquis de Fer, and capital of the Fer-Mark.

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  Mattie was always smiling when he spoke of Lara, so marriage seemed to agree with him. Vero was glad for them. At one time she held some romantic feelings for Mattie herself, but now she was happy they were only friends.

  Saul was already married, but he had added two further children to his brood since Vero left, a boy and a girl. Now he and his wife possessed a full dozen, nine boys and three girls total. His triumphs were principally financial, but he was well adjusted enough not to dwell overlong on those. Mostly he told her about his family, and what community projects were undertaken in the dwarven quarter where she had more friends.

  In exchange for those stories, Vero traded them tales of her own travels since her departure. After spending some time in Velois, and the elven borderlands, she quickly decided that what she really wanted was to go someplace she had never been to before.

  She told them about her own time in Lusitan with the priest Luiz, although she neglected to mention how she had nearly gotten married there herself. Mattie was very interested to hear of her adventures even further south in the Oasis Cities, where he had never been before. Saul queried her about the industry and what sorts of occupations the people held in each place she visited.

  She introduced the two of them to all her more recent companions, besides Heward, whom they already knew. Again, she neglected to mention that, by some definitions, she and Dora were married. She only said that they were close friends.

  Were she and Dora husband and wife? Vero only suggested as much to Dora in jest, at first, and because having a wife made her disguise as Virgil that much more convincing. Being separated and then reunited again brought those feelings into sharper focus for her.

  They were both half dead after their long captivity for a time. Now life was flickering back in both of them, and Vero was noticing the way men looked at Dora.

  She did not like it.

  She also did not like the way Dora looked back, even though Vero knew the girl was only applying her trade. Dora had not earned any coin through her profession since their release, but it was only a matter of time before she felt well enough to work again. There would be very many rich men where they were going.

  And Vero did not like it.

  Being near Jean usually drove those thoughts from her mind, but they lingered whenever he was called away on business. Even Mattie cast occasional glances at Dora. Happily married, Vero held no fear for Mattie’s intentions, but it was obvious that no man—or sapphiric, for that that matter—could help noticing Dora.

  Vero did not like that at all, and kept moving nearer to Dora, eventually putting an arm around the girl’s waist. Dora had been very careful about showing public affection since their release. Vero felt a gulf of emotion she disliked between them, but knew not how to resolve it. Jean’s presence only widened it.

  Once Vero’s arm slipped around her, Dora became the devoted spouse again very quickly. She leaned against Vero’s shoulder, kissed her cheeks, and frequently whispered, “I love you; I love you. How I love you so, my prince. Knight of my heart, how I love you.”

  “Let’s go to the bedchamber together.”

  “What bedchamber?”

  “The master’s bedchamber. Jean’s taken it over while we’re here.”

  “What will the Marquis say about it?”

  “I don’t care, and probably nothing. He’s going to be writing letters until after supper, he tells me.”

  “It’s strange seeing you wearing a dress.”

  “I won’t be wearing it for long. Will you go with me?”

  “Yes, alright.”

  Vero had not gone to bed with Dora since their capture. In some ways, she would have preferred to wait longer, but she knew they both badly needed to reaffirm where they stood in relation to one another.

  Seeing Dora looking at, and being looked at, by those knights really had gotten under Vero’s skin.

  When they were in the room, Vero put Dora under her on the bed. Then she took her sword out of the chest and hung it up on the bed post beside them, where she could see it and close enough to touch.

  Vero wanted to kiss her, but the girl was already crying. “What’s wrong?”

  “What do you mean?” Dora asked, through her tears.

  “You’re crying.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want to cry.”

  Vero slid down next to her and pulled Dora against her breast. “You can cry if you wish.”

  “No, I’m ready now.” She did not look ready for anything at all except more crying.

  Vero kept Dora held to her chest. “No one is ever going to harm you again. I won’t allow it.”

  “I love you, Virgil.”

  “I love you too.”

  I’ll kill them before they hurt you, Vero thought. I’ll kill them first. And if I can’t, I’ll kill you. But no one will ever hurt you again. I swear that.

  “We can make love now, if you like.”

  “No, that’s alright. Let’s just rest here until supper. I’ll just hold you like this, that doesn’t upset you, does it?”

  “Oh, Virgil. I do love you, prince of my heart.”

  “That’s alright, Dora. That’s alright.”

  I’ll kill first. Them or you. No one will ever hurt you again.

  Vero reached out and touched her sword, although Dora did not see.

  I won’t hesitate. I’ll kill first.

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