Love Troubles of an Empress Overlady

[JewellRavenlock]

Jewell fumbled with the zipper of her dress, but the tab kept escaping her grasp. “Come on!” Her fingers felt clumsy and numb. Her arms were heavy. In a fit of frustration, she tried to pull the dress up over her head instead, causing her crown to go tumbling to the ground. The dress was too tight. She pulled at the fabric furiously, tearing at it, before finally yanking it back down.

This wasn’t working and the zipper wasn’t working and her fingers weren’t working and her brain wasn’t working. Her chest started to heave, and the beginning of tears stung the corners of her eyes. She planted her palms on the cool surface of the bathroom vanity and tried to take deep breaths.

She had to be calm. She could not fall apart. Not over this. Not after she had kept it together all week.

This was nothing.

But it didn’t feel like nothing.

It felt worse than the throbbing of her calf where Hope had hit her. Worse than the sharp pain that started in her clavicle and shot down to her fingertips every time she moved. Worse than the fear of knowing that the evil cult--the ones who had her true name and had violated her mind, body, and soul last year--was alive and well in the city.

It felt like Kal had stabbed her in the back the second he offered Hope his blade against her.

Sure, they had briefly discussed the possibility of it happening at dinner the other night. Jewell just hadn’t thought it would feel so personal. She hadn’t thought that he would actually do it. She hadn’t thought it would hurt so bad when he did do it.

A shudder ran over her petite frame. She didn’t want to think about it. She wanted to get into the bath. The water would wash away the filth of the duel and soothe her bruises, aches, and pains. All her pains. It would calm her down. It would make her feel better.

Just get in the bath and everything would be okay.

Only she couldn’t get her damn dress off!

She tried again. The zipper budged a little before snagging on the silk. She stomped her foot and growled out a fitful stream of curses, “**** **** **** ****!”

That was when the tears began in earnest. Jewell sunk down to sit on the edge of the tub, curled forward, and buried her face against her folded arms.

Then she cried.

[Ishmerai]

“Do you want me to kill him?”

“No!”

“Stab him?” She shook her head. “Threaten to stab him?”

Jewell laughed through her tears. “Ish-mer-ai! Nooooo! He is absolutely not to be harmed.” The knight hrmph’d but didn’t look too disappointed. He had made her laugh. That had been his real objective. “Or threatened!” He sighed dramatically. She leaned back so she could shove at his arm. “I mean it, Ishmerai. Don’t you dare threaten him.”

“If you insist, Mira.”

“I do.” She settled back into her comfortable lean against him. “It’s just a game, Merai. We both play by our own rules. Tonight, I played to win. That has consequences, as it always does, but it’s still just a game.”

“True.” The knight conceded as he stroked her hair, hoping the gesture would calm her down enough that she could actually sleep tonight. It had been too long. “But would you trust him not to do the same when it really matters? When it is not just a game?”

She didn't answer, and that was what would keep Ishmerai awake at night.

[JewellRavenlock]

He helped her put her arm back in its sling and walked her home.

Their conversation was all duels and bets, the brightness of the two moons, and a dinner date in Old Market.

When they got to her door, he leaned down to kiss her goodnight. She didn’t say no.

And when he stepped back, she didn’t let him go. She closed the distance between them, wrapped her arm around him, and kissed him for just a minute longer.

[JewellRavenlock]

“I do not like that you are taking him out to dinner.”

Jewell carefully rolled the stocking up her left leg, struggling with the clip of her garter belt a moment before it caught. “I made a wager. I lost. Time to pay up.”

“Yes, I can see you are very heartbroken about losing,” Ishmerai responded dryly. “Admit it, Mira. You wanted to lose. You wanted to go out to dinner with him.”

She waved the accusations away as she put on the other stocking. Jewell preferred bare legs, but the cooler weather was starting to get to her. She liked the way the seam ran down the back of these anyway. The petite faerie told herself they made her legs look longer. “So what if I did?”

The wager had actually been the perfect way to go about getting what she wanted. Win and Kal took her out. Lose and she had to take him out. Not the most exciting bet they had ever made, but it achieved her purpose without requiring her to actually ask him to go out to dinner with her.

And she didn’t want to ask.

There was a little part of The Empress--tucked away behind the confident, daring, outrageous woman that everyone knew--that was afraid he would say no. There was a little part of her that took his betrayal as rejection. Jewell was brimming with self doubt. The earliest truths she knew about herself had been confirmed and validated. You are less than. You are not worthy. You are undeserving. He can’t love you, and he won’t even be loyal to you.

But at the end of the day, she still wanted to see him. She missed him. Kalamere had become a constant inconstant in her life: always busy at The Line or dashing off-planet for work (as a high class escort) but still there. There for dinner or drinks. For an unplanned lunch date or a late night rendezvous. There to chat with and tease and kiss and ****.

So as angry as she had been at him and as hurt as she had been by him, it was still incredibly easy to forgive him.

Too easy apparently.

“I am just concerned that you have forgiven him so quickly and that he does not deserve it.”

The knight (like so many others) failed to recognize that the only way to get Jewell to forgive Kal even faster was to put her in a position where she felt the need to defend him. “Really? Why? He did not hit me or shove me or stab me. He didn’t,” she paused, looking for the right word as she snatched her dress off the bed, “berate me in public or threaten my life. He did me absolutely no lasting harm.”

She pulled the dress on over her head, wincing at the twinge in her collarbone. “Honestly, Ishmerai,” she smoothed out her hair, “I would say that in the grand scheme of my life, Kal stands out as one of the nicest guys I’ve ever been involved with.”

“Considering your record, Mira, that does not really mean much.”

But it meant something to her.

She ignored him, turning to look in the mirror and fidget with the tight black dress, nervously straightening it out. It felt more like the first time she was meeting Kal for dinner rather than the one hundred and first. “What do you think?”

He shook his head. “I think that I do not expect to see you until tomorrow afternoon in a dress like that.”

[JewellRavenlock]

Ten minutes until their table was ready.

“Let’s go outside.” She tugged on his arm, leading the way from the crowded entrance of the restaurant onto the small patio. There were a few heat lamps scattered about, but only one couple was braving the outside seating. It was just too cold! The evening breeze went right through the light sweater she had thrown over her dress, encouraging her to seek protection from it by pressing right up against Kal.

From there, it was only natural that she take advantage of the proximity by tilting her chin up a bit and going on tiptoes to steal a kiss: light and sweet and quick. Only as soon as she was flat back on her heels, with the cool air on her lips, she decided that she wanted another. She tangled her arms up around his neck to pull him closer and kiss him again: harder and longer and more fervently.

Her nerves from earlier in the day had disappeared along with any reservations. She had apologized. She hadn’t meant to disappoint him at the challenge. She regretted putting him in the position where he had to decide to stand against her or go against his word. He had apologized. He was sorry she had been hurt by his actions.

And it was enough. Enough that she didn’t care about sword fighting politics and tests of worthiness anymore. Enough to put away feelings of rejection, anger, and hurt. She didn’t have time for any of it. She was too preoccupied with the familiarity of his hand on her hip; the way the other one always seemed to end up in her hair; and how breathing ceased to be a necessity when he held her close.

“Ma’am? Uh… ma’am? Sir? You’re uh… your table is ready.”

She reluctantly stepped back the tiniest bit to give him space to answer the host, but her eyes, a smoky grey and ever so sultry, never left his. The sly curve of her lips declared rather boldly that she wasn’t done with him yet.

“On second thought, lad, we’re decided ta be orderin’ in t’night.”

He conjured the portal to The Line directly behind her. It wasn’t the first time that she had grabbed the front of his cloak, laughing breathlessly as she pulled him along through it.