Book 1: Prints in the Snow

Chapter XV • Rendezvous

Despite the horrific event at the Hand's Tournament, the King had insisted the festivities continue. The body had been removed and disposed of, Lyon had heard, but she didn't care to listen to what else had become of Lord Barton's remains. There was suspicion that the murderer had meant to steal his signet ring, as it was missing from his corpse, but despite Lyon's fear and her guilt neither did she listen to these musings.

Once in the safety of her own rooms with Jory standing watch, and Sansa upon her linens, Lyon's feet carried her to the window, where she released her stomach into the gardens below. Jory was there in a moment, his hands coming to her hair and pulling it away from her face. She had begun to take on a sickly green complexion, even as the last of her stomach emptied and her form slumped against the floor, eyes dull with exhaustion.

"Lyon... are you alright?" Sansa rose from the bed and dared only step once toward her sickly sister.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine, Sansa. It was just the stress. A murder... Gods."

"Sansa, let me return you to your chambers." Jory said. "Don't worry, there will be a guard posted just outside." He assured as her trepidation showed itself through the frantic darting of her eyes. He quietly escorted her from the room, promising Lyon he'd 'be right back'. The brief absence of company allowed Lyon to collect herself and shakily pull her trembling body up onto her bed. A shiver had begun to take her. It pervaded the blankets and sheets even as she hugged them close.

It wasn't lonely for long. Soon enough Jory returned to find her staring at the window from her bed, a pitcher of water in his possession.  He spoke as he poured a goblet and passed it to the young woman.

"You've not been yourself lately. I'm... worried."

"I've been preoccupied, is all. It's nothing." Lyon accepted the goblet graciously, sipping as her body began to readjust.

"You were just sick from a window. And don't tell me it was because of that murder today. I know you. You aren't shaken easily, my Lady."

"Oh, stop it with the titles, Jory. What're you trying to get at with this? Speak plainly."

She felt Jory ease onto the mattress next to her, lips quirking upward as his two hands wrapped around hers. "Are you... Are you pregnant?"

"Pregnant? Gods, Jory! No, I'm not pregnant."

"Are you sure?" He pressed further, concern evident in his eyes.

Lyon scoffed. "I think I'd know if I was pregnant. Why? Do I look pregnant?"

He shook his head and inched closer to Lyon, his hands moving from hers to her thigh where he squeezed affectionately. "No, no, of course not."

"Good." She made a noise of indignation. "Besides, if I was then I'd tell you the first chance I got. There's no way I'd suffer alone, or in silence." A chuckle was roused from Jory.

"Of course. I suppose I'm the fool now."

"My fool. You're my fool, Jory." Lyon lifted her hand to cup his cheek, the stubble brushing against her soft palm like a pearl against the sand. She brushed her thumb against the stubble briefly before he closed the distance between them and their lips met. He kissed her softly, the way that she knew he liked to- but the stress and her fear of the day had ignited something deep within her. She wanted to forget the look in Lord Barton's eyes as he died beneath her, forget that feeling of sickness that cascaded over her when she'd left the body behind. As Jory's hands wandered, she suddenly felt the deadening weight of Lord Barton's signet ring between her breasts.

"Mm. One- one moment." Lyon broke the kiss and rose from the bed, leaving Jory with his breath just becoming ragged from arousal. She kept her back facing him as she reached into her bodice, opened the drawer of her dresser, and deposited the ring there. Closing the drawer, she turned to face him and pulled on her typical lopsided grin on. "Want to help me out of this dress?"