The Last Knights of Cambria Book 5: Deaths of the Rose

Chapter 2: My next guest needs no introduction

So I'm actually a little worried about what they have to say.
Here's the thing. I last saw Henry VI when he was an eleven year old in his father's court. That's all well and good. And while he appeared to recognize me in the hallway there, I have some concerns. About him actually identifying me.
You see, in my world, Henry VI went down in history as a mad king. Now, all that his highly suspect, and the various accounts are rather biased since, you know, the winners write the history books and Henry VI decidedly loses the War of the Roses. The facts of his illness are sketchy at best, but here they are.
As a young man he's incredibly pious, and usually soft spoken, he's got the kindest heart, never a harsh word, preferring religion and academics to war fare. Yeah, all that makes him a really nice guy, does not make him an effective politician.
That said, he is a politician, and shows interest in wielding control at an early age, even if that is primarily to fund charity projects and colleges. He was widely known for helping the poor and conversing with most any guest, namely scholars, who graced his halls.
He was also extremely modest, insisting women wear high necklines in court (the fashion of the day was to have lower necklines), and refusing to bath around anyone, even other men, saying it was immodest. He was fond of dressing not in royal robes, but instead 'like a peasant' according to accounts, wearing simple shoes and just a shirt and trousers, not a doublet or cloak (but he did buy nice cloth and furs so maybe he just wasn't as flashy as his father). According to a couple of sources he disliked physical touch (which is highly common with neurodivergent tendencies) but I couldn't really corroborate that and I also fail to see how they'd know? A king wouldn't really touch anyone except his close family, maybe he didn't let people kiss his hand? Again, that's a very basic sensory preference.
Now, all that implies maybe, maybe, some sort of spectrum disorder, but none of it is disorganized. None of that is indicative of massive mental illness. He knew what he was doing and he was making logical, consistent decisions, from his point of view.
When he's in his late twenties, is when he truly falls ill. Most accounts agree that he was unresponsive and unable to speak for over a year. The cause of such illness remains unknown to this day. But sadly literally anything could have been wrong.  Obviously, he was able to eat and drink otherwise he would have died, so he was slightly responsive. And such a long period of inactivity would make him very weak when he came out of it.
The facts are these, he did recover, and was essentially functioning pretty well. He knew who his wife and family were, he recognized major players at court, he for all intents and purposes participated in escaping London. He stayed at a couple of Lancaster houses. Now, we mostly have outside sources, that is York sources, for this time, saying that the illness had taken its toll and that his companions mostly did the talking, but that was pretty common even when he was young. He was very soft spoken and easily talked over at his own court. So after years on the run, he wouldn't exactly be his best self. And even up till late in life, he was having basic conversations, knew what was going on, and praying.
Modern scholars take all this evidence to mean he has schizophrenia, other than age of onset, literally none of that looks like schizophrenia. We're having 0 mood swings, hallucinations, and none of the disordered thinking that goes along with major psychiatric disorders.
That said.
Something is wrong. And he didn't even speak when I saw him. It is absolutely not great if the person who can vouch for me is currently non-verbal. For any reason. And him recognizing me is a far cry from stopping Jasper from stabbing me.
To be abundantly clear, I don't specifically blame Jasper for his actions, I'd act the same way in his position, but I'm fond of not being stabbed. I'm aggressively fond of not being stabbed, in fact.
Jasper puts his knife to my throat and pushes me into a room. We're in the King's keep, a set of rooms reserved for monarchy when they stay here at Dover castle.
The room is a bit less chaotic than downstairs, but not by much. There are several knights and assorted nobles, all clearly recovering from the battle. It seems they're done mostly and are dispersing.
Dealing with them all, at the center of the room, stands Margret of Anjou. The original girlboss, this is the queen that saved her king from being locked in the tower. She'll be immortalized as a toxic, abusive, manipulator in Shakespeare's plays. Oh, there are plenty of accounts of her. But every single flaw painted upon her would be a virtue in a man. Cunning, brave, stubborn, outspoken. She was born a princess of France, and married her royal husband when she was fifteen and he twenty three. Not a horrible age gap, especially for the day. The young queen would come to court, learn the ways of England and her duties, and she and Henry would spend a lot of time together. They had a shared interest in learning and education. Not all of her decisions as a young queen were perfect, no, but last I checked no human makes all perfect decisions.
When Henry falls ill, she steps in try to help manage his government with a few trusted nobles. Now, this doesn't go over well with Warwick and his assorted crew of misogynists. At the time a twenty year old, sure of her self, girl, telling them what to do? They didn't want to listen, even if she was their queen. And because Margret didn't knuckle under to them, she'd spend the next several hundred years being painted as a mad woman. Nobody likes a mad woman. A mad woman with ideas, who keeps fighting, who is strong enough to take care of her husband and her country.
She spends the rest of her life fighting the War of the Roses, riding into battle personally more than once and arranging multiple battles. She's a skilled military leader, trained by her mother who also led battles, but she will eventually lose, in my world. Her husband and son dead she's exiled to France, and she dies before Jasper can finally orchestrate to overthrow the Yorks, though it's likely she helped him as long as she was alive.
Here, she's in her early thirties maybe, round face, soft blonde hair, a small woman, though no less fierce. I'm sure she'd happily order my execution in a heartbeat if she thinks I'm a York spy. 
Currently she's wearing a modest dress, very modest given her station, but she's clearly commanding, a sword on a belt at her hip and she seems used to it there, along with the dagger across her chest. 
It takes me a solid moment to identify Henry. He's sitting, half crumpled over, on a sofa behind her. His bloody clothes are off, and he's wearing fresh ones. He's freshly bandaged but looks little better for the wear. The boy sits next to him, petting a greyhound. The child has dark hair and eyes, and in a moment reminds me of his paternal grandfather, bane of my existence, Henry V. For now I'm calling Henry VI Henry, for sake of time, and if I have to refer to that idiot his father I'll call him by the number.
"Your Majesties," Jasper bows and I do as well, we keep the knife at my throat for this experience which I think is very coordinated of us given we're both still bleeding from the eyes and can barely stand. "I caught this wizard near the gates."
Henry looks up at the sound of Jasper's voice, his dark eyes are bloodshot and clearly miserable, and I see his hand trembling. In the quietest of voices he says, "You came."
"You called," I say, feeling myself smile a little.
He smiles as well, eyes focusing on me like he realizes he should be questioning why I'm seventeen.
Margret and Jasper both look between us for the interaction then at me, clearly surprised.
"He saved myself and the king, release him," Prince Edward pipes up, sitting up a bit straighter. A light flashes in his clear dark eyes, yes, he does remind me of his grandfather.
"My love, who is this?" Margret asks, really nicely, but like Henry has definitely identified sixteen peasants, two convicted criminals, and multiple flea-infested dogs, as his friend and someone they should trust and keep. 
"He says he's the Welsh court wizard," Jasper says, sheathing his dagger.
"He is—Gideon—," Henry waves his hand at me, to indicate I should elaborate.
"I am Gideon Saint, for—magic related reasons I don't look like myself because I'm coming from the past to help you," I say, quickly.
"Why?" Henry asks.
"Someone interfered with my protection spell and said I would get rid of it so I'm going to, but once I fullfill the promise so I'm doing all of that at age seventeen," I say.
"Is someone—,"
"Your father the king, yeah," I nod.
"I knew it," Henry mutters. His voice is thin and weak. But he's clearly lucid and fully probably remembers the incident, "Yes, you tell me of this. Go on—sit down you're ill. Both of you. Jasper, get your hand off your knife he's on our side, you like him."
"You're a wizard?" Prince Edward asks.
"Yes, your highness," I say, sitting down on the edge of a chair as I'm quite filthy. Jasper goes and lays down on the floor, for no apparent reason, with several greyhounds who start trying to lick his face.
"Leave us," Margret sighs, looking at the several remaining nobles. She doesn't look like she wants to be here with me alone, but she also seems to be mentally weighing if she and Jasper can take me, and coming up with that yes they probably can.
"How did the fight start?" I ask.
"I don't know, they were just upon us," Henry shakes his head, standing a bit painfully, and moving to go and get wine which in my professional opinion will not help any of us right now.
"A wizard summoned them," Jasper says, looking directly at me, as Margret has to step over his legs to get back to the other side of the room with her husband and son. She does this though like it's not an uncommon occurrence.
"Yes and why would I summon a hoard of ghosts then nearly die fighting them myself?" I sigh, "I helped you close the gate."
Jasper mutters an 'I don't know' noise.
"I did think you were dead this time," Margret says, kicking Jasper before returning to Henry who was apparently pouring the glass of wine for her, because he gives it to her.
"Did you see anyone on the road?" Prince Edward asks us, kind of both. His parents don't silence him, Margret kind of nods.
"Not a soul. After we got the gate closed the York caravan arrived. Left 'em outside," Jasper grunts.
"There are—monsters out there! You must let them in!" Henry says, completely upset.
"No, we mustn't," Margret says, completely fine.
"It was the Earl of Warwick," I say, because I helped not let them in.
"Well, send someone to let him in," Henry is going to get up and do that, but Margret stops him.
"Does he have a wizard with him, perhaps? That summoned the ghosts?" I ask.
"No," Margret shakes her head, "You're the only wizard here."
"He's Saint, the Welsh court wizard—you've met him—I've told you about this," Henry waves at me to indicate 'this'.
"You tell me. About a lot," Margret says, really nicely.
"Will somebody go and let Warwick in?" Henry asks, upset, "They said the gates were closed, so he's trapped outside with those monsters. He could be killed."
"Oh no," Jasper, with zero even feigned concern.
"If he dies—your grace—what have we lost and what have we gained?" I shrug.
"I like your friend," Margret says, to Henry, checking a bruise on his face. He lets her, still clearly upset.
"We've talked about this, no, he offered to meet with us, we will receive him in kindness," Henry says, "Now, Jasper please go send someone to let him in."
"Jasper, do it yourself, if you're well enough I don't trust his sorcery," Margret says.
"Yep," Jasper climbs to his feet, painfully, "Yes, your majesty."
"I'll come," I say, standing up, "You're weak."
"Can still whip you," Jasper mutters.
"Probably, seriously though, I have lot more material about his face now," I mutter, as we go to the door. Jasper smothers a grin.
We both bow quickly then depart. I'm feeling better, but only marginally. I need proper rest and food, plus I'm betting I'm using energy just to be here. 
Out in the hallway, little baby future Henry VII, is sitting on the steps, very obediently, still waiting.
"I'll be back soon," Jasper says, "All right?"
The little boy nods. He's very quiet. Scared or just extremely obedient?  "Yes, Uncle," he says, very softly.  His father is Jasper's older brother, Edmund Tudor, he died of plague during the War of the Roses, well before the boy was even born. The mother, Margret Beaufort, a semi-noble family descended from John of Gaunt's illegitimate line, so he's a fifth or sixth cousin to the King, or something like that. If that sounds not at all related to royalty that's because it's not. Anyway, Margret Beaufort is fine, she's alive, but she was not fourteen when the boy was born (an anomaly at the time and generally looked down on due to her age difference from her twenty-something husband). Either because of her youth, or because of general fear that a Tudor boy would be a target, Margret remarried and let Jasper take charge of the child. It's not uncommon for a male relative to do any knighthood training or the like, but honestly her new husband could do that. Not the boy's bachelor uncle who is consistently on the run with the overthrown king. We'll never know the full reasoning, maybe Margret Beaufort just didn't want to raise the child from a (pretty obviously) brief and not very happy marriage. Whatever the cause, she would remain allied with the red roses her whole life, and wind up having a fine enough relationship with her son when he and Jasper eventually stage their effectively two man coup and wind up taking England back. While Warwick may hold the title of Kingmaker, it's safe to say Jasper deserves it, he won the game of thrones as it were, and lived to old age. The same can't be said of Warwick, who will eventually make the mistake of double crossing the Yorks, and pay with his life.
Now, I don't know how any of that will go in this timeline, with the addition of magic. But so far it seems the War of the Roses is still in full and healthy swing, and Henry VI still married Margret of Anjou and had one son.
We progress down the stairs, rather slowly since we don't actually care that Warwick is still outside, and because we're both spent. Jasper was fighting probably as long as I was, if not longer. I haven't addressed that apparently Jasper is a sorcerer, but I really don't know anything about that. I met his father, Owen Tudor, relatively briefly but he was not in Archbishop Courtenay's sorcerers lines, so seems this was a Jasper specific talent. Wizard magic is different than sorcery magic. No one but wizards can do wizardry magic, most people can tap into sorcerery magic, but few are actually strong enough to be really good at it.  Even when we invaded France this spring (for me, complicated) we had maybe fifty sorcerers from all of England, and Scotland. That's how relatively rare it is. Maybe that's why he's a fixture, he's just the court sorcerer he's not related to Henry?  It makes sense Henry would keep a court sorcerer he grew up around Courtenay though apparently he was disdainful sometimes of the witchcraft. That said, I'm sure his wife Margret has no such qualms. I'm gonna do my best to denote, because there's like, several Henry's or Margrets involved in the plot, as well as Edwards and Richards. Thankfully Jasper has a unique name, we don't really no why I guess his mum liked the name. No proper descriptions of him survive save a few welsh poems, the the black bull, or Tawr Du, and he's described at least as auburn haired. Not a lot to go on, hence why I didn't recognize him.
For sake of time, King Henry VI is our Henry at the moment, and Queen Margret is Margret. Jasper Tudor holds the title Earl of Pembroke, or he did, that's probably kind of been taken away if Yorks are on the throne, but that doesn't matter.
For the most part, people aren't actually called by their titles or peerages. Shakespeare did you dirty (again). That's just an easy way to denote who is who when half these people have the same name. Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, is not going to be called Warwick by everyone, he might be called Neville by friends, and I'd assume his wife or close friends (if he has any) would call him Richard or some diminutive there of. We're calling him Warwick to distinguish because there's multiple Richard's in the game, and we're not his friend, he holds Warwick ergo he's Warwick. When Jasper's in captivity he gets called Pembroke, same thing they're not his friends.
Unlike in the history plays, family members and friends aren't going to call each other 'Gloucester' or 'Clarence' or 'Buckingham' you know who you're talking to you're going to use their actual name. Just like earlier, in direct address they were calling Jasper, Jasper. They might refer to him as Pembroke to other people, to clarify who they are talking about. Similarly, Henry Holland, the third duke of Exeter, is probably around here somewhere, likely we'll call him Holland, not Exeter, because we know who he is, in direct address someone he knows well like one of the other nobles or Jasper might call him Henry/Harry/Hal if that's what he goes by in person.
It's a bit fluid, I'm going to do what makes most sense, Warwick has gone down in history as Warwick, so he's gonna be called Warwick by me. Jasper is probably going to get called Tudor by everyone because that's his family name. For the sake of clarity I'm going to use the Welsh spelling for future Henry VII, and call him Harri, because he's not Henry VII now (may never be in this timeline) and that's what Jasper called him so to minimize the number of Henrys walking around I'll do that.
We get out of the keep with only minor difficulty. Jasper calls to a couple knights, names I don't recognize, to accompany us. I mean I'm sure they're someone but I'm not comprehending at the moment and frankly I think I've recognized enough people today. I'm personally very glad Jasper found me. No, that's not because I trust him not to kill me, but because I think it would be cool to be murdered by him. I'm still fully aware this means that there is something significant wrong with me, but the thing is I'm personally happy with me like this.
Jasper seems to know his way about, or he's bluffing. I for one am mostly turned around, in the dark. The castle is resuming normal operations now that the ghosts have been dispelled. Even if it is midnight, there's plenty to do, with night watches, and fixing anything we broke in the massive fight, as well as tending to the dead. Jasper and I were fighting alone for a reason. I see them dragging bodies through the mud, identifying them, and calling trying to decide where to bury them all. I shudder.
"It really is you," Jasper is looking over at me.
"What?" I ask, taking my fist out of my mouth to do it.
"Nothing. You're not the strangest thing happening tonight," he shakes his head.
"They came upon you, on the road? Just you and your boy?" I ask.
"My nephew," he clarifies which wasn't necessary. "Yes. We were alone. The gates had already been broken open. I assume that bastard was behind us on the road; we did hear their caravan."
"I mean, we're assuming they caused it, right?" I ask.
"Aye, there's cells, we'll lock him in one till morning—by the way cells are referred to in polite society as visitors accommodations," he says, quickly.
"Got it," I'm here for Henry, but protecting Henry involves not letting him be nice to everything that moves, namely York scum like Warwick. Trusting Yorks and being nice to people literally winds up getting him killed in my reality, I'd prefer to stop that from happening.
He glances at me like he's hoping I do in fact get it, but does not elaborate.  If he does recognize me and we've met then he'll trust me a bit more, but again I get not recognizing me when I'm thirty years younger than I ought to be, besides it's the middle of the night. Henry expected me to show up so of course he realized what was going on. Also, he's one of the few people who is fully aware I have knowledge of the future and can time travel. That's because he reads me previous lost ancient texts, and is nice, and clever and likes learning so he stayed still long enough to listen and understand it.
We progress towards the gatehouse. Usually, those will have cells within them. We are going from the inner Bailey, which is where the great tower is, to what I recall as being FitzWilliam gate, which is the main gate and includes a gatehouse with I assume someplace to lock prisoners. The men that Jasper summoned go to do just that, while he and I move to the gate. For whatever reason not to do with any of his negotiating skills I've witnessed, Jasper is being allowed to do the talking. Maybe because it was his errand, maybe they know he's a sorcerer. Whatever way, they let him take the lead.
Warwick had wandered away from the gate, but he returns as our party approaches, with torches and the like.
"I have been given leave to let you in, go to the main doors," Jasper says, not at all nicely, gesturing to the double oak doors.  "How many are in your party?"
"I alone survived," Warwick says, frothing with hate considering it's been like two hours since we were last rotten to him and he just got the exact same two sarcastic people.
"How lucky for you," Jasper says, nodding for him to come around. We're at like a main gate, then there's doors into the tower. He's bringing him in the doors there's no reason to undo the main gate. 
Jasper and I go inside to let him in, the other guards follow, loyally if exhausted. They likely have been fighting all night too. I'm well aware this isn't a great situation if Warwick is here with a trap, which he most definitely is given his entire biography. Honestly, the man's Wikipedia page should be retitled 'A comprehensive list of the mean things Warwick did to everyone he'd ever met, in his quest for power'.
The men open the double doors, and Warwick comes in, not alone despite the fact that he just said he was alone. A boy, maybe ten? Scrawny with thick blonde curls and a bit of pout, scurries in with him, carrying his sword and a few bags. The boy is filthy and a bit bloody but looks well enough to be mad about the entire experience.  A squire or page boy, if the kid hid during the battle he could have belonged to anyone in Warwick's party, and now he's just using the traumatized child as porter, which honestly tells you everything you need to know about Warwick's personality.
"What do you claim happened to your party?" Jasper asks, like he and I weren't fighting the same ghosts at the exact same time.
"Probably your wizard's magic," Warwick snarls, looking at me.
"So you expect me to believe you didn't—besiege the keep just now?" Jasper asks, blood is draining from his eyes still, and he looks barely able to stand. I see why Margret sent him to do this he's a hazard to himself, yes, great decision.
"No! My entire party was slaughtered—are you pretending you weren't responsible?" Warwick asks, shaking his head.
"You saw us fighting as well. His dragon saved you, unfortunately," Jasper spits out more blood.
"I wouldn't have loosed it if I'd known you were out there, the screaming sounded like women or small children," I say.
"I am here on a peaceful rendezvous with Queen Margret," Warwick says, taking a steadying breath to stop himself from killing us both right now.
"Didn't know peace was in your vocabulary Warwick," Jasper says. It has now occurred to me we were not in fact the best people to do this.
"Allow me to speak to the Queen," Warwick says.
"After you attacked us?" Jasper asks.
"I attacked no one! Why would I slaughter my own party?" Warwick asks.
"Why do you do anything that you do?" I ask, exasperated.
"Who is this?" Warwick asks Jasper.
"I wouldn't waste the limited space between your ears with that information," Jasper says. So, yes, we were not the right people do this.
"Insolent bastard," Warwick snarls.
"I'm not hearing a good reason to let you in, all I'm hearing is you insulting the Earl of Pembroke," I say.
"He has a point, you're very hostile coming in here, accusing us of things we've not done," Jasper says, very innocently like we haven't been insulting him for the past five minutes.
"I am seeking shelter—the queen agreed to this meeting—," Warwick is so sick of us.
"You're mistaking me for the queen? The pox got his eyes as well as his face," Jasper says, he says the second part to me slightly quietly but like he definitely intended Warwick to hear it.
"I'm shocked King Henry with all his talk of gentleness puts up with your enduring cheek," Warwick snarls, curling his lip, "Your whore mother beg him to retain you?"
"I really resent the implication my mother got paid for the getting of me, which if so somebody would have asked for a return on that, I think it's pretty obvious I was free," Jasper says, gesturing to his face. The birthmark itself obscures his features though he's handsome enough with eyes so deep brown they could be red, and a quick smile. Usually a mark like that, had some superstition associated, hand of the devil, all that. People have always been miserable. That said he is actually a sorcerer and given his personality I'm going to just generally assume he trades on such rumors.
He doesn't even flinch at Warwick's comment, if he is illegitimate I'd assume he's used to it. Is Warwick implying he is the King's brother, or just that his mother was a lady of the night who begged the king for mercy? Because, to be clear, Henry granted that sort of request, all the time. Like all the time. Once a servant robbed Windsor Palace, and somebody (by mistake presumably) let Henry find out, and Henry insisted the man be freed and paid him twenty crowns or the equivalent, saying that god would judge him and that he would show mercy as god did to him, or something to that effect the narrations differ. Now, Jasper, one of the few survivors, would have done his best to make sure Henry looked like a saint, but there are many similar tales of Henry so we're going to assume they are true.
"Ah yes, such a lovely line of barkeeps and working women you come from, Tudor, tell me is that why Henry keeps you about, much like Jesus washing the feet of the prostitute?" Warwick asks.
"More than likely, yeah, write that down someone—Earl of Warwick called me a prostitute and the King, Jesus, he'll like that one," Jasper says, cheerfully. I'm going to guess he's more than used to just jibes though I'm sure they still sting. I know from experience. No matter how many times you hear it, it still hurts. And his father was an honorable man. Even if he has, personally annoyed me, recently, Owen Tudor was a fine knight. Warwick's men killed him in my world, in this world I'm assuming similar has happened we haven't brought him up yet.
"So the king knows how you are? Cheapside's red light district must be aching for your company Tudor, you and your brother kept several fine establishments open," Warwick says.  He's implying that Jasper and his older brother, Edmund, were sleeping around. That's probably not true. Possibly of Edmund, but Jasper has no known affairs for his entire life. I only found one account of a possible natural daughter, but that's sketchy because there's little reason for him not to marry the mother, he marries no one else and he was of low enough birth that there was no hazard of arranged marriages or the like. And deciding to full time parent your six year old nephew isn't, you know, great for your social life. He never marries in my world, not until Henry VII is on the throne, and that's an arranged marriage mainly for political reasons.  As usual with these guys, if they'd wanted a relationship they could have had one. That's a long time to go with no known affairs or marriages, he was heavily involved in the Lancaster court, and as Margret proves it's not like the ladies were being left behind in all of this, they came with if they wanted to. Point being, Warwick is basically deriding Jasper's character, possibly without basis, because insulting his mother didn't work.
Apparently he wasn't counting on Jasper having zero shame, or at least showing it.
"Oh, that is sad. Don't feel the need to contribute to the economy, Warwick, it's been what, seven years since you gave your wife a girl you should probably rest another seven—," Jasper, very understandingly, yeah I should probably edit this for content here soon this is intended to be a family story they're only going to get worse. Also, in Jasper's defense (ish) while he just acted like a girl is a lesser child, he gets along with Queen Margret just fine, and little Harri's mother, so he's not being a jerk, he takes orders from the Queen, he's just riling Warwick, effectively.
"And now you drew a sword on the Earl of Pembroke, I think that's the proof we need to lock him up for the night?" I ask, stepping between Warwick and Jasper, hands up. The page boy who was holding Warwick's sword is clearly sniggering and doing a poor job of hiding it.
"Insolent boy," Warwick doesn't say that. Says something worse. Like I said I'm editing this for content now, that got bad fast.  Warwick then looks at me, "Who IS this?"
"Don't concern yourself, I'm sure the space up there is limited," Jasper chuckles, tapping his head.
"Hopefully the reason you'll die," I say. Our comebacks would be so much better if we weren't currently still actively bleeding and kind of limping.
"I just watched half my men die—likely at the hands of your wizard, and now you stand here insulting me? I will be given sanctuary," Warwick says.
"Whoa—hold up this isn't a dig, but if you think that we, that is I, summoned the ghosts—why do you want to stay here?" I ask.
"Correct. Unless you summoned them," Jasper shrugs.
"Again, why would I sacrifice my men and then come to you undefended?' Warwick asks.
"Leading scholars can't figure out why you do things. I'm not going to hazard a guess," I say.
"What he said. Now the King has requested you be brought in from the cold. Ergo," Jasper gestures to the obvious cells, "Make yourself comfortable."
"Absolutely not," Warwick, who for whatever reason thinks he can still argue with us.
"I just—want to know what you think you're going to do about it? It's out there, with the ghosts—or in here," I shrug.
"Then you will take me to the Queen, at once," Warwick says.
"No," Jasper says, smiling ,"I won't."
The doors clang open. We all three turn, slowly, raising our hands.
I see the first trail of green smoke. More ghosts.
"Hide," I say, to the page boy, he needs no second bidding to run into a cell and crouch down.
Ghosts pour in the doors. Jasper and I run to close them, not bothering to waste our strength on magic.
Warwick starts chanting, his eyes glowing red, spinning his sword lazily in one hand. Jasper tips his head back, mumbling spells under his breath as the ghosts begin attacking him.
I summon magic, and painfully force myself back into the fray. Jasper and I simultaneously try to use Warwick's energy, only to find he's as spent as we are. So he did fight them out there.
We're exhausted. My arms are screaming in pain, it's all I can do to cast off the ghosts as quickly as they come to me. Warwick is protecting Warwick (that should be the title of a biography about him, probably is). Jasper is protecting himself and occasionally trying to help the other knights who are overwhelmed, but he's about as done as I am. We did not need this right now. Last time I overtaxed myself this badly I wound up in the hospital, I have no such luxury here when I have no clue how to even get back to the proper time.
I waste energy casting a spell to save the page boy who closed the door to the cell and is mostly hiding, but the ghosts are shaking the door trying to get to him. He has a sword but he's not going to be a match for them if we're not.
I fall to my knees. I can literally stand no longer. Blood is draining from my eyes so fast I cannot blink it away.
Jasper drags me back to my feet but in doing so he nearly falls, I fuel him with magic, I can't see he might as well use it if I'm tearing myself apart. Which I am. I'm done. So much for helping anyone, let alone Henry. I just delayed our deaths a few hours.
My arm is shaking so much I cannot lift the sword. I don't even know where to find energy and I'm not strong enough to steal it. Jasper is no better I feel him blacking out next to me as he fights to remain standing.
And then the doors crash open, and red light pours in.