Naamah's Blessing (20 page)

Somewhat about his choice of words made my skin prickle, and I caught Bao frowning.

“Oh, yes!” Desirée said politely. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head to me. “I see you take your duties seriously, Lady Moirin.”

“I do,” I said, laying a hand on Desirée’s shoulder. “But it is also a pleasure to see the Longest Night through fresh, unspoiled eyes.” I held his gaze. “I recall Prince Thierry saying much the same thing to me.”

The Royal Minister’s eyelids flickered briefly, and I thought to myself that Duc Rogier did not care to be reminded that I had the favor of more than one member of the royal family; and one who
would be returning to a position of influence come spring. Still, his expression remained pleasant. “No doubt.” He turned back to Desirée. “Do you plan to stay all the way until the pageant, young highness? It will be quite late, you know.”

She nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes! I had a very long nap.”

He smiled. “Well, then, I will be sure you have a chance to meet the Sun Prince himself. Would you enjoy that?”

She nodded again, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Yes, thank you!”

“The pleasure is mine.” Duc Rogier gave her another bow and a wink. “I think you will like him.
I
certainly do.”

It was an odd exchange. We did not speak of it in Desirée’s presence, but it weighed on my thoughts as we plundered the banquet table heaped high with delicacies. I didn’t know what this business with the Sun Prince was about, and it seemed strange that Duc Rogier had made such a deliberate point of noting Desirée’s rank. I had assumed that his resentment of my appointment as her oath-sworn protector had to do with the fact that it was an honor of which he felt me unworthy, and one he had desired for himself, but mayhap there was more to it.

Desirée de la Courcel was a Princess of the Blood, and in Thierry’s absence, her father’s heir. Whoever wielded influence over the choices she made in life might one day affect the course of the realm.

That, I’d never considered. Stone and sea, I just wanted the poor child to have a measure of happiness.

Although her eyelids were growing heavy, the young princess did indeed manage to stay awake and alert through the pageant. We all cried out when the horologist called the hour, the Winter Queen in her crone guise hobbled into the center of the room, and almost every lamp and candle in the great hall was extinguished, plunging the hall into darkness.

Then came the pounding on the doors, and the Sun Prince in his chariot drawn by a pair of matched white horses rode into the hall, gleaming in his gilded armor and sunburst mask. Servants with lit tapers waited poised next to intricate series of braided wicks.

The Sun Prince leapt from his chariot with a lithe twist, pointing his gilded spear at the crone.

Everyone cheered as she threw off her ragged robes and crone mask to reveal herself as a young, beautiful maiden. The servants lit the wicks, and light was restored to the world. The royal pair mounted the chariot, wherein it was evident that she overtopped him by a head.

“He’s kind of puny for a Sun Prince,” Bao whispered to me. I hushed him, although I was thinking the same thing.

The chariot made a circuit of the hall, stopping before us. The Sun Prince leapt down once more, going to one knee before Desirée.

“Joy to her highness on the Longest Night!” he cried, taking her small hand and pressing his lips to it.

Overwhelmed, she tried in vain to stifle a giggle.

“And here we are,” Duc Rogier announced with pride, coming alongside them. The Sun Prince raised his gilded mask, revealing a handsome, youthful face. He couldn’t have been much more than thirteen or fourteen years old. “Your highness, may I present my eldest son, Tristan.”

The lad rose and bowed, smiling at her. “Well met, my lady. I hope we will see more of each other, but for now, I fear duty beckons.”

With that, the shining Sun Prince returned to his chariot and his rather irritated-looking Winter Queen. They exited the hall to cheers, with an underlying murmur of speculation. Desirée gazed after them in awe.

I looked at the Royal Minister. “I thought your family preferred to remain in Barthelme, my lord.”

He gave a graceful shrug. “I changed my mind. I thought it was time Tristan began learning the ways of the Court, so I sent for him to winter here. Besides, it will be good for her highness to have some younger folk here at the Palace, don’t you think? I hear she’s quite precocious, and her tutor is very skilled. Mayhap they can take lessons together.”

“Your son is at least ten years older than her,” Bao said in a flat tone.

“And you considerably more, Messire Bao,” the Duc observed. “Yet you appear to benefit from it. Young highness, would
you
like Tristan to study with you?”

Her cheeks were pink with pleasure. “Yes, my lord!”

“Well, then.” Rogier Courcel smiled at all of us. “It seems the matter is settled.”

I smiled back at him. “So it does.”

TWENTY-TWO

I
don’t like it,” Bao fretted.

Neither did I, but there was nothing I could do about the situation. On the face of the matter, it was a perfectly logical thing for the Royal Minister to do; and a thoughtful gesture in the balance. And so young Tristan began spending time with Desirée during her studies.

He was a pretty lad with golden hair and vivid blue eyes, and he was unfailingly charming to the princess. In the manner of young children being flattered by older children everywhere, she delighted in the attention.

My father assured me there was nothing untoward in the matter.

Lianne Tremaine was less sanguine. “He’s courting her.”

“She’s a child!” I protested.

The former King’s Poet shrugged. “It’s common practice in Aragonia to arrange betrothals between children in royal families. And it’s been known to happen here, too.”

“But would it not violate Blessed Elua’s precept here in Terre d’Ange?” I asked. “Love as thou wilt?”

“That’s why he’s courting her,” Lianne said cynically. “Oh, please! The dashing young Sun Prince in his gilded armor bending a knee to her? What better manner to plant a seed of girlish infatuation in her heart? I couldn’t have crafted a better storyline myself. And there’s a long history of politicking surrounding the pageant on the Longest
Night. Now all this attention? Please. What fourteen-year-old boy willingly devotes himself to a girl her age? He’s courting her.”

“She’s a
child
!” I was repeating myself. “She’s four years old!”

“And when I was five years old, I informed my mother I meant to marry the baker’s boy.” She shook her head. “If she dotes on the lad, and squeals with delight when Duc Rogier proposes a betrothal, no one will speak against it. Not if the King gives his consent to the union. Do you think he would?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But as Desirée’s oath-sworn protector, I would argue against it. No one knows their heart at that age.”

“Mayhap you should speak to his majesty,” Bao suggested.

“I wouldn’t,” Lianne countered. “Not yet. Your father’s right, there’s nothing untoward in the situation… yet. You run the risk of looking vindictive and overly suspicious.”

“Aye,” I said slowly. “But if I wait for them to show their hand, it may be too late.” I made up my mind. “I’ll speak to him.”

The next day, I begged an appointment with King Daniel, who heard me out patiently. When I had finished, he folded his hands on his desk. “Moirin, I have no intention of arranging a betrothal for Desirée before she comes of age.”

A wave of relief washed over me. “You don’t?”

“I don’t,” he said in a firm tone. “However, when that day comes, I would certainly find Tristan de Barthelme an acceptable candidate should my daughter find his suit pleasing, and I do not begrudge Duc Rogier the opportunity to allow his eldest to befriend her. Indeed, I would have thought it would please you.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I am pleased to see Desirée happy, your majesty. But—”

The King sighed. “But you suspect their motives. Ah, Moirin! This is Court; no one’s motives are entirely devoid of self-interest.” He summoned his faint smile. “Except mayhap yours, which is another reason I appointed you. Desirée is a child, let her have her happiness and bask in the boy’s attention. She’s D’Angeline, and her mother’s
daughter.” His smile turned sorrowful. “When she does come of age, she’s like to fall in love ten times over before she settles.”

I laughed ruefully. “True.”

He rose. “I give you my word, I’ll not see her betrothed young. And if Duc Rogier does propose it…” He hesitated. “Let us say he is not the man I took him to be, and I will feel my trust misplaced.”

I rose, too. “I hope I am wrong, my lord.”

“I suspect you are.” Daniel de la Courcel clasped my hand. “Nonetheless, I appreciate your concern. But I think it best you keep it to yourself rather than spread further ill will in the realm. Do not forget, all of this will change when Thierry returns in the spring.”

My
diadh-anam
flared, reminding me that Prince Thierry’s return also meant the return of Raphael de Mereliot. Hopefully, whatever unfinished business lay between us would at last be concluded, and I would be freed from my everlasting destiny. “I look forward to it.”

“So do I,” the King said quietly. “So do I.”

I left the King’s presence comforted by his promise, but still uneasy with the situation. Mayhap I was being overly suspicious, my thoughts poisoned by Lianne Tremaine’s cunning mind. Mayhap I was overly naïve in the intricate ways that courtship and politics intertwined in Terre d’Ange; or mayhap simply overprotective of Jehanne’s daughter.

I wished Jehanne would appear in my dreams once more to give me guidance, but she didn’t.

Short winter days wore on to long winter weeks, winding slowly toward spring. I debated sharing my fears with Sister Gemma or the tutor Aimée Girard and decided against it, based on the King’s warning. During their studies together, Bao kept watch over Tristan’s dealings with Desirée.

“He’s patient with her,” he said. “
Too
patient, at least for a boy his age. The poetess is right. It’s unnatural.”

“And Desirée?”

“She adores him,” Bao confirmed. “But, Moirin… what do you suppose he’s like when he’s
not
with her?”

I was intrigued. “I could find out, couldn’t I?”

Bao grinned. “None better!”

Summoning the twilight, I wrapped myself in its cloak and spent a day stalking Tristan Courcel de Barthelme through the halls of the Palace.

It wasn’t easy.

’Twas a tricky business at best to exist between the mortal realm and the spirit realm, rendered trickier by having to navigate the crowded Palace. But I managed, following pretty golden-haired Tristan and dodging peers, guards, and servants in the hallways as he departed the nursery and caught up with friends, twin sons of the Comte de Rochambeau, whose household was alleged to have taken the last available suite in the Palace.

For the most part, I found that young Tristan was a perfectly normal adolescent boy. He was far less polite with friends his age, given to bragging about unlikely exploits, but that was normal.

By the time he abandoned his friends to return to his father’s quarters in the Palace, I was in two minds as to whether or not to follow him. It was more risky to be trapped in a private space than roaming a public one, and I’d not learned anything useful of the lad thus far. On the other hand, if the Duc was in residence, mayhap they would speak openly of their intentions.

Deciding that the latter possibility was worth the risk, I slipped into their quarters behind Tristan.

Unfortunately, the only other person there was an attractive little maidservant in the process of dusting. She startled at the sight of the lad. “Oh! Forgive me, my lord! I’ll be on my way.”

“No, no, don’t go.” Tristan caught her wrist. “Sylvie, isn’t it?”

“Aye, my lord.” She tugged in vain. “I should be going.”

His voice took on a wheedling tone. “Just one kiss.”

Reluctantly, the maid gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Tristan took the opportunity to put his arms around her and pull her close, nuzzling her neck. She struggled. “Please, my lord!”

“What’s the matter?” He tightened his grip on her. I daresay
I could have broken it easily enough, but she was a slight wisp of a thing. “Don’t you like me, sweet Sylvie? You said I was a lovely boy.”

There were tears in her eyes, glimmering in the twilight. “So you are, but I’m newly wed and faithful to my husband.”

“I know.” Tristan traced the curve of her shoulder. “Which is why you’ll not speak of this, will you?”

She shook her head. “Don’t, my lord! It’s heresy.”

“Not if you’re willing.” He tried to kiss her lips, grabbing her chin when she sought to evade him. “Come, come, sweet Sylvie! It’s just a kiss.” The wheedling tone in his voice gave way to a threatening one. “Don’t you know I could have you dismissed from your post? Now give me a proper kiss.”

I’d heard enough—and I had an idea.

Grabbing a handful of his thick, golden hair, I gave it a firm yank, then took him by the scruff of his neck and shook him. Tristan’s entire body went rigid. I didn’t know firsthand what it felt like when I touched someone in the twilight, but Bao said it was like being touched by a ghost.