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Ysandre raised her hand for silence and we both complied, chastened. She looked somberly at Phèdre. "What do you think?"
"I don't know, yet," she said. "But I think it's time to start asking some serious questions about what members of Parliament may have been overheard using the phrase 'true of heart and pure of blood. '"
The Queen raised her brows. "An open inquiry? Surely we have more to gain by concealing our hand. "
Phèdre glanced at Bertran. "How many people have you told of last night's encounter, my lord?"
His face turned brick red. "Only those who were there!"
"So," Phèdre said mildly. "I imagine it will be all over Court by this evening. "
"Name of Elua!" I clenched my fists. "I'm an idiot. I should have sewn my mouth shut. " I pointed at Bertran. "I should have sewn your mouth shut!"
"Oh, you'd like that!" He glared at me. "Look, I saw what I saw. "
Ysandre sighed. "Did you tell your companions about the note's contents?"
Abashed, Bertran nodded. "On the way home," he muttered.
"My thanks," I said sardonically. "You're a loyal friend, Bertran. "
His flush deepened. "I'm loyal to the Crown, is what I am! You know damned well what it's like, Imriel. I'll do whatever it takes to keep the Trevalion name above suspicion. "
"Your ambition is to be commended, young lord de Trevalion. " The Queen's tone was cool. "But a measure of forethought would not go amiss with it. " She beckoned to Diderot Duval, her Captain of the Guard. "Lord Duval, see if your men can locate these companions before their tongues can wag and bid them to silence. I would proceed quietly for a day and place a covert watch over the dolphin fountain in Elua's Square on the morrow. " She looked at me. "Are you willing to keep this purported appointment, cousin?"
"Yes," I said. "Of course, your majesty. "
"Good. " For a moment, Ysandre looked unspeakably weary. "If naught transpires," she said to Phèdre, "I will stage an open inquiry. "
Phèdre inclined her head. "My lady. "
On the following day, I went to Elua's Square a little before sunset. It had all been arranged with Captain Duval. In the warm months, it was a bustling place. There was a great oak tree in the center of the square, rumored to have been planted by Blessed Elua himself. Four fountains played beneath it, and it is a popular meeting place for friends and lovers. But in the winter the fountains were dry, and only a few hearty souls strolled the square.
For the sake of appearances, Gilot accompanied me, then wandered some distance away, ostensibly immersing himself in a game of dice with a pair of idlers; members of the Queen's Guard in disguise.
I sat myself on a bench beneath the oak's barren branches, contemplating the dolphin fountain. There were four of them, dancing on their tails amid the marble waves, bodies arching. In the summer, water spewed from their smiling snouts, but they were dry now.
There had been dolphins in the harbor at Amílcar. I remember how they raced alongside the ship, breaching to blow plumes of water into the air. Fadil Chouma, the Menekhetan slaver, had pointed them out to me as I stood beside him aboard the ship, scared and sick, dizzy with the lingering effects of opium.
I was scared now, too.
No one came. We waited until darkness fell. I sat for a long time without moving on that bench. By the time Captain Duval and his men came to fetch me, the cold had sunk deep into my bones.
"Go home, young highness," the Captain said, almost kindly. Almost; but not quite. "The Queen thanks you for your service. "
I gazed up at him. "I didn't ask for this," I whispered.
He hesitated. "Of course not. "
"Move aside. " Joscelin's voice was as clear and cutting as a blade. "I'll take him. "
The Captain paused, then moved, gesturing to his men to do the same. I could have wept at the sight of Joscelin, his face at once furious and tender, a thick woolen blanket over his arm and the worn hilt of his sword jutting over his shoulder, silhouetted against the stars. He placed the blanket around me.
"Come, love," he said. "Let's go home. "
Rumor kills.
I learned it that winter. The Queen's inquiry came to naught. If there was a conspiracy seeking to recruit me, it was well and truly hidden. There were a few nobles embarrassed, forced to admit to seditious comments. All of them denied, fervently, acting upon them.
No one remembered hearing the phrase "true of heart and pure of blood. "
Nonetheless, I had been tarred with the brush of suspicion—and it stuck. Old friends eyed me askance and were cool in my company. My relationship with Bertran turned bitter, bordering on outright enmity. Only the Queen's continued show of support kept me from becoming a pariah at Court. Even Phèdre and Joscelin's support was reckoned suspect. Beloved as they were, it was whispered that they were naive, too good-hearted to recognize that they had taken a serpent to their bosom.
It hurt.
It hurt a lot; more than I had reckoned. When my mother vanished, I had been braced for it. But this… this was unlooked for. It was unfair. I hadn't done anything wrong.
To my surprise, the Shahrizai stood by me.
"You are family, Imriel," Mavros said dryly. "After all, we've withstood worse. "
Alais stood by me, too. If there was anything in the world she disliked, it was being told what to think. The mill of rumors only made her more staunch in her friendship, and I was more grateful for it than I could say.
"What does Phèdre think about it?" she asked me one day. "Really think?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "She's been quiet about it. "
"She suspects somewhat," Alais said with certainty.
"Mayhap. " I shrugged. "But I don't know what. " I changed the subject. "What passes in Alba these days?"
Alais looked away. "Prince Talorcan is coming this summer. "
"Drustan's heir?" I asked in surprise.
She smiled with a wryness that belied her thirteen years. "He hasn't named him formally. " We were sitting together in her quarters, talking in low tones to avoid the ears of her attendants. "I imagine Father will ask me after I've had a chance to meet him. "
"Ask you?" I repeated.
"If I'm willing to consent to a betrothal. " She hugged her knees. "He thinks it's the only way. The Cullach Gorrym have threatened to revolt if he changes the tradition. "
"Well, we always knew it might come to this," I said. "What will you do?"
Alais shrugged. "I'll meet him. It would only be a betrothal; we wouldn't wed for a few years, at least. " She smiled again, this time wistfully. "Mayhap he'll be nice, like Eamonn. Wouldn't it be nice if he were like Eamonn?"
"Eamonn!" I laughed. "So he's what you'd look for in a bridegroom?"
"Oh, yes!" Her eyes glowed. "He's kind and funny, and…"
"Tall?" I suggested.
She scowled at me. "Don't be silly. Who would you have me wed, Imri? Some pretty-faced D'Angeline lordling with a smooth tongue? True of heart and pure of blood?" she said, an edge to her voice.
I winced. "No, of course not. "
"I liked Eamonn. "
"I liked him, too, villain," I said softly. "I miss him a lot. " I reached out to stroke a lock of her hair. "In fact, you're right. I can't think of anyone else I'd sooner see you wed when it comes time. But I'm afraid the kingdom of the Dalriada is but a tiny portion of Alba, and Eamonn's a younger son with little stake in it. You might make a love-match out of it, but don't look for the Queen or your father to arrange it. "
"I know. " Alais sighed, exhaling so hard it lifted the black curls from her brow. "And it's not exactly a love-match, is it? I'm nothing more than a child to him. He went off to Tiberium without a backward glance. " She frowned. "I wish I were older. "
"Me, too, villain," I said with sympathy.
"You've no cause to complain. You've almost reached your majority," Alais said tartly. "And
stop calling me that. "
Thus, Alais.
And then there was Sidonie.
In her own way, she stood by me, too. Over a year had passed since I made my impulsive oath of fealty to her, and still, throughout this ordeal, neither of us spoke of it. Instead, we treated one another with increasing degrees of courtesy and respect. It was a strange thing, this framework; so distant and formal, built around a shared secret.
Why did neither of us invoke it?
I could not say, save that for my part, it proved nothing. Oaths may be broken. Even Joscelin, whom I idolized, had broken most of his Cassiline vows. Surely my detractors would point to that example. What did I have in response? My mother's word, a diamond strung on a fraying velvet rope. A note reading I keep my promises.
Mayhap it was even true; still, I did not think it would play well at Court. And mayhap Sidonie knew it, too.
She turned sixteen that spring, becoming eligible for the Game of Courtship. Her natality fell a few weeks before mine. The Queen staged a gala for the occasion. I hovered on the outskirts of it, watching suitors declare themselves in relentless pursuit. Bertran de Trevalion was numbered among them, which was another reason I kept my distance.
"Have you ever seen men fishing for sharks?" Mavros murmured in my ear.
I shook my head.
His hand tightened on my shoulder. "They go into a frenzy at the scent of blood in the water," he said. "I'm almost tempted to pity the lass. "
"I wouldn't," Roshana said. "Look at her! She's capable of holding her own. "
Sidonie was, too. She was coolly polite to all her suitors, encouraging to none. The frenzy was held at bay. There were other factors, of course. There was Amarante of Namarre, appointed as one of her ladies-in-waiting. Her mother Bérèngere was the head of Naamah's Order, and I suspected she had been recruited to instruct Sidonie in Naamah's arts.
And there was Maslin de Lombelon.
I came to hate him that spring. It is a piece of irony, since I had wanted so much for him to like me, once. But a schism had emerged at Court, and we found ourselves on opposite sides of it. Like Bertran, he had reason to abhor the scent of treachery, and he made no secret of his mistrust. Like Bertran, he had an interest in Sidonie. Although he didn't declare it openly, it was obvious. Maslin's, I think, ran deeper than mere political ambition.
It all came out in the hunt.
I wouldn't have gone if Alais hadn't begged me. Drustan had brought her a Pictish bow on his last visit—Cruithne women are skilled with the bow—and she had been practicing with it, but this would be her first time trying her hand at bringing down live game.
It fell on one of those rare spring days when all seems right with the world. Gilot and Hugues and Ti-Philippe all accompanied me. With their company, riding at Alais' side, I felt buffered from the unpleasantness. Most of my former friends were in the cluster surrounding Sidonie. There were so many of them, I couldn't even see Maslin, taking his usual place as Sidonie's self-appointed personal Captain of the Guard.
Hugues sang aloud as we rode to the Queen's Wood, his voice ringing in the bright air. At Ti-Philippe's urging, he declaimed a few of his own verses. I winked at Alais, who ducked her head to hide a smile. Hugues sang beautifully, but he was a wretched poet.
All in all, I was in good spirits by the time we reached the wood.
The Queens Wood was a small forest, but an old and stately one, preserved for the royal family's hunting pleasure. Mostly it is fallow deer they hunt there; we had been cautioned against bringing down aught but bucks, since the does were likely to be carrying or new mothers. I bade Alais to keep a sharp eye on Celeste, pacing at her side. She nodded, her jaw set.
We ventured into the forest, stringing out in a long, ungainly line. At this time of year, it was open, almost airy. The trees had yet to attain their full foliage, and broad shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy. All the young gentry in their spring finery made a pretty picture, moving in and out of the columns of light. They laughed and chattered, calling to one another. The Master of the Hunt and his men went about their business quietly, scouting in advance.
Despite the clamor, they found game.
We all heard the huntsmen's horns sound in the distance. Heels were clapped to horses' flanks and a mad, scrambling dash ensued.
There were two of them; a pair of young bucks engaged in contest. By the time the royal party arrived, they had bolted in opposite directions.
"That way!" I shouted, pointing toward the nearest.
"Celeste, hunt!" Alais cried.
What followed was pandemonium. Half the party went left, half right. The Queen's huntsmen moved to circle round and drive the quarry back to us. A laughing Sidonie and half of her lot had a few paces on us, but we were ranging close behind. Before us, the fleeing buck gained ground, light-dappled as it passed through shafts of sun; but Celeste was hot in pursuit, a low, grey shadow. For a time, we lost sight of them, but we heard the huntsmen's horns, merry and gallant, urging us onward.
And then the sound changed to an alarum.
I saw the glade.
I saw the Master of the Hunt waving his arms, his face pale and terrified.
I didn't see a deer.
It was a boar. It was a damned monstrous boar, the kind the veterans of the battle of Bryn Gorrydum talk about. It was massive and irritable, and it snorted as we straggled to a halt, lowering its head and presenting its tusks, its small eyes glinting.