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Jehanne shrugged and didn't answer.

I traced the lines of her marque idly. Her skin was as fine and silken as a child's. "His majesty thinks you're afraid."

"He knows me well," she murmured. "I wish I were stronger. I'm not a very good Queen, am I?"

I drew my finger down the lovely curve of her spine. "You are the scandal and delight of the realm, my lady. Did I ever tell you about the good ladies Florette and Lydia with whom I shared a coach?"

"No." She smiled a little. "Tell me."

I told her the whole tale, how I'd slept in the stables and bedded the coach-driver Theo, how I'd had to listen to the good ladies' eternal gossip as they rehashed every detail of Jehanne's exploits with gleeful relish. How I'd escaped it to ride beside Theo, only to be driven back into the coach to endure further gossip after the bandits attacked us.

Jehanne's eyes widened. "You shot a man?"

"Only in the thigh."

She caught my hand and cradled it against her cheek. "You're brave. I wish I were brave like you."

"You're the one who rescued me," I reminded her.

"I did, didn't I?" She kissed my palm. "Mayhap I won't let you leave me, Moirin. Mayhap I'll run away with you instead."

"Oh?" I stroked her hair with my free hand. "Where exactly am I going, anyway?"

"I don't know." Her voice turned cross. "You're the one with a destiny to follow. Ask your stupid diadh-anam." Jehanne uncoiled and sat upright in one seamless motion, her unbound hair spilling over her shoulders. "Elua bids us to love as we will. And I do. Why isn't that enough? Why does it have to be so damned complicated?"

I remembered something the good lady Lydia had said in her cups. "We're the ones who make it that way. Blessed Elua cared naught for crowns or thrones."

Jehanne laughed. "Do you know who said that?"

"No," I admitted.

"One of the realm's greatest traitors." She took both my hands in hers. "I don't want to betray Daniel. Help me?"

"I'll try." I squeezed her hands. "Jehanne, my father told me a bit of what it means to be a royal companion. And I'm all wrong for it. It's meant to be someone close enough in age to be a friend to the peer they serve, but older and wiser—or at least more experienced. It's meant to be an acolyte skilled in Naamah's arts. You and I, we have our roles backward."

Her eyes sparkled briefly. "Oh, I've got you well on your way to possessing an adept's skills."

"Well." I smiled. "But he told me, too, why the practice began. At the time, the idea was that the Dauphine should have one person in her life whose loyalty she could trust without question. That, I do believe I could offer you."

Jehanne's expression turned grave. "And are you making me that offer?"

I nodded. "I am."

"You left off part of their thinking," she observed. "The idea that having one loyal confidante would help the Dauphine grow into a wiser, kinder ruler one day." Jehanne raised her brows at me. "Did you really think you had aught to tell one of Naamah's Servants about the history of royal companions?"

I laughed. "No."

"So you'd listen to my deepest fears and desires and keep all my confidences?" she asked. "Tolerate my whims and forgive my weaknesses?"

"I already do," I pointed out to her. "But if you were to trust me to do it and be honest with me, I'd be able to serve you better."

"And in turn, you expect to make me a wiser, kinder ruler," Jehanne said wryly.

I shrugged. "My lady, you are a great deal wiser and kinder than you pretend to be. On the eve of embarking on a voyage toward motherhood, there are worse things you could do than demonstrate it."

She regarded me from beneath her lashes, her face unreadable.

"Are you angry?" I asked her. With her mercurial temper, one could never be sure.

"No." Jehanne sank both hands into my hair, leaned forward, and kissed me. "I'm not angry, my beautiful girl." She brushed my lower lip with one fingertip, then kissed me again, deep and lingering. "Not angry at all."

I sighed with relief. "Oh, good."

"Mmm." She toyed with the bodice of my gown.