Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [146]
"It's wonderful," I agreed. "And?"
He smiled wryly. "Do you know, we had a long talk the other day? Jehanne asked to meet with me."
"Did she ask you to offer—"
"No, no." Thierry shook his head. "It was naught to do with you. She told me that she and my father mean to try for children after the Longest Night. She wanted me to know that whatever may come, I'm my father's firstborn and heir, and no child of theirs would ever take my place in the realm or my father's heart. She took blame for the hostility between us, apologized, and said she hoped I'd welcome a sister or brother." He rubbed his chin. "I may have lost my wits, but she seemed quite genuine."
"Thoughts of motherhood may change a person," I murmured.
"It's possible," he agreed. "It's also possible that what everyone's saying is true. For some reason, you calm her. At any rate… Moirin, D'Angelines regard seduction as a form of blood-sport. And the Longest Night is a time of especial license. As Jehanne's companion, you're a very desirable target." He flushed. "Not that you aren't in your own right, obviously. But—"
I'd been in Terre d'Ange long enough to understand. "But getting me to betray my loyalty to the Queen would be an almighty conquest."
"Exactly." He nodded. "As your escort, I can fend off the worst of it and see that you're not plagued to death."
"That's undeservedly kind of you," I observed.
"Ah, well…" Thierry gave me another wry smile. "When all's said and done, I do like you, Moirin. I like your company. And it would be a pleasure to see the festivities anew through your eyes. So. Do you accept?"
"I do," I said. "With many thanks."
It was a glorious night.
The tradition of the Longest Night was old, older than Terre d'Ange itself. The great hall was polished to a high shine, filled with light and music. Swags of evergreen were draped on every surface and enormous live pine trees in great pots were dotted around the hall, their tops reaching toward the high ceiling, thousands upon thousands cunningly wrought glass icicles hanging from their branches. I inhaled their fresh scent gladly.
"The trees are new," Thierry observed. "It's a nice touch."
The array of costumes on the guests was truly spectacular. We made our way through the glittering throng to greet the King and Queen.
Whatever Benoit Vallon might have thought, Jehanne was a vision in white. The borders of her gown were edged with silver embroidery and she wore a silvery-white cloak trimmed with white ermine, the collar framing her exquisite face. Her fair hair was piled in a coronet and adorned with a sparkling diadem. Beside her, the King wore a matching doublet and breeches of white velvet trimmed in ermine, a simple white domino mask. His dark hair was loose and flowing over his shoulders, a fillet of white gold around his brow. Despite his avowed dislike of balls, he looked happy and relaxed.
They, too, looked well together.
"Moirin!" Jehanne's eyes sparkled at me. "Joy to you on the Longest Night." She gave me a lingering kiss. "Do you like the trees?"
I smiled at her. "I love the trees."
"I thought you would." She glanced at Thierry, who wore simple ash-grey attire—a sleeveless coat over a plain shirt and breeches. But steel vambraces glinted on his wrists and he wore twin daggers at his waist and a sword slung across his back in a harness. "You came as a Cassiline Brother?"
Thierry shrugged. "I'm feeling particularly gallant this evening."
She laughed. "Fairly spoken."
King Daniel gave me a chaste kiss of greeting. "Have you tasted joie yet tonight?" he inquired. When I shook my head, he beckoned to a servant with a tray. "You must."
The cordial was served in delicate crystal glasses as thin as eggshells. I breathed in the heady fumes. It was like hearing the frail song of the snowdrops—only it wasn't frail anymore. It was distilled and powerful. We toasted one another and I sipped.