Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [153]
"Oh, he doted on me." Jehanne gave a wistful smile. "She resented me for that, too. But he doted on her, too. And when it came to taking sides, he always took hers, no matter how unfair it was."
"That's not in his majesty's nature," I observed. I'd seen enough of King Daniel to know he was a very fair-minded man, and a good father to Thierry. Despite his lingering resentment of Jehanne, Thierry adored his father.
"No." She frowned in thought. "It's not, is it?"
"No. And you're not your mother, Jehanne."
She shuddered. "Elua, let's hope not!" She changed the subject. "Any word of your father?"
I shook my head. "None."
Jehanne pursed her lips. "He was bound for Azzalle, wasn't he? Negotiating on behalf of the Trevalion boy and his lover?" I nodded. "It's been too long. I'll ask Daniel to send a scouting party in search of him."
I kissed her effusively. "Thank you!"
King Daniel agreed readily and a scouting party was dispatched. A month later, they returned to report that Brother Phanuel Demarre had indeed negotiated a successful truce between House Trevalion and the d'Argent family and departed months ago for the City of Elua. They'd sought to trace his path to no avail.
I was worried.
And Jehanne was pregnant.
I knew it before anyone else did. Her scent changed. Not the perfume that she wore, the delightful concoction that the head of the Perfumers' Guild had sworn to take to his grave. Her scent, the one that underlay it. The one that made it so intoxicating. The first time we were together after it happened, I buried my face in the curve of her neck and breathed in the scent of her bare skin. It was no less intoxicating, only different, like the faint strains of a new note being introduced into a musical symphony.
I lifted my head, eyes sparkling. "Jehanne…"
"What?"
I took her hands. "Close your eyes."
In the twilight, I could see it. She shone so brightly there, bright and beautiful, a favorite of the gods. Naamah's kiss on her brow.
And a second spark, faint as a distant promise. Centered below her belly.
I laughed aloud and let the twilight go. "My lady, I could be wrong. I'm no physician. But I do believe you're with child."
"Truly?" Jehanne's expression was torn between dismay and delight.
I nodded. "Truly."
It took the royal chirurgeon another month to confirm it, but she did. The Queen of Terre d'Ange was with child. And quite to her own surprise, Jehanne settled on being pleased at the prospect.
In the early days of spring, once the chirurgeon deemed it safe, the announcement was made and a fete held to celebrate it. I watched Jehanne receive tribute-gifts from the peers of the realm. A brightness clung to her that one could see even in mortal daylight. For once, she was unfailingly gracious and pleasant without uttering a single barb. Even folk who thought they disliked Jehanne fell a little bit in love with her that day, and I don't think she found it one bit tiresome.
A hand descended on my shoulder as I watched her. I glanced up to see King Daniel.
"She's happy," he said softly.
"She is," I agreed. "And you?"
"Elua! Do you jest?" Daniel de la Courcel smiled, appealing lines bracketing his mouth. "I do believe Jehanne was more ready than she knew. Ready to be a mother. Ready, mayhap, to be a different sort of Queen." He glanced down at me. "You've been a good companion to her, Moirin. Thank you."
"I—"
That was all I got out before a commotion broke out near the entrance to the salon. There was a babble of voices and a moment of confusion, then members of the Royal Guard formed a cordon. Hurrying between them in the swirling crimson robes of Naamah's Order was a familiar figure, her face pale and stark.
Noemie d'Etoile.
My heart sank as my worst fears came home to roost.
"Moirin!" She gasped my name and caught my hands. "Your father—"
I wanted to cover my ears. "Is he—?"
"No." Noemie shuddered. "But he's ill, gravely ill. He's lain ill all winter." Tears shone in her warm hazel eyes. "I'm so sorry, child! I was sure it was just Phanuel's usual wandering."
My mind reeled.