Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [54]
"Much better." Florette d'Aubert folded her hands in her lap. "Now." she said firmly. "Tell us all about yourself, dear. Who are your people? How did you come to be born in Alba? How did you come to Terre d'Ange? Where are you bound? Have you kin in the City of Elua?"
I shrugged.
"Don't shrug, child!" she said sharply. "It's rude."
"Forgive me," I said in my best polite voice.
Lydia Postel cocked her head. "Eh?"
"Forgive me!" I repeated more loudly. "I'm a stranger here and untutored in your ways. Mayhap you and your sister would do me the kindness of telling me about your lives that I might learn from you."
They did.
By the time we paused at midday to water the horses, I'd learned all there was to know and more about the lives of Florette d'Aubert and Lydia Postel. I'd learned that the former had grave misgivings about the manner in which their sister was raising her children, while the latter was a staunch advocate of the old tradition that gave the father the upper hand, though both were childless themselves. I'd learned that Florette's husband had concealed a wagering habit from her and left her with debts she quite resented. And I'd learned that they were perishing of curiosity to hear what the latest gossip was in the City of Elua, where the doings of the Royal Court were paramount.
It seemed King Daniel de la Courcel had remarried after his first wife had died, leaving him with a sole son and heir. The merits of his new bride were a matter of contention.
"Jehanne," Lydia muttered.
"Jehanne," Florette agreed. "The men of House Courcel do not choose wisely when they remarry."
The new Queen, they informed me, was young, frivolous, and fickle. She cared nothing for politics, only for parties. She conducted notorious affairs under her long-suffering husband's nose, ruthlessly promoting her favorites at Court.
"What did his majesty expect?" Florette sniffed. "Marrying an adept of the Night Court!"
"I thought it was a sacred calling," I said, puzzled. "Am I mistaken?"
"No, no." She pursed her lips. "Of course there's great honor to be found in Naamah's Service. But it's a question of propriety, dear. If there's a measure of truth to the old tales, even Phedre no Delaunay never sought to rise above her station."
"If the old tales are true, I imagine she was too busy saving the world," I offered diplomatically.
They ignored my comment and carried on with a gleeful litany of the Queen's sins. I thought personally that Jehanne de la Courcel sounded rather fun and a good deal more interesting than anyone either of these two had met, but I kept the thought to myself and concentrated on not throwing myself out of the stagecoach.
Much to my dismay, the ladies insisted that I accompany them to dine that evening when we halted at the next waypost. They tried to insist that we share a room to conserve our funds, but at that I drew the line.
"I come from a line of very solitary folk," I said firmly and jingled the purse tied around my waist. "Besides, I'm not lacking for coin."
Florette tut-tutted at me. "Put that away, child! Never say such a thing in a public place. It's dangerous—and vulgar, too." She peered at me through her magnifying glass. "A solitary folk? Who did you say your people were again?"
"Oh, no one you would know." I didn't fancy being the subject of their gossip. "Since you and your sister were kind enough to invite me, will you permit me to purchase your supper?"
She hesitated. "Well…"
"Of course we will," Lydia said loudly.
They were also kind enough to order several jugs of the inn's best red wine at my expense and lingered long over their cups after extracting the most recent gossip out of the City from the serving girl. It seemed Queen Jehanne remained estranged from her most favorite courtier, Raphael de Mereliot, with whom she had quarrelled some weeks ago. He'd sent her a letter begging forgiveness and sweetened his apology with a bracelet—a pave of canary diamonds, according to rumor. The next day, one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting was sporting it on her wrist.
"Imagine