Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [81]
I hazarded a guess. "Terra Nova?"
"Would that we could at the least establish a base there…" He shook himself. "No mind. I don't mean to burden you."
I moved down the hall, pausing before a portrait of a woman with merry eyes. "And her?"
"Ah." Thierry smiled. "My great-grandmother, Anielle. They call her reign the Years of Joy. Firstborn to the horde, as they called it, although there were only three of them." He went a few paces farther. "Imriel and Sidonie's children."
"The D'Angeline prince," I murmured. "The one who slew the magician Berlik."
He didn't shy away from the comment. "Yes."
They were together in the portrait—the Queen of Terre d'Ange and her Prince Consort. The artist had captured a genuine spark of intimacy between them.
I looked at the next painting. "This must be Alais."
"Indeed."
In Alba, Alais de la Courcel was remembered for her wisdom and her role as an ollamh, a learned counselor who served as advisor to the Cruarch Talorcan and brokered peace among the folk of Alba. I never thought of my famous ancestor as a young woman, but she was, here—young and uncertain, her expression wary and tentative. Since I felt much the same way, it was oddly comforting to see. "Her line isn't represented?"
"No." Thierry colored a bit. "Since it parted ways with House Courcel and went on to become wholly Alban, no. But here you can see your…" He counted on his fingers. "Great-great-great-grandparents, Drustan mab Necthana and Ysandre de la Courcel."
"Ah." I contemplated the royal couple who had united our countries for the space of their lives and longer. The Cruarch Drustan was wholly of the Cullach Gorrym, black-haired and brown-skinned, with black eyes gazing out from the mask of woad warrior's markings that had largely gone out of fashion by now. Queen Ysandre was D'Angeline through and through, fair-haired and fair-skinned. "They seem an unlikely pair."
"And yet historians agree that it was a love-match." Thierry stole a glance at me. "No more unlikely than your own parents. Is it true?"
"So it seems." I smiled ruefully. "Though I cannot claim it was a love-match, since they didn't even bother to exchange names."
"Does it trouble you?" he asked.
"No." I touched my breast-bone. "My mother says she felt the spark of her diadh-anam draw her to him. She would never lie about such a thing, so there must be some purpose in it. I want to know, that's all. My lord Dauphin… how am I meant to address you?"
He smiled. "Your highness is the proper form, but I'd take it as a kindness if you'd call me Thierry."
"Thierry, then," I agreed. "Do you suppose her majesty Jehanne is sufficiently discomfited? I suspect we ought to return."
"I suppose." Thierry leaned close to me, touching the bare skin of my back and inhaling. "You smell like… wind."
I blinked. "Wind?"
"Wind from a faraway place," he said. "Sunlight on green leaves. Is he your lover?"
"Lord de Mereliot?" I frowned. "I'm not sure."
"No?" Thierry stroked my shoulder. "That's a passing odd thing to be uncertain of, my lady."
"Is it?" I pulled away from him. "If you are asking if he has bedded me, the answer is yes, although there wasn't exactly a bed involved and it was more my idea than his. If you are asking if his intentions toward me involve anything beyond discomfiting Jehanne de la Courcel, I am uncertain, just as I am of yours. Though I should hope that the reasons behind your motives differ."
He laughed and made a courtly bow. "To be sure! Your honesty is refreshing and my motives were mixed, but not impure. Allow me to return the favor, and discomfit Raphael de Mereliot with the sight of you on my arm."
"Not to mention the entire Court," I added.
"Oh, that's already done." Thierry flashed a wicked grin. "Now comes the part where they wonder what we've been up to. Watch the tongues wag when we enter."
That, they most assuredly did.
There was a pause like a collective intake of breath as we entered the hall, Thierry sauntering, one hand laid possessively over my fingers where they rested on his arm.