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That night, Vianne was late. I pretended not to be disappointed because it was a very small thing, and I worried that one of the other ladies might make the small thing into a weapon.
They'd done it before. One or two of them would have hurt her to hurt me in one of the few ways I was vulnerable. The rest would simply have hoped she'd bleed enough to slip further from favor.
And it was a very small disappointment.
Everything Vianne wanted, everything Vianne took, was small. Everything she allowed herself was small.
She guarded my back as well as she could, better than anyone else would have bothered to, and I gave her as much space for her gardens and her studies as I could. Mostly, that amounted to keeping the casual attention on myself.
Which, given my rank, was where it belonged.
I just had to be a little capricious, a little vain, a little temperamental. Acting spoiled made me less interesting to would-be power players because I might balk over nonsense-- something like the color of the drapes or the seasoning of the soup-- when they most needed me biddable. I might not understand veiled threats or implied bargains.
I was getting too old for any of that to protect me from the vultures. I knew that.
I just also knew that I couldn't afford to look like a threat to my father. He wanted me to be a strong queen, but that was a long time in the vague future. I might have grown children by the time he died.
If he let me marry at all. An heir with power or popularity was always a threat to the reigning monarch. The lack of an heir was worse, but the threat of... forcible retirement... was always real.
Perhaps Father should have remembered that the danger was an or-- power or popularity-- Uncle Timrothe had none of the latter but a great deal of the former. I don't know that it would have changed anything, but...
There must have been a time when they were allies, truly allies, against the rest of the court. Against their father even.
I suspect that's why I'm an only child.
Father thought I didn't know that his notion to marry Vianne to a foreign noble had a lot to do with securing a spare or three who wouldn't be a direct and immediate threat to him at court. Also a spare or three who might not be noticed by whoever had been pruning the family tree.
It wasn't fair to Vianne, but that was like saying that winter was unfair. Both were just the world we lived in. The world didn't care who died or how miserably long it took.
And I lived a life where I could fuss about the color of my ribbons or the type of lace on my next dress, so why shouldn't I? Fussing made sure Lisele didn't disappear inside the Princesse.
I wanted so much for Lisele to survive to be Queen. There would be choices about more than ribbons then. I didn't let myself think much about all the things I might have if my father died sooner, but I knew.
I knew, and I buried it all because the only ally I truly had was Vianne. If we'd been older, if we'd had time, we might have--
But we didn't.
I had a little warning that evening. A minute, at least, possibly as many as four. My memory is uncertain because the screaming and the blood made it seem longer while each new silence was so horribly, so permanently, immediate.
I relive those few minutes in dreams, over and over and over. Each time, I wrap my fingers around the Aryx and pray.
In dreams, no one answers, and Vianne never comes. Or she comes, and I die anyway. That hurts more because I never know what happens to her after. I can think of so very many ways her life might have ended. I can think of so very many possibilities worse than death.
The Comtesse Rochburre slammed my door shut against the assassins, but all she had to barricade it with was her body. Still, she and that door bought me time to grasp the Aryx. Perhaps I will name a daughter for her, not my eldest, of course, but perhaps... Or perhaps not.
The Aryx gave me neither shield nor weapon. Instead, it deceived my attackers into thinking my wounds had already killed me. It hid itself from their eyes. At least, I assume it did.
Seizing the Aryx from my lifeless hands would have been too great a temptation for most, and there was silk enough around that no one need have touched skin to metal.
The time I lay there, alone but for the corpses and the Aryx, is another interval I can't measure in memory. I knew that I was dying, and I knew that the Aryx was waiting. I thought it could just as well go on waiting without me.
Then Vianne was calling my name, and I knew what the Aryx wanted. Or thought I did. I needed to pass the Aryx to the proper heir, to the one relative who I was certain hadn't sent murderers into my chambers.
If Vianne had wanted me dead, I'd have passed in my sleep without ever knowing it was happening. Poor Lisele, she's always been a bit sickly. Such a pity.
I can't think why she would, but she'd certainly be tidier. Fewer corpses, much less blood, and a nation in mourning.
At any rate, I pressed the Aryx into Vianne's hand as she pressed hers against my bleeding breast and tried to heal me.
My blood, her power, and the will of the Blessed brought the Aryx to life.
Then I could breathe again. More or less. Mostly, I coughed, and standing up was nearly impossible. Would have been impossible without Vianne to help me.
I still dream, too, about staggering out of that room, through the blood, past the bodies of my ladies. Mostly, in those dreams, I fall, and Vianne leaves me behind. In reality, I felt her shoulder under my arm and against my body as she got me up and out.
I lost time then. When I woke, Vianne and I were huddled together on a dusty divan in a dim and chilly room that I didn't recognize.
I must have made some noise of inquiry to prompt Vianne to say, "The North Tower. They will look here, eventually, but I think we have a little time yet." She hesitated then added, "The news is mostly bad, my Queen."
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to demand that someone else put everything right.
But that was the Princesse, and I was-- "Who?" The word came out as a croak.
Vianne stood and brought me watered wine. "Your uncle," she said. "Captain d'Arcenne is in the donjons with the execution scheduled for tomorrow." She met my eyes for a moment then looked away. "I had to go out for supplies after I got you here. We both needed clothes and food and-- and--" She sank down beside me and covered her face. "They're looking for me."
That only made sense. I assumed they were looking for me, too, probably with more desperation.
Vianne shuddered, and I realized that she was crying.
I swallowed the last of my drink, set down the cup, and put my arms around her. "We will not let them find us."
"I should have been there," she said.
My arms tightened as I imagined her among the dead. "You dying wouldn't have helped," I told her. I wondered what had kept her then realized it must have been the usual.
When she saw injury, Vianne needed to try to heal it.
"You healed me," I said. "If you'd been there before, you couldn't have done that."
Vianne made a choked sound. "They came back to make sure everyone was really dead." She raised her head and looked at me. "They're searching for me, but they haven't noticed that you're not there."
It wasn't quite a question.
"The Aryx--" I said-- because it had to be that-- then started to panic when I realized my hands were empty. "Where--"
"Around your neck, my Queen," Vianne said. "I didn't want to risk dropping it, and... it belongs to you."
And then I felt the Aryx's weight. I wasn't sure how I'd missed it before. I forced a laugh. "That's a very Vianne solution."
"If you can manage food," Vianne said, "your body probably needs it. We can't stay here. Even if the Aryx is hiding you, that's... Your uncle will notice eventually."
"Our uncle," I said. Suddenly I wanted to affirm the kinship that I'd known but never been allowed to acknowledge.
She looked a little startled and very much like she intended to deny it. Then her expression firmed, and she nodded.
"The Aryx answered you," I told her. "I couldn't wake it."
She stood again and gave me the deep curtsey of a noble to her monarch. "The Aryx saved you," she said. "It's saving you still."
I frowned at her for several seconds then shrugged. "Perhaps it answered both of us." The movement made me realize that my gown was stuck to my skin. I shuddered. "You said we have other clothes?"
____
After I'd changed, we took stock of our resources. Vianne thought-- and really, I had to agree-- that we needed d'Arcenne if we could free him.
There was something in Vianne's voice when she spoke of him that made me wonder if he'd finally said or done something that she couldn't explain away, something that showed his particular interest in her.
I wasn't sure it mattered, not then, not under those circumstances, but I wondered. A little bit of a flirt would have done Vianne a great deal of good. Before. As long as she was careful.
Vianne would need less care of that sort once I was truly Queen. If she wanted d'Arcenne, she could have him. If she wanted a library of her own, she could have that, too. Or both. A garden of her own. Dresses that pleased her.
I considered d'Arcenne's opinion only to the extent of admitting that Vianne would not want a man who didn't love her. Now that a liaison between Vianne and d'Arcenne was possible, I would have to pay closer attention to the sincerity of his attentions.
____
After two days of traveling with d'Arcenne, I had more of an opinion of him than I'd had before. A clearer one rather than, exactly, a higher one.
He'd sworn to me. His men had sworn to me.
I think the second would have happened without Vianne's presence, but the first...
I did not like the way he watched her when she wasn't looking. It wasn't lecherous or even predatory. It was more as if she were his sun, as if he would die if she turned her face away too long.
Vianne misread it entirely. She assumed that her presence was a burden accepted only because I would not leave her and because our uncle could wed her to solidify his claim to the throne. She thought it was all about revenge for my father's murder in order to wipe away the failure of having permitted him to die.
Tristan d'Arcenne did not give one good goddamn about my father's death. I thought he regretted other deaths that had happened that night, and I suspected, based on what Vianne had told me, that there had been more than one plan in play.
He'd thought that I could protect her. Or he'd said so. And I didn't think he'd have sent her into that abattoir if he'd known, not given how he looked at her.
How far would d'Arcenne go to keep Vianne at court? How far had he gone?
But I needed his men, and I would need his father and his father's allies. Therefore, I needed Tristan d'Arcenne. If I was guessing right, Vianne's good opinion of him was the only lever I had to move him.
If I was guessing right, our enemies could splinter Vianne's good opinion of d'Arcenne.
Unless I lied to Vianne. Which... No. Vianne deserved better.
But, if I told her my suspicions-- We had no privacy for such a conversation, and even if we had an opportunity, she'd have to pretend, after, that she still had no idea.
So I needed an opportunity to talk to d'Arcenne instead.
I can only assume that the Blessed have a bitter sense of humor because that opportunity came when Vianne fell ill. She must have been running on sheer stubborn will for everything she'd done since healing me, and I hadn't thought.
Vianne had always been more robust than I was. I don't know if it was her magic or if she'd simply had more opportunity to build physical strength, but I'd thought that, if I was doing well enough physically, she must be better than well enough.
Healing me must have cost her more than almost dying had cost me, and I hadn't thought.
I didn't go into Tierrce d'Estrienne. Vianne and I together-- Our uncle's men had to be looking for two young women together, and there was more than a little chance that someone might recognize me. I had been on display as the Princesse more than once.
Father said that it was important that our people know me.
When d'Arcenne came back to tell me that Vianne would probably recover, I could tell that he was torn. He knew that he ought to remain with me, that we should continue onward with speed and leave Vianne a small escort to come after us, later, but he very much wanted to be at her bedside.
"Captain," I said once he'd finished telling us about the local hedgewitch. "Please walk with me a little. I have need of your advice." Which was, as far as it went, entirely true.
He looked startled. "Of course, my Queen."
Neither of us said more until we were far enough for privacy. I led him close to the brook we were using for water. It was loud enough to cover some of our discussion even while we were in sight of a sentry.
"We have some decisions to make," I said. I wasn't intending it as a royal we, but I think he took it that way.
"I will advise as I can," he answered.
"You know a great many things that I don't." I looked up at him and tried to find my mental footing. I knew where we needed to be at the end of the conversation, but I wasn't sure where to start. "You're not good enough for her, you know."
He stepped back as if I'd tried to strike him. He opened his mouth to say something, but I held up a hand to forestall him.
"You're not kind enough to equal her," I said, "and you're neither prudent enough nor powerful enough to protect her."
This time he actually flinched.
"I don't doubt your devoted interest," I said, "but are you gentle or generous? Honest? Loyal? Why should I trust you with her happiness?"
He looked away.
"I know you'd kill for her. I expect you'd die for her if it came to that." I kept my voice low so that the words wouldn't carry too far. "If you make her choose--"
"I wouldn't." He sounded sincere.
I gave him a disbelieving and judgmental stare that I'd learned from the Comtesse Rochburre. I doubt I carried it off anything like as well as she used to. I lacked all traces of gravitas. "Only because she would consider it a fault in you." I could tell that he knew I was right.
"I have never... imposed on her." He didn't sound as if he thought that was what I meant.
Now, I turned away for a moment. "If she wants you," I said, "I will give you to her any way she wants. If." I raised a hand without looking back at him. "That has nothing to do with what you want or with anything you've done or failed to do."
I didn't want to see his face when he realized that I guessed.
He might manage to look innocent. He might not. He might or might not be innocent, either way.
I didn't want to know. As long as I could call it a guess or a suspicion, I could talk around it. "I don't care if Vianne ever marries. I don't care if she has a different lover every night or never a single one. I don't care if every one of her lovers drops dead when she gets bored--"
"She'd never!" He sounded truly offended.
I turned back to look at him. "I know that, Captain. I know. I also know that people change, and I will not care. I will not give her to you as a reward or as an inducement toward loyalty. I will not give her to anyone at all. I won't forbid her anyone, either."
I knew that, physically, I was no threat to him. I knew, too, that he could kill.
I just didn't think he would right then. I didn't think there was a one of his men who wouldn't tell Vianne if he tried anything, and he had to know it.
He also had to know that I was the only thing standing between Vianne and a throne she didn't want.
He cleared his throat. "The Duc needs to marry one of you."
I shrugged. That was not news to me. "He needs the Aryx more desperately." I glanced upstream simply so that I didn't have to look at d'Arcenne for a moment. "I will marry as soon as may be. A consort from my Guard if you consider delaying as far as Arcenne imprudent." Politically, it would make sense for me to marry d'Arcenne, so I added, "But not you. Anyone else."
"The Duchesse is at risk, too," d'Arcenne said.
"You may bring that up with her when she is well," I said. I bent and plucked a wildflower. When I straightened, I added, "I can give you until morning to decide whether it's better for you to stay to command Vianne's contingent of guards or to go with me and trust one of the others to protect her." I was not convinced that either option was good.
They were simply better than all of the others.
d'Arcenne made a sound that I interpreted as him not knowing how to choose.
"Our uncle would be better served by marrying Vianne than by marrying me," I said, offering him the rationalization he wanted. "Protecting her is as necessary as protecting the Aryx. One or two men of great skill with another three or four of more average abilities will make her safer and allow me to continue onward with a larger contingent."
"Splitting up might serve us best," d'Arcenne agreed.
I raised my eyebrows.
"Splitting up will serve us best," he corrected.
I reached out to touch fingertips to his arm. "Become better," I commanded. "You're clever and competent when you're not--" I shook my head. "At least, so my father said. Neither of us can control what other people say of us." I hoped he understood.
His expression was hard to read. "And what will you say?"
"Give me a reason-- beyond necessity-- to tell Vianne that you're kind and trustworthy. I won't lie to her, but I might lie to someone else and let her hear." I wasn't promising anything, and I think he knew it. "Once we reach Arcenne, you will cease to be my Left Hand." As if he'd ever been mine, but it would serve. I could survive the whispers of treason considerably better than he could. "Perhaps that will help."
I was tired of talking in circles, so I walked away.
The next morning, we left seven men to guard Vianne while she recovered and to bring her to us after. Tristan d'Arcenne rode with me.