Lilith Saintcrow: The Hedgewitch Queen

The realization was sweet and bitter in equal portion.

“Ah.” Tristan nodded. “That quick mind of yours. I beg your pardon, Vianne.”

I nodded. My ear-drops swung against my cheeks. “I understand there are things you must do that are…unfit for a lady’s sensibilities. But I cannot afford to be overly a lady if I am the Queen. I do understand, Tris. I simply wish you would trust me to know what is best once in a great while as well.” I took a deep breath, my eyes moving over his face. “And your being Left Hand does not mean I should not know what you do in my name.”

Did I imagine it, or did he start as if I had pinched him? He paled even more. “I do what I must for your safety, Vianne.” Tight-spaced, the words were biting-bitter.

“I know,” I soothed.

“That is all I ever seek. You must know as much. All I seek is your safety, and I will do as I must.”

“I trust as much. I asked you to become my Consort, did I not?”

“You did.” He dropped his gaze, examining the hem of my skirt with much fascination. Was this the same man who had written about me with such agonized care, pleading with his mother to give him advice to catch my eye?

I should have noticed him at Court. It was unacceptable that a lady whose duty had been to catch intrigues had not noticed the chivalier at her window. “Tristan? May I ask you something?”

He shrugged. “We are late for your meeting with di Tatancourt.”

True enough. Rebuffed, I smoothed my skirts. “Then let us be on our way,” I said, and swept down the hall. Now I knew the way from Sílvie’s sitting room to the library, and I was not afraid to lead him, his step echoing mine. His silence was as thunderous as any I’ve ever heard.

At the door to my study, I paused. “Thank you, Consort.” Twas easier — and harder — than I liked to keep my tone level and cool. “Now, if you will be so kind as to farrat out wherever Jierre and Jai are hiding, and shepherd them into my presence before my Council Session.”

“Vianne—”

No. If we are to perform this dance, we shall perform it in measures that suit me. “Now, Tristan.” I held my ground. “Divris is to be trusted, and Arcenne is well guarded. Go, and the quicker you return the safer I am.”

He did not argue further, but his jaw set so hard I was surprised his teeth did not shatter. Well, if I wished him to hate me, I am going about it the right way.

I sighed.

Then I arranged my face, entered the study quietly, accepted the Messenger’s bow, and set myself to question Divris yet again about the Duc’s Court. He was a wondrous observant witness, and he knew far more than he thought he did — at least, when I questioned him, his answers illuminated much, even if he did not know quite what he had told me.

He did not need to know, I decided. I had not time to teach him, and twas not his place to hold such knowledge. I had much more to learn now, and the stakes were growing rapidly higher.

The Council Session ran late and led to two shouting matches — both of which I won by simply waiting until the men finished rattling their rapiers and then informing them all coolly that it was bad form to shout in front of a lady, and that I was, I would remind them, in case they had forgotten, the Queen.

And if they doubted the wisdom of my commands, or would seek to choose only those commands that suited their purposes, they were no better than d’Orlaans. If they insisted, they could hie themselves hence and field an army against me — or go to join the Duc, being of his stripe.

That handily put an end to discussion, though I disliked using such arguments.

It was after dark when I finally arrived at the Pruzian’s cell accompanied by Bryony to find Tristan, Jierre, and Jai di Montfort standing guard with Adersahl, who eyed them while he twirled his reborn mustache.

“ D’mselle .” Adersahl greeted me with a low, sweeping bow. The others followed suit. Even Tristan.

“Your Majesty…” Jai di Montfort’s voice failed him as my glance rested on his lean dark face.

I must look forbidding. Well, if I do, I am grateful for it. I have had enough of men arguing, of late.

I stood with my hands clasped in my skirts, examining all three of them. “Bryony? Please attend the Pruzian. Adersahl, accompany him.”

A murmur of assent. Even Bryony’s frosty silence did not wound me. What did a peasant hedgewitch’s tender feelings matter, if Tristan was past his first flush of care for me?

Now we would see if we could remain friends, my Consort and I. I let the disobedients simmer a trifle longer, until even di Yspres flushed like a guilty boy caught stealing apples.

“Well,” I said finally. “ Sieurs di Yspres and di Montfort. Tis pleasant to see you. I had expected you to obey my summons without needing to be fetched hence like schoolboy truants.”

Jierre blushed deeper. Jai di Montfort dropped his gaze to my feet.

“Now,” I continued. “I found the Pruzian damaged when I gave explicit orders he not be touched. This is most disappointing. Then to compound that error by refusing to obey my summons? Not fit behavior for the Queen’s Guard, is it?”

No answer but their hung-head silence. Boys being taken to task by a headmaster, deserving more than a sharp crack against the knuckles.

But I must tread softly. If I pricked their pride just right, it would bolster their loyalty instead of deflating it. And I might well need them in the future. “Very well. I’ve decided your punishment.”

“Your Majesty—” Di Montfort, unable to contain himself.

“Hold your tongue, sieur .” Much to my gratified surprise, he did. “I am extremely disappointed, chivalieri . For the next two days, you will not wear the uniform of a Queen’s Guard, and you will leave your rapiers in the dormitory. You will carry only daggers. After that, you are readmitted into the Guard and all is forgiven.” I found a smile rising, banished it. Now was a time for severity. “The next time you disobey me and hide from me, I shall throw you out of the Guard with stripes. This is not a place for children; you are chivalieri sworn to the Queen of Arquitaine, and I expect you to behave as such.” I inclined my head slightly. “You are dismissed. Go to the Guard dormitory and do as I bid you, to the very last inch.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Di Montfort was now pale. Di Yspres echoed the words. Did the lieutenant look relieved? They trooped past me, stopping only to sweep deep, respectful bows. I waved them away and faced Tristan.

Now for the next hurdle. Gods grant my strength holds.

“So.” The sound of their footsteps faded. He pitched his tone low enough that it would not carry, a skill learned at Court.

I copied his tone, speaking softly without losing enunciation. “You did not return, either.” I tried not to sound hurt, failed miserably.

“I feared your temper.” A bald admission, his hand resting on his rapier-hilt and his expression so grave my heart compressed within me.

“Fear my temper?” I shook my head. “And I have been fearing yours.”

“I would never harm you.” His eyes burned, almost luminous in the torchlit gloom.

“I fear the loss of your affection, chivalier , perhaps more than any harm you could do me.” The admission sent a frisson up my back, and I stepped nervously toward the cell’s barred iron door.

“You think it possible to lose my affection?” Yet his face eased.

I learned mistrust too thoroughly at Court. And everything that has happened since has not helped. “I think it possible I might, Tristan. And it frightens me.” I moved through the door before he could reply. It was childish of me, yes. But I did not wish to cross wits with him to this degree just yet.