Part 39 (1/2)
”But you, Amba.s.sador, what will you do?”
”Oh, I've bought a charming dacha quite close to Erinaskoe. I thought I might enjoy playing at being the country gentleman for a while: indulging in a spot of fis.h.i.+ng, perhaps, or creating a fine garden. Of course, if the new king comes to realize that I know too many state secrets for my own good, I might have to disappear altogether.” An enigmatic smile spread across Abrissard's face. ”You needn't worry on my account, Jagu. Claude will take good care of me.”
Celestine popped her head out of the stage door to see if the coast was clear. The fervent admirers had given up waiting to see their favorite singers at last and it was safe to set out for home.
Carriages and troikas were still crossing the lamplit square and the sound of drunken singing announced a group of revelers emerging from the nearby tavern.
”Hullo, sweetheart!” yelled one, lurching toward her. ”Fancy a drink?” The beery gust he breathed in her face made her turn aside, disgusted. A drunkard was the last thing she wanted to have to deal with after the rigors of the evening performance.
”Sorry, friend, but the lady's with me,” said a familiar voice behind her.
”Jagu?”
”My lodgings are just beyond the square,” he murmured in her ear.
The drunks started hooting and whistling, but Jagu caught Celestine by the arm and began to hurry her across the square, between the pa.s.sing carriages. He did not stop until they had pa.s.sed beneath an archway into an inner courtyard, surrounded by tall buildings.
”You shouldn't be out alone so late at night,” Jagu said disapprovingly.
”You're forgetting,” she said, ”that I have my guardian to protect me.”
”Of course; you're invulnerable.”
Was he mocking her? Away from the streetlights of the main square, it was impossible to see his expression.
”Why were you shadowing me?”
”I've been with the amba.s.sador. You need to hear this.” He unlocked the door to his lodgings and ushered her inside. She saw him look back toward the street and knew he was checking to see if anyone had followed them.
”Why, what's happened?” He had his back to her, striking a tinder to light the lamp.
”Ilsevir is to be crowned king of Francia.” He turned around to face her, his expression grim in the soft glow of the lamp. ”And Abrissard suspects that he will oust Alain Friard and appoint Girim nel Ghislain in his place.”
”A Rosecoeur at the head of the Commanderie?” Celestine did not like the prospect at all. ”But everything Maistre de Lanvaux worked so hard to establish will be destroyed!”
”I will not serve under Captain nel Ghislain,” Jagu said stubbornly. ”I will not swear allegiance to the Blood of the Rose.”
Everything is changing... and not for the better. The room was chilly and she began to s.h.i.+ver. The room was chilly and she began to s.h.i.+ver.
”You're feeling the cold,” he said. ”I'll put fresh fuel in the stove. I don't have much to offer to warm you up.” He opened up the little stove to place wood on the glowing embers. ”I could brew some tea.”
Jagu, offering to make tea? The new domesticated side to his character was unexpected and rather endearing.
”Tea, then,” she said, sitting down close to the stove. ”My throat's a little sore after tonight's performance; Dame Elmire would have given me a stern lecture for such poor technique.”
As he filled a little kettle from the water jug and set it to boil on top of the stove, she glanced around the spa.r.s.ely furnished room. It offered no clue as to Jagu's interests; she noticed a couple of bound volumes of the Holy Texts lying on the chest, alongside his sword. There was nothing to gladden the eye or the spirits; not even a spring flower. But the table was covered in sheets of paper. When she was sure Jagu was busy spooning tea into the pot, she sneaked over to investigate. Page after page of handwritten music lay before her, a mess of blots and scratched-out bars. This was just how Henri's desk used to look when he was in the throes of a new composition, littered with sc.r.a.ps of ideas and scribbled jottings. But the strong, well-formed hand was unmistakably Jagu's-and it had never once occurred to her that Jagu might be interested in writing music as well as performing it.
”Jagu?” She picked up a handful of music. ”Did you you compose this? This setting of the Vesper Prayer?” compose this? This setting of the Vesper Prayer?”
He looked up from pouring tea and she saw an unusually vulnerable expression cross his face. ”Don't look at that,” he said. ”It's not finished.”
She was not to be fobbed off so easily. ”These opening bars, they're for a soprano soloist. You weren't writing this for me to sing, were you?”
His hand jerked involuntarily and spilled some of the tea. Cursing, he mopped it up with his handkerchief.
”Let me try it out.” He had written music for her. She wanted nothing more than to hear what it sounded like.
”It's not finished.” He brought over a gla.s.s of strong brown tea. ”Besides, you said your throat was sore. No more singing for you tonight. Drink this; it's from Serindher. It has a warming, malty taste.”
Reluctantly, she replaced the music and took her tea, holding the hot gla.s.s carefully in her cupped hands. ”Tomorrow morning, then. We can use one of the practice rooms at the theater. Gauzia never arrives until an hour before the performance. She's too busy entertaining her admirers.”
”Maybe.” He was looking at her so intently that she suddenly felt self-conscious.
”What is it?” she asked. ”Is there a smear of greasepaint on my face?”
”I just can't get used to seeing you like that,” he said awkwardly. ”Can't you shed your disguise now that we're alone together?”
”It's still me, Jagu,” she said, sipping her tea. Alone together. Alone together. There was something about the way he p.r.o.nounced those words that sent a little s.h.i.+ver through her. Yet they had been alone together countless times before. His request touched her. Would it hurt to indulge him? There was something about the way he p.r.o.nounced those words that sent a little s.h.i.+ver through her. Yet they had been alone together countless times before. His request touched her. Would it hurt to indulge him?
”Faie,” she said softly. ”It's all right; I'm safe here. Change me back.”
”If that's what you truly wish...”
Celestine saw from Jagu's startled reaction that the Faie had withdrawn the glamour she had cast around her.
”Is that better?” She felt suddenly shy, defenseless, as if the Faie had also stripped away the protective sh.e.l.l with which she had been s.h.i.+elding her true feelings.
He set down his cup, still staring at her. ”The truth is that I would still love you, whether you were Maela, Celestine... or whoever else you chose to be.”
”You... love me?” To hear Jagu make such a confession was so unexpected that she thought she must have misheard. ”Don't make fun of me, Jagu.”
”Don't you know me well enough by now? I'm incapable of joking about something so important.”
”Prove it.” What was she saying? The challenge issued from her lips before she could stop herself. Hadn't their relations.h.i.+p always been like this? Fierce arguments over interpretation, whether a piece of music or orders relating to their mission.
The next moment he crossed the room and, taking her face between his hands, pressed his lips to hers, kissing her. She began to protest, pus.h.i.+ng against him, her cry smothered by his mouth. Then suddenly she stopped struggling, surrendering to his hunger, kissing him back, her mouth hot and eager.
All Jagu's conflicted feelings had woven themselves into the kiss: frustrated longing and helpless desire. He had expected her to push him away. But she had only pulled him closer. It surprised him how swiftly, how easily, his body responded to hers-and how urgent his need had become to take matters further. While he still had the power to control himself, he gently released her, his hands on her shoulders. She gazed questioningly up at him and he realized that she had never looked at him in such an intimate, vulnerable way before.
”I should take you back to your lodgings,” he said.
”Yes, you should.” But when she made no move, he began to stroke her hair.
”When you disappeared, I was afraid that I'd lost you for good,” he said softly. ”Why is it that you don't realize till something's gone how important it is to you?”
”More important to you than your vow to the Commanderie?”
”Since I lost you I've felt”- he struggled to find the right word- ”incomplete. Like a part of myself was missing. But when I heard you were on Andrei Orlov's s.h.i.+p, I somehow a.s.sumed that you... and he...”
”That we were lovers?” A little blush had appeared on her cheeks. ”It could so easily have happened. But I ran away. I had my reasons.”