The Hedgewitch Queen

“D’Arcenne is a fool if he worries her now. Look at her, chivalier, this noblewoman you’ve sworn to. Look at how thin she is, and the circles under her eyes, and the way her hand shakes.” Risaine let out a sharp chuff of annoyance, pushing back a white curl. “You will kill her, do you continue in this manner. Then where will you be?”

The urge to conciliate all but overpowered me. “I am not as bad as all that.” I took my hand back from Jierre with a wan smile. “What has gone wrong? Tristan has been grim for days.” I looked from Jierre to Adersahl, my wits taking on their accustomed sharpness. I found I could guess where the problem lay.

“Oh, no.” My heart thumped, sickly, and settled into a high hard gallop. “They have found us. Or are about to.”

“Not through my spells,” Risaine muttered. “My nephew is merely rash. Excitable. Bloody stubborn.”

Adersahl shrugged. He was broader in the shoulder than whip-lean Jierre, and his bulk granted some comfort. He slapped his hat idly against his stocky thigh. “The bandit wishes to fight them. This is their village, and we may be tracked here.”

“Not through my weavings.” Risaine turned to the fire. “Dri is young, but he still listens to my counsel. He merely speaks of it to needle your Captain. Which is far too easy to do.”

Jierre brushed that aside with a dismissive wave of his hat, his other hand dropping to his rapier’s hilt. “Tell her everything. Tell her about the plague.”

Oh, sweet Blessed, no. Tis not even summer. Plague will spread far and wide without winter to contain it. And there has not been a plague since before the King’s time. My gaze met Adersahl’s. “There is plague? Where? And how badly?”

“What is this merry gathering, and I uninvited?” Tristan said from the door. I took a deep breath. The sight of him: blue d’Arcenne eyes, his clothes clean now — they had the means to take baths here, and I sorely wanted one once I could escape the bed — made my heart commence knocking against my ribs. He had found someone to trim his hair, too; slightly shorter than a chivalier’s current fashion, but it made him even more handsome. “Lieutenant?”

I took another drink of broth, using the time to compose my thoughts. Well. We are about to change the playing field, d’Arcenne. I hope you are unprepared. “What is this I hear of danger and plague, Captain? Is there aught you wish to tell me?”

“I did not wish your worry.” Tristan shot a sharp glance at Jierre, who shrugged, his lean face shuttering itself with an almost audible snap. “We shall speak of this later, di Yspres.”

“You shall not,” I disagreed immediately, but mildly enough. “You will speak of it now, and cease whipping di Yspres for my curiosity. I asked him, Captain, surely I have a right to ask for news?”

I do not know who was more shocked — Tristan; Risaine, who gave me an approving smile; Jierre, whose jaw frankly dropped; or myself. I sounded…

Well, I sounded like the King, amused and casually confident Tristan would obey my orders.

Let us pray he agrees, at least at this moment. I may likely pay for any show of independence later. But here, where there were more people, was a fine time for me to start working my own will, instead of being carried along by his. I had a possible ally in Risaine, and something told me she and her nephew were far from the worst friends I could have in the Shirlstrienne.

“You do.” The Captain nodded slightly, as if to say, proceed. He did not look angered by my sudden authority. Instead, he seemed relieved. “Plague has struck Arquitaine, and struck hard. Citte D’Arquitaine has fallen victim. The plague starts with fever and ends with blood pouring from the nose and mouth until death. Few of those touched by it have recovered. D’Orlaans is seeking the Aryx, though he dares not let anyone know the Great Seal is gone and he carries a false copy. Instead, every garrison and Guard in Arquitaine is looking for you. The tale is that I have kidnapped you and am holding you for ransom to buy my own safety.” A muscle in Tristan’s jaw twitched. “You have been proxy-wed to d’Orlaans in the Chepelle Ste-Mairie.”

I stared through him, thinking furiously. Perhaps I am not helpless. It was a welcome thought. “Plague and a proxy marriage. Dear gods.”

“The Blessed have expressed their displeasure with Arquitaine.” Jierre’s eyebrows were drawn together, and under his coloring he was pale. “You carry the true Seal, d’mselle, so we are safe from the plague, at least.”

“We do not know that,” Risaine interrupted. “She may have just recovered from the sickness. I have not seen this fever before, sieurs, and among this collection of ragtails that is rare indeed.”

“None of us have fallen victim,” Tristan pointed out. His blue gaze bored into me.

That is little comfort. And if I were surprised at Jierre di Yspres’s sudden piety, I needed look no farther than the metal at my own throat to find a good reason for it. If the Seal had slumbered and was now awake…but why? Why wake now, and why plague now?

I could do nothing about the plague for the moment. There were other things I must know. “He proxy-wed me?” He should be seeking to kill me, not still wed me. He has to know I am aware of his conspiracy. “It makes little sense.”

“It means nothing,” Risaine said fiercely. “You hold the Aryx; you cannot be proxy-wed. It will not hold.”

Tristan rested his hand on his rapier’s hilt. “He has a copy of the Aryx and enough Court sorcery to make it seem to live. Especially since the Aryx…well. Court sorcery has become much easier in the past weeks. We have all noticed it.”

“Fools,” Risaine snorted. “All of you, fools.”

No doubt. But I wonder why you say so, m’dama. I looked down into my cup. Court sorcery stronger? I had not noticed, but then, I am not a Court sorcerer. At least, I was not before this.

I must think. But first… “Could I be carrying plague?”

“If you were, one of us would be ill by now. Yet except for di Rocham’s broken heart and Tristan’s scowl, we all seem hale.” Adersahl leaned against the table, examining the herbs piled in neat bundles, the jars standing ready to be scalded. “There is an easy enough solution to all our problems, d’mselle.”

It is not the problems which worry me, it is the cause, which has acquired another tangle. “Which is?” I contemplated the bits of dried fevrebit floating in the broth.

“Is it not obvious? Contract a liaison, and make it public knowledge you have the Aryx.” Adersahl picked up a sprig of rosemaire and crushed it between his broad, deft fingers, inhaled the scent. “Still, the nearest problem is di Narborre. We have discovered he was in Tierrce d’Estrienne some days ago.”

My fingers clenched around the cup. Memory choked me.

“Make certain none still live.” A crunch, and a wet stabbing sound—

I swallowed bile. If I were a man, there would be an accounting for that. Dull anger sparked red in my chest, through layers of numbness. There is much I would repay di Narborre and his master.

“Vianne?” Tristan crossed the room, shouldered Jierre aside, and rescued the cup from my trembling hands. “You are pale.”

I was not short of breath, but I nodded, tendrils of dark hair falling in my face. “When do we leave?” My voice was a thin thread. It was not fear that made me so quiet. Twas instead a great hot-crimson anger, one I pushed aside. A lady must not ever betray such rage.

His hands were warm, and I near forgot every other person in the room as he steadied me. “We are at the edge of the Alpeis, in a hidden bandit’s village. Do not fret, Vianne. This is why I kept the news from you a short while, I wish you to regain your strength before we flee to Arcenne.”

I inhaled sharply. Calm, Vianne. You must be cold as if you are hunting an intrigue meant to catch your Princesse. They caught her, and now you must serve them to their own folly, as quickly and neatly as you may. It will be difficult, but this you must do. “Yet—” I meant to protest that I was fit to ride, that we must be on our way.