He brusquely pushed himself away from the table, leaving me feeling as though I’d angered him somehow. “And how does he seem to you? My son?”
There was a strange charge to the air, the feeling of a summer storm about to break.
“Much changed, I think,” I began carefully. “Though you would know that far better than I.” I turned to my valise, wanting to quickly pack up and hurry from the room before the king’s temper had the chance to flare.
He made a noise of agreement. “He has changed. He seems…matured, grown in ways I’d always hoped for yet wasn’t quite sure he’d ever master. For the first time in his life, I can envision him as a king.” He swallowed. “It’s a relief, I must admit.”
“I can only imagine,” I murmured. “But I don’t see him taking on that role for many, many years to come.”
Marnaigne busied himself at a side table laden with bottles and decanters. My feet itched to move closer to the door. The ground beneath me felt unsteady, as if one word might cause it to all fall apart. Despite the afternoon sun streaming in through the open windows, a chill had settled over me, impossible to shake.
“I don’t want him falling into old habits now that he’s returned.” He pulled the cork from a bottle of wine before turning to me. “Do you understand what I mean?”
I nodded.
“It’s time he stepped up his responsibilities. His duties. It’s time he followed his path.”
“Of course.”
“And he can’t do those things if his head is turned. There are so many temptations to lure a young man off his path, don’t you agree?Trees to climb, flowers to…” He waved his hand with an irritable swish, as if fighting to remember the right word. “Pluck.”
“Game to hunt,” I continued for him, as if I understood exactly what his muddled metaphor alluded to.
He snapped his fingers. “Exactly.” He let out a sigh. “It’s a comfort knowing I can always count on you, Hazel. You are one of the very few bright points in a very bleak year.”
I startled as the king offered me a goblet. “What’s this for?”
“Euphemia mentioned it’s your birthday,” he said. “With all the excitement going on, I don’t want it to go unmarked.”
“Oh, Your Majesty, thank you.”
He raised his glass in the air. “May the First watch over you with smiling eyes. May the Divided Ones bring only good fortune and blessings to you. And may the”—he caught himself, laughing nervously—“and may your godfather keep away for many years to come.”
The crystal rang with a bell-likedingas we touched our glasses together.
The clock on the mantel—a tiny replica of one of the fountains in Châtellerault, made of gold and covered by a dome glass—whirred to life. Little figurines zipped along the promenade, growing more frenzied as the clock prepared to chime out the hour.
“Damn,” Marnaigne said, his brow furrowed. “Is that truly the time? I’m meant to be meeting with—”
A cheerful knock sounded, and before he could grant admittance, the door opened wide and Margaux entered. She wore her usual robes of blue and silver, every inch of her covered, from neck to toes. I felt overheated just looking at her.
“Are you ready to see me now, Your Majesty?” she asked. “Oh,Hazel,” she said warmly, noting my presence. “I feel as if it’s been an age since I’ve seen you!”
“You’ve been busy,” I allowed.
In truth, it had been weeks since I’d seen her. Between Bellatrice pulling me to every event of the season, Margaux’s increased visions from the Holy First, and all the necessary meetings and conferences with the king those brought about, I felt much removed from my friend.
Marnaigne took a great swallow of the wine, trying to finish it quickly, and gestured that I should do the same. It tasted of bitter cherries and was much stronger than the table wine served at meals.
“Margaux, yes, yes. Come in. Hazel and I were only finishingup.”
“The Holy First sends her blessings to you both,” she said too brightly, as if struggling to find a topic of conversation as I went for my valise.
“Does she?” The words were out of my mouth before I could think. A quick hiccup followed, and I covered my mouth, aghast. “I’m so sorry!”
Marnaigne let out a boisterous laugh, amused by my skepticism.
“Of course,” Margaux said, looking wounded. “She cares for us all. She loves us all.” She turned to the king, suddenly rapturous. “And, sire, she has the most amazing message for you! I was having tea this morning when a vision overtook me. She wants you to know—”
