Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (63 page)

“Tell me what you can remember.” Blaise said. “You might remember more than you think, and then you’ll know what was real and what’s in your imagination. It’s not going to be an easy thing to fix, Jenn. You’ve been through more in the last few months than I can imagine, but it’s a place to start. And I’ll be here with you. I’m not going to let you go again.” Holding her closely to him he listened as she began, falteringly, to talk about what had happened since she left the palace with Faris.

She told him some of what had happened at the inn; glossing over most of Major Naran’s “lesson”, apart from using Colin and Annis as a way of showing her that they would kill the children too if she resisted going with them. Sketching over the journey from the inn to Fetu-Vallis, she gave him far more information about the time when she reached the castle. When she tried to tell him about the fall from the window, when she had broken her leg, she began to tremble; holding tightly onto her self control.

“Jenn? Let it go.” Blaise kissed her gently. “You need to cry. Who’s going to know? There’s only me here, and I’ve seen your tears before, remember?” He kept on murmuring to her until the tears finally began to flow, and she cried as though she would somehow wash out every memory of what had happened. Through the tears, he pulled the rest of the story out of her, leading her gently through the confused welter of memories jumbled in her mind. He gathered that there was more that she wasn’t telling him; but this would do for now. At least she was talking to him, holding on to him, needing him.

Serena Massili entered the room; a protest, forming as she saw Blaise on the bed with the princess, dying before a word was uttered as she saw the young girl sobbing helplessly on his chest. Her eyes met Blaise’s and, for the first time in weeks, Serena smiled at him and nodded in approval, shutting the door behind her.

“I’ve never been like that before,” Jenevra told him, wiping at her face with her sleeve. “Never felt so helpless. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a situation that I knew I couldn’t control, somehow. But I just couldn’t find any way out of it. I couldn’t get free. There was nothing I could do. That was the part that really frightened me—”

Hours later, Jenevra finally stopped crying, and was nestled up against Blaise, held safely within his arms. Looking up she saw he was laying peacefully, his eyes closed. Sprawled, loose-limbed across the counterpane he looked much younger asleep the princess decided, studying him thoughtfully. Even his moustache looked more relaxed, she thought; a faint smile beginning to pull at the corners of her mouth. Shadows from the lamplight accentuated his jaw and cheekbones, picking out the deep gold and red tones in his hair, warming the light tan of his skin. Jenevra fought a compulsion to reach out and run a finger down the straight, almost pointed nose to his moustache; but, before she could stop herself, she leaned forward and kissed him; the merest whisper of a kiss, barely touching his lips with hers.

Pulling back, slowly opening her eyes, Jenevra looked with embarrassment into Captain Tessier’s amused gaze. “I thought you were asleep,” she apologized.

“Not anymore,” he smiled. Even in the low light, Blaise could see the faint blush on her cheeks. Leaning up on one elbow, Blaise tickled the side of her neck. “If we’re going to be married, Jenn, you’ll have to learn to kiss me properly.”

“And who said I’m marrying you?” Jenevra’s tone finally approached the challenging tone he knew so well.

Blaise laughed. “After all this unaccompanied time alone in your room with you, there’ll be more of a scandal if we don’t get married pretty soon. Not to mention what your Aunt’s reaction might be if I was to tell her we spent the night together in a brothel!” He grinned smugly. “Why don’t you just admit I’ve won and kiss me?”

“Won?” One of Jenevra’s eyebrows lifted quizzically and, for the first time in weeks, a definite glimmer of mischief appeared in her eyes. “We’ll see who’s won, Captain.” Lowering her face to his, she kissed him thoroughly; breathing in that familiar lemon-mint aroma that always seemed to hover around him. “Surrender, Captain?”

“I’m an Imperial Flight Captain,” Tessier murmured. “We don’t give up that easily. Do your worst!”

 CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

Christiana entered Jenevra’s room unusually early the following morning, catching her sister still asleep, hair loosely scattered across the pillows for the first time in weeks. Taking a cup of tea from Anna, Jenevra’s maid, Christiana pulled a chair to the side of the bed facing her sister, waiting for her to wake up.

Vaguely aware of movement in the room, Jenevra opened one eye sleepily. “Oh, it’s you,” she murmured. “You’re up early. Something wrong?”

“Apart from you not coming to dinner last night? Oh yes, and Captain Tessier not coming to dinner last night. You tell me, Jenn. Is something wrong?” Christiana crossed one leg over the other; fixing Jenevra with what she hoped was an imperiously regal stare: which dissolved into a disbelieving groan as she saw the blissful smile that wreathed itself across Jenevra’s face. The Empress sighed, her shoulders slumping dramatically. “Oh no, Jenn! Tell me you haven’t convinced yourself you’re in love with him? What time did he leave? He did leave didn’t he?”

Rolling onto her side to look at Christiana, Jenevra snuggled deeper into her pillow. “He left. We talked for a long time, but he did leave.”

“I thought you were adamant that you weren’t going to let sentiment get in your way again? Wasn’t that last week’s statement”

Jenevra nodded, “It was. But what if this is as good as it gets?” She gestured to her leg, and the cane she was using for walking. “What if I can’t do what Phillip or the Order need anymore? Where does that leave me?”

“Are you mad? Married? Today?” Phillip’s normally composed manner was fraying around the edges as he regarded the pair in front of him. Christiana was glaring at him, arms folded.

Jenevra and Blaise nodded at him, hand in hand, hopeful desperation in each of their faces.

Phillip shook his head, barely believing he was going to allow it, but deciding that the happiness—and sanity—in Jenevra’s eyes was worth it … for as long as it lasted. She’d already been through too much on his behalf for him to deny her anything. “Fine … whatever,” he waved at them. “Go ahead and get married. You won’t be staying at court will you? I don’t think we can take the upheaval of the two of you together!”

“We couldn’t desert you, dearest cousin,” Jenevra beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but smile too as he saw the cousin he remembered back again. “Of course we’ll be staying. Where would you be without your best Flight Captains anyway?”

The Flight was ecstatic to see their young Captain up and around again when she visited them that morning, although most of them were surprised that her leg was still as bad as it was.

“It’s going to be a long time before I’m back running, or climbing,” she told them, disconsolately. She spent a little time with each of them as they were unsaddling their horses and unloading equipment from them. Brogan strode around barking orders as usual, and the Flight continued with their normal quiet efficiency. Bernardo lifted her up to carry her back into the palace, and Farid walked alongside them for a moment.

“You’re sure you want to stay with this Flight, Your Highness?” Jenevra asked him pointedly. “You know your rank really—”

Farid’s eyes met hers. “As does yours, Your Highness.”

“Point taken … but I had to ask.”

He nodded gravely. “Princess, did Captain Tessier tell you anything about me?”

“Yes, he did. I think it helped, Farid. Thank you.”

“If you ever need to talk about it, Princess … you know where to find me.” Farid reached out, taking her hands in his and kissing them. Saluting her with the Labrian gesture of palms to heart, he left them.

“You need to eat something, you’re like a wraith,” Bernardo admonished her as he carried her into her room. “You’ll never have the strength to get back with the Flight if you don’t eat properly.” He departed, threatening to take over the kitchens if she didn’t start looking better soon.

Christiana was waiting in Jenevra’s room, subtly understated in a creamy damask dress. “I was wondering if you were ever coming back to get ready. You do know you’re getting married don’t you?” She gave Jenevra a fondly exasperated smile, pulling the younger girl to sit in front of the fire while she brushed her hair out for her.

Christiana smiled widely. “Phillip decided that rushed weddings are a good idea, because no-one has time to fuss over the arrangements, so Raik and Aunt Neilla are getting married too!”

“Was it a royal command?” Jenevra asked, grinning at the thought of it.

“Pretty much, yes…so Serena and Lennia are busy getting Aunt Neilla ready.” Christiana drew the brush through Jenevra’s hair. “Do you want me to re-braid this for you…or are you leaving it loose?” She asked apprehensively. Jenevra had been almost neurotic about not having her hair loose about her when she had first been brought back so badly hurt, but after seeing it loose in the morning, Christiana wasn’t sure now. “I have an idea,” she told Jenevra. “What if I just wrap a ribbon around it…all the way down. It’ll look almost as if there was a braid, but it’ll be easy to take it out if you want to.”

Clera Wargentin entered the room, greeting both girls with a warm kiss. “So, you are crazy enough to take Blaise on?” she laughed. “From what Baran’s told me, I’m not entirely sure which one of you I feel most sympathy for.”

The two sisters grinned at her.

“None of us do,” Christiana agreed. “The only thing we’re all sure of is that they deserve each other!” Pulling Jenevra’s hair back and twisting it slightly along its own length, she asked Clera to hold it while she wrapped a long piece of pale pink ribbon around it, crossing it over at regular intervals and tying it neatly at the end. “There, that looks fine. Which dress are you wearing, Jenn? The blue one you had for my wedding looks good on you…and the Captain missed out on that one, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Jenevra mourned. “And even I quite like me in that one! But I think it’s too low cut across the back for me to wear it just yet, Chris. Lady Menzetti sent one that I thought I’d wear.” She pulled a pale pink velvet gown, the color of the jasmine that grew on the Menzetti estate, from behind the screen where it had been airing. She wasn’t sure what Lady Menzetti had been thinking when she had it made in pink given Jenevra’s usual preference for gray or dark colors, and the style was distinctly older, but it touched something wistful within her.

Graea’s health had been bad again lately, but she had sent the dress to the princess several weeks earlier, and Jenevra was already planning on going back to Mirizir to visit her soon.

“Pink? You?” Christiana was astounded.

“Yes,” Jenevra blushed slightly. “I like it.” Her cheeks burned as her sister’s blue eyes gazed steadily at her. “Can you just help me get it on? And you can stop looking at me like that Chris…”

Against Wynn’s express instructions, Jenevra took the bandages and splints off her leg. “Just for today, Chris. I’ll put them back on tomorrow…you don’t need to mention it to anyone!”

As they helped Jenevra into the pink gown, Clera asked her quietly if Blaise had talked to her about Farid. “I don’t know if it’s any help at all, Jenevra,” she said. “But I saw Farid’s back. It’s almost completely faded now. If he wasn’t so tanned you’d barely be able to see it at all.”

Understanding what Clera was trying to tell her, Jenevra smiled at her nervously. “I suppose we’d better get going soon. Is Richard meeting us here?”

Stephan had disappeared back down to Abalos-Colles to see Allegra as soon as Jenevra had regained consciousness, and didn’t know about this wedding, so Richard was giving his sister away. He arrived in plenty of time to carry Jenevra down to the Temple, depositing her at the entrance next to Arrilia Neilla, who looked lovely in a pale gold gown that reflected in her dark eyes.

Arrilia Neilla hugged Jenevra, tears in her eyes. “You look beautiful, Jenn. Did you know that’s the same color your mother wore when she married your father?”

Jenevra hugged her back. “No, I didn’t.” She laughed. “I should have known Graea would have a reason for it.”

At a signal from the priest, they walked into the Temple; Jenevra on Richard’s arm and Arrilia Neilla on Phillip’s. Raik and Blaise were waiting by the altar; both dressed, as most of the men present were, in the formal blue uniforms of the Imperial War Host.

The priest leaned forward to speak words of welcome to Jenevra and Arrilia Neilla; thrilled that he had the privilege of conducting two royal weddings in this small family temple, rather than having to watch the High Priest perform them in the central Temple. It made the whole event far more personal and comfortable for all involved, although Jenevra could still hear Lennia sniffing when Arrilia Neilla and Raik exchanged their vows.

Jenevra had always loved the marriage vows in the traditional service, but she found a deep new meaning in them as she repeated them looking into Blaise’s eyes in this Temple, under the comforting circle of stars. She knew he had found something in that Temple too after he had felt the peace in there the previous day; and there was an intensity in his voice that everyone noticed.