Templar's Destiny (9780545415095) (13 page)

I brought a new tray from the kitchen a short while later and was surprised by the change in the Princess's mood. She was seated peacefully in a deep wooden chair, surrounded by many cushions and immersed in a thick tome that lay open in her hands. Aine stood off to her left, stiff and vigilant, every inch the personal guard of the Princess. It seemed that I was the only one who saw her as something other than what she projected. There were two young women sitting opposite on cushions, embroidering psalms onto linen altar cloths. All three looked up when I entered.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude, monsieur. It is not often that I behave like a shrew and nearly throw myself into the remains of my meal,” she said, surprising me as well as all of the others in the room. Aine's eyes widened, and the ladies at her feet tucked their faces into their hands, smiling.

“Nay, Princess. Ye owe me nothing,” I said, stammering. I placed the tray on a table near enough that she could reach when ready.

She looked down toward the ladies. “Leave us,” she said. Neither commented, just picked up her work and moved silently away. The Princess did not speak until the door to the library had closed. “I don't know what came over me,” she said. “It's de Nogaret. The man is a villain. He was so …” She stood and began to pace. “So pleased with himself and the bargain he made for my body and soul.”

I found I could not stay silent in the face of her comment. “The man is foul, my Lady. Ye were a bit restrained, truly. I'm sure I'd have been worse if he were trading me off to the highest bidder.”

Aine raised her eyebrows and darted a warning in my direction.

“You've had dealings with the man?” she asked.

I should not have spoken and now was caught in it. “Indirectly, my Lady, an' from the word of others who have cause to complain.”

She stopped her pacing by a tall casement window that looked out over her father's land. As I took in her rigid stance and taut shoulders I wasn't thinking about much other than her eyes. Aine, however, was busy. I felt a slight vibration in the web of power surrounding the room and immediately set myself to joining her read as well as masking our use of the power.

There were many memories in this room, she was correct in that, but within the vibration I drew the essence that was the memory of the King. Almost at once I saw him there. My ears began to ring, and my vision slid back and forth between the present and the many instances of the King in this room in the past.

The Princess was absorbed in her thoughts, and we had a moment of freedom. Aine's song rang in my mind, soft and beautiful, the way it had so many times before, the way it hadn't since she'd left me. It felt good and right.

I drew the memory she identified most strongly with and expanded her sight of it with only the slightest effort.

The King stood before the shelves and reached behind a book with an old and cracked leather surface. A small metal box, ancient and tarnished, appeared in his palm. From inside the box came a bit of lead with two red silk strings attached. There was a shape embossed in it.

I edged closer to the shelf, peering with my other sight at the insignia that he saw. It was a man in a boat, fishing.

“Tell me about this land. Tell me about England and what I will have to face there.” The words of the Princess jolted me from the vision of her father into a vision of her future. I jerked, surprised, as she stared at me. The Princess Isabella on the royal throne of England. A golden crown low upon her brow. A child on her lap. And yet sadness was etched upon her brow.

“Ye will be Queen,” I said. “Ye will have a son. He will be everything to ye.”

Aine gasped. The Princess tipped her head and moved closer to peer up at me. “Are you a seer?” she asked softly. The question had such desperation to it that I could not find it in myself to lie.

“Aye, my Lady. Not in everything, but I see some things.” My words were a whisper.

“No,” said Aine.

The Princess turned, and with a nod of her head, Aine was dismissed from the room. As Aine reluctantly moved past me, the swirl of her worry worked its way around my mind. There was nothing I could do now, however, for the Princess knew and was determined to find out more.

“Why are you here?” the Princess asked the moment we were alone in the library.

Her gaze was direct, and I was compelled to answer truthfully, though I questioned the wiseness of doing so.

“My Lady, I am seeking my brother. He was abducted from my homeland near on a full moon past.” I walked toward the shelves, drawn to the spot I had seen in the vision.

“You seek him here? Why?” she asked, watching my movements as if she were a hawk ready to swoop.

I hesitated. “I have reason to believe he was taken by agents o' yer father.”

She stared at me as if to decide if I had taken leave of my senses or was actually telling her the truth. “Is there somewhere that requires you now? This tale is one I think that will take some time in the telling.”

I hesitated. Why was I here, telling her things that could get not only myself, but also many of the people I knew killed? “Perhaps I misspoke. I should be going, my Lady.” I turned from the shelves, intent on the door.

“No, wait. You must tell me more. I need to know….” She seemed unsure of herself at that moment, sad somehow, and my heart twisted just a bit. I did not know why I should relate to someone like her or care. But perhaps she was just as misused as we.

“If I can tell it, my Lady, I will. What is it that ye need to know?” I had somehow come to stand in front of her and in that moment she was not royalty, not a Lady, not a Queen to be. She was just a lass, and her eyes shimmered with tears unshed.

“Will I love him?” Her question came out as a soft entreaty.

I stared deep into her eyes and made the decision. Then, for the first time I called upon the power and drew a vision to me as I had never done before. The library faded, and I found myself a witness in the private suite of the future King of England. The Princess was Queen.

“Why are you only happy when another is at your side?”
she asked.

“Don't ask what you do not want to hear, Isabella. We are husband and wife, you and I. We do not dislike each other. I do not mistreat you.”

“But you do not love me,”
she whispered. The future King walked from their bedchamber without a backward glance.

I came back to the library with a lurch, to the golden amber of her pleading eyes, and God help me I could not tell her the truth of what I'd seen. Her hope was too strong.

Instead, I found myself leaning toward her, her breath soft on my lips and my hands barely touching her shoulders. And in the next moment I found myself kissing the Princess, daughter of the King of France, the future Queen of England. I was the first to pull away, shocked by what I'd done. Isabella appeared dazed. Her hand rose gently to her lips, her eyes lit with the glow of the sun.

“I'm sorry. I'd better go,” I said, and quickly made my way to the door.

“Wait,” she said.

My hand rested weakly on the latch.

“Who are you?” she asked.

I turned back only a moment. “I am no one, my Lady. Just the son o' a fisherman.” I opened the door and was through it before she could speak another word.

Aine waited in the shadows and fell into step beside me as I walked. “What did ye tell her?” she hissed.

“I sought her help in finding Torquil,” I said, avoiding all other mention of what had happened.

“Have ye taken leave o' yer senses?” she demanded. “She will have yer head for witchcraft. How could ye have spoken o' a vision to the Princess?”

“Aine, I didn't do it on purpose,” I said, annoyed. “It came to me, an' I was no' o' a right mind to brush it off.” I waved my hand in a dismissive manner. “She doesn't even know who I am. What does it matter?”

I could feel Aine stewing beside me. “No good will come o' this. Mark my words.”

Cornelius carved a bit of wild peahen, then speared it with his knife. “There is talk among the kitchen staff that the Princess is seeking a worker who delivered food to her on the eve o' this day past.” He grinned. “'Tis said she is quite ardent in her search.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is there anyone here who would answer to that description?”

I ducked away from his questioning gaze, seeking a place of peace to think about the golden eyes that haunted my morning. Aine had arrived early, and I had never seen a sourer disposition on her. I avoided her company but could not escape her gaze.

“Tormod, I thought that we agreed that ye would stay in the suite,” said the Templar. “The last thing we need right now is the Princess seeking ye out.”

“I needed to warn Aine that Gaylen was here,” I said. “There was no other way, truly.”

The Templar made a noise low in his throat. I knew it well for disbelief and a bit of annoyance.

Aine sat on the dais, scowling at me. I took a seat on the bench near the rear wall and idly fished out a book on ancient tales that the Templar had been reading, but my mind refused to focus on the words before me.

“Aine, have ye had any progress in the library?” the Templar asked.

I had nearly forgotten. “We were able to expand the vision last night, together. The object the King holds is a circular bit o' lead with silk strings attached,” I said. “On it is the image o' a boat with a man fishing from it.”

The Templar looked up with surprise. “An impression o' the ring o' the fisherman, the Holy Father's ring?”

“Why would the King have something like that?” Aine asked.

“More to the point, why would he keep it hidden?” Alexander replied. I knew the far-off expression he wore — his mind was working furiously for an answer. “Were there any markings around the edge?”

“We saw only the vision o' the memory. The King did not look at what he held very closely,” I replied.

“Aine, d'ye know the Princess's schedule today? Is there any way ye can get back into the library in safety?”

Aine fidgeted. “I can try, but the Princess has broken from her routine today. She spent longer than usual abed and took a stroll near the kitchens after she broke her fast.” Aine's gaze flickered toward me, and I felt the heat rise in my face.

The Templar rose swiftly and moved with purpose toward the door. “I must speak to Fabienne about the King's feast this evening. Cornelius, will ye accompany me?” he asked.

“Of course, Alexander. I have a new pouch o' saffron she requested.”

“We will be out for a short while.” The Templar turned to me pointedly. “'Tis important that ye are no' seen, Tormod. Do we understand one another?”

His tone stung. I nodded, determined to show him that I was listening and responsible.

Once the Templar and Cornelius left, there was a quiet in the suite that was less than comfortable. Aine sat by the window, staring out without speaking. Her shielding was strong and high — I could get nothing of what she was feeling or thinking.

“She asked me to give ye this.” I scarcely heard the words she spoke and so was surprised when she rose abruptly and dropped a small, folded bit of parchment into my lap.

“Who?” I asked.

Her eyes flashed, and I blinked at the venom revealed there. “The Princess,” she hissed.

“What does it say?” I asked, flipping it open.

“How would I know that, Tormod? I canno' read, as ye are so fond o' announcing to the world.” There was anger as well as hurt in her tone, and I was ashamed of myself.

“I'm sorry. When this is a' last put to rest, I will teach ye if I can.” I read the note, and when I looked up at her I was surprised to see the film of tears in her eyes. She quickly turned away, and her voice was thick when she spoke.

“What does it say?”

I felt as though a pile of sand was lodged within my throat. “She wants to meet me. She says 'tis about my brother.”

Nervousness flared between us as Aine unconsciously lowered her shields. “Where? When?”