Twilight of a Queen (22 page)

“Actually she strikes me as being exceedingly wise for her age. Perhaps you should take more heed of her.”

Although Xavier smiled at her over the brim of his wineglass, his eyes simmered with a dangerous heat that sent a shiver through her. It seemed safer to return to the subject of the firewood.

“The bonfire will be lit the night of the gathering atop the cliffs,” she said.

“Ah! A witch’s Sabbath.”

“No! There will be no witchery involved,” Jane insisted, although she was not entirely comfortable with the idea of this gathering herself. “As I understand it, the daughters of earth assemble upon the cliffs of Argot once a year to—to hold council. This one will be especially important because Ariane intends to announce who her successor will be.

“I fear that is what the uproar was about this morning. There is a great deal of dissension among the women about who should be named. I am not sure that even Ariane has decided yet.”

“Which should make for quite a lively meeting. How intriguing,” Xavier murmured with that mischievous glint in his eyes that Jane was coming to recognize.

“Gentlemen are not permitted to attend.” She furrowed her brow and then amended. “That is—I am not entirely sure it is forbidden, but I believe it is against their traditions—”

“Don’t fret, my dear,” he interrupted her with a laugh.
“I have no intention of invading the proceedings. In fact I intend to be—”

He checked himself, lowering his lashes. “Fast asleep by then.”

Jane had a feeling that was not what he had intended to say, but her suspicion was diverted as he continued, “So do you mean to attend this council and cast your vote?”

“No one gets to vote, although Ariane certainly welcomes advice. But the decision is ultimately hers. And no,” she added quietly. “I won’t be going.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am not one of them. I don’t belong here.”

“I imagine that you could if you chose to do so. Perhaps you ought to consider it. It seems a fine place to be if you are a woman. More freedom than you would encounter anywhere, a tiny realm ruled by petticoats and—now who the devil is this?”

Jane was startled by Xavier’s abrupt change of tone. He had been lounging over his wine, but he straightened, frowning at something beyond her range of vision.

Jane twisted around to see Ariane bearing down upon them with a petite elfin-looking woman with a braid of moon-gold hair.

“I believe Ariane means to introduce you to Madame Aristide. She is—”

“My father’s youngest daughter and favorite child, Miribelle. My ship was named for the woman. I should have rechristened the damned boat.” Xavier’s acid tone did not bode well. He looked as tense as a man expecting to be ambushed.

Jane could scarce have said why, but she leaped up and
resettled herself protectively on the bench beside him. Ariane did not look any better pleased at the prospect of the introduction than Xavier. She stood poker straight, her face set in tense lines. Only Miribelle was smiling.

“Captain Xavier, may I present to you—” Ariane began.

“Your sister, Miri.” Miri rushed around the table and embraced Xavier. He stiffened, looking startled. For a moment Jane feared he would push Miri away.

But he patted her back in an awkward gesture, muttering, “Mind the arm.”

She drew back, smoothing her hand over his sling. “S-sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you.” Her eyes glistened. “It is just that you do look so very much like Papa. I hope you do not mind my saying that.”

“It does me little good to mind,” he replied. “Unless you know some magic spell to change my face, I fear it is true.”

“You require no magic, Xavier.” Miri turned to Ariane. “Our brother is a very handsome man, is he not, Ari?”

Ariane made a noncommittal sound that did little to daunt her younger sister’s enthusiasm. Miri beamed as she settled herself beside Ariane on the bench opposite.

A heavy silence ensued, Xavier looking wary, Ariane grim, and Miri expectant.

Jane rose to her feet. “Perhaps I should—”

“No stay, Jane.” Xavier seized her wrist, hauling her back down. “There is no reason this tender family reunion need be a private affair. I have been expecting this inquisition ever since I washed ashore. So tell me, my dear sisters, have you brought your rack and thumbscrew?”

Ariane bristled. “Miri and I intend no inquisition, but it is only natural we would have questions.”

“We only want to get to know you better,” Miri said. “And I am sure there is much you would like to know about us.”

“I have already learned quite a bit from Madame Bevans. Ariane is the Lady of Faire Isle, a notorious sorceress. And Miri is Madame Aristide, the witch-hunter’s bride.”

If Xavier had set out to wound his youngest sister in her most vulnerable place, he had succeeded. Miri flinched and Ariane covered her hand in a protective gesture.

“Madame Bevans is a foolish gossip who does not get her facts straight. I am no more of a sorceress than she is and Simon Aristide long ago abandoned his profession. He is a good husband to Miri and an honorable worthy man.”

Miri cast Ariane a grateful smile, her sister’s praise of Simon Aristide clearly meaning a great deal to her.

“Now what of you, monsieur?” Ariane leveled her gaze at Xavier. “You have the advantage, because while you knew of us, we never even suspected your existence until three days ago.”

“What do you want to know?”

“To start with, where have you been keeping yourself all these years?”

“At sea.”

“With our father?” Miri asked.

“No, he’s dead.”

Both women flinched at the harshness of his tone.

“We are well aware of that. You needn’t fling the fact
in our faces every chance—” Ariane began, but Miri intervened.

“We are hoping you will tell us something of Papa’s last days. When and how did he die?”

Xavier compressed his lips. Jane thought she understood the reason for his tension. He had spun for her many tales of his adventures on the sea and exploring the jungles of Brazil, talking about Drake, Xavier’s own crew, even some of the natives he had encountered.

One figure was significantly absent from his tales, his father. Xavier seldom mentioned the Chevalier Louis Cheney, and for whatever reason he appeared loath to speak of the man. And yet it was natural that Ariane and Miri should hunger for any scrap of information about the father who had been lost to them for so many years.

Xavier took his time replying, reaching to refill his wine cup, making an awkward business of it with his left hand. Jane hastened to help him, grateful for something to do. She felt uncomfortable being here, like someone caught between two opposing armies and not entirely certain whose side she should be on.

Xavier took a long swallow of his wine before finally answering Miri’s question. “The chevalier died about two years ago in a Portuguese mission in Brazil. He succumbed after a prolonged bout of the yellow fever.”

“Did he suffer much?” Ariane asked.

“I wouldn’t know.” Xavier shrugged. “I lost track of the man for a while, nearly five years.”

Ariane drew in a sharp breath, looking outraged. Xavier sounded as callous as though he had merely mislaid
a pair of boots. But Jane was certain that his separation from his father had to have come during those years Xavier was a prisoner of the Spanish and his service aboard Drake’s ship.

Why couldn’t the man abandon some of his stiff-necked pride and confide in them as he had done with her?

“Perhaps you should tell your sisters why you and your father became separated,” Jane suggested.

“I would be happy to—if I thought it was any of their concern.” Xavier dove back into his wine cup, lapsing into silence again.

Ariane opened her mouth to make some retort, but managed to contain it by pressing her lips together. It was left to Miri to continue.

“Did—did Papa ever speak of us at all?” she asked in a small voice.

“Incessantly.”

“Did he leave any message when he lay dying? Did he say anything at all?”

“Nothing that made any sense. He was delirious by the time I reached him.”

Xavier’s curt reply dimmed the hope in Miri’s eyes. Another heavy silence fell until Ariane took up the questioning.

“And so you sailed here aboard the
Miribelle?”

“I wasn’t sailing
here
, but yes.” Xavier took another gulp of wine. “I was aboard the
Miribelle
when I was caught in the storm.”

“Our father set sail from Brittany with three carracks. What became of the other two?”

“The
Good Hope
was lost during an attack by Turkish
pirates not long after we first set sail from St. Malo. I believe the
Sea Lion
went down in a storm off the coast of Brazil. I don’t know. I was not with the chevalier at the time.”

“So of all my father’s ships, only the
Miribelle
remains?” Ariane asked.

Xavier set down his cup with a sharp snap. “No, if the
Miribelle
made it to St. Malo, only
my
ship remains. I was the one who risked life and limb to retake the vessel when it had been captured by the Spanish. The
Miribelle
is
mine
now.”

Miri spoke up quickly. “I am sure Ariane did not mean to dispute your possession of it.”

“Good, because if she is not at the bottom of the sea, that miserable leaky vessel is all I have left.” Xavier leveled an accusing stare at his sisters. “It is my understanding that when my mother retired to a convent, she ceded the house in Paris to you ladies.”

“Property that was provided for that woman by our father. With money from our family coffers that we could ill afford,” Ariane said hotly, but Miri placed her hand on Ariane’s arm.

“It hardly matters because the house was eventually confiscated by the Crown, so none of us have it now,” Miri reminded her sister. “You never cared about the property in Paris, Ari.”

She turned back to Xavier explaining, “The house was used by our other sister Gabrielle for a time. But once Gabby married Remy, she no longer cared about having a dwelling in Paris either.”

Miri’s expression grew wistful. “What we all most wished for was our father’s safe journey home. He promised
me before he left that he would return soon and would bring a monkey or some exotic bird from the new world. And he would write down every last one of his adventures to share with me.”

Xavier swirled the lees of wine in his cup and admitted grudgingly “He did leave a parrot and a collection of journals for you.”

“Oh!”

“Regrettably I was obliged to eat the bird and I had to use the journals for kindling.”

Miri paled, but she rallied, saying, “Well, if you were cold and starving, it is quite understandable. I only hope you remembered to thank the bird for sacrificing his life for you.”

Xavier stared at her as though he thought she was mad. Then he emitted a reluctant laugh. “Thank the Sea Beggar? The damned bird would only have cursed me and he is fluent in several languages.”

“Is?”
Miri challenged, cocking her head to one side.

Xavier met her gaze for a long moment before his lips twitched with a smile. “Yes, I was only jesting. If the
Miribelle
is safe, so are your journals and that infernal parrot.”

Miri chuckled and Jane might have relaxed and smiled as well if she had not observed the stony expression on Ariane’s face.

“Forgive me if I don’t share your sense of humor, Captain,” she said. “But our father died over two years ago?”

Xavier’s smile fled, the man on his guard again. “Yes, what of it?”

“It strikes me that you have had ample time to sail to Faire Isle and inform us of his passing.”

“Maybe I had more
important matters
to occupy my time,” Xavier said, flinging Ariane’s own words back at her.

Ignoring the taunt, Ariane fired right back. “And maybe you never intended to bring Miri those journals.”

“No, I didn’t. If it was that important to the chevalier that she have them, he should have entrusted them to someone else upon his deathbed.”

“You ignored Papa’s dying request?” Ariane gasped, springing to her feet. “Damn you!”

“Ariane, please. I am sure our brother had some good reason.”

But this time Ariane ignored Miri’s gentle attempts to intervene. Splaying her hands on the table, she leaned toward Xavier, her face flushed, her voice vibrating with anger.

“Do you know how hard it was on me and my sisters? Our father just vanishing that way, the torture of not knowing what had become of him? Those journals would have meant the world to us and you could not even be bothered to make the slightest effort to see them delivered. Papa took you with him. You had our father all those years—”

“I
had
him?” Xavier grated, leaping up as well. Jane reached for him, making her own effort to restore the peace, but Xavier shook her off.

“Do you want to know the only reason the chevalier took me with him on his grand voyage to Brazil?” he sneered.

“It is obvious. Because you were his precious son while we were mere—”

“The precious son he never wanted to claim. When my
mother realized he meant to sail off and we would likely never see him again, something inside my mother finally broke.

“She held a knife to my throat and told the chevalier he would either acknowledge me at last or she was going to kill me and herself.

“Maybe the chevalier didn’t believe her because he hesitated.” Xavier gave a bitter laugh. “At least that is what I have always wanted to believe was his reason for waiting a fraction too long to answer.”

His hand moved to stroke the scar on his throat, the wound Jane had surmised must have come from some vicious opponent or murderous villain. But dear God, his own mother … Jane pressed her hand to her mouth as Xavier spilled out the rest of his words in a heated rush.

“Fortunately my mother’s hand wasn’t steady enough to slice too deep. When my father got the bleeding stopped, he must have reckoned he had better take me with him or have my death on his conscience.

“Even then, I never felt free to call him anything other than what I always had,
monsieur
. And
that
, Madame, is how much I
had
of our father.”