“Nursey was very right,” said Guillame.
“What were you doing? Did you see my father often?” Beau looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I did, I suppose,” said Guillame. He licked his lips. “I don’t want you to make too much of the fact he didn’t greet you.”
“I know,” said Beau. “He’s very busy. You’re always saying that.”
Guillame sucked in a breath. “Have I ever told you about my father?”
Beau shook his head. “No.”
“He was the pirate king,” said Guillame. “Captain Blackfoot Dubois.”
Beau’s eyes widened. “Really? A real pirate?”
“Indeed,” said Guillame. “And he was mean. Very mean. Never satisfied with me. Used to call me names and take his belt to me.”
“Oh,” said Beau, narrowing his eyes.
“Fathers… they’re overrated.” Guillame winked at him again.
Beau seemed to think about this.
“You are the most perfect boy ever to exist, you know,” Guillame whispered in Beau’s ear. “I have seen a great many little boys, and I like none nearly as much as I like you.”
“I know,” said Beau with a shy smile. “But…”
Guillame kissed the top of Beau’s head. “I understand, my little man. I do.” He sighed.
Beau snuggled into Guillame’s arms.
Guillame held onto him. This… holding his son close… it was as near to perfection as anything in the world.
GUILLAME
Within two weeks, Guillame noticed that Remy was getting antsy. He seemed to hate being cooped up in the castle, and he went on long rides every day, sometimes riding off for the entire afternoon. He was not in attendance for court, which was becoming more and more complicated as fiefs had come home to their holdings after years away.
Fiefs seemed to live only to have grievances, Guillame thought.
He tried to convince Remy that his presence was required at court, but Remy resisted this. After all, the kingdom had been running without him for years. What was there to be doing now?
Guillame toyed with bringing up Beau, but the subject always seemed to be a sore one in some strange way. Guillame thought it was because Remy could see how much both Guillame and Coralie adored the little boy. Before Beau had existed, when he’d been only an abstract idea, Remy hadn’t realized what a child meant. To be fair, Guillame hadn’t either.
Guillame thought that Remy was… well, he hesitated to say jealous of the boy, because he didn’t feel it was that strong. But Remy had grown used to being important to Guillame and Coralie. Both of them had yearned for Remy’s attentions and approval in some ways.
There was less of that now.
Both Guillame and Coralie were more content. Emotionally, they were less volatile.
But Remy… he was the same as he’d ever been. Guillame felt as if being a father had grounded him. He felt as though he’d matured. Remy was still an adolescent in so many ways, and he recognized that. He resented it.
Guillame wanted to tell Remy that he could cultivate a relationship with Beau, that it was permitted, and that it might help in some way, but he didn’t know how to say it.
He didn’t say anything.
And Remy started to leave on his excursions earlier and earlier in the day and to come home later and later.
One such day, Guillame was informed that a contingent was approaching the castle, a vast group of people on horseback and with carriages. They had apparently rented all of these things in port.
He went out to meet them, puzzling over who it could be.
It was possible for people from Briganne to come to Dumonte by ship, because they bordered the ocean, but they usually came over land. And besides, Coralie was in touch with her brother and knew the news from Briganne. She would have been aware of an impending visit.
In the back of his head, he knew who it had to be, but he didn’t want to let it all connect. He supposed he didn’t want it to be her. There was no reason for it to be her, after all. She had everything she ever wanted. Why would she come back here?
Of course, when he saw them approaching, he recognized the white armor of the Islaigne knights, and he knew it was her.
He halted the entire company, telling them he had come from the king.
Bisset wound his way out of the throng. He was on horseback. It had only been four years, but the man looked as if he’d aged ten.
“Bisset,” Guillame greeted. “Is she with you?”
“Yes, the queen is here, along with her entire court,” said Bisset. “We wish an audience with King Remy. We heard he’d returned from fighting. We will speak to him. We have a request for him.”
“What request?” said Guillame. “Have her come and speak to me.”
“The queen will deliver her request to the king only,” said Bisset.
Guillame’s nostrils flared. “She’s refusing to speak to me?”
“Listen, she wasn’t even expecting to see you here,” said Bisset. “We do get news of Dumonte in Islaigne, but generally broad strokes. They don’t talk about the identity of the king’s counselors. It was only in the dock that we were told we’d likely have to see you out. Guillame Dubois. She doesn’t talk much about you, but she seemed to think you’d be off with a certain king of the pirates.”
Guillame hadn’t thought of Atlas in so long. Mentioning him gave him a twinge. He squared his shoulders. “Listen, I’ll ride back and make sure you’ll all be received with the respect you deserve. The king, however, is away from the castle, and likely won’t be back until dark. If she wants to hide in her carriage, that is her own affair.” He didn’t even say goodbye to Bisset. He galloped back to the castle.
He was in a fine temper with the servants, ordering them to prepare an entire wing for Fleur and her people, snapping at anyone who questioned his instructions.
Then he rounded up Coralie and Beau to formally greet Fleur at the gates.
Fleur descended from her carriage, and she was trailed by a small girl with dark, glittering eyes. She didn’t necessarily resemble Remy, but she had very obvious Dumonte coloring. It didn’t point to the child being Remy’s necessarily, but it seemed to narrow it down to the two of them, didn’t it? So, anyone looking at her would think the girl was Guillame’s child.
This was a disaster.
People knew he’d run off with the queen, and that Remy had divorced her. Now she came back with this little girl?
Well, Guillame would have to plead ignorance. He made a show of looking surprised to see the little girl, and then he pretended to get himself under control. It wasn’t much of an act. Her appearance did unsettle him. Nothing about this was good.
Fleur took both of his hands in hers. “It’s good to see you again.” She did the same to Coralie. “And you, a queen once more, Coralie. That is what you were meant to be.”
Coralie managed what seemed to be a genuine smile. “All I’ve ever wanted is for us to be friends, you know?”
“We are friends,” said Fleur. Then she knelt down to be eye level with Beau. “And this must be the doffine. Why, aren’t you a handsome fellow?”
Beau looked up at Guillame, unsure.
Guillame nodded.
“We welcome you to Dumonte, Queen Fleur of Islaigne,” said Beau.
Fleur smiled at him. “May I present my daughter, Princess Marguerite?”
The little girl curtsied. She had a solemn look on her face as she regarded Beau. “We are honored to be welcomed, Doffine Beau.”
“The honor is ours, Princess Marguerite,” said Beau.
The children were adorable being formal with each other like that, but Guillame was caught off guard by the name of the princess. Why was she named after Fleur’s maid? Where was Marguerite the maid, anyway? He looked at the people following Fleur, but he could not see anyone.
“Will you have energy enough to join us for dinner tonight?” said Coralie. “We would be most pleased, but if you would like t
o rest, we will understand.”
“Of course I will attend dinner,” said Fleur.
“I fear you mustn’t count on the presence of my husband,” said Coralie. “I fear he is away from the castle.”
“I see,” said Fleur. “When do you expect his return?”
“He has his own ideas about when he comes and goes,” spoke up Guillame.
Fleur lifted her chin. “You will inform him of my arrival when he does come home?”
“Of course,” said Guillame.
* * *
It was only Guillame, Coralie, and Fleur for dinner. Guillame had expected Jalal and his consort. After all, Bisset had said it was Fleur’s entire court. But then Guillame didn’t know what had happened with Jalal. Perhaps he’d been put to death for trying to murder Fleur.
He was curious about that, but he was mostly curious about why she was there. He tried to pry that out of her at dinner, but she waved his requests away.
“Oh, it’s a bit complicated,” said Fleur. “I’d rather not get into it now. I’ll just go through it once, as soon as Remy is back. What is he doing, by the way?”
“Who knows?” said Coralie, drinking her wine. “I’m beginning to think he’s been fighting battles for all this time because he simply hates this castle. He doesn’t want to spend any time in it.”
“Oh?” Fleur raised her eyebrows. “Doesn’t he spend time with his son?”
“He’s busy,” said Coralie. “He’s running a country.”
“Yes, of course,” said Fleur.
Coralie smiled. “Your daughter, she is… so beautiful and dark.”
Fleur inclined her head. “Oh, thank you.”
“I suppose she takes after her father?”
“I suppose,” said Fleur. “But in Islaigne, we pay little attention to that. After all, the line is traced through the female line.”
“You suppose?” Coralie furrowed her brow. “Don’t you know?”
“I don’t, as a matter of fact,” said Fleur, shrugging. “There were several candidates. More than one of them was dark skinned.”
Coralie turned to look at Guillame, who glared at her.
“But this is hardly a proper topic of conversation for dinner,” said Fleur.
“We are all such old friends,” said Coralie, “having shared so much with each other, how could it matter?”
Fleur shrugged again. “Even so, there is really little more to say on the subject. I do find being a mother is one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever done. Do you?”
“Yes,” said Coralie, nodding.
The two women held each other’s gaze, some sort of undercurrent of understanding passing between them.
After dinner, Fleur excused herself first, citing exhaustion from her journey.
Guillame tried to leave just as quickly, but Coralie stopped him.
“Judging from the age of that girl, Fleur was pregnant when you left,” said Coralie. “The princess can’t be but a few months younger than Beau. Tell me you didn’t know, that Fleur kept it from you.”
“The princess is not my child,” Guillame said tersely. “There’s a reason I left.”
“Fleur said two dark-skinned contenders,” said Coralie. “I can only imagine that’s you and that guard she brought along. What’s his name? Bisset? I saw him help the little girl out of the carriage. He obviously cares for her.”
“No, Bisset would never have—” He broke off. Did he truly want to disabuse Coralie of this notion? “There are men in Islaigne with dark skin, all right?”
“There are?” Coralie thought about this. “Well, I suppose I’ve never been there.” She shook her head. “All right. You’re certain she’s not yours?”
“I am positive,” said Guillame. “I was away when Fleur conceived. I was angry that she could not be faithful to me, so I left her. You need not worry, Coralie. Nothing will divide my devotion to Beau. That is your worry, isn’t it?”
“It’s only that he needs you so very much,” said Coralie.
“I would die for him. You know this,” said Guillame.
Coralie bit down on her bottom lip. She nodded.
* * *
Fleur peered out from behind the door to her chambers. She was standing in her antechamber, blinking at Guillame. “It’s you.”
“You were expecting someone else?” he said.
“I told you I was tired, and I wanted to rest.”
“Let me in,” he said.
She hesitated, and then she nodded, stepping away from the door.
Inside, Bisset was in the antechamber, standing guard at the door to her sitting room. Just like old times. He gave Guillame a nod, but he didn’t say anything.
Fleur was dressed in her nightdress, a robe over top of it. She went into her sitting room and Guillame followed.
He closed the door behind them. “Listen, please tell me what you’re doing here. Remy may be the king, but I’ve been running Dumonte for years now, so if there’s something you need, I’m the one to speak to.”
She crossed to sit down in a chair, regarding him. “You’ve been here all along. I thought you would have gone back to the sea. Why did you come here? Was it for Remy? Is there something with the two of you now?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Guillame, even as he felt his face heating up. He crossed the room and sat down opposite her. “I didn’t plan to come here, Fleur. I ended up here. Things happened.”
“And now you’re running the country. You have power.” She smiled a little. “You were maybe just as ambitious as we were, weren’t you, Guillame? Maybe you attached yourself to me because of my power.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Wow. I haven’t seen you in years, and you’re insulting me already? Did you get bitter in my absence?”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult.” She shook her head. “No matter how much you’re running things, Guillame, I need to make a request of the king himself. And the truth is, I really am exhausted, and I don’t have the energy to get into it now.” She paused, looking him over. “Are you happy here?”
He spread his hands. “Don’t I seem happy?”
She let out a little laugh. “I don’t know. I suppose so.”
“I can’t believe you brought your daughter,” he said. “What were you thinking?”
“It’s too dangerous to leave her in Islaigne,” she said. “I had to bring her with me. I suppose if Remy somehow puzzles it out, I will try to work it to my advantage as best as I can—”
“It looks bad for me,” he said. “Coralie has already determined that I’m your child’s father. Everyone will assume the same thing. I don’t need that kind of notoriety.”
“Well, tell Coralie that’s not true,” said Fleur. “And if you want me to make some sort of announcement—”
“Please don’t.” He sighed.
“I’d rather Remy didn’t know, you know. I… I can’t think but that it’s better that way,” she said.
“Are you asking me to pretend I abandoned my child?”
“No, of course not.” She shook her head.
“Because maybe you noticed that I didn’t climb in your window this time. Maybe you’ve noticed that I don’t live only to make your life easier.”
“I’m sorry.” She looked down into her lap, chastised. “Perhaps I did take advantage of you, Guillame. I was quite selfish back then. I fully own it.”
He hadn’t been expecting that. He slumped against his chair. “You’re truly not going to tell me why you’re here?”
“Get me an audience with Remy in the morning,” she said. “You may attend, and you will hear everything then.”
He only looked at her. It was strange to see her after all this time. It made him feel as though all the time that had passed and everything that had changed within him had been undone in a matter of moments. He had thought he wasn’t angry with her, but he still was. He had not forgiven her, not truly, he had just grown used to not being near her.
“Kn
ow that I would not have come if I had any other choice,” she said. “I weighed this decision long and hard. This is not easy for me. Not at all.”
“What does that mean?” he said.
“In the morning—”
“Yes, yes, you won’t tell me.” He got up from his chair. “Very well, keep your counsel. I’ll do what I can to get you an audience.”
“He will see me,” she said, certain of this.
This only made Guillame angrier for some reason. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room without taking his leave.
He fumed all the way back the hallway to his own room.
At the door, he was greeted by his valet, who informed him the king was waiting for him in his sitting room.
Guillame groaned. Just what he wanted, to deal with Remy directly after having to deal with Fleur. He thought about running away again. He’d find somewhere else to sleep. He didn’t want to talk to Remy right now.
He didn’t want to look at Remy right now.
Somehow, seeing Fleur, it had brought back too many old emotions. He felt angry with Remy now, too. His nostrils flared.
Blazing Remy.
Why was he always in the center of everything?
Guillame put his head down and pushed his way into his sitting room, feeling ready to explode.
Remy was standing at the mantle over the fireplace. He turned at Guillame’s approach. “You didn’t send for me. And where have you been? Where you with her?”
“As a matter of fact, I was,” said Guillame, his voice nearly a sneer. “As for sending for you, I don’t know where you go all day, so how was I to do that?”
Remy clenched his hands into fists. “What were you doing with her?”
“Oh, making sure you’re enjoying my sloppy seconds this time, undoubtedly,” said Guillame, advancing on Remy. “She came all this way to spread her thighs for us one after the other. What else could possibly be happening?”
“Don’t,” said Remy, glowering at him. “Your sarcasm—”
“Who says I’m being sarcastic?” Guillame closed the distance between them.
Throne Shaker (The Clash and the Heat Book 3) Page 15
