Twilight of a Queen

by Susan Carroll

  “I presume you must be my brother-in-law. I am—”

  “I know who you are,” Aristide said, ignoring Xavier’s outstretched hand.

  Those few terse words were fraught with ominous meaning. Xavier stiffened, drawing his arm back to his side.

  “Seraphine, please take your sisters outside,” Ariane said. “Take them to—to see the puppy and play with Leon in the stables.”

  Both little girls set up wails of protest, but Seraphine dragged them away as though she were rescuing her sisters from the devil himself. A heavy silence ensued.

  Meg’s brow knit with confusion, but she regarded everyone with a somber calm. Perhaps because the girl had known so much of trouble in her short life, she was always braced for more.

  Jane looked far more anxious. Drawing closer to Xavier, she asked, “Ariane, what—what is wrong?”

  It was Aristide who spoke up. Ignoring Jane’s question, he addressed himself to Xavier. “You are Louis Xavier, the corsair who is known as the Jaguar?”

  “A foolish nickname, but yes, I have been called that.” Xavier felt Jane’s fingers curl about his arm, her touch warm and reassuring. “And yes, I am a pirate. I have never made any secret of that fact.”

  “But there are other things you have kept secret.”

  “Such as?”

  “Your dealings with the Dark Queen.”

  Meg gave a tiny gasp, the girl no longer looking so calm at the mention of the queen. Jane frowned at Aristide.

  “Whatever are you talking about, monsieur? After the cruel way that witch used his mother, Xavier would want nothing to do with Catherine de Medici.”

  Aristide’s attention shifted to Jane, the stern cast of his countenance softening. “I am sorry to pain you, madame. But since last fall, I have been looking into rumors that the queen acquired a necromancer. I was unable to confirm the identity of that man until recently.”

  His gaze returned to Xavier. “Do you deny you are that man, monsieur?”

  Xavier lifted his brows haughtily. “Do I look like a sorcerer to you?”

  “That does not answer my question. Are you the man who claimed to be a sorcerer and worked for the Dark Queen?”

  “Of course, he is not!” Jane cried.

  Xavier was touched by how swiftly she sprang to his defense, but he squirmed inwardly. He felt a surge of red creep up his neck, his gut churning with guilt. He ought to have confessed to Jane about his involvement with the Dark Queen a long time ago, but he was damned if he was going to do it this way before the censorious gaze of some former witch-hunter, even if the man was Miri’s husband.

  “I am waiting for your answer, monsieur.” Even Aristide’s tone, cool and demanding, raised Xavier’s hackles.

  “You may wait until hell freezes over for all I care. Who appointed you my judge? I was told you had abandoned your former profession, but once a witch-hunter, always a witch-hunter, eh?”

  Xavier regretted his words when he saw Miri flinch. Flushing, Aristide took a step toward him, but Ariane hastily intervened, positioning herself between them.

  “Xavier, please,” she said. “No one is passing judgment on you.”

  “That is not how it feels to me,” he said.

  Ariane cast him a rueful glance. “I am sorry. I have been telling Simon there must be a simple explanation for all of this. If—if you did ever work for the Dark Queen—”

  “He didn’t,” Jane cried. “Ariane, how can you even think such a thing?” She raised pleading eyes to Xavier. “Xavier, I know how you are when people hammer you with questions and false accusations. But please just set aside your pride and tell Simon he is wrong.”

  Xavier stared down at her earnest face, those steady honest eyes of hers. Never had he known anyone to have such faith in him. It damn near killed him to disillusion her.

  “I am sorry, Jane,” he said. “But it is true.”

  Jane blinked, looking stunned. She attempted to rally, stammering. “N-no. You—you didn’t. You could not possibly be in the employ of the Dark Queen.”

  “I would not exactly say that I was employed by the woman.”

  Ignoring Simon Aristide’s derisive snort, Xavier went on, “I did frequent Catherine’s court last autumn. I was seeking funds for my next voyage. I practiced a deception upon her, feigning trances, pretending to be a seer. When I told the queen about how the Book of Shadows was destroyed in London, she finally believed in my abilities. She rewarded me with a small sack of coins.”

  Xavier studied Jane, trying to read her reaction. She looked deeply troubled by his confession. Her fingers tensed on his arm.

  “Jane, I never meant—” he began but he was interrupted by Aristide.

  “I have heard the royal treasury is strained. Somehow I cannot imagine Catherine parting with a single sou merely to finance a sea voyage.”

  Xavier glared at Simon. “Your point being?”

  “That for a long time now, the queen has only had two obsessions, finding the Book of Shadows and destroying Meg. So if Catherine gave you money, what was it really for?”

  Xavier’s gaze locked defiantly with Aristide’s for a moment. Then he vented a bitter sigh. He had confessed to this much. He might as well tell the worst of it.

  “The queen paid me to acquire the Silver Rose for her.”

  “Acquire … me?” Meg choked.

  Jane’s fingers slipped away from his arm, her face draining of color. “But—but you never agreed to do such a thing. Did you?”

  Xavier would have given his soul to be able to say he hadn’t. “Yes, I agreed. Catherine believes that Meg learned enough from the Book of Shadows that the girl could be valuable to her. She no longer wants to destroy Meg.”

  “So that makes your plan to abduct Meg so much more excusable,” Aristide said.

  Xavier grated his teeth. “I have no such plan. I took the queen’s money, but I never intended to carry out her orders.”

  “You expect us all to believe that your turning up on Faire Isle was a mere coincidence?” Aristide asked.

  “I don’t give a damn what you believe,” Xavier snapped. There was only one person’s opinion that mattered. Jane had moved farther away from him. He reached for her to draw her back to his side.

  “I would never hurt Meg. Jane, you do believe me, don’t you?”

  “I want to, but I—I—” She avoided his hand, burying her fingers in the folds of her skirt.

  If only they had been alone, if only he could take her into his arms, Xavier felt sure he could convince her, but Meg stormed in between them.

  “You—you lied to me that day in the cove. You told me that I would be safe from Catherine when all along you were plotting to—to—”

  “Meg, I swear to you, I was not plotting anything.”

  “Then where did you get your information about me, about what happened to the Book of Shadows?”

  Xavier dragged his hand across his face as he explained about his first mate, the strange tale that Jambe had stumbled across, about the ravings of a badly burned prisoner in the Marshalsea.

  “It must have been Sander,” Meg said, her lower lip quivering. “He survived the fire just as I feared.”

  “No, Meg.” Xavier sought to reassure her. “Whoever that prisoner was, he died in the Marshalsea. Sander Naismith can’t betray you anymore.”

  “He already did and so did you.” Tears coursed down Meg’s cheeks. “I saw all the portents in my crystal, the menacing jungle cat, the shadow passing over Faire Isle. I sensed from the first you were dangerous, but I was so stupid. I even let you persuade me to destroy my scrying glass so I—I could no longer see what you were up to—”

  “It wasn’t like that, Meg. If you would but listen to me.”

  “No! I knew what you were and still I—I trusted you.”

  With a sob, Meg fled from the room. Xavier watched her go, feeling frustrated and helpless. He turned to Jane.

  “Jane, I know this all looks bad, but I never meant to h
urt her.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t, but you have.” Jane said quietly. Xavier realized she was talking about far more than Meg. The glow that had been on Jane’s face these past days had dimmed and it was like watching something precious slip away from him.

  “I—I had better go look after Meg,” she said.

  “Jane!”

  When she hurried out of the kitchen, Xavier tried to follow only to have his way blocked by Aristide.

  “Leave her alone, monsieur. You have done more than enough damage here.”

  “Get out of my way!”

  Aristide shook his head. “It is you who must go. The queen has put a price on your head. It will only be a matter of time before some soldiers or bounty seekers swarm this island in an effort to collect it.”

  Xavier swore. Could this disaster possibly get any worse?

  Aristide eyed him coldly. “I must insist that you leave this island at once.”

  “The only one who has the right to bid me leave is Ariane. As far as the world knows, I am dead.”

  “That cannot last for long, Xavier,” Ariane said. “Not after my messenger made those enquiries on the mainland and your crew came here to find you. Rumors spread even from Faire Isle. I fear that I must ask—”

  “Ariane, no!” Miri cried. “No matter what he has done, Xavier is still our brother. And I am sure he is sorry.”

  “Miri, my love,” Aristide began gently, but his wife cut him off with a stamp of her foot, tears overflowing down her cheeks.

  “No! If Xavier leaves here, he will be in danger of being captured. We—we can hide him. Ariane, please! You cannot ask him to go.”

  Xavier could see the agony of indecision in Ariane’s eyes. There was nothing that he could do to mend the shattered trust or assuage the grief he had caused, but at least he could spare Ariane this struggle.

  “Ariane doesn’t have to ask me,” Xavier told Miri. “Your husband is right. If I remain here, I will be a danger to everyone.”

  He cast a bleak glance in the direction Jane had vanished. “I must go. It is clear that I have worn out my welcome.”

  JANE SAGGED DOWN ON THE BENCH IN THE GARDEN, HER EYES dry, her heart heavy as though it were full of the tears she could not shed. Strange that she could not do so. Everyone else was weeping, Meg, Lucia, Ninon, even Seraphine after her own fierce fashion.

  Perhaps she remained dry-eyed because her experience was greater than theirs. She knew by now how easily one’s world, one’s happiness could be shattered. That was why she had been content to live quietly for so many years, never risking her heart.

  When Jane had followed Meg upstairs, the girl had barricaded herself in her bedchamber. Jane could hear Meg’s sobs but she refused to answer Jane’s pleas for admittance. Her hand wearied from knocking, Jane had finally surrendered the attempt.

  The girl had been devastated by Xavier’s admission of his bargain with the Dark Queen. Jane could still not bring herself to believe it. She knew the man was far from perfect, that he could be ruthless.

  But surely he would have never sold off an innocent girl to a woman as evil as Catherine. But Jane could not help recalling that Xavier had never regarded Meg as an innocent. He had called her Megaera, insisted that she had a darker side. He had not approved Ariane’s choice of her as the next lady of Faire Isle. If he believed Meg was a witch, perhaps he saw nothing wrong with claiming the reward Catherine offered. There was nothing that Xavier desired more than obtaining a ship, the chance to pursue his far horizons.

  And yet this was the same man who had been prepared to abandon all his dreams to stand by Jane if she was with child. Could he possibly have counterfeited all the tenderness he had bestowed upon Jane? The kindness he had shown to Meg of late?

  But if he had nothing to hide, why had he kept his connection to Catherine a secret? Jane pressed her hand to her throbbing temple. Logic seemed to dictate Xavier’s guilt, but her heart was telling her something far different.

  “Jane?”

  Her heart constricted at the sound of Xavier calling her name. She leapt to her feet, suppressing the urge to rush into his arms. Xavier drew up short, scowling.

  “Jane, where the devil have you been? I have been looking everywhere for you.”

  “You should not be.” She fought to keep the quaver from her voice. “Ariane told me about the price on your head. You must not tarry. You have to get far away from here as fast as possible.”

  “Did you think I would just rush off without even saying good-bye?”

  “I—I don’t know. I scarce know what to think.” She tensed as Xavier moved closer.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I am sorry, Jane. I should have told all of you about Catherine sooner.”

  “Why—why didn’t you?”

  “Perhaps because I was afraid that you all would look at me just as everyone is doing now. Like I had turned into some kind of a monster sprouting fangs and horns.”

  “That is not fair, Xavier. How could you expect all of us not to be alarmed and upset, especially Meg? You know how terrified every woman on this island is of the Dark Queen. She is your sisters’ greatest enemy and yet you never saw fit to breathe a word of warning that Catherine was still weaving her plots.”

  “She can weave all she wants. The queen has little power anymore. She is a sick, twisted old woman. And if she decided to make another attempt on Meg, I suppose I was arrogant enough to believe that as long as I was around, I could protect the girl.”

  “W-would you?” Jane moistened her lips. She hated asking, but she could not seem to help herself. “So you never really intended to go through with it? You were never going to abduct Meg?”

  “If you still have to ask me that, my answer will hardly matter.” A muscle in his jaw worked. “No. I admit there was a time when fate first cast me here on the island, that I was tempted. But that was before I really knew Meg or my sisters. Before you.”

  Jane tipped back her head, intently studying his expression.

  “I believe you,” she said sadly. “But it still doesn’t change anything. You have to go.”

  He released her and dragged his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “As usual, I have managed to make a proper mess of things. I dare not remain on Faire Isle, but I can’t take you with me either.”

  “You need not worry about me. You have no obligation to—”

  “Oh, damnation, woman. Don’t start that nonsense again.”

  “It is true, Xavier. If I am with child, I—I will find some way to cope.”

  “Or in other words you no longer want any part of me. A fugitive, a swindler, and a liar is not an attractive prospect as a husband. Your child would be better off as a bastard.”

  “I never said such a thing.” Jane fluttered her hands in a helpless gesture as she struggled to explain. “So much of my life I have suffered from the actions of reckless men. First there was my father risking everything by joining the rebellion against Elizabeth. And then my brother Ned with his mad pursuit of alchemy that led to my being charged with witchcraft.

  “You once asked me why I wed a man old enough to be my grandfather. At least William Danvers made me feel safe for a time. That is all I ever wanted.”

  “And you realize safety is something you can never have with me.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “Well, you must congratulate yourself on your narrow escape.”

  “We both can, because I am sure in time you would have become quite restless and bored with me. You would resent me and any child for costing you your dreams. We—we have been ill-suited from the start.”

  “I daresay you are right.”

  A heavy silence fell.

  “So what will you do?” Jane asked. “Where will you go?”

  “Straight to the devil, I expect. My usual path.”

  When Jane regarded him with consternation, he gave a hard laugh. “Don’t fear for me, my dear. I have always been good at looking out for myself. But what about you?”
/>   “I—I think I must go to Paris to look after my cousin.”

  Xavier frowned at her. “Damnation, Jane. I realize that your experience with me must have left you a little shaken and bruised. But will you abandon the freedom you have found on Faire Isle to go and be a drudge to that ungrateful wench who has ignored you all these months?”

  Jane drew herself up primly. “Abigail is my only kin and she needs me.”

  She is the only one now who does, Jane reflected, but possessed enough pride to keep from voicing the sad thought aloud.

  “I have to go and take care of her. It is the right thing to do.”

  “It must be a wonderful thing to always be so sure of your path. Things are not always so clear to the rest of us poor mortals.”

  Jane flinched at his caustic words. She suddenly felt inexpressibly weary.

  “There is nothing to hold you here,” she whispered. “Please just go. I could not bear to see any harm come to you.”

  “Thank you for that much.” His voice softened as he added, “You take care as well, Jane. My first wish will always be for your health and happiness.”

  For one moment, she thought he meant to sweep her into his arms and kiss her good-bye. But he only bowed with a formality that was most unlike him before striding away.

  As she watched him disappear from view, Jane’s eyes blurred. He wished her happiness? How did he imagine that possible when any prospect of such a thing vanished with him?

  Sinking back down on the bench, Jane’s tears came at last.

  Chapter Twenty

  THE INN STANK OF MOLD, SWEAT, AND STALE SPIRITS, THE dim candlelight mercifully concealing the layers of grime that had accumulated over the years. Tucked away in a small village along the Breton coast, the Cheval Noir was not the sort of place to attract respectable customers. But for anyone needing a cheap drink and a dank hole in which to escape for a while, the inn was ideal.

  Xavier slumped down at one of the corner tables while he waited for Jambe and Pietro to join him. They were out searching for a vessel to bear them all away from France while Xavier busied himself trying to get drunk.