“She does?” Jules said.
I nodded. “We should teach her.”
“Gill…”
“What?” I sat forward, my hands on my knees. “At least we can be of some good here, Jules, if we really are stuck here for the time being.”
“It’s not a good idea. You know why.”
I sat back, running a hand through my hair. We had had this conversation before. “We could alter the future.”
Jules nodded. “They aren’t ready for twenty-first-century medicine.”
“But surely just CPR wouldn’t alter the course of history?”
She winced, biting her lip. “Maybe, Gill. I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”
I stood up, pacing in front of the fireplace. I did that a lot these days.
“Gill, you are alright?” Jules said suddenly.
“I’m not sure I can do this.” Marie’s voice was in the back of my head still, ever since this the morning when I’d woken alone in my bed. I hadn’t seen her today, and that left me feeling queasy, and a bit anxious.
Fuck, Gill, I told myself over and over. You have to knock this shit off. She doesn’t feel that way about you.
I couldn’t convince myself that she didn’t. Every time we got close, she pulled away. It was frustrating. Even when Becci had pulled away, she’d always come back, usually without panties. But Marie was something different altogether. It was a foreign territory for me.
“It’s a banquet,” Jules said. She sighed and grasped the golden crown she held in her lap. “And afterward …” She stood and hung it on my head, shifting it to sit solidly.
It was heavy, and nothing I wanted. “I can’t think about afterward.”
“You’re shaking,” Jules said, stepping back and looking me up and down.
“I know.” I shoved my hands in the fold of my cloak. “It’s the curse, Jules. We are cursed. Why is this happening?”
“Why do you always think we are cursed?”
“Oh, I don’t know, we’re trapped in the past, with no medical equipment, and I let the prince die, and now I am married to a queen and I…”
Jules put her hands on my shoulders. “We aren’t cursed, just unfortunate.”
“I want to go home,” I said.
“Me, too,” she said, “what I wouldn’t give for a shower.”
“And coffee,” I said. I tried to smile but failed.
“Espresso,” she added.
I did smile then, but it faded as soon as it came. “I can’t do this,” I said again. “I can’t … fuck the queen.”
Jules eyed me. “Is this about Marie?”
“What?” I scoffed, “I mean, of course, n—”
Jules stepped back and laughed. “Of course it is!” She shook her head. “How was I so blind? You’re in love with her!”
“I am not!” I protested. “What the fuck, Jules? This is Gill. I don’t fall in love.”
“Maybe not before, when you were a man whore,” she said, still chuckling, “but you have now.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I said. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“What’s happened to you, brother?” she said, her eyes ringing with mirth, “you’ve been spending a lot of time with her. Have you fucked her yet?”
“Fuck no!” I said, too loudly for my own liking. I tried to recoup. “I mean, you don’t just fuck a girl like Marie.”
“Oh Gill,” Jules sighed. “This is how it starts.”
“What?”
“When you fall in love.”
“I am not in love with her.”
“Fine. Let me ask you this. Where is she right now?”
“I don’t know. But maybe I should—”
“Ha! There it is. Right there. You want to be with her. You’re worried when she isn’t around. That’s the first step down the rabbit hole, Gill.”
“Is not.”
“You sound like Mom just took away your toy,” she said, “not the self-absorbed asshole you are.”
“I am not an asshole.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Just don’t get attached, Gill. This isn’t permanent. We are going to get home.”
“Yeah, how the hell are we supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, frowning this time. “But we will figure it out. It’s going to take a little magic on our parts.”
“What did you just say?” I stepped toward her.
She backed up. “Are you okay, Gill?”
I blinked, standing down. “I’m sorry, I just …” Marie’s wand, the boar in the forest, it was her secret to keep. I couldn’t tell Jules, not yet. “Magic isn’t real. You know that.”
She nodded. “I just don’t know what to do.”
“Me either.”
“At least one thing is clear.”
“What’s that?”
“You were born for this part.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s the greatest role of your life, Gill,” she said seriously. “It’s just another stage, brother. It’s Richard the III, it’s Hamlet, it’s Jack Worthington in …” she pinched her face, thinking about it for a moment, “that one play.”
“That one play?” I glared at her. “You mean The Importance of Being Earnest? Only the most important play in the last hundred years?”
“Technically, Oscar Wilde won’t be born for another eight hundred or so.”
“Woman,” I cautioned her. “Don’t remind me.”
“So, flash your best Jack or Ernest smile and get out there.”
“I can’t.”
“It’s just a banquet,” Jules said, leaning against the back of the chair in front of the fireplace. “How hard can it be?”
“Well, you won’t be there to make sure I don’t fuck it up,” I said.
“True, but you have to leave the nest sometime, Gill.”
I chuckled at that, but even I could hear how mirthless it was. “That’s not even the worst part.”
“Which is?” She frowned.
“I mean, I can’t do it. With the queen, that is.”
Jules’ face brightened immediately, but she cleared her throat and shook her head. “Why not? I mean, Becket said…”
“I’m not sure, but I mean, she fucking hates me, Jules. Remember what happened yesterday?”
Jules laughed. “Oh, you have no idea.”
“What?”
“Never mind,” she said, “When have you ever had trouble throwing on that ol’ Guillaume charm?”
“I dunno,” I leaned against the bed post. “I’ve never had this problem before. If I wanted to fuck her, it was gonna happen. No one’s ever turned me down before.”
Her jaw dropped. “Like, really no one?”
I shrugged. “Not that I can remember.” Except Marie.
“Damn, Gill. Seriously?”
“I know, right? I’m pretty awesome.”
“That’s …” she laughed. “Not what I meant. Like, at all.”
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“Your majesty,” it was Piers at the doorway, “the banquet table is set.”
“Thank you,” I told him in French, and he scurried back down the stairs. I looked at Jules. “Go down to the kitchen now for your dinner, but later you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”
She shook her head and made her way to the door.
“I mean it, Jules.”
She turned and smiled, but even I could tell it was forced. “Whatever you say, little brother.”
Chapter Ten: Shame
The great hall was packed with people milling about, easily three times the amount of court that were here when we first arrived. Of course, I’d been trapped in my room for almost two weeks. Jules was just as nervous as I was about moving too soon, not letting myself heal. If any infection set in … it would literally be the death of me. But she’d taken the stitches out cleanly, and the scarring would be minimal. I’d be ready to travel by the end of the wee
k.
When I entered the room, however, the din of the crowd fell silent, and everyone bowed. Becket was there, stepping forward and offering his hand. I took it.
“Prince Henry of England,” he said in a loud booming voice. Becket.
Behind me, a high-pitched squeal. “And his wife, Eleanor of Anjou,” Francis announced.
I turned my head to see the queen behind me. She didn’t meet my gaze but looked straight ahead. Her hair was curled into tight ringlets around her perfect, creamy complexion, with two thick braids hanging over the front of her shoulders. Her satin gown was as close to gold as the material could ever get, and though shapeless, the tips of her breasts peeked over the top. Her crown sparkled in the candlelight, and her air of confidence, her head held high, made her the center of attention. She made my mouth water and my knees weak. God, what any man wouldn’t give to fuck her, she was a model that Hugh Heffner himself would have died for.
Francis handed her to me, and I took her hand, soft and silken, into my own. She let out a breath of what I took to be disgust. I squeezed her hand and smiled at her. She didn’t even look my way.
We made it to the banquet table, which was like nothing I had ever seen. The descriptions in textbooks, the pictures on the Internet, they did nothing to justify this grand display.
Two stuffed peacocks, their tails a vibrant display, sat at either end of the table. A roasted pig, stuffed goat, and several small birds that roughly reminded me of pigeons, or maybe chickens, were scattered amongst silver plates. As we got closer, the chickens, I saw, were adorned with egg yolks and spices. Bowls of red, ripe strawberries, candied yams, sugared plums, and even cheese slices surrounded the table. A random assortment of pies, pastries, and jellies completed the immense arrangement of food. The air wafted roast meat, succulent pork, heavy spices, and sweet jams. I licked my lips without even realizing it. After two weeks of broth and bread, everything here looked like heaven.
In the center, before a grand chair taller than myself, sat a golden cage with live doves that cooed and called as we approached. Atop the cage, three flags of white and blue waved slightly in the breeze from the high windows.
Behind the cage was the only face I really wanted to see in the entire hall, and that was Marie. She smiled at me, and I felt my stomach leap. It was a foreign feeling, somewhere between nauseous and panic. What the fuck? Why did I feel this way? She was just another woman, right?
I focused on careful steps with the queen, and we rounded the edge of the table and took our seats in grand, gold-gilded chairs behind the waiting court that was still gazing in our direction. To my right, Becket and Francis took their seats, with Marie on the end and some nameless courtiers after that. To my left, the queen, and more nameless faces on this side as well. Eleanor yanked her hand away, but I paid no mind. I smiled as wide as I could, lifted my arms out wide and said in my loudest French voice, “Bon appétit!”
I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say, but nevertheless, the crowd clapped slowly, as they began to disperse to their own tables on the sides of the room. Each place, I noticed, had silver plates and golden settings. This was truly a meal fit for a king. I looked at the queen, who was fixated on something on the right of the room. A band of sorts, with pointed hats and shoes closely resembling jesters, was setting up in the corner, one with a lute, two with small drums, and the last some kind of primitive wind instrument. After a few minutes, their sweet and sad music filled the air.
The queen gave a little smile and wave, so quickly I wasn’t sure what I’d seen. I followed her gaze and spotted Jules leaning against the archway that led to the kitchen. Jules winked back at the queen and then saw me looking in her direction and disappeared.
Oh no, Jules, what have you done? I frowned. I peered at the queen, who was pointedly looking off into the crowd, now. I shook my head. I know Jules had become a lady in waiting of some type to the Queen, helping her dress in the mornings and undress in the evenings, and making sure she was fed and escorted out of the castle.
But I knew my sister, and she was slightly less of a slut than I was. I sat down then and concentrated on my plate. I had bigger things to worry about than my sister. The rest of the table sat as well, and loud conversations seemed to erupt at once.
I tried in earnest to focus on the delicious options around me and ignored the din of loud voices. The ale must have been passed around before my arrival, as the clamor began to get louder and louder. I followed the queen’s suit, gathering small portions and passing along trays and plates.
The food was exquisite, like nothing I had ever tasted. What would my bros think back home when I told them I had sampled peacock and goat? Saffron jelly with a hint of rosemary? They’d probably tease me until the end of time, that is, if they even believed me.
Who was I kidding? No one would ever believe me.
I ate until I couldn’t eat anymore. Piers and the other pages whisked plates away and carried empty trays back to the kitchen, but left most of the food there. To my left, Francis and Becket were in a heated discussion. Their voices were so loud I could barely concentrate on the last bites of strawberry pie in front of me.
I caught Marie’s eye, finally, and motioned her over. She slid her chair back and came to stand next to me. “What are they saying?” I asked her.
She listened for a moment. “They are betting, Sire.”
“Betting? On what?” I looked up at her.
She frowned. “On whether your first child will be a boy or a girl.”
I tapped my fingers on the arm of the chair, feeling my anger rise into my throat. “Are they, now?”
Marie shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sire, I can’t translate anymore.”
“Why not?”
“A lady should not repeat those things.”
“Oh!” I said. “I’m sorry.” I reached out and touched her hand, but she pulled away slowly, shaking her head at me. She curtsied and fled back to her chair. For the rest of the meal, she wouldn’t make eye contact with me again.
I couldn’t get her out of my head. I needed her to smile at me, reassure me it was okay. And she wouldn’t even give me the time of day. What was going on?
“You’re a fool, whoever you are,” The queen whispered in French in my ear, as the last dishes were cleared away.
I looked at her sharply. “Why do you say that?”
“The prince should not dally with courtiers at banquets. You’d know that if you were a prince.”
I still struggled with French, but I got her meaning. “I didn’t dally with anyone, but alas, my Old English isn’t what it used to be.”
“Nor is your Latin, I bet,” the queen said. “Henry spoke it proficiently.”
“I hit my head, remember? I have lost…”
“You killed my husband,” she hissed in my ear suddenly.
I blinked at her, my mouth dropping open. “I tried to save him,” I whispered back.
“You should have tried harder!”
I looked at her, but before I could respond, she dismissed me with a wave of her hand. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
With that, she pushed her chair back slowly and is screeched loudly against the stone floor, grinding like nails on a chalkboard. Francis and Becket immediately quieted, and an eerie hush fell over the hall. All eyes were on the queen as she left the banquet hall, on her way up to my bedchamber. Jules hurried after her.
Francis nudged my elbow. “Sire…”
“I know, I know,” I answered, but shook my head at Marie, begging her not to translate. I noticed her face was taut and drawn then, and her eyes red-rimmed. Had she been crying? How was I such a goddamn fool that I hadn’t notice before? Such a fool, Gill, a goddamn fool.
I took a deep breath and stood up quickly, making my way toward the exit. I wasn’t slow or dramatic like the queen; I needed to get this over with—and the sooner, the better.
I did pause at the bottom of the stairs. What was wrong with me? Eleanor’
s harsh words rushed through my veins, mingled with my heated blood at Becket and Francis’ callous gambling on of heirs and princes. Dear God, I couldn’t even think about a son, how could I? I reminded myself that no one here had sex to enjoy it, not princes, not kings, at least, not with their queens. Wasn’t that why mistresses and prostitutes were created in the first place?
This was awful, horrible, and obscene. I was about to fuck a woman who wanted nothing to do with me. It didn’t matter about my charm, ravishing good looks, or flirtatious smile. Nothing I could do would change the fact that I had replaced her husband. He had died and been burned along with the garbage, and I know she resented me for it. If only I could have told her that I had tried to keep him alive, I had tried so hard. Some things just weren’t meant to be.
I suddenly wanted to go home, more than anything in the world. I looked behind me at the faces peering all expectedly in my direction. They were all watching me, they would all be listening, and I knew it. There was no escape, no chance to hop on a horse and get back to Chateau de Guillaume, back to the chapel, back to my mother’s France. I had to do this. I had no choice. Reluctantly, I put my best foot forward as I climbed the stairs to my bed chamber.
Jules waited for me at the top of the stairs. “She’s ready.” Without looking at me, she tried to hurry down the stairs.
I gripped her upper arm lightly, stopping her. “We have to convince Becket that this isn’t…”
“There’s no more convincing,” Jules said, shaking me off. “I overheard him at the banquet. You just have to … get it over with.” She frowned, and her bottom lip trembled.
“I don’t want to…”
“I’m sure … the queen will be willing at least,” Jules said softly. Her voice sounded like someone was stabbing her; I should know what that feels like. “She won’t fight you, Gill, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“Willing or not, that doesn’t mean yes.”
“You’re quibbling over consent? Come on, Gill. You’re the king,” she spit out the last word as if it left a bad taste. “Act like it. Rape and pillage, goddamn it.”
Marie (The Curse of Lanval Book 2) Page 9
