Daughter of Mystery
Page 43
Barbara closed her eyes and thought, My deepest fears. She looked again at Margerit without flinching. “No secrets—I promised you. But that’s what I’m afraid of: that you’ll buy me. When you offered to pay my debts, I felt…that you would own me again. I couldn’t bear that. I never wanted you to doubt that my love was given freely. I didn’t want people to see us and say, ‘There’s Margerit Sovitre’s kept woman.’”
She didn’t understand why Margerit began laughing, at first in surprise and then more hysterically. And though she didn’t understand, she put her arms around Margerit and held her tightly until the laughter passed through sobs and then at last to speech. Then Margerit too made a gift of her fears, finishing with, “And I didn’t care what name people gave me—I didn’t care what people like Aunt Bertrut thought. But I couldn’t bear to live only on the scraps of your life. To spend all my days play-acting and pretending we meant nothing to each other.”
“Perhaps it was the wrong thing to do,” Barbara said slowly, “but I only meant to protect you. Until the council was finished there was no way of knowing—”
“I don’t want you to protect me,” Margerit interrupted. “I want you to love me!”
Barbara chuckled and traced the line of Margerit’s cheek. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten too much in the habit of doing both to give either of them up. But that particular charade can be left behind.” And she told her the news of the court. “Whatever danger might still lie in that direction, notoriety will serve us better than caution. If you’re still willing, shall it be one heart, one life, one home and yes, since you will, one purse?”
The answer hardly needed to be spoken aloud. “Yes, for all my days.”
Barbara looked back at the waiting cluster of people by the Fulpis’ carriage. “I’m not ready to share you yet,” she whispered. She lifted Margerit up into the saddle and swung up behind her, encircling her waist in a secure embrace. She lifted a hand in Marken’s direction, giving their old signal that the watch had been transferred, then she urged the horse into an easy canter. It didn’t much matter what direction they went. All roads were open.
Chapter Sixty-One
Coda
Barbara Lumbeirt, Baroness Saveze, was an Eccentric. Those who had known old Marziel said it was inevitable. Those too young to have known him heard only the stories of how she had once been an armin and a duelist. She had even killed her man, they said, although in later days the tale twisted and grew until it had her dueling her predecessor in the title over a woman. Like many eccentrics, she never married, preferring the company of her own kind—and in her day that resulted in a number of very odd friendships indeed. The oddest was the one she shared lifelong with Margerit Sovitre, the scholar, who came to be called Fil’misitir, Daughter of Mystery.
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