Her hands glided over my breasts, cupping and caressing them. "That's the wrong answer to the wrong question."

"What's the right question?" I asked, half-breathless.

Jehanne smiled at me, unlacing the ties of my bodice. "Oh, I don't know. There are so many questions one could ask, aren't there? But I'm quite sure that your answer is yes. Don't you think so?"

It struck me that despite her tantrums and tears earlier, I'd managed to get Jehanne in a good mood—and her good moods were infectious. I'd won a measure of trust from her. I could no longer smell Raphael's scent lingering on her skin.

And she was mine for the whole night.

All these things made me happy.

"Oh, yes." I put my arms around her neck and kissed her. "Yes, and yes, and yes!"

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

The Longest Night came and went without seeing my father's ü return.

That was the only shadow that dimmed my enjoyment of the festivities and the weeks leading up to them. Noemie d'Etoile gave me repeated assurances and told me not to worry, and I tried not to.

I kept up my lessons with Master Lo Feng and I tended to his Camaeline snowdrops, keeping their frail song alive.

I had the first test of my service as a royal companion when Jehanne informed me that she wanted to see Raphael again before the Longest Night.

"Just once," she said calmly. "That's all I'm asking. I swear to Elua, just once. I want a chance to tell him why I can't see him again. I want to enjoy the last time knowing it's the last time. At least until….." She shrugged. "Who knows how long?"

"Did you discuss it with his majesty?" I asked.

Jehanne shook her head. "I was hoping you would. If you believe me, he's more likely to believe it, too." She searched my face. "You do believe me, don't you?"

I sighed. "I do. I'll speak to him."

Only in Terre d'Ange, I thought, would a man's wife send one lover to ask her husband's permission to bed another lover. But despite my discomfort with the mission, the King didn't seem to find anything odd about it. He invited me to sit in his study and heard me out.

"Do you believe her?" he asked when I'd finished. Jehanne knew her husband well.

"I do," I said. "She's trying very hard to be honest."

King Daniel drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair at length, then gave a curt nod. "Once. And I don't want to see her afterward." He shuddered. "You've got me thinking about his goddamned scent."

So it was arranged.

I thought Jehanne would pass the night with Raphael since their assignation wasn't a secret, but in the small hours before dawn, I was awakened when her guards escorted her to my chambers. I kindled the lamps and admitted her.

"I didn't want to be alone and I didn't know where else to go." There were shadows under her eyes. "Isn't that absurd?"

"No," I said softly. "Raphael….. ?"

"He didn't want me to stay." Jehanne wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. "He said it hurt too much."

I was silent, remembering the two of them riding together the day of the hunt, heads leaning toward one another, her silver-gilt and him tawny-gold. The bright sunlight gleaming on them in benison. They looked so well together. I'd been jealous of both of them. And I wanted to ask her if it were worth it; but then I remembered too the immense tenderness in her voice when she'd spoken to King Daniel after Lianne Tremaine's poetry recital.

She loved them both.

But she'd wed the King.

I wanted to go to her, but I wasn't sure it was what she wanted. I folded my hands in my lap. "What can I do?"

Jehanne's starry gaze met mine. When she spoke, her voice sounded small and lost. "Hold me?"

I helped her undress and get into bed, and held her. It felt as though I held the whole history of their stormy, turbulent affair in my arms. I breathed in her scent and his, mingled. She shivered against me. I breathed the Breath of Ocean's Rolling Waves, deep and rhythmic. I breathed in tumult and breathed out calm.

Over and over.

And bit by bit, her body eased.

I felt her slide from wakefulness into sleep and kissed the back of her neck. Jehanne made a soft noise in her sleep. I thought about the effigy in the Temple of Naamah for which my great-great-grandmother had posed—the first royal companion. Unfit though I might be on the face of things, I was following in her footsteps and doing it well.

She would be proud, I thought.

My father would be proud.

And my diadh-anam was silent. I wished it weren't. I remembered the sorrow and regret in the eyes of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself as She turned away from me. I had a destiny to find and follow.

"Not yet," I whispered. "Please, not yet."

Preparations for the Longest Night continued apace. With Jehanne's blessing, I met with Benoit Vallon of Atelier Favrielle to design my gown for the masqued ball. I'd expected her to take issue with the notion given her standing quarrel with them, but she surprised me.

"I think they're on the verge of relenting," she said. "My forbearance is a gesture of goodwill in keeping with your effort to make a kinder, wiser ruler of me." She smiled and stroked my cheek. "Besides, I've no objection to you looking as stunning as possible now that you're mine, Moirin."

The gown promised to be stunning indeed.

I understood that costumes for the Longest Night were usually intended to depict recognizable mythological or historical figures or themes. Benoit Vallon sniffed and dismissed the idea as pedestrian.

"You're a myth unto yourself, my dear." He made a bracket of his hands, framing my face. "I see ravens taking flight amid the pines, red holly berries against the white snow. A bit savage, a bit elegant. That's what we'll capture."

And somehow, he did. Like his other work, the gown was sophisticated in its simplicity. It was made of a shimmering black silk that clung to my body and left my arms bare, with a narrow, plunging decolletage. In the back, it flowed into a train that swished pleasantly when I walked. There was an ornate headpiece with gilded branches and garnet berries, and a black velvet domino mask that flared into wings. At the first fitting, Benoit kissed his fingertips and proclaimed himself a genius.

At the second fitting he was more subdued, for Jehanne decided to attend.

It made me smile to see the flurry it caused. Atelier Favrielle could refuse to dress the Queen of Terre d'Ange, but they very well couldn't refuse her entry. Benoit and his assistants were harried fitting me into the gown and awaited Jehanne's reaction nervously. She looked at me without speaking for a long, long time.

"Is her majesty pleased?" he asked at last.

Jehanne smiled sweetly at him. "Her majesty is considering dismissing every last one of you to see if the gown comes off as beautifully as it goes on," she said in her most silken purr.

Two of the attendants gave shocked titters. Me, I laughed aloud. Jehanne's gaze flicked back to me and I could see the genuine amusement and affection in it.

Benoit Vallon relaxed visibly and bowed. "Your praise is music to my ears." He hesitated. "Rumor has it that Amelie Sourisse is designing a variant on the traditional Snow Queen theme for her majesty this year?"

"Oh, indeed?" Jehanne raised her brows.

He pursed his lips. "Mayhap next year, her majesty would be interested in discussing something less traditional. More innovative."

Her eyelids flickered and I could feel her mood shift at the implied insult the sought-after offer contained. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Benoit winced, realizing he'd overstepped.

"My lady." I touched Jehanne's arm.

She glanced at me sidelong, deciding whether or not to accept my silent reminder. The room held its collective breath. She summoned another charming smile. "Thank you, messire. That's very kind."

The room exhaled in collective relief.

Very much to my surprise, I received an offer from Prince Thierry to escort me to the Midwinter Masque on the Longest Night. He sought me out in my chambers to deliver it in person.

"Why?" I asked simply.

Thierry didn't answer right away. He gazed around at the profusion of plants. "This is lovely. I'd heard, but I didn't reckon the extent of it. It might be the nicest thing Jehanne's ever done for anyone."

"It's wonderful," I agreed. "And?"

He smiled wryly. "Do you know, we had a long talk the other day? Jehanne asked to meet with me."

"Did she ask you to offer—"

"No, no." Thierry shook his head. "It was naught to do with you. She told me that she and my father mean to try for children after the Longest Night. She wanted me to know that whatever may come, I'm my father's firstborn and heir, and no child of theirs would ever take my place in the realm or my father's heart. She took blame for the hostility between us, apologized, and said she hoped I'd welcome a sister or brother." He rubbed his chin. "I may have lost my wits, but she seemed quite genuine."

"Thoughts of motherhood may change a person," I murmured.

"It's possible," he agreed. "It's also possible that what everyone's saying is true. For some reason, you calm her. At any rate….. Moirin, D'Angelines regard seduction as a form of blood-sport. And the Longest Night is a time of especial license. As Jehanne's companion, you're a very desirable target." He flushed. "Not that you aren't in your own right, obviously. But—"

I'd been in Terre d'Ange long enough to understand. "But getting me to betray my loyalty to the Queen would be an almighty conquest."

"Exactly." He nodded. "As your escort, I can fend off the worst of it and see that you're not plagued to death."

"That's undeservedly kind of you," I observed.

"Ah, well….." Thierry gave me another wry smile. "When all's said and done, I do like you, Moirin. I like your company. And it would be a pleasure to see the festivities anew through your eyes. So. Do you accept?"

"I do," I said. "With many thanks."

It was a glorious night.

The tradition of the Longest Night was old, older than Terre d'Ange itself. The great hall was polished to a high shine, filled with light and music. Swags of evergreen were draped on every surface and enormous live pine trees in great pots were dotted around the hall, their tops reaching toward the high ceiling, thousands upon thousands cunningly wrought glass icicles hanging from their branches. I inhaled their fresh scent gladly.

"The trees are new," Thierry observed. "It's a nice touch."

The array of costumes on the guests was truly spectacular. We made our way through the glittering throng to greet the King and Queen.

Whatever Benoit Vallon might have thought, Jehanne was a vision in white. The borders of her gown were edged with silver embroidery and she wore a silvery-white cloak trimmed with white ermine, the collar framing her exquisite face. Her fair hair was piled in a coronet and adorned with a sparkling diadem. Beside her, the King wore a matching doublet and breeches of white velvet trimmed in ermine, a simple white domino mask. His dark hair was loose and flowing over his shoulders, a fillet of white gold around his brow. Despite his avowed dislike of balls, he looked happy and relaxed.

They, too, looked well together.

"Moirin!" Jehanne's eyes sparkled at me. "Joy to you on the Longest Night." She gave me a lingering kiss. "Do you like the trees?"

I smiled at her. "I love the trees."

"I thought you would." She glanced at Thierry, who wore simple ash-grey attire—a sleeveless coat over a plain shirt and breeches. But steel vambraces glinted on his wrists and he wore twin daggers at his waist and a sword slung across his back in a harness. "You came as a Cassiline Brother?"

Thierry shrugged. "I'm feeling particularly gallant this evening."

She laughed. "Fairly spoken."

King Daniel gave me a chaste kiss of greeting. "Have you tasted joie yet tonight?" he inquired. When I shook my head, he beckoned to a servant with a tray. "You must."

The cordial was served in delicate crystal glasses as thin as eggshells. I breathed in the heady fumes. It was like hearing the frail song of the snowdrops—only it wasn't frail anymore. It was distilled and powerful. We toasted one another and I sipped.

Fire and ice.

It tasted heavenly, and it burned like winter's kiss. I felt it all the way down to my belly, then warming my veins. The lamps seemed to burn brighter and I had the urge to kiss everyone in the hall.

"Very tonic," I managed to say.

The King chuckled. "You sound like Master Lo Feng. Have any of his plants survived?"

"Oh, yes." I'd never noticed that his majesty had a very pleasant, melodious voice. Nor that very appealing lines formed around his mouth when he smiled. "I'm keeping them alive for him."

"Moirin has a gift with plants." Jehanne kissed me again. I could taste joie on her lips and yearned to taste more of her. "Now go enjoy yourself, my witchling," she whispered in my ear. "Only not too much."

"Aye, my lady," I promised.

To his credit, Thierry was a wonderful escort, as attentive and good-natured as he'd been when I first knew him. He kept his word and fended off the majority of advances made toward me without making any of his own, and I was grateful for it. I hadn't expected to be tempted, but the joie burning in my blood and the sense of revelry that pervaded the night made it difficult. Everyone looked so very, very lovely to me.