Queen's Guard 01 The Queen's Guard: Violet

by Traci E Hall

  “I only meant to give you pleasure.”

  Bella laughed, her body sprawled over Raoul’s like a blanket. “You did that too.”

  “Give me a moment, woman, and I will show you again.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Bella woke with a start. She was used to Mamie’s soft snores and Fay’s gentle wheezes. Catherine slept like she was dead and Sarah—ah, Sarah—was trying her best to be quietly ill behind the privacy partition across from the bed.

  Now that she’d tasted passion with Raoul, Bella understood Sarah’s predicament even more. It didn’t make her want love, marriage, or babies, but Mamie was onto something with physical pleasure. She’d never known it could be like that. What had been a wifely duty, a chore that left her bruised and bleeding, had become a wonderful awakening of her flesh under Raoul’s expert hands.

  Her giant had been gentle but not too gentle, she noticed as she stretched her sore muscles. Maybe being bent over the stone table like a celebration feast hadn’t been a good idea, though at the time it had felt just fine. Bella smiled, remembering the way the moonlight had caught Raoul’s dark eyes, deepening their mystery. She could stare into those orbs for hours and never see the same thing.

  Not that I will get my heart involved, she told herself sternly. Poor Sarah.

  She rose from the bed as quietly as she could and brought a basin of water and a towel to her. “I am sorry you don’t feel well,” Bella whispered, lightly touching her friend’s tangled hair. “Everyone says the nausea will go away in a month or so.”

  “It’s true,” Fay added from behind them.

  Bella jumped, her heart racing. She turned to whisper, “Did I wake you?”

  “I was restless,” Fay said with a shake of her head. “You slept most sound once you found your bed. You should be well rested despite being out all night.” Fay elbowed Bella. “I want details.”

  “I fell asleep on the roof.” Which was true. “I dreamed of being a star.” Each time she came apart at the seams of her being.

  “I would have to be a fallen star,” Sarah mumbled, dabbing her forehead with the towel.

  “Are you going to be damning yourself the entire pregnancy?” Catherine asked, her voice thick with sleep.

  Bella glanced up, thinking Catherine could be the Madonna in her white linen nightgown and chestnut hair.

  “I am going to hell. And taking Jonathon with me.” She pushed a lock of hair behind an ear. “I’m too miserable to apologize again, Bella. So please forgive me and let us be friends as we were. You didn’t really love him, did you?”

  Remembering Raoul’s soul-searing kisses made it easy to appease her friend’s conscience, at least so far as betraying a friend went. “I did not love him. Are you certain you do?”

  “Non. At this exact moment”—she took a slow breath with her eyes closed—”I hate him.”

  “God’s teeth, are we really all up before dawn to watch our Sarah hurl her guts into a chamber pot? Scoot over, Fay, and make room for me on the floor. Are we still discussing love? Will you run away again, Bella darling, at the very word amour?”

  “It wasn’t love that made me bolt. I couldn’t breathe. I do not like to faint in public.” Bella pulled her hair back and knotted it at her nape.

  “Because you faint in private all the time?” Catherine challenged her with a disbelieving stare. “You worried us, but the queen said to let you be.”

  “I could make you a potion to strengthen the blood,” Sarah offered, her teeth clenched.

  “You take it, Sarah. I promise all of you that I am fine, I needed to be outside. I felt trapped in the palace. You know I don’t like being locked in.” Remembering her anxiety made her throat tighten.

  “You’re emotionally confined,” Fay declared. “Until you unlock your inner—”

  “It’s too early for this,” Mamie griped. “Is there anything to eat? Some fish from last evening’s feast?”

  “Mamie!” Sarah retched emptily over the pot.

  “Sorry.” Mamie threw her hands into the air. “I forgot that even the mention of food makes you sick.”

  “With all your husbands, you never had children?” Fay braided a strand of Mamie’s red curls.

  “Non. I realized I was barren after the second husband. He threw lots of bastards, but I never quickened.” Bella noticed Mamie’s eyes mist to a sea-foam green, but she blinked and her eyes turned emerald again.

  “Yet you loved him?” Bella peered closely at Mamie to see if this was another tale that may or may not be true.

  “With all my heart. We tried for babes, but I was broken. He could have set me aside; instead, he loved me with his heart as well as his cock.” She waggled her brows and feebly smiled. “I always wanted a daughter, but God gives us what He does and no more.”

  “How old are you, Mamie?”

  “Twenty-six, Catherine. Not that you should ask a lady’s age.”

  “The same age as me and married three times,” Fay exclaimed with wonder. “I’ve decided I might like to get married someday after all.”

  “And why wouldn’t you?” Catherine asked.

  “Nobody’s ever shown an interest.” She smiled, but her gray eyes betrayed her sadness.

  Bella smacked a kiss on Fay’s cheek. “Goose. When it’s right, Queen Eleanor will find you the perfect husband. For now she needs your skills as the perfect shadow.”

  “Oh! You are all taking up my air. Move back a bit,” Sarah demanded. “But don’t leave me.”

  Mamie patted Sarah’s shoulder. “I did my best to overhear you talking to the queen last night when you thought us all asleep, but you were selfish and kept your backs turned.”

  Sarah sniffed, sitting up straight.

  “I know what you were discussing, for Eleanor looks after her own. When will you and Jonathon be married?” Mamie smoothed Sarah’s hair back from her forehead.

  “We will not. Be married.” Sarah took a deep breath, then twisted her pretty mouth before saying clearly, “Jonathon already has a wife.”

  If a strand of hair had fallen to the floor it would have been heard. The room was so quiet. Bella stared at her pale friend.

  Mamie growled. “That bastard.”

  Bella almost joined Sarah at the chamber pot. Were all men such liars just to get their way?

  Raoul told himself he was a fool, ten times over and more, for coupling, no, making lo—no, lying with—Bella. What had started as a game had captured them both in the end. It never should have happened.

  He didn’t regret it. How could he? Last night’s affair was a man’s dream come true. Being the object of desire for the most beautiful woman in the world as she learned of pleasure? Damn, it made his cock heavy just to remember. He punched the wall of his room.

  It couldn’t happen again. She was leaving. She was a barbarian. She was a woman who dressed as a man! Her skin had been the finest silk, her mouth like rose petals, her scent like crushed violets, her—God’s blood! This had to stop.

  He washed and dressed with extra care because he knew they would meet. And what would he say when he saw her attired like a goddess of the hunt in the queen’s colors of ivory and crimson? He adjusted his loose pants, uncomfortable already, and he hadn’t left the damn hall.

  Raoul knew the exact weight of the buttocks encased in those snug leather leggings, the shape of the breast beneath the armor.

  He cursed, knowing he couldn’t have her again. She’d awakened something in him more primal than what he’d already sunk to after the betrayal of his sister and the death of his wife and child.

  Love led to loss. When you cared for something, it could be killed.

  It was best not to give a damn.

  Assured, he strode from his chamber in search of Manuel to create their plan for the day.

  The emperor was not in his meeting rooms or breaking his fast in the large hall. Ah. Perhaps he would be with John, discussing war, as Raoul should have been considering King Louis waited for reinforce
ments.

  Walking into John’s military base of affairs was like entering another country. The rest of the palace was opulent and richly decorated, as befitted an emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. John Axuch had other ideas. Swords, spears, shields, maps, and more maps were strewn across the entire space, exactly in the places he wanted them. He could tell you in precisely which chaotic pile a certain item was without looking, but if you thought to browse yourself, you risked losing a hand by his quick sword.

  Raoul knocked once and then opened the door to peer inside.

  Manuel waved his ringed hand. “Where have you been, Raoul? John has been discussing strategies for hours. My ears ache.”

  “My apologies.” Raoul rolled his shoulders but offered no explanation. He never did.

  “Is it true a certain problem of ours is still unresolved?” The emperor shifted in his chair, his elbows on his knees. “With the blonde?”

  Raoul scratched his left brow. “No matter who I ask or bribe, the answer is the same. Nobody knows anything. That tight of a seal means whoever paid for their silence offered more money than I have, and since your money is mine, that is considerable. And there’s a knight in the French army I’d like to question further.”

  “Good,” Manuel said. “If the Frank did it, I am in the clear.”

  “You have nothing to worry over, since you didn’t do anything,” Raoul pointed out.

  “Take a seat,” John said. “I would discuss Roger of Sicily and hope you can help me persuade our emperor that it would be unwise to allow Louis and his Crusaders to leave as soon as they all wish.”

  “I thought they were waiting for the convoy to come across Italy? Savoy and Monferrat?” Raoul tugged at his ear and looked from John to his liege.

  Manuel sat in a straight-backed chair with his legs stretched out before him, his purple robe off and tossed over a stack of books. His long white tunic didn’t quite cover the fact he’d taken off his boots, and as he caught Raoul’s stare, he wiggled his big toes.

  “What are you doing?” Raoul sighed.

  “I hate wearing shoes. This is the only room, besides my own chamber, where I don’t have to wear them.”

  “You are emperor. You can do as you please.” Raoul scowled because he could, noting the black hair on the empirical big toes.

  “Irene would have me stoned before she let me go about improperly clad. The woman is worse than John here when it comes to propriety.” Manuel exhaled.

  “Can we get back to King Roger?” John pointed at the map of the city’s great wall. “He wants in and badly. I fear if he joins with King Louis and French reinforcements, we will be too rich a prize to ignore.”

  “Our walls will hold,” Manuel said.

  “They have held, but we all know there are some weak points.” John stared at Manuel until the emperor shrugged in acknowledgment. “And if Roger found out where they were, he would break in.”

  “And why haven’t we fixed these places?” Manuel arched a brow.

  John frowned and leaned against his desk. “I am beginning to think you never listen to me. Unless you want to raise taxes, there is little money for rebuilding the hidden injuries after buffering what is visible to the naked eye.”

  Raoul grunted in agreement. “I remember this conversation after last year’s attack on the right wall. I agree with John. If the Turks saw an opening, they’d tear up that truce of yours faster than I could slit their throats.”

  John leaned in for the kill. “Manuel, if we allow Louis to leave, and if he decides to join with King Roger, who is at this moment gathering his soldiers for another day of battering our walls, we might not be able to keep Constantinople safe.”

  Manuel sighed and stood gracefully. “I am emperor of Constantinople. I am God’s mouthpiece on Earth, and He has not given me word that I should worry. I have done what I can, buying time with the Turks, though they have always been my enemy and yours.”

  Raoul gritted his teeth but kept his silence.

  “I will trust Louis, who is more honorable than Conrad, God rot his miserable hide. If not for Irene, he would have been given less sustenance than he received.”

  “You did right, keeping Emperor Conrad out of the city. You have already shown favor to Louis by allowing him inside your palace, inside Constantinople, and showing him the treasures of the church.” Raoul nodded. “You’ve shown him the Hippodrome. It’s enough.”

  “Conrad is an oaf, a brute leader who did not control his soldiers. Sacking our towns as they went. Did he think we wouldn’t get word of his pillaging?” Manuel walked to John’s desk and picked up a short, sharp dagger.

  “We took care of matters, Manuel.” John kept his eye on the weapon. “By sending the Turks the German army coordinates, we will stop them from becoming possible allies to the French if Louis joins King Roger. You are removed from the skirmishes, and your name will remain unsullied.” John spread his arms wide and shrugged.

  “It’s smart to use the Turks as our minions against the heathen Crusaders. There is something in that which makes me feel avenged.” Raoul didn’t smile, for at the back of his head was the image of Bella, her hair so dark against her white, naked flesh. She was no heathen. She was beyond race or religion. She just was.

  “We can do the same to Louis. Get him outside the city walls, along the harbor, and then stall him. Constantinople itself will separate him from Savoy and Monferrat. We can promise supplies, then charge them more. Offer them a guide and never send him. There are ways, Manuel, that we can protect ourselves.”

  “What think you, Raoul?” Manuel ran his thumb along the line of the sharp, small blade. “Will Louis betray me? Shall I strike first? War is not just about who has the most soldiers. It is about intelligence and strategy. And my head agrees with my heart that Louis is sincere in his pledge of peace.”

  “Yes, I believe King Louis is sincere.” Raoul shrugged in a sign of apology to John.

  Manuel’s mouth twisted at his commander. “I can make no plans against an innocent man. Not yet.”

  John pounded his fist against the desk. “What if you wait until it is too late?”

  Manuel drew himself up to emperor status and stared across the desk, slamming the point of the dagger a mere inch away from John’s splayed hand. “Do not forget yourself. God will not let the barbarians take Constantinople, and I will not let it go while I have breath in my body.”

  The emperor stared at John until he apologized and shook off the tension with a cough.

  Manuel picked up his robe, slipped his arms through the sleeves, and put on his shoes. “It is time to play the part. Thank you both for letting me be myself, if only for a short while.”

  Raoul gave a quick nod, as did John.

  “John, double the soldiers on the wall. We shall taunt Roger, and perhaps he will make the mistake of thinking he can best our army. So far his tactics have been that of a daring boy. If he gets too close, let him feel the bite of our spears.”

  “It will be done.” John bowed his head.

  “I trust it will. You are the best military commander I’ve ever known. Walk with me, Raoul.”

  They left John muttering to himself and poring over maps. Raoul waited to see what Manuel wanted. It would do no good to pester the man with questions until he was ready to speak.

  “You have the patience of a lion,” the emperor said, “waiting in the tall grass to pounce on the unsuspecting prey.”

  “Patience?”

  “You outwait me every time to speak. Sometimes I would like to win.”

  “All right.” He shoved his hair off his face and walked, placing his hands behind his back.

  “I don’t like that a guest in my palace was attacked using my name. I am not pleased that you are running into walls and not finding answers while using my name.”

  “It’s difficult, but I will keep at it, my liege.”

  “I believe this has more to do with the Queen’s Guard than my royal self, and I would like you to
get proof of that. Starting with the French knight.”

  “Real proof or manufactured proof?”

  “A man in power must always have his reputation protected, which is why you are my only man of affairs. I trust you. You were told to see if the blonde wench was interested—discreetly, as always. She became sick, instead of meeting me for sport, and almost died. Only someone from her camp would know of a secret assignation with me and possibly have reason to protest.”

  Raoul nodded, remembering someone had taken Sarah’s knife from his room. Was Jonathon more than the bumbling golden knight he appeared? What if the man was a spy for the king? “I will make some inquiries.” Starting with Bella. Now that they’d shared such pleasure, she would surely open up to his subtle questions.

  “Good. But not now. Wait until after the queen’s entertainment this afternoon.”

  Raoul hesitated, even though he hated to waste time chatting when he had a clear directive.

  “And what is your opinion on the book of poetry I loaned you?”

  “Do you want the truth?”

  “From you, Raoul, always.” Manuel smiled.

  CHAPTER 19

  Bella escaped to the bazaar, telling the others she wanted to return the empty food basket to the stall owner. She did, much to his delight, and then found the table where the man made charms. She ordered one of each of the guards’ flowers—lily, rose, peony, violet, and daisy—and an extra set of all for the queen to put on a bracelet. She had to illustrate on paper what she wanted, but the man understood, then held up two fingers to tell her when to come back. At the last moment, she added a charm of a leopard to her order.

  Pleased with her independence, Bella returned to the chamber. No clear space remained as the women finished preparing for the private performance that afternoon.

  Clothed in what they’d worn to rally the soldiers for Crusade, they preened before the mirror and one another.

  “Let me straighten your feather,” Catherine said to Sarah.

  “No limp feathers in our guard,” Mamie said sternly, shaking her finger at Sarah, Fay, and Catherine, who all erupted with laughter.