by Traci E Hall
Bella shook her head, grinning wide. She dressed quickly, then took stock of her image in the mirror. Ivory cloak trimmed in red-dyed fur, a tunic even shorter than the one she’d worn yesterday, and tight ivory leggings that showed the dimples above her knees. She turned, seeing that the back of the red-and-white-striped hem barely covered the shape of her buttocks.
All she could think about was Raoul’s reaction to how she’d looked. She’d woken up still feeling the glow of satiated desire. But the closer she got to seeing Raoul this afternoon, the more nervous she became. How did a woman act after a night of fulfilled fantasy?
They’d fallen asleep in one another’s arms. Then he’d quietly brought her to her room before the palace awoke.
His parting kiss had curled her toes.
What would today bring?
“You look beautiful, Bella,” Fay said, taking a turn at the mirror.
Bella backed away to give Fay more room. “As do you,” she said, eyeing Fay’s figure. “You have beautiful curves. Yet you hide them?”
Fay’s cheeks turned a charming pink. “The queen insisted that today I show them off. Usually my part as a guard is to be forgettable.”
“You fail miserably, Fay,” Bella said. “Too beautiful to be forgotten, no matter what you wear.”
Fay gave Bella a quick hug and a grateful smile. “Are you nervous about performing in front of the emperor?”
Bella shook her head. “Non.” She spoke the truth, nervous at the thought of seeing Raoul.
“I feel fine, Catherine. Stop fussing,” Sarah said, lightly smacking Catherine’s hands from her waist.
“You’re sure it isn’t too tight?” Catherine stepped to the side and eyed the costume.
“It has to be,” Sarah said in a gentler tone. “Or else the stitches might not hold.”
“I know I’ve apologized already, Sarah, but if there is a scar—”
“Bella, it will be a story to remind me of you.” Sarah blew her a kiss. “I thank you for saving my life.”
“I’m glad we don’t have to wear our armor,” Fay said, looking at Mamie’s red and ivory full-breasted tunic. “We look so pretty in these costumes.”
“We’re supposed to look dangerous,” Catherine admonished, holding her flail tight. She didn’t care for blades, preferring the long-handled stick with an attached chain and a spiked ball of metal at the end. It kept the enemy farther away.
“There will be no fighting,” Mamie singsonged. “Is it too bad of me to wish my tunic were shorter?” She turned and flipped the hem, showing them all her linen-covered arse.
Sarah patted her waist and turned her pretty mouth down. “All this extra padding makes me look fat.”
“It isn’t as if you need to catch a man,” Catherine said with a delicate twitch of her lips. “You’ve been caught, my dear.”
Bella had deliberately stayed away from the subject of Jonathon’s marriage or the future of Sarah with her lover. She had to find Jonathon. Now that she knew he claimed a wife, he looked especially guilty.
The plan was to survive the next few days in Constantinople and then worry over the details later, as the queen liked to say.
“There is still time to bed the emperor.” Mamie scrunched her nose and laughed. “Although he may not want you now.”
“He knows of my injury. That game is lost, but I don’t regret it. I would have done what needed to be done, though my heart chooses Jonathon.”
Bella’s nape tickled. Would Jonathon put Sarah to death over jealousy? Would he rather see her dead than with another? Or worse, death over discovery of the child in her belly? And what of his wife?
She should have already come up with a plan, but Raoul had thoroughly and wonderfully distracted her. The queen wanted time alone with Manuel, but Bella needed time alone with the queen.
She looked in the mirror and pinched her pale cheeks. “I hope I don’t miss the target.”
“You never miss.” Sarah smiled. “I trust you with an apple on my head for a reason.” She put a hand to her injured waist. “I’m glad I’m bringing the salt of Petra potion instead of sword fighting with Mamie today.”
“We can’t risk pulling your stitches,” Bella said. “Fay and Mamie can spar.”
“So long as Mamie keeps her eyes off the men. You tend to show off, Mamie.” Fay put a hand on her hip. “I don’t want to lose a finger because your sword slips.”
Mamie grinned. “I always have a firm grip on my sword.”
Fay rolled her eyes. “And when I flip somersaults across the garden with my fine blade between my teeth, I will slice the ribbons from the empress’s cousin’s shoes without them ever realizing I was there.”
“I will provide the smoke, Fay, to keep you covered,” Sarah said.
“The queen mentioned a meal to be shared afterward, where we eat at the same table as the emperor and empress. It’s quite an honor.” Bella’s stomach rumbled with tension. “What if they bring those forks to eat with and I use mine wrong?”
“Impossible.” Mamie snorted. “Spear your food as you would with your knife, and you’ll be fine.”
“Watch your neighbors and mimic them,” Fay advised. “It’s what I used to do when I forgot which spoon to use.”
“Raoul took my eating knife,” Sarah complained, “and never gave it back.”
“Let’s go.” Bella took a deep breath, suddenly frozen with fear. “What if I make another mistake?”
“You won’t. Leave me both my eyes, and I swear I will be content.” Sarah elbowed Bella toward the door. “Stop worrying, Violet.”
They arrived at the queen’s suite to find her and Larissa ready and waiting. Eleanor wore a modest red and white gown, in deference to her husband, and kept the plumes and bells in her chamber.
“Louis had better appreciate my sacrifice,” Eleanor said as they followed a purple-clad slave to the private garden where they would perform. “My fingers itched to put the feathers in my hair and, really, what would one bell do to his reputation as king?” She threw back her shoulders and continued. “But he was so sweet when he asked me to be discreet. I know that Thierry wanted him to forbid me to wear red and ivory at all. If Louis can compromise, then so can I. He loves me, for all his dedication to God and the Crusade.”
“A love match between royals is a rare and beautiful thing,” Sarah said, and Bella wondered if she was thinking about her unrequited love and lack of a husband.
“Our match was formed because my father knew Louis would be the most powerful union in all of France, protecting Aquitaine and Poitou, while allowing me to hold my estates. Only when I produce a son will my lands become part of the French entailment. Love is a fickle thing in politics, as you all well know. Bella married a monster because he wanted her dowry. Catherine married for love.” The queen paused. “Fay has no dowry but what she earns in my employ, so she is safe for a while yet, although her time will come. Mamie is the luckiest of all, I think.”
“So do I.” Mamie laughed. “Though I will never have children of my own to hold, my arms are rarely empty.” She winked and patted her hips.
They reached the appointed garden, and the slave rushed inside to announce their arrival. A horn blew, and the movable partition separated so that Eleanor and her guard were revealed slowly to the waiting company.
Sarah used her Salt of Petra and dried rose madder potion to make red smoke billow like magic. Bella heard the surprise on the other side of the smoke wall and grinned at her friend.
“Well done,” Bella whispered.
Sarah smiled and motioned for the queen and Larissa to go. Larissa looked frightened at walking through the red smoke screen, but the queen told her to hold her breath and stop whining.
As they stepped through, the sound of clapping reached Bella’s ears. Drawing on courage learned by the grace of the queen, Bella held out her arms for Fay and Mamie, and Catherine looped her arm through Mamie’s on the other side.
Aware that they were looked
upon as entertainment, Bella vowed to show her best and hopefully prove to the royals and Raoul that there was talent beneath the surface.
Fay unhooked her arm and somersaulted across the garden to land in a curtsy before the emperor and empress.
“Welcome,” Emperor Manuel said to the guard as Empress Irene smiled.
About two dozen people were in attendance, not including slaves or servants. Bella’s gaze was drawn immediately to Raoul, dressed in his customary black. He gave no hint that anything had gone on between them the night before: no softening of his straight posture, no friendly sparkle in his dark eyes.
She then saw that he had Serena and Star leashed at his feet. A warning for her to keep away? A reminder, maybe, of her mistake at the Hippodrome: that she wasn’t a very good guard at all.
Self-doubt threatened her composure as she moved her gaze from Raoul to Eleanor, who was seated next to King Louis.
The emperor showed his dominion by sitting on a slightly raised couch with his wife. John Axuch sat near the back gate, as if on guard instead of there for enjoyment, and Thierry stood behind King Louis. Odo was noticeably absent. No doubt the queen would give Louis her opinion about that later.
The empress’s cousins sat at a round table to themselves. Bella wondered if the intimate seating of small parties was the way Empress Irene got around everyone actually sitting at one long trestle table. Smart woman, as Eleanor said.
Empress Irene tilted her head, staring at each of them in turn. “You are not wearing the armor, as you did yesterday.”
Sarah, the most angelic of the guard with her blonde hair and fair beauty, stepped forward and bowed her head. “We are costumed for pageantry rather than war this day. We would like to entertain you for a short while with our skills at tumbling, sword fighting, and archery.”
“What skill do you have? I have not met you yet. So beautiful.” The empress’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Sarah curtsied gracefully, even in a man’s tunic and leggings. “My beauty fades to nothing in comparison to yours, Empress.”
Bella let out a sigh of relief, not realizing she’d been holding her breath.
The empress gave a small nod. “What skill have you?”
“You have witnessed mine already, in the red smoke.”
“Magic?” Empress Irene frowned, and she gripped the edge of her seat.
“Non,” Sarah said with a slow shake of her head, her blue eyes filling with tears. “Alchemy. Salt of Petra mixed with sugar and rose madder. A recipe given to me by my father, a noted alchemist before he died.” She lifted her chin.
“And are you married, child?”
Sarah swallowed. “I was once, to a soldier. He is dead, Empress.”
Bella wished there was a way to draw the attention from Sarah to herself, but Fay, clever Fay, accidentally dropped her thin silver dagger close to Sarah’s feet, thus halting the conversation with her flurry of apologies.
Sarah quickly stepped back in line, and Mamie moved forward to announce the program.
“We will begin with an apple and an arrow.”
Raoul’s mouth was dry as desert sand. He’d been uncertain how he’d react to seeing Lady Isabella de Lacey, the most beautiful of all women, after last night’s tryst beneath the moon and stars.
He’d brought the leopards as a reminder of her mistake yesterday and perhaps to throw her off her game, as he was definitely off his. He couldn’t stop thinking of her. The distraction was only fair.
She stood next to the lovely and angelic Sarah, who showed no sign of injury. If he hadn’t seen her stab wound himself, he wouldn’t believe she had come close to dying.
Considering the way Manuel’s eyes followed the tall blonde, he’d forgotten too—and that he was once a suspect in her attempted demise.
Bella sauntered to Sarah and held out her hand, the quiver of arrows bouncing against her back. Her tunic was shorter than the one she’d worn yesterday. Dear God.
Sarah accepted her hand, and Bella whispered in her ear. Sarah shook her head. Bella looked at the people watching before raising an ebony brow and directing the blonde to a large tree. She gently pushed Sarah back until the guard’s tunic scraped bark.
Bella swallowed, cleared her throat, and asked in a whisper obviously meant to be heard, “Are you sure you don’t want to wear a blindfold?”
Sarah, looking terrified, answered in a trembling voice. “Non. I trust you.” In a loud whisper, she added, “Just don’t miss.” Then the blonde winked at the audience.
Raoul found himself charmed. That hadn’t been his intent at all.
Bella pulled a red fruit from a small pouch, waving it in front of everyone so they could see it was indeed an apple. Then she put it on Sarah’s blonde head. The apple appeared smaller when precariously balanced.
Raoul heard the cousins twitter nervously and nodded with enjoyment.
The empress inhaled and covered her mouth with her ringed hand once Bella took twenty paces backward and notched an arrow in her bow. She dropped the arrow to the grass, looking sheepish. Then she shook out her arms before picking it up again.
“Allow me to apologize for my nerves,” Bella said with a shiver so real Raoul almost stood to offer his arm. “Usually we use blunted arrows, but for this stately occasion, we are using”—she pulled the tip of the arrow across her thumb, drawing blood—”the real thing.”
The cousins sat on the edge of their seats. Raoul noticed that everybody, himself included, had leaned forward. “Use the blunted arrow, fool!” Nikola called out, earning a reprimanding look from Empress Irene.
Sarah shut her eyes and said in a strained voice, “Take your time. No hurry. I’ll just—”
Thwack!
Raoul stood, unable to believe his eyes. Not only had she hit the apple; she’d speared it directly in the center. The two halves fell to the ground and the arrow stayed, tremoring, in the tree trunk.
The audience, even John and Thierry, burst into applause. Raoul kept his hands wrapped around Star and Serena’s leashes. He wanted to jump up and wrap Bella in his arms. It was a great feat and one that deserved recognition.
Her eyes sought his, and he looked away. He had to let her know she couldn’t trust him. He would use her and then let her go. When he dared raise his eyes again, she’d already turned away.
His pride burned as her delighted laugh floated across the garden like a thundercloud. She was not the least upset. If anything, she seemed relieved.
She and Sarah bowed arm in arm, laughing as if they’d had a great time. Perhaps they had. The emperor shouted bravos and asked for a repeat performance.
“I can shoot at my friend but once a day, Emperor,” Bella said with a winsome smile and flip of her ebony hair. ”Now may I introduce our darling Fay, who can tumble as well as any court jester you’ve ever seen?”
“And what makes her qualified to be part of the Queen’s Guard?” Marie asked, surprising Raoul with her boldness. “Somersaulting from a horse is not going to save the queen’s life.”
“Excellent point,” Mamie said, giving John a saucy wink. “Fay is a shadow. Visible one moment and gone the next. She can strike down an enemy before he’s aware she has been there.”
“I don’t believe that.” Marie rolled her eyes. “It’s impossible to be a human shadow.”
“Does this belong to anyone here?” Mamie held up Marie’s hair ribbon.
“That is mine!” Marie said, searching her hair for the missing bow.
Fay, popping up from behind Nikola’s chair, asked, “And would you like the emperor’s silk handkerchief in trade?”
“No!” Marie covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide as she looked from Fay to Manuel.
The emperor patted his sleeve where he normally kept his handkerchief, but it was gone. He shrugged and tugged at his beard, his gaze hard and not amused.
“Nobody knows quite how she does it.” As Mamie spoke, Fay tumbled and flipped behind her, her silver dagger betwe
en her teeth. Then she bowed, waving the weapon with a flourish.
Raoul had thought he’d come today to gain the upper hand in the game he played with the unsuspecting Lady Isabella. Instead, he found himself as much in awe of the Queen’s Guard as everyone else was.
And the ladies weren’t done.
Bella stood in the center of the lawn as Fay and Mamie paired off, swords drawn.
“Are those real?” Leah asked, leaning forward.
“Oui,” Bella said, “and sharp enough to slice the table.” Bella refused to look his way. Annoyed that he’d made the wrong move in his previous rebuff, he coughed, hoping to gain her attention.
She ignored him.
“Please don’t,” the empress tittered. “I just bought them.”
Bella acknowledged her request with a smile, then waved their attention toward the fighters, who looked as serious as boys playing at being men. His annoyance tripled, bothering the leopards. Star strained at his leash.
“Easy,” Raoul commanded, not missing the new line of caution in Bella’s spine as if she sensed the leopard’s tension, though she faced the show in front of her.
He realized with a sudden bolt that he felt respect for the lady, something he’d never felt toward a woman. He’d loved his wife and honored her before her death, but they had known their roles within the household. He was the warrior; she was the mother of his child. He protected; she nourished. He had failed; she and his son were dead.
Gloomy thoughts overrode his enjoyment of the program, and it was with detachment that he watched the women parry. The swords had obviously been especially crafted for them, and they wielded the weapons with expertise.
They might be able to stave off an attacker, but war was no place for women. He’d witnessed the brutality, and he would spare the softer sex the horror of battle.
They could fight, he acknowledged with annoyance. But would they when it came down to the bitter end?
Raoul watched Lady Isabella as she cheered and coordinated the sword fight. She was delicate but strong in a way only someone who had survived fire was. Bella would never leave her man’s side. She would be an equal and support him as he would lovingly, respectfully support her.