by Megan Derr
Well, Noire remembered that night had been particularly fine, but what they had done in bed did not compare to how stupidly happy one little hair ribbon had made Gael.
He wondered, suddenly, if he should get a gift for after the ceremony. But what, he wondered miserably in the next breath, did one get a prince turned god? Reminding himself how much Gael had loved a hair ribbon did not soothe his sudden anxiety.
Gael as a god ... Noire just could not fathom it. How much would Gael change? Would he see Noire differently? No matter what Gael said about how all would be well, Noire was not convinced. What would he do if everything over the past three years came to nothing?
Just thinking about it turned his stomach.
He refused to be a coward, however. As hard as he fought, he would not simply give up because he was afraid. If Gael survived the ceremony, he would be content. Better Gael lived and was no longer his, than Gael died.
So, a gift then—but what manner of gift? Noire considered and discarded dozens of ideas before finally giving up in frustration. Eventually, something would occur to him. He hoped.
He was so lost in thought, he did not register the footsteps until he hard Ailill say, "Noire?"
Turning around, Noire knelt and bowed his head, mostly because he knew the formality annoyed Ailill and he was fun to tease. "Your grace, the Triad bids you come at once to the palace."
"Let us go, then," Ailill said. He strode to the door and pulled it open, but then turned back. Noire finally noticed Ivan standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Vanya—"
"I'll follow behind," Ivan said, still looking rumpled and half-asleep. "Go, quickly. Time is of the essence if we ever hope to scorch the culprit."
Ailill nodded and shifted to his panther form, then leapt through the open door and down the steps. Noire followed him, shifting smoothly as he hit the bottom of the stairs. They ran through the city, across the drawbridge, and down the royal pavilion, up into the palace. In the receiving hall, they shifted back, and Noire led him to the Sanctuary.
Gael stood by the door waiting for them, his smile strained, but genuine. "Lord Ailill, thank you for coming so quickly. I am afraid that this morning we lost two: the White Owl and the White Hawk."
"Two?" Ailill repeated. "But how—"
"They were apparently having an affair; I guess their assailant decided to save time and took care of them both," Gael said. "Unfortunately, it was her grace's wife who found them together. We are keeping her isolated, but with four Beasts now fallen it is going to be impossible to keep it a secret. I am certain you are already beginning to feel the strain of making up for their absence."
Ailill nodded. "It does explain why I woke with a splitting headache. May I see the room first, perhaps? I think that will provide me a better opportunity for clues."
"Of course," Gael said. "Should you desire access to the Sanctuary, come and find me. I will likely be trapped in my solar or my office all day. Noire, show him the way, then come to me."
Noire startled that Gael had called him by name, but did not draw attention to it. "Yes, your highness." He turned and resumed walking, moving quickly through the halls until they reached Lady Ciel's suite. He bowed at the door. "Your grace. Summon me should you need anything further; I will come at once."
"Thank you, Noire." Ailill said. "One of these days, I hope I can find my way around the palace even half as easily as you. How do you—how does anyone—keep it all straight? I vow I had a good sense of direction until I started coming here."
Smiling faintly, Noire said, "I was very confused for a long time. But it's built to be that way; Prince Gael told me once that the palace layout was based on a maze of which the Faerie Queen was fond. Why, he could not say, but speculated it was just for the challenge of it."
Ailill sighed. "Well, I suppose I am simply no good at mazes. Thank you, again. I do not suppose you would do me a favor?"
"You've only to name it."
"Notify someone to be on the watch for Vanya and have him brought to me when he arrives?"
"Of course," Noire said and walked off as Ailill vanished into the suite. In the receiving hall, he spoke to a clerk about Ivan, then slipped away again to Gael's study.
He knocked on the door, and then slipped inside when Gael called for him to enter. Walking up to Gael, who stood by the windows on one side of his office, Noire knelt and bowed his head. "Your highness, I come as bid."
"Thank you for coming so swiftly," Gael said quietly. "Most of the Beasts are in the city, and we have already summoned them. However, Lady Verenne left yesterday to visit a sick relative. She is beyond our range to contact. Normally I would send a message, but I prefer to be as discreet as possible, even at the cost of time. I also want her accompanied by someone I personally trust. Voice, journey to the estate of Lady Verenne's youngest sister and escort her back to the city. Be quick, but choose caution over speed. Use whatever means are necessary to return the White Bat safely to the palace."
"Yes, your highness," Noire replied, and he rose smoothly to his feet—and froze in surprise when Gael embraced him, breaths warm against Noire's skin.
Gael kissed him softly, squeezing his shoulders as he slowly withdrew. "Be careful, kitten. I do not know if you'll encounter any danger at all, and I do not want to send you, but we need the remaining Beasts gathered."
"I'll be careful," Noire said. "Her youngest sister's estate is a day and a half away going slowly. I can trim that down to a day, and we'll both be back tomorrow night."
Nodding, Gael surged forward and gave him one more kiss, then whispered, "Go."
Noire went, flushed with surprise and his heart pounding in his ears. Gael never did that. Never treated him like anything, but the Voice during the day. More and more often, though, he seemed to be breaking his own rules.
Stupidly, selfishly, it made Noire feel better to have evidence that Gael really was as unhappy about the secret-keeping as he. Hearing it and witnessing it were two different things, and he trusted Gael implicitly—but it was still heartening to think that Gael was finding it increasingly difficult to hold back.
He left the city quickly, heading south towards the estate Verenne's sister kept near the coast. As early in the day as it was, he would be table to get there only just after dark. They could leave in the morning, and be back in the palace that night. Two days, exactly as he had said.
Noire focused on running, on his task, and tried not to think about the exhaustion weighing down on him. When the ceremony was finally over and everything had calmed down, he was going to take shameless abuse of his role as Gael's lover and demand a week off. He was going to spend it in bed, either sleeping or doing every last thing he could think of to and with Gael.
It was only a few hours after sunset when he finally reached his destination. He shifted and straightened his clothes before he strode up the door and knocked. It was opened a moment later by a supercilious-looking butler. "I am here to see Lady Verenne."
"Lady Verenne is not receiving—"
Noire drew himself up and said more coldly, "I will assume that the dark makes it hard to recognize the crest of the Voice upon my breast. I did not ask if I may see Lady Verenne, I said I am seeing her."
The butler blanched and hastily stepped back, pulling the door completely open. "Of course, Voice. My apologies. I will inform her of your presence at once, if you would care to wait in the red salon?" Noire nodded and, shoulders easing with relief, the butler led him to a salon that made Noire inwardly wince.
He was no snob, not even after all his years in the palace, but the room was atrocious. So much red was reminiscent of blood, which was beyond poor taste. Noire grimaced and stayed near the door, half afraid of what would happen if he wandered too deeply into the room.
Thankfully, the door opened a few minutes later and the butler intoned, "Her grace requests that you come and see her in the night garden." When Noire nodded, the butler led the way through the house and down a stone path to a small sectio
n that was slightly separate from the rest of the garden.
The scents of flowers washed over him as he reached it: night-blooming jasmine, evening primrose, and moonflowers. Noire thanked the butler, then walked through the small garden to kneel before Lady Verenne. Quiet, kind, and breathtakingly beautiful with her delicate features and the riot of curls piled atop her head, she was one of the most popular Beasts at court. Noire had rarely seen her without a smile on her face, the sound of her laughter in the air.
It drew him up short when he looked up after a prolonged silence and saw that she was crying. "Your grace ... "
Verenne gave a weak, unsteady laugh, and wiped at her eyes with the crumbled handkerchief in her hand. "My apologies, Voice. Please, give your message."
Noire nodded and replied, "You are ordered to return at once to the royal palace. This very morning, the White Hawk and the White Owl fell victim to poison. The Triad wants all the Beasts close for reasons of safety. You are to return with me as quickly as possible."
"I refuse," Verenne said softly, but quite firmly. "You may take my refusal directly to Princess Frederique."
"Your grace ... "
Verenne smiled weakly at him again, and then reached to lightly cup his cheek. "Sit with me."
Not certain what else to do, Noire obeyed, sitting nervously at the edge of the bench.
"I'm not going to bite," Verenne said, but her laughter broke off as she started crying again. "I apologize, Voice. My problems are not yours, but I will not return. If that means I must be the next victim of this mysterious poison, then so be it." She laughed bitterly. "Maybe that will teach a lesson I cannot seem to instill myself."
Noire moved close and curled his hand over hers. "Is there something I can do to help, your grace?"
"You're very sweet, Noire. Too sweet for the likes of us toxic palace flowers. Do you have a sweetheart?"
"Um—"
Verenne laughed. "Like I said, sweet. I bet you are doted on and spoiled rotten. I would spoil you." She smirked. "I would also forbid you clothes."
Noire could feel his cheeks heat that. "Your grace!"
"So easy to fluster," Verenne said, chuckling, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I do not know how the palace has not ruined you, but I am glad of it. I thought that after becoming the Voice you would turn as jaded and toxic as the rest of us. But you still are you." She sighed and looked away, reaching out to toy with the leaves of a nearby night blooming jasmine. "Is it hard, keeping the secrets of the Triad? Of course we, as Beasts, are charged with our own share of secrets. That is not as difficult as being the Voice, who must carry and hold so many other secrets. Do they weigh you down ever, Noire? Does being the Voice weary you?"
"It exhausts me," Noire said. "But the physical demands of my job are far more difficult than the secrets. Keeping a secret only requires I do not talk, and I was never much for talking, anyway."
Verenne nodded and picked at the jasmine blossoms, toying with them in her lap. "There's no secret that burdens you, that slowly breaks your heart from the weight of it?"
Noire flinched. "There is, but it's not because I'm the Voice. It's personal. Is that what makes you cry, your grace? A heavy secret?"
"Are you in love with your sweetheart, Noire?"
"Yes," Noire said. "I could not live without him. I would not want to."
"What's his name?"
Noire looked away. "I cannot say. He would be upset to know that I have admitted I have a lover. That is my heavy secret: that I am the secret."
"So am I," Verenne said softly, and Noire turned to face her, but she stared out over the garden. The night jasmine was shredded bits scattered across her lap. "She has been my entire world since I met her, but she refuses to acknowledge my feelings. To acknowledge she returns them. She constantly pushes me away and goes into the arms of someone she does not love. She loves me, and one night she broke down and showed it. The best night of my life, and now she will not speak to me unless she must and says that I must not speak of that night. I obeyed because I thought it must be the right thing to do, it's so out of character for her. But now I wonder, and I find I no longer want to be a secret, and I don't know what to do."
How he knew, Noire could not exactly say—but no, that wasn't true. The entire scenario sounded too familiar for it to be anyone else. It fit with the few other things she'd said. "You're in love with Freddie."
Verenne jerked and looked at him. "How—"
"Gael," Noire said with a wobbly smile, terrified and relieved all at once that he could finally admit it. "My lover's name is Gael."
Giving a soft cry of dismay and sympathy, Verenne hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry, Noire. They're both—oh, stupid, infuriating, inconsiderate—"
"Terrified," Noire cut in. "I do not know what Freddie has told you, but Gael has nightmares of me dying, and he believes it is related to the ceremony. He would murder me right now for telling you, because I should not trust anyone with the knowledge until the ceremony is successful and over."
Verenne stared at him, then let him go with a long sigh. "That makes a bit more sense. Freddie is only 'for your own good' and 'please trust me' and oh, I really do want to smack her some days. And then take her to bed and never leave it because everything is so much simpler when it's just the two of us." She started crying again, dabbing at her eyes with her crumpled handkerchief.
Noire pulled out his own and handed it over. "If you and Freddie are anything like Gael and me, then I firmly believe she loves you and wants only to protect you. I know it is not much, but ... "
"It's enough to have one last conversation," Verenne said. "Thank you for trusting me with your secret. I am sorry you bear it." She took his hand and kissed his cheek again, and Noire returned the gesture by kissing hers. "But I feel better knowing I am not alone."
"Yes," Noire said softly. "It's nice not to feel so alone."
Verenne laughed and hugged him. Sitting back, she gave him an appraising look and then smirked. "So, our sweet little Voice has hooked the Unicorn. Well no wonder the flirtations and wiles of the court fall on very deaf ears. I know plenty of people who would love to tear your eyes out, tear your throat out, and leave you in the river. He must be very good in bed for you to keep your secret as long and as well as you have."
"Y-your grace!" Noire sputtered, face burning.
She collapsed into giggles, leaning against him for balance, arms clinging to his. "Your face! My, my, he must be very good. I shall have to invite you over for a bottle or six of wine some night and coax all the dirty details from you."
"That will not happen," Noire said hotly and pushed her away, which only made her giggle more.
"Well, you will at least have a bottle with me tonight, Voice," Verenne said, standing and sweeping her skirts out imperiously. "I have not bothered to eat dinner; I will have something prepared for us."
Noire nodded and rose, offering his arm. "How is your sister?"
"I have no idea," Verenne said cheerfully. "She and her husband are with my parents up in the mountains this time of year. I just wanted to get away from the palace before I punched Freddie right in the nose. So how did you and Gael ..."
"We met at a ball. A week later ..." Noire shrugged, unable to say more because it simply hurt too much.
Verenne sighed. "Freddie and I met before I was even a Beast. She was the Pegasus, but only for about five or six years, then. I was still very much a girl, but I saw her and was utterly smitten. My parents thought I was such a devout daughter, wanting to go to the palace to learn courtly life while my sisters wanted to play and flirt. I don't think they ever did realize the thoughts flitting through my mind whenever I looked at Freddie. She really is magnificent."
"She's terrifying," Noire said, "but I suppose it's a matter of perspective."
"Indeed, most would say your man is cold," Verenne replied with a wink. They slipped into the house, where the stony butler waited. Noire waited patiently while Verenne arranged supper, then duti
fully walked with her to the study for drinks.
She poured him a glass of brandy, motioning to the chairs before the fireplace. After studying him for a moment, Verenne clucked in disapproval. "You do look tired. Would you prefer just to go to bed?"
Noire shook his head. "No, food would be nice. I did not get much chance to eat. I'm still too keyed up from travelling hard to sleep well. Your hospitality is most appreciated, your grace."
"Fah," Verenne said dismissively. "Leave off with the 'your grace'. We are friends now. I understand formality must be maintained in certain places, but here we are not a duchess and a voice. We are friends. Renne will do just fine."
"Renne," Noire said, and he smiled because it really did feel as if they were friends, though they had been mere acquaintances just moments ago. "So you will return?"
"Yes, but do not be surprised if I flounce off again," Verenne said dryly. "Freddie is infuriating."
Noire smiled. "Luckily, I'm busy and often gone, so there is little time for fighting."
Verenne smiled back. "So you said both Ciel and Justin fell? How did this poisoner manage to get two ..." She trailed off with a grimace. "I suppose I do not have any right to judge, given that I am the trollop attempting to lure away Freddie when she is with her siblings—but I knew those two were flirting a bit too much. I thought they at least had sense enough not to give in. Lady Ciel's wife will be crushed when she finds out."
"She already knows," Noire said, not seeing that he had to hold that bit of information back. "She was the one who found them."
"I see," Verenne said. "Dinner should be ready soon, and we will leave at dawn. How did you journey here?"
Noire shrugged. "On foot. It's the fastest way."
"Well, I cannot hope to keep up with you, Voice," Verenne said with a smile. "However, time is of the essence, so perhaps you might permit a tiny little bat to travel on your back?"