Overwhelmed by the sincere kindness in Drew's voice, Angelique blinked back sudden tears.
"Now I have made you cry." Drew's hand withdrew as if afraid of burning her. "I do not seek to hurt you, my Lady."
Angelique looked at Drew for a moment. "I am not frightened, my Liege. But if you show me such kindness, then you must expect a few tears of happiness." And with that, Angelique slipped quickly out the door before Drew had a chance to respond.
A polite cough drew Angelique's attention away from the book she was reading. Looking up, she swiveled around on the bench to find Drew standing behind her. The room's shadowed aisles seemed dense in comparison to the brightly lit area with tables and benches which lined the window wall. But Drew's cowled figure was recognizable even in the dimness.
"If you'd rather I go-?"
"No. Not at all," Angelique insisted, smiling as the hesitation in Drew's stance was replaced with confidence.
"Again, you surprise me," Drew shared, nodding toward the book. "You read. I'd thought you'd be in search of a dress pattern or pictures."
Angelique made a face. "Aloysius taught me to so that he wouldn't have to read to Mama so often. Which was typical of him. He'd make you think he was doing you a favor, but it was always himself he was serving."
"Yet it was a gift after all, in the end, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Angelique admitted, then smiled. She opened the book to the place she'd marked with her finger and said, "I was reading about the Persian astronomer who was among the first to believe the world was round. It seems amazing to me that people were so certain once the world must be flat."
Drew placed a booted foot on the bench top and leaned forward to rest elbow on knee, hand dangling freely. "Very certain."
"It was extraordinary. He was virtually the only one to think that the Earth moved about the sun. He suggested that only the moon circled us. He suggested that there was a whole universe out there—"
"And that the world just couldn't possibly be flat."
"Can you imagine believing something that seems so obviously wrong to us now?" Her eyes widened as she stared off into space. "Such conviction that there was so finite a space that if one sailed too far, the ship would literally fall off the edge of the world and into oblivion."
"So ancient an idea must surely be foolishness," Drew teased gently.
"They couldn't have known any differently!" Angelique challenged, annoyed at the whimsical tone of her companion. "What evidence did they have to the contrary? They hadn't the means to prove their world was anything other than what they could see! It would be like standing atop this palace and seeing the valley as a whole, ringed by your tall brick walls and then, beyond, by the ranges of mountains. Why, the very hills look as if they hold the skies high! Why would anyone have had reason to question their senses?"
"They would have no good reason at all."
"Yet you're laughing at me."
"Not at all," Drew corrected cheerfully. "I simply find nothing strange in the idea that a world may be flat — or round. Have you ever wondered if it wasn't truly flat in the first place?"
Angelique eyed her companion dubiously. "I don't understand."
"Before we began to think in terms of science and proofs, do you think the world was round? Or was it flat once, just as so many believed it to be? Perhaps the discovery, the very act of proving it round, created the reality of it being round."
"But how can something be what it was not before?"
Drew waved a gloved hand and a pale rosebud on a thornless stem appeared. "How indeed?"
Angelique stared at the flower, eyes narrowed in concentration. "You're suggesting science has become the magick? In its process of discovery, there are elements of some sort of spell?"
"Is that true?" Angelique lifted the rose thoughtfully, her gaze drifting upwards. "Or is it the mystery itself that is magicked away with the spell? Like the black veil of your face... is the truth hidden by some cloak until the spell, or the science, can take us beyond our fear? Perhaps the magick is the light that pierces our blindness and science merely our best method of challenging society's assumptions?"
Drew nodded, impressed, acknowledging the logic of her thoughts. Silence fell easily between them. After a moment, Angelique moved, offering the pale bud to Drew, who took it slowly. As the rose passed from Angelique's hand to Drew's, Angelique spoke a few words under her breath, trying a soft spell of her own. The bud opened slightly, releasing a faint, pleasant fragrance.
Drew lifted the fragile gift, relishing the sweet scent. "Thank you."
Angelique smiled hesitantly. Her eyes fell to the open page of the book. She closed it slowly and looked up at Drew.
"May I ask you a question?" she said.
Drew stiffened momentarily, but nodded.
"Are you not overly warm wearing that hood and gloves all the time?"
Drew relaxed and answered, "It's simple, really. I only have to say 'I wish to be comfortable,' 'I wish to be cooler' or something of the like, and the palace accommodates me."
"But outside?"
"Then I have the brisk spring winds." Angelique continued to stare at Drew as if she expected more on an answer, but when none was forthcoming, the conversation lagged. "Do you ride?" Drew asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Do I like to ride or am I a good rider?"
"Both."
"Yes, I like to. No, I don't ride well."
"A lack of practice?"
She nodded.
"Would you like to ride with me? We've a wonderful garden trail, shaded by trellises of a thousand different flowers. The breezes are always cool. There are a dozen fountains that will sing for you."
"It sounds beautiful," Angelique sighed, then caught herself abruptly. "There is a problem."
Drew sat, straddling the bench. "Tell me."
Angelique colored. "I cannot ride like a proper lady, my Liege."
There was a puzzled silence, then her companion admitted, "I do not understand. How does a proper lady ride?"
"Side-saddle, my Liege." And then she found herself hurrying to explain. "I learned as a child, you see. My eldest brother, Ivan, would put me up on our old plow horse and lead me around the courtyard for a special treat. It didn't seem to matter if my skirts bunched at that age. When I was older and I rode the old mare in from the fields after plowing, I was too tired to care about whether or not my petticoats were showing."
"And where was this eldest brother when you were doing the plowing?" The displeasure in Drew's voice was audible. "I did not know that tending the fields had become a daughter's duty." Drew's hand curled into a fist.
"Please do not judge them so harshly, my Liege. I did what I did as much for myself as for them."
"For your father?"
Her head bent and she whispered, "It was for Mama. To pay for what she needed."
"Did you come here for her sake as well?"
Angelique glanced up, the anger in Drew's voice had turned to gentleness. "In part," she answered honestly.
"And the other part?"
She straightened, folding her hands on the book. She forced a smile and stared straight ahead. "I couldn't quite bear what would become of my life if I didn't."
Drew reached out and covered both of Angelique's hands with one gloved one. Angelique, aware of the warmth in that touch, felt her breath catch when she thought again that this was the person she would marry. Her skin tingled and she felt her mouth go dry, as she wondered for the first time what that warmed leather glove would feel like cupped against her cheek and then, more boldly, what that hand would feel like against her skin.
"Would you like to come riding?" Drew pressed, withdrawing that hand slowly.
Forcing her mind to focus on the question, Angelique managed a nod.
"Then we go riding!" her companion announced, rising suddenly and pulling Angelique up as well.
"Like this?!" Angelique protested. She allowed herself to be dragged only so far toward
the door. "But I can't!"
"Why not?"
"In these skirts? It's not practical!"
"Then we'll dress you differently." Drew waved a hand. A loose fitting tunic, its drawstring collar neatly tied, and a suede pair of breeches tucked into short boots replaced the troublesome clothes.
Angelique flushed, deeply embarrassed.
"You are not comfortable," Drew said. "I have offended you."
"Do you..." Angelique managed a small smile. "Would you prefer me as a young boy, my Liege?"
Drew cocked her head, acknowledging the gentle jibe. "I do not prefer men to women, if that's what you mean," Drew offered. "I was merely providing clothing more suited to riding. If you would rather—" Drew raised a hand as if to change Angelique's attire again.
"Drew, wait. I didn't mean to imply..." she faltered, then, after a moment added, "It's just that — I've never worn clothes such as these before."
"Angelique."
She glanced down at herself and then up at Drew. "Do you not find this terribly immodest?"
Drew shook her head in response. "You need not answer to the rules of the outside society here. It is your choice what you wear.”
Angelique grinned crookedly. "Then if I can have anything, I think I'd like my old clothes. The ones I wore at home."
"Describe them."
"The blouse had short sleeves." She gestured to the middle of her upper arm. "Usually, I'd wear a laced vest instead of a corset. A simple skirt and petticoats." Angelique blushed at the thought of bare ankles anywhere outside of the muddy pastures or Aloysius' house. "They came below the knees a little."
"Done!" Drew's hands clapped together and Angelique gasped at the transformation. The silk blouse Drew had made was a summer-sky blue; her vest was of black felt, appliquéd with red and pink rosebuds; the petticoats were the softest cotton, covered by a dusky gray-blue skirt of fine light wool.
"Better?"
Angelique nodded, laughing breathlessly. "It's beautiful!"
"We will need to do something about those boots."
Angelique grimaced, realizing she was still wearing the short boots the breeches had been tucked into. "To tell the truth, I wish I didn't have to wear anything."
Angelique gasped as she realized what she'd just said. But Drew's hand was already in the air and, in the same moment that Angelique felt the warm breezes against her bare skin, Drew's red cape suddenly tied about her throat and slid down to cover her to her toes. She clutched frantically at its edges, realizing that she wasn't wearing a thing underneath.
"You meant not to wear anything on your feet, I think?"
Angelique nodded, still unable to speak. Drew obliged with a spell. Angelique felt the beautiful riding clothes — sans boots — once again appear. Her thoughts raced in desperate, unspoken questions.
"I saw nothing, Angelique."
She drew a breath and calmed her racing heart. "Thank you."
Drew sketched a bow.
Slowly, Angelique untied the cape and drew it off. She folded it over her arm carefully. The satin lining was smooth, the crimson velvet soft beneath her fingers. "May I keep it, my Liege?"
A pause and then, "Of course."
Angelique stared at Drew, prompting the other to ask, "My Lady?"
"My mother would say you have more than a tender soul, my Liege," she said quietly. "She would say you have honor."
Chapter 6
The hairbrush paused as Angelique gazed into her mirror, eyeing the crimson cloak that now lay draped across the foot of her bed. How could Drew, who had been so protective of her, so abruptly seem to forget her existence? How could the one who had laughed with her over dinner, taught her backgammon and told such magickal stories have become so distant?
There was no one but herself to blame, she scolded. The touch of Drew's black-gloved hand had unsettled her, just as it had the first time she's allowed herself to think of what that touch might lead to. Only this last time Drew's touch, meant to be gentle and playful, nothing more than correcting the improper placement of a backgammon marker, had made her heart leap and her stomach flutter. Her own sudden feelings had frightened her. And so, startled by her own emotions, she had pulled away, wide-eyed.
For a long moment, the ticking of the corner clock had engulfed them, the only sound in a room which had moments before been filled with their laughter. Before Angelique could explain why she'd pulled away, Drew rose, slowly, almost wearily. "Forgive me." Drew's voice had been clipped. "I did not realize my touch was so offensive to you."
Startled, Angelique had been unable to recover her equilibrium before the Liege strode stiffly from the room.
A wall of tension had come down between them, a wall that had been kept mercifully at bay for a few days at least. Angelique could not yet fully identify the emotion that engulfed Drew during these moments — anger, perhaps, or sadness. Angelique had come to know only that any reaction from her that bordered on surprise — especially at Drew's touch — might as well turn Drew to stone.
The morning after, Culdun said Drew would be out attending to some local business for a day or two. By way of apology for the absence, Drew sent a bouquet of small pink and dusky blue flowers. "My Liege said you were most taken with the summer house where these were in bloom. If you like, you could take the mare out this afternoon. I'm sure my nieces would be happy to accompany you," said Culdun. But Angelique had refused. Somehow, without Drew, the prospect of riding didn't have the same appeal. Instead she haunted the library and the gardens close by the house, counting the hours until Drew would return.
But a "day or two" had stretched into eight. Then, even after Drew returned, her host had remained unavailable, even at dinner. Angelique, tormented by the belief that she had caused Drew such deep distress, fell into despair.
She bemoaned her clumsiness. How could she have been so ungrateful in the face of such gentleness and kindness? How could she have hurt the only person who had ever made her feel smart and beautiful and... wanted? Yes. Wanted.
She missed Drew's unsettling humor, even though it sometimes annoyed her, especially when Drew seemed to be laughing at her and not with her. But she only had to look below the surface of their interaction to see that was not so. Drew could never be so cruel. It was one of the qualities she had come to appreciate. She missed Drew's quiet concern. And even though the thought of Drew's touch had startled her, Angelique couldn't bear to think that Drew would ever believe that Angelique was afraid of affectionate touch!
Angelique set the hairbrush aside resolutely. Enough was enough. If Drew was truly her betrothed, then she had the right to seek her Liege's company, did she not? Of course she did. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she promised herself that, come morning, Drew's unavailability would change!
Angelique paced in the library, awaiting Culdun's return. After what seemed like an hour had passed, Culdun appeared in the doorway. He looked away for a moment and then his eyes sought her face. She knew even before he spoke what the answer would be. "My Liege regretfully declines the invitation to ride." Culdun's voice was quiet.
Angelique sank down into one of the overstuffed chairs and let her head fall into her hands. "Oh, Culdun, I've made a terrible mess of things. What shall I do?" she fretted anxiously. "How can I say I'm sorry if my Liege won't even let me say good morning?"
Culdun smiled in quiet sympathy. "I think, my Lady, there is need for fewer self-recriminations on both sides."
"But I am the one who failed, Culdun. My Liege trusted me to be different and I have failed."
"Have you thought," Culdun offered quietly, "that such a difference may be frightening in and of itself when finally found?"
Angelique considered this. "That had not occurred to me." Angelique paused a moment. "Do you think Drew is really too busy to come riding or is it this other matter which keeps us apart?"
"I do not know, my Lady. There were a fair number of parchments scattered about the study when I left."
; "The study?" Angelique paused. Then she offered a small smile. "My Liege did say I was welcome to venture wherever I would in the palace."
A hint of a grin appeared on Culdun's face. "My Liege has indeed said you may go anywhere you'd like."
"Strange," she breathed, "I am overcome with a desire to see the study again. I think there is something in that room which will answer a question that has been puzzling me for days."
Culdun grinned openly now. Angelique moved past him and into the hallway, then turned toward the staircase and voiced her desired destination.
Her resolve wavered a little when confronted with the closed doors to the study. For a moment, Angelique hesitated, fingers toying with the laces on her green vest. Then abruptly she knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.
Drew, cowled as always, glanced up from the desk. A wind rushed eagerly from the open windows, encouraged by the cross-draft created by the open door, and tugged at the edges of the red cloak and the corners of the parchment scrolls.
Steadying her nerves, Angelique closed the doors behind her and the draft died. She slowly walked the silent length of the room and halted a few feet from the desk.
There was a brooding challenge in Drew's form and something else, something darker and more menacing. "Why are you here, Angelique. I said I could not go riding."
"You said I was welcome to go anywhere in the palace I wished to go."
A pause. Then, "Why are you here?"
"It has been eight days, my Liege," Angelique began, her voice trembling a little despite her resolve. "I thought an apology was overdue—"
"An apology?" Drew interrupted harshly. Pushing back from the writing table, Drew all but sprang from the chair. The tall figure paced before the open windows in taut, clipped strides. "What have I to apologize for? Is the food not to your liking? The bed too soft or too hard? Has Culdun not seen to your every wish? What —"
"My apology," Angelique broke in, then faltered as Drew halted mid-step. She amended more quietly, "I wanted to apologize for my reaction the other night. I meant you no disrespect, nor did I mean to hurt you. I was frightened by what I felt when — when you touched me. Not by the touch itself. I never meant to insult your kindness, my Liege." She paused and then added, "I'm sorry."
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