Chapter X. A Handful of Words #2
“‘Oh, oui,’ Yvaine scoffed. ‘Marrying me to an Elidaeni lord and sending me as far from Ossway as she could, while naming Cait captain of her fleet and Una commander of her legions.’ The Duchess smiled sadly.
‘Much as I adore them, I was only deemed good for making children. And the alliances that come with them.’
“‘She put you as far from danger as she could, Yvaine.’
“The Duchess looked up then, cupping her sister’s cheek.
“‘And why do think she put you in the foodstores?’
“Reyne paused at that, the thought washing over and through her. And as it sank home, her face crumpled and the tears came anew. The sisters cried together then, the last two daughters of a fallen queen, holding each other in the dark.
“Finally they broke apart, soft and sore with grief. But as she set eyes on her sister again, Reyne lifted a hand to her lips, not quite quick enough to smother her snicker.
“‘What?’ Yvaine demanded, blowing her nose. ‘What’s so bloody amusing?’
“Reyne licked her thumb, smudging away the streaks of kohl beneath Yvaine’s eyes. ‘You look like a badger fell in a bucket of black.’
“‘Oh, sod off,’ Yvaine scoffed, gifting her sister an affectionate thump. ‘You’re hardly a bloody oil painting yourself. Who’s dressing you these days, anyway?
I taught you far better than … well, that.
’ The Duchess de La Fontaine eyed Reyne’s outfit with distaste; the knee-high boots and light hauberk, settling finally on the collar about her throat.
‘And what the bloody hell’s this ghastly thing?
You’ve the look of a bad dog in want of a good leash. ’
“Reyne caressed the ring of everknots Phoebe had given her.
“‘A gift,’ she said. ‘From a friend of my father.’
“The Duchess blinked sharply, her expression clouded.
“‘… What are you talking about?’
“Reyne sighed. ‘I know who my father was, Yvaine.’
“The Duchess paled, eyes drifting to the collar again. ‘Who told you?’
“‘A woman named Phoebe á Dúnnsair. She was at the feast tonight.’
“‘The Highlander. What did she say?’
“‘That Mother met him on campaign in north Ossway. A duskdancer lord named Connor á Lachlainn. A descendant of Ailidh the Bold. Phoebe told me I’m the daughter of he and Niamh Nineswords both. A Princess of Lowlands and High.’
“Yvaine said nothing, looking instead to the flickering hearth.
“‘… Yvaine?’
“‘It’s late. Long day amorrow. We should speak of this after the wedding.’
“The Duchess tried to rise, but the Princess seized her hand. ‘Yvaine?’
“The Duchess tried to draw away. ‘We should abed—’
“‘Sister.’
“That word stilled the Duchess, turning now to look at Reyne as she rose to her feet. Her lip trembled, and though she tried, Yvaine couldn’t hold her younger sister’s gaze.
“‘I’m … I’m sorry, Reyne.’
“‘Sister … what aren’t you telling me?’
“The Duchess shook her head, jaw clenched as Reyne squeezed her hands.
“‘Yvaine, please.’
“‘Your father…’
“The Duchess chewed her lip, finally finding her sister’s eyes.
“‘Reyne, your father was Ryan á Sadhbh.’
“‘Laerd Ryan á Sadhbh?’
“‘He was Mother’s aide-de-camp during the Highland War.’ Yvaine winced, voice gone soft. ‘Aide-de-camp and more, I suppose.’
“‘But … he was married.’
“‘To Colleen á Sadhbh,’ Yvaine nodded. ‘Laerd Lady of Clan á Sadhbh. And next to Mother, the richest and most powerful woman in Ossway. Four years they’d fought each other, before the Maergenn pax. And the knowledge that Colleen’s husband seeded a daughter in the Nineswords’ belly would have spelled an end to that bloody peace. ’
“‘But … my eyes. Phoebe told me that Connor…’
“Yvaine looked at her sister with unmasked pity.
“‘Laerd Ryan’s grandmother had the same. Old Witcheyes Sadhbh, they used to call her, much to Laerd Ryan’s displeasure. And the older you grew, the more you resembled him. That’s why Mama sent you to Elidaen to live with me, love. So none would mark you as Ryan’s when you grew up.’
“‘But…’
“Reyne touched the collar at her neck, struck near dumb now.
“‘I…’
“‘I’m sorry, sister,’ Yvaine sighed, kissing Reyne’s hands. ‘Mother told me the truth when she asked me to take you in. I wanted to tell you before, but she made me swear on her life to say not a word. I don’t suppose that matters anymore.’
“Reyne was yet speechless, pale and befuddled, swaying on her feet as if she might fall.
A kaleidoscope of thoughts filled her, and brushing gentle upon their surface, we could taste every one.
Disappointment, to learn she was not some promised princess destined to unite her homeland.
Suspicion, wondering if Phoebe á Dúnnsair had deceived her or simply been mistaken.
But beneath and between and beyond the turmoil and confusion and heartbreak, a moment of realization; joyful, crystalline, so sharp and bright it cut through all other notions and left them in ribbons upon the floor.
“‘We’re not sisters…’ she whispered.
“‘Oh, love, no,’ Yvaine moaned, pressing Reyne’s knuckles to her lips once more. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know it was wrong. But Mother made me swear—’
“‘No, I don’t mean…’
“Reyne blinked, a smile of purest joy curling her lips.
“‘Oh, God, Yvaine, I love you.’ Reyne seized her sister, clutching her so tight the Duchess gasped. ‘I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!’
“Yvaine laughed, confused, blinking, returning her sister’s embrace.
“‘I … love you too?’
“‘I have to tell her,’ Reyne declared, overjoyed, cupping her sister’s face and showering her with kisses. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go! We’ll speak amorrow!’
“Reyne ran, leaving a bewildered Yvaine in her wake. We could feel the storm of joy and sadness, elation and confusion, all roiling within Reyne’s mind as she pounded down the corridors of Chateau Impérial.
Servants stumbled out of her way, gens d’armes called after her as she dashed past, asking if all was well, and the cry of ‘All is perfect, monsieur!’ echoed in her wake.
We could feel it in her, warm as fire on a wintersdeep night.
The thought that no matter whatever else might come, whatever trials lay in store …
“‘We can be together.’
“The whisper curled her lips, laughter following, heart pounding in her chest as the Princess ran through the Golden Halls toward her love.
“‘Dior and I can be together forever.’
“It was but a flash. A shadow at the corner of her eye, slipping into a deeper darkness as she dashed through a crossroad of corridors. But it was odd enough to catch her, slow her, hold her still now. We’d seen it also, from our perch at the edge of her curls, swift as a hummingbird’s wings and gone quick as dayflies. But we’d seen it.
“A man with a sword.
“A man all in black.”