Pasgen and Rhoslyn sat together in the parlor of the empty house. Both were somewhat revived. Pasgen had taken Rhoslyn to the Chaos Land where he most often found the sweet and restorative mists. He had breathed/drunk some down and she had tried, although with less success. Now she blinked back tears and lowered her head.
"It is only in the Seleighe domains that power comes to me softly and sweetly. When Aleneil took me to visit Mwynwen, I was warm all over and so strong when I left."
"Then visit her again," Pasgen said. "It may not be only the Seleighe domain that fills you with power. Mwynwen is a healer; she may have a spell on the house that brings in extra power."
Rhoslyn blinked and cocked her head. "Hmmm. Aleneil would Gate me in if I asked her and I could tell Mwynwen that I had come to ask after the boy. She was pleased enough to show him off when Aleneil brought me, and he was then mending but not yet well. Yes, that was a wise thought, Pasgen. The way I feel now it will take me months to draw enough power and I do not have months. I need to get back to Mary."
Pasgen sighed. "And I have to get back to Otstargi's house and discover what Albertus plans when none of his men return to him." A moment later his eyes brightened with interest. "While I am dealing with him I can look about for those strings of power Denoriel mentioned."
"Pasgen, no! Denoriel warned you not to play with that power."
"Denoriel!" Their mother's voice came from the doorway. "What have you to do with Denoriel? He is unreasonable. He hates you for what is no fault of yours. Has he suggested something dangerous to you?"
"With great reluctance," Pasgen said impatiently. "And he warned me not to try to seek that source of power."
"Pasgen—" Llanelli came forward and took his hand in hers. "Does it not occur to you that he might know your curiosity about all forms of power, that he might seem to be reluctant so you would not guess he was setting a trap for you?"
"Denoriel is not the trap-setting kind," Pasgen replied, his lips thin. "I am the trap-setting kind. Denoriel might attempt to damage me, but he would do it with his knife or his sword . . ." He hesitated. "Or even with a spell these days. But it would be an open direct attack. He is not devious."
"Has he not spent much time in the mortal world with that boy and the girl the Seleighe hope will be queen?" Llanelli bit her lip. "Mortals are devious. Sidhe learn from those with whom they company."
Ironic, that. Considering that the most devious of mortals could not even begin to challenge the least devious of Unseleighe.
Pasgen laughed. "Mother, you have spent all our lives telling us how much better it is to live Seleighe. Is not the best chance we have of finding a welcome there through our half brother and sister?"
"Oh . . ." Llanelli looked around for the chair that Rhoslyn ordinarily brought to her. It was not there, and Rhoslyn was lying back in her own chair, eyes closed. "Rhoslyn!" she exclaimed, forgetting or dismissing what she had been about to say to Pasgen. "What is wrong? Are you hurt? Ill?"
"I am just drained, Mother," Rhoslyn said, opening her eyes. "Pasgen discovered a plot to kill Denoriel and Aleneil. We tried to defend them."
"Defend them?" Llanelli stiffened. "Why should you defend them? They are misbegotten! A remnant stolen from the spell that I found and sacrificed mages to cast. Your stupid father did not stay with me, as I devised. No. He had to go rushing back to that . . . that pallid nothing with whom he claimed a life bond. Underhill would be better off without—"
"No, Mother," Rhoslyn interrupted firmly. "Aleneil has been very kind to me and Denoriel at least courteous. They are our sibs, and I will not see them wasted for no more than Vidal Dhu's whim."
Llanelli's eyes flashed and her lips thinned, but she did not pursue that thread any further. "But what did you do? Why are you so diminished?"
The brother and sister exchanged glances, but it seemed best to tell her enough to satisfy her rather than leaving her curious and anxious. Pasgen told most of the story and at last Llanelli sighed and shook her head.
"I wish you had not. If Vidal hears of this, he will be furious. You will be endangered . . . and I dare say that you will not see Denoriel or Aleneil coming to your rescue."
"They might." Pasgen smiled. "Well, Denoriel might just for the pure joy of fighting. Aleneil is no fighter—"
"Not so," Rhoslyn said also with a faint smile. "She does not like fighting, but when she must she is no weakling. She held me off finely that night in Elizabeth's chamber."
"Yes." Pasgen nodded. "And she was holding her own against two or three phookas before Oberon stopped the battle with Vidal's creatures in that Unformed land." As he said the words, his head turned.
Rhoslyn leaned forward and put her hand on his arm, saying warningly, "Pasgen . . ."
"What is it?" Llanelli asked.
But the possibility of a sentient Chaos Land was not something either was willing to mention to their mother, and Pasgen said quickly, "Rhoslyn and I must go back to the mortal world."
"For what?" Llanelli asked sharply. "To again endanger yourselves on behalf of the misbegotten twins?"
"More to make sure that Albertus has no idea that I was involved in the failure of his plans," Pasgen said. "I am not looking for any open conflict with Vidal."
To that, Llanelli agreed vehemently, her eyes widened with fear. Her soul was scarred with the terrors and torments Vidal had inflicted on her when she was trying to save her babies and the further agonies she had suffered when he had addicted her to oleander and periodically withdrawn it to ensure her obedience to him.
Although Pasgen had assured her that he could stand against Vidal and she had nothing to fear any longer from that dark prince, she did not believe him. Pasgen was, after all, her child. In her heart he was still small and helpless. It did not seem possible, no matter what he said, that his primary reason for avoiding a conflict with Vidal was that he did not wish to be ordered by Oberon to rule the Unseleighe.
"As for me," Rhoslyn said, "I must return to my service with Lady Mary. If Aurilia or Vidal learns that I am no longer watching her, they may find a less pleasant duty to force upon me." She sighed. "I just wish I was not so drained. Perhaps I will stay here for some time and try to Gate back in time—"
Pasgen shook his head. "A few hours or a day does not matter, but if you leap back more time than that, a few of the sensitive mortals will be made uncomfortable."
"Oh," Llanelli said, smiling. "I can mend the draining. I have learned some things as a healer, you know. You are better off doing what Vidal wants so he will have no complaints."
Aleneil was on legitimate leave from her duties with Lady Elizabeth and she took full advantage of the total absence of iron in her home and environs. At first she simply rested, mostly sitting in her garden with Ystwyth beside her. As power began to renew her and she felt more alive, she began to look through the invitations that had come to her.
She went to a small party to decide whether further embellishment should be designed for the Avalon Gate. She accepted a dinner invitation by a Sidhe who led a party that advocated total separation from the mortal world. She enjoyed the lively arguments she stirred up by remarking that the notion, however attractive, was not very practical.
Did they wish to starve the lios-alfar of creative energy, Aleneil asked? And to the riposte that the mortals gave that off whether they would or no, she pointed out that the energy came in sweet and bitter, and if they did not guard the provider of the sweet, they would need to sustain themselves on the bitter.
"Why should the bitter win?" her host asked haughtily.
"Because," Aleneil replied with lifted brows, "we can abjure the mortals, but we have no way of forcing the Unseleighe to do the same. Since they desire the bitter energy of pain and misery, they will somehow destroy those who bring out the new, the wonderful, in music and art and writing. Only the bitter will be left."
There was more argument, but it was soon led to other less controversial topics by the host. However, when Aleneil had said her thanks for a stimulating evening, she found she had company. One of the Sidhe, who had been quiet but very interested in the discussion, followed her close when she left. Before Aleneil could feel frightened, because she knew she was depleted and could not well defend herself, he said his name was Ilar, and asked if he could accompany her.
His eyes were clear and the almost-blue green of the best emerald; his hair was pulled back from his ears and face by a diamond clasp so his face was well-exposed. He looked, Aleneil thought, younger than most, his expression full of life and curiosity. She gave him her smile and her hand.
They spent some time in Aleneil's home talking about the mortal world. He said he knew his host hated it, but was at least interested; most Sidhe were not only uninterested but also ignorant. Aleneil was neither. She warned him first of the ever-present ache and drain of the ubiquitous iron in mortal buildings and tools. Unwilling yet to divulge how deeply she was mixed into mortal affairs, she told him only that FarSeeing duty sent her to the mortal world. There she became depleted and had come Underhill to restore herself.
"I must dare the danger of iron before I know if I can endure," Ilar said, "but to dare, I must know how to live, how to act, what I need to carry with me."
Aleneil suggested several brief trials to test himself and, if he could endure, to begin to establish a persona in the mortal world. She did not think he was serious about the attempt; she suspected he was more interested in bedding her than in the mortal world and was just using that to make his way with her. She did not mind in the least; he was bright and fresh and was at least willing to talk about something aside from dress and gossip.
They did lie together and found the experience pleasant. Some days later Ilar invited her to his home in Caer Cymry. When they arrived they were just in time for a "human tournament." Aleneil agreed to go, although she was not very happy about the word tournament, envisioning blood and death. And, in fact, it was a contest where mortal servants strove against each other for prizes, but there was very little blood and no death. A few fought, wrestling or with fists, but most danced or displayed feats of strength and agility.
Part of the pleasure, Aleneil realized, was that the mortals enjoyed the tournament as much as the Sidhe; in fact a mortal had conceived the idea to mitigate his boredom. The games were of considerable benefit to all; the mortals could win freedom from servitude. A great deal of energy was given off by the mortal striving; exuded Underhill, it was no longer completely mortal energy and the Sidhe could use it. Aleneil began to feel less exhausted.
Altogether she was delighted with Caer Cymry. Ilar introduced her to the Sidhe who were also delighted to meet one of the FarSeers of Avalon. Cymry enjoyed a different lifestyle than Avalon, with less magic and more mortal servants. Yet the Cymry Sidhe knew little about the mortal world; their servants were mostly purchased or bred Underhill.
Aleneil began to worry that Ilar intended to visit the mortal world to abduct mortals for the Cymry Sidhe. He shrugged, saying that was not his first purpose, that he was looking for adventure, but he admitted he might take a neglected child or other miserable mortal—only for their own sake. Their own mortals bred very well, he assured her, and the Cymry were not in need.
Having seen enough of the mortal world to understand that many mortals would be better off Underhill, Aleneil did no more than warn Ilar about the intensity and duration of mortal affection and urge him not to separate those who loved. He laughed at that and turned the subject to loving her, promising to prove his devotion by obeying her warnings. Aleneil would have worried more except that it was apparent the Cymry Sidhe only wanted willing mortals. They were mostly too kind and too lazy to break them.
Ilar was good company and Aleneil found it pleasant to have a companion, who was also a good lover. Eventually, however, she found herself completely restored and began to feel bored by the balls and musical events, even in Ilar's company. What was Elizabeth doing, she wondered? Surely she was settled by now and, being Elizabeth, trouble might have found her.
She told Ilar she must return to her duty and, as she expected, he made no objection. However, to her surprise, he asked whether it would be possible for him to meet her in the mortal world if he were comfortable there.
"Not while I am actually doing my FarSeer's duty," she said, and then went on to explain that she did get leave and how he could leave a message for her in Denoriel's house on Bucklersbury. They had a last time of loving in Aleneil's house and parted contented with each other and looking forward to meeting again.
No hearts were broken; no tears were shed. When Ilar was gone, Aleneil stood in front of her long mirror and made sure that her clothing was all in the height of style and perfectly enchanting and that Lady Alana's face was so plain and ordinary that one could hardly see it. She was humming happily when she dismounted from Ystwyth in the stable by the house on Bucklersbury.
There she learned that all had been quiet with no further sign of watchers across the road or attempts to invade. The servants had been told of how a child opened the door and made them vulnerable to attack and warned not to let anyone in; they could feed the beggars but only outside the house. Nonetheless both Joseph and Cropper examined the house, specially the kitchen area, with care and double-checked locks and bars before they went to bed.
A message was sent off to Elizabeth to say that Lady Alana was ready to return to duty. That was not, of course, the norm; usually maids of honor had stated periods of service and came and went according to a schedule. But Elizabeth knew who and what Alana truly was, and Mistress Ashley understood that Lady Alana was very wealthy and had business of her own. Since she served without support and was most sensible and useful, Kat was glad to see her whenever she came.
Thus Aleneil received a gratifyingly rapid reply written in Elizabeth's own beautiful hand. The "come as soon as you can, dear Lady Alana" that closed the formal acceptance of service was the first small indication that trouble might be looming on the horizon. Aleneil told herself that Elizabeth was probably just suffering from a reaction to her feverish excitement when she was given permission to live with Queen Catherine and was now feeling sad and bored. However, she told Joseph she wished to leave as soon as possible.
The next morning Joseph sent for Cuthbert and Petrus, two men he regularly employed as guards. They brought with them two packhorses to be loaded with the bulging bags and baskets filled with Lady Alana's wardrobe. The party left for Chelsea immediately after an early dinner and arrived well in time for the evening meal.
Lady Alana hardly needed to wait at all to be received by Queen Catherine, and she was greeted warmly—more warmly than she expected. Of course the dowager queen knew Lady Alana from her service to Elizabeth when they all lived together at Hampton Court, but Aleneil was worried by Catherine's eagerness, concerned that Elizabeth was unhappy.
That fear was put to rest as soon as Elizabeth was summoned. Her eyes were wide and bright gold, her usually pale cheeks just barely touched with rose. She looked healthy and lively. Whatever made Elizabeth urge her to come quickly and made Queen Catherine welcome her so eagerly was not frightening to Elizabeth.
By now, there was no time to change Lady Alana's traveling dress, and Catherine graciously gave permission for her to take her evening meal with the household as she was. Elizabeth sat at the table with Catherine, in a lower chair but on the dais. The tables for the two sets of maids of honor were just below.
Aleneil was welcomed to Elizabeth's maids' table with little cries of pleasure and with a kiss on the cheek from Katherine Ashley. That renewed Aleneil's trepidation somewhat but the gossip among Elizabeth's attendants, who were all eager to tell the ever-sympathetic Lady Alana all the news, was mostly innocent. Snippets about what Master Grindal had set as lessons, the charms of the new teacher of dance and the misfortune of his being not only foreign but low-born, the trials of serving a lady so quick at languages as Elizabeth when she demanded all conversation be in French for a whole morning.
The talk, sanctioned with nods and smiles by Mistress Ashley, implied that there had been no alarms or perceived dangers and should have set Aleneil's mind at rest. However, Aleneil detected something held in reserve by Mistress Ashley, something of which the maids of honor were not aware but Kat Ashley was, and which she was of two minds about mentioning.
Kat was given no choice, however. When the meal was over, Elizabeth was dismissed with surprising promptness by Queen Catherine. To Aleneil's surprise, Elizabeth did not stiffen up with resentment; she seemed to take the hurried dismissal as a matter of course and came quickly down from the table on the dais. Abruptly, without even a glance at Kat, Elizabeth gestured Lady Alana to follow her to her own quarters.
There as soon as Naylor had closed the door behind her, she caught at Aleneil's hand. "Will you sleep in my chamber, Lady Alana? Will you, please?" Elizabeth begged.
Aleneil opened her eyes wide in astonishment. Elizabeth knew that Lady Alana always had a chamber to herself—it was necessary so that Aleneil could Gate Underhill to restore the power that living in the mortal world drained. Her privacy had been maintained, even in the most crowded situations, and there was plenty of room at Chelsea. However as the request was coupled with an upsurge of the suppressed excitement in Elizabeth's manner, Aleneil did not feel that she should seek an excuse to refuse.
"Of course, Lady Elizabeth—"
The door opened and one of the maids of honor came in, voices in the corridor betrayed the imminent arrival of others. Elizabeth uttered a brief hiss of irritation and her lips thinned to a straight line. Plainly she had hoped to have more time to talk to Aleneil alone, but there was no fear in her face or her manner, just frustration.
"If you feel my company can provide you with comfort," Aleneil continued smoothly, "I will be glad to sleep in your chamber until you are completely at ease in this new place."
"Oh, thank you, Lady Alana." Elizabeth glanced sidelong at the maids of honor clustering together, uncertain of whether they should approach their mistress when she was talking with a long-time favorite. "I would have sent for you to come back to me sooner," Elizabeth added, seeming to become aware that they were scarcely new arrivals and she had had plenty of time to grow accustomed to Chelsea. "But Kat said you had neglected your own interests too long when I was grieving and that I must not demand more of you."
And now that she looked closer at Elizabeth, Aleneil could see that the girl's eyelids were heavy and that shadows of sleeplessness lay below her eyes. Yet there were no other marks of fear or anxiety. Indeed, Aleneil would have said from voice, stance, and expression that Elizabeth was in high spirits and brimming with mischief.
"That was very kind of Mistress Ashley," Aleneil said, not knowing whether she should be worried that Kat would not notice a real emergency or whether this was a case of Elizabeth being self-indulgent. "I am glad," she continued to be on the safe side, "that your need for me was not urgent. But if it ever is, you must not be concerned about my affairs. If you need me," she lowered her voice a little "or Denno, you must send for us"—she glanced up toward the air spirit bouncing gently near a window—"at once."
"No," Elizabeth murmured, "it was not that"—she also glanced upward at the window—"kind of need. Just—"
"Now, Lady Elizabeth," Kat Ashley said, shepherding the last of Elizabeth's ladies into the chamber, and coming to join her charge and Aleneil. "You know that Lady Alana has just arrived after a long ride. You must allow her to rest and to settle herself."
"She is going to stay with me," Elizabeth said eagerly. "Until I am . . . am less uneasy. Would you please have a servant tell Blanche to bring what Lady Alana will need to my chamber and have a bed made up for her there?"
Kat looked troubled for a moment but then sighed and nodded. As she went off to send a servant for Blanche, the other girls came forward to join Lady Elizabeth and Aleneil. There were five now: the three that had remained with Elizabeth during the sad period after her father's death had been augmented by two even younger girls whose terms of service were beginning.
One of those asked, "Will we wait for Lady Jane? Will she join us for the evening lesson?"
A very slight shade passed over Elizabeth's face but was instantly banished. Had Aleneil's perception been less quick than a Sidhe's she would not have seen it. Having seen it she still forebore to smile. Elizabeth in some ways was indeed the noxious brat Denoriel called her. Her scholarship was prodigious, but it was little better, sometimes not quite as perfect as that of Lady Jane Grey. For that reason, and possibly because Lady Jane was so well behaved, so polite, so self-effacing, Elizabeth had never really liked her. Likely Queen Catherine knew it because Lady Jane was not among Elizabeth's ladies. She must be directly in the queen's care.
Blanche Parry came in at that moment, carrying Aleneil's bags. Her head turned at once up toward the window, and her step hesitated. She sniffed, almost as if she were a scenting hound, and then crossed the chamber toward the door in the far wall.
Another servant might have sidled around the room to keep as clear as possible of the "gentry," but Blanche had been with Elizabeth since a few days after her birth. Although a mortal, Blanche had some Talent—not as much as Elizabeth, who could see through Sidhe illusion. Still, Blanche could sense the presence of otherworldly beings, like the air spirit, and she could use Cold Iron to drive off inimical Sidhe. Not surprisingly, Elizabeth prized her above any other servant, except Dunstan and Ladbroke.
Without any expression now, Elizabeth said, "Of course we will wait for Lady Jane. She enjoys Bible reading so much. She just loves to translate the Greek so we can understand." She then turned toward Aleneil and smiled somewhat stiffly, possibly a little ashamed that Aleneil had witnessed her waspishness. "You may go and rest, Lady Alana. I will speak to you later."
With only Blanche in the bedchamber, and the additional safety of a screen before the hearth behind which she could dress, Aleneil shed her traveling garments and put on court dress with a few waves of her hand. The garments she removed undid themselves and reappeared on Blanche's outstretched arm, and a new set of garments slid from the packed bags without causing tangles and fixed themselves on her body.
"Blanche, what is going on?" Aleneil asked softly. "Do I need to try to find Denno and get him here?"
"Oh, no," Blanche said with a grin. "It isn't anything dangerous—" she paused and frowned. "No, I can't see how it could be dangerous to my lady." Then she smiled again. "But I'm not going to say a word more because she's been waiting and waiting to talk this over with you and if you know ahead of time it will spoil her fun."
Aleneil sighed. "Then it isn't something in which Elizabeth herself is involved?"
"That's right m'lady. My baby's just watching." The frown reappeared and Blanche sighed. "Just hope she isn't learning too much. I would have kept it from her if I could, but she was out walking with only the guards. They turned away, but she saw what she saw and then she set out to watch apurpose."
Although she was puzzled, the matter certainly did not seem urgent. Aleneil dismissed it from her mind and occupied herself with becoming familiar with the area of the palace assigned to Elizabeth. Cloaked in the Don't-see-me spell, she examined the small apartment Kat shared with her husband, Thomas Parry's office/bedchamber, the two crowded rooms the maids shared, and the two rooms assigned to the grooms of the chamber and Elizabeth's tutor.
That was as far as she had gotten when the air spirit appeared and beckoned and Aleneil returned to Elizabeth's bedchamber, where she rose from a chair as if she had been asleep. Blanche came in as if to help Elizabeth undress for bed, but Elizabeth waved her away and said, "Get my cloak and Lady Alana's. We will walk for a few minutes in the garden."
"It is only the beginning of March, Lady Elizabeth," Aleneil said. "Evening walks are better saved for later in the spring."
Elizabeth giggled. "There is a nice sheltered shed and we will not need to stay long." Her nose wrinkled. "We may not need to stay at all, if Lady Jane spent so much time on the lesson that they are gone."
"Who?" Aleneil asked, but Elizabeth only giggled and shook her head.
Blanche returned with their cloaks and Elizabeth hurried Aleneil out through the servant's door to avoid her guards. Aleneil bit her lip. No matter how innocent the matter that enthralled Elizabeth, this escape of those provided to protect her was not good. She would have to talk to Elizabeth about that, but now was not the time.
Fortunately they did not go far. A path led through the garden in which herbs and some vegetables were grown for the kitchen. The path had numerous narrow branches which divided the plant beds. Aleneil had begun to ask a question, but Elizabeth put her finger firmly over Aleneil's lips and she was clearly taking care to step softly.
About halfway down the path, Aleneil's dark-seeing eyes noticed that there was a wall ahead broken by a low wrought-iron gate. Two people stood by the gate, which was closed, leaning toward each other. It was too dark for the human eyes of those standing by the gate to have seen her or Elizabeth, and she did not think that Elizabeth had seen them either.
Aleneil's long ears twitched forward, but before she could hear what they were saying, Elizabeth had turned left to draw her into a side path and then after about ten or fifteen steps right again into another narrow path but this one parallel to the main path. Aleneil could see where she was going, of course, but Elizabeth did not stumble, as if she had walked this way before. They did not go much farther.
Aleneil saw a dark bulk ahead—ah, the shed Elizabeth had mentioned. Elizabeth slowed and put her hands out. When her fingertips touched the shed, she began to sidle around it toward the left, then along the side. At the edge she stopped and just poked her head around. Aleneil took a step to the side onto a narrow strip of unkempt land, too close to the shed to plant or bother mowing. She crouched down. It would be impossible to see her from the gate in the wall, but she could see the man and woman there.
The woman was Catherine. The man—Aleneil doubted that Elizabeth could make out his features, but she could see him clearly enough to know that it was Thomas Seymour. He was objecting to something Catherine had said, saying it was too long, far too long.
"I cannot wait, I cannot," he said. "I am in agony, fearing every moment that you will be snatched away from me again. You do not know what I suffered, thinking of you in another man's arms. Let me in! You cannot feel anything for me if you will not even let me in."
The gate clicked open. Elizabeth withdrew her head and then seeing how Aleneil was crouched down, knelt beside her. Aleneil had heard Seymour so clearly that she suspected Elizabeth could hear also.
"You must trust me," Catherine said. "I promise I will take no other husband. You know I could not withstand the king, nor did I wish to. If I brought him comfort in the last years, then I am well rewarded for my sacrifice. I did a duty with a glad heart for the good of the realm." She raised a hand and stroked his cheek. "Tom, he is not cold in his grave yet, and he was a great man, a great king. I cannot act as if he were nothing and marry again so soon. Only two short years."
"Those years will not be short for me." The man's voice was petulant. "And I will need to watch you being courted by every fortune hunter in the country."
Catherine laughed softly. "You cannot fear I will be seduced by a man who cares more for my lands than for me! Not when I have so faithful a lover."
Seymour had passed through the gate and now drew Catherine aside, bending over her and leaning down to put his lips to the side of her jaw. She drew in a breath, sharply enough for Aleneil to hear, and beside Aleneil, Elizabeth shivered. Seymour kissed all along Catherine's jaw and then her chin, forcing her head up slightly so he could press his lips to her throat. Catherine's breath was coming quick and hard . . . and so was Elizabeth's.
"Tom, stop!" The queen's voice was shaking, pleading.
"I cannot bear it, I tell you! I need you. I want you."
His lips had found their way down to the pulse in the hollow where the collar bones met. Catherine's hands came up and cupped his face, lifting it, but he turned his head in her hands and began to nibble on her ear.
"Have I been too faithful? Belike you are so sure of me that I am a dull thing—"
"No, no. I always favored you above all others. You must know that the other time I was free my mind was bent to marry you above any other man I had ever met."
"Then why must we wait? Catherine, you know my brother will not favor this union. If we do not seal it before the Church and with consummation, I fear he will find some other duty for you. Perhaps he will try to use you to bind the Empire to us, or to make peace with France. You are a great prize and he will tear you away from me."
"No one thinks me of any value. You have seen how the men in the government avoid me. No one will care that I wish to marry you, but the whole world will scorn me if I do not observe a decent mourning. Do not tease me so, Tom. I will be yours, I swear it. Perhaps we could become betrothed . . ."
He began to kiss her again—her lips, her throat, her ears; Catherine was sobbing very softly but clinging to him. Suddenly Elizabeth shifted uneasily and then also made a very soft sound.
Aleneil started. She had almost forgotten the girl beside her. The caresses exchanged by the humans had no effect on her. She had been thinking about what Denoriel had told her about Seymour. Apparently Denoriel had judged him correctly. He was a selfish lout; she sensed the insincerity of his passion. He was using lust to force poor Catherine, who had been starved all her life for a strong, young man's desire, into an action that would profit him greatly. It might not profit her. She might be open to considerable criticism if she married so soon after King Henry's death.
That was not important, Aleneil knew. Catherine was not her duty and must manage her own affairs. Elizabeth, however . . . When she felt Elizabeth shiver, heard that low, breathy sound she had realized that the girl had been unfortunately aroused by Seymour's caresses. Aleneil was annoyed with herself. She must stop thinking of Elizabeth as a child. Mortals ripened fast, and a girl of nearly fifteen years of age was likely more vulnerable, more likely to be affected and inflamed by the stench of human lust.