Flight Into Darkness (49 page)

“What!”
Enguerrand sat bolt upright. “How dare she!”

“No one is more keen to see you restored to the throne of Francia than the Emperor,” Linnaius said diplomatically. “He is reluctant to recognize Ilsevir as joint ruler of Francia and Allegonde. He has a proposition to put to you—”

“I will not get involved in the Emperor's political machinations! Does Eugene think I'm incapable of setting my own house in order?” Enguerrand, exhausted by his outburst, dropped back. “I insist that you take me straight back to Lutèce.”

Linnaius sighed; he was weary of indulging these young princes and their petulant outbursts. He was tempted to remind Enguerrand that if it were not for the Emperor's intervention, there would be no hope of rescue for many weeks. “Would you prefer to wait for the Rossiyan fleet to arrive, majesty? They're still some way off and the journey back to Francia will take them at least five months.”

CHAPTER 15

It was past midnight by the time Celestine reached her lodgings. She was greeted by her landlady's three black-and-white cats, who frisked about her skirts, purring and rubbing their heads against her hand when she bent to stroke them. The performance had gone well enough that evening, but Gauzia was becoming increasingly difficult, resorting to little scene-stealing tricks, conducting elaborate business behind her back as she was singing, provoking sniggers from some of the audience. She had even stooped so low as to encourage her clique of followers to chatter noisily during Celestine's first aria, leading to loud shushing, then shouts of disapproval from Celestine's staunchest admirers. Afterward, Grebin had summoned both women to his office and given them a stern lecture.

“I don't want a riot on my hands, ladies, no matter how strongly your admirers feel about your relative charms. Riots are expensive!” Grebin glared at them both. “And of course I would have to withhold your fees to cover the cost of repairs to the theater.”

There were only eight more performances to be endured before Gauzia and her entourage were due to travel on to Tielborg. Celestine couldn't wait to be rid of her. Although once Gauzia was gone, there was no guarantee Grebin would give her a part in the next opera. It was rumored that Anna Krylova was making a good recovery, so Celestine fully expected that she would be demoted to the chorus once more.

She unlocked the door to her little room then stopped on the threshold. The figure of a man was silhouetted against a skim of pale moonlight.
A burglar?
She felt the Faie tense, ready to defend her.

The intruder turned toward her and she took a step back as the uncertain moonlight brightened, revealing the soft grey eyes and honey-fair hair of her dead lover. The cats turned tail and fled down the stairs.

“Henri?” she said, retreating. “What are you doing here?” It couldn't be Henri; Henri was dead. Unless this was…

”
Who are you?”
He stared at her.
“You sound like my Celestine… but I don't recognize you.
”

“Faie!” Celestine cried. “Change me back.”

“Be careful, Celestine; this is nothing but a revenant, a mere shadow of your lost love—
”

“I don't care. Change me back now.” And as the Faie's glamour fell away from her, she saw his bewildered expression fade and alter, smiling as he recognized her. He held out his hands. She started forward, only to feel the Faie check her.

“Don't go to him. Don't go any closer.”

“Henri? What are you doing here?” Celestine ached to run into his arms.

“
I had to see you. I had to know that you were all right. There's so much I need to tell you.”

And suddenly she knew that she could not bear to hear it. It had taken so long to heal the wounds left by his death and just the sound of his voice made the desolation of loss wash over her once more. “No,” she whispered. “No, this can't be happening. You're a dream. The dead don't return.”

A cloud passed across the face of the moon, casting the attic into sudden darkness. When the moonlight brightened again, the revenant had gone. But a faint, charnel taint lingered in the air that reminded Celestine of the damp crypt of Saint Meriadec's. She lit the little lamp, hoping that its glow would chase the lingering shadows from the room. Yet as its wavering flame burned more brightly, it brought her no cheer or consolation. She noticed that the table on which it stood was covered in a layer of gritty dust, as if the landlady had not cleaned in weeks. Celestine ran her finger along the wood and, as the fine particles sifted through her fingers, she heard the Faie murmuring over and over to herself,
“No. This can't be happening.”

“What is this dust, Faie? Tell me. No matter how horrible it is, I need to know.”

“This dust has blown in from the Realm of Shadows. When the soul leaves the physical body behind, it's imprinted with its last,
strongest emotion. Imprinted, almost always, with the feelings that mortal person bore for another: child, parent, lover…”

Celestine nodded. A terrible sadness had begun to well up within her.

“And those feelings are often mixed with regret. A life cut short before its time, words left unsaid, yearnings never adequately expressed. That was why I sang. I sang to ease those regrets, to soothe those unfulfilled hopes and dreams, to take away the bitterness and reveal the way through the shadows to the light beyond.”

“‘
Blessed Azilia, let thy light shine through the darkness and show us the way to paradise,’”
whispered Celestine. It was the ancient Vesper Prayer of the Knights of the Commanderie. Never, until now, had she understood the profound implications of those simple words.

“Who
are
you, Faie? Are you Azilis? Was Linnaius telling the truth after all?”

“There has been no one to sing for the dead since Linnaius took me away from Ondhessar. And in that time, so many souls have become lost in the Ways Beyond, held back by their regrets and their unfulfilled dreams.”

“So Henri came back to me, because he's become a lost soul?” The thought caused her so much heartache that she could hardly articulate the words. “I hoped that—at least—he might be at peace. I can't bear to think that he's been suffering all this time. I have to help him; I can't leave him wandering like this.” As she was speaking she had begun to realize the sacrifice she might have to make for the sake of her dead lover. “Faie—if you returned to Ondhessar, would you be able to set Henri's soul free from wandering this world? And all those other lost souls?”

The Faie was silent a long while.
“But if I return to the Rift,”
she said eventually,
“I won't be able to protect you anymore. Let me stay with you a little longer.”

Celestine gazed into the translucent eyes of her guardian spirit. In all the years they had been together, she had never imagined that one day they would have to part. But even though the thought of having to live alone and unprotected terrified her, the wish to bring peace to Henri's wandering spirit was stronger.

“I want you to help me to lay his ghost,” she said. “And if that means going to Ondhessar, dear Faie, then I'll find a way to take you there.”

“Let me stay with you just a little longer.”
Azilis's voice become so
soft, so persuasive, that it was like a mother's caress.
“Let me know that you, my dearest child, have found fulfillment… so that when I have to go back into the darkness, I have happy memories of my time here with you to sustain me.”

Celestine felt her will wavering. Azilis must be using her powers to influence her. Had she become too attached to the mortal world? Had she found the brief second taste of life too seductive, too tasty, to give up? Every night that Celestine went out onstage to sing, she had sensed Azilis wake within her, living the music, experiencing every note, every nuance of feeling, as if it were her own. “Then I'll wait until the final performance of
A Spring Elopement
is over,” she promised her, knowing full well how hard it was going to be to say farewell to her dearest Faie.

CHAPTER 16

Spring had come early to Francia, and as the royal coach bearing the Prince and Princess of Allegonde entered the long avenue leading up to Plaisaunces, pale petals drifted down from the cloudy sky, borne on the breeze from the walled palace gardens.

Adèle raised the blind of the carriage and gazed out. The people had gathered to watch the procession but they were silent, standing behind the cordon formed by the soldiers of the palace guard.

On his side of the carriage, Ilsevir waved his hand, but no cheers arose to greet him.

“They seem rather subdued, my new subjects,” he observed in a dejected tone that Adèle knew meant that his feelings were hurt.

“They're still in mourning for my brother,” she said diplomatically. “I'm sure they'll cheer loudly enough after the coronation.” But she had noticed the significantly high numbers of guards lining the route; Chancellor Aiguillon must have anticipated trouble. The vague feeling of unhappiness that had been troubling her since they crossed the mountains and entered her home country increased. They had not even smiled at her, and she was a princess of the realm, Gobain's daughter. Did they resent her as much as her husband?

Queen Aliénor was seated on a dais in the Salle des Chevaliers, beneath the brightly colored shields and banners of the four ancient duchies of Francia. All the ministers were gathered around her, including at her right hand, Adèle noticed, Hugues Donatien, reappointed

Grand Maistre of the Commanderie. In stark contrast to the vibrant banners, all were soberly dressed in mourning black.

Trust Maman to turn our arrival into a theatrical performance,
she thought, wincing as trumpeters appeared on the musicians’ gallery to blow a deafening fanfare. All she wanted was a cup of tea and a long bath to soak away the stiffness of travel.

“Welcome, your majesty.” Aliénor rose to greet them and as all the dignitaries bowed low, Ilsevir went up onto the dais to kiss his mother-in-law. Adèle dutifully followed.

“You look peaky, Adèle,” Aliénor said as she brushed her cheek with her lips. “You'd better sit down.”

“It's been a long journey, Madame,” said Adèle, forcing a smile, but she sat beside her mother, hoping that Aliénor would focus all her attention on Ilsevir, giving her a little time to recover.

“The plans for the coronation are ready for your approval, your majesty.” Chancellor Aiguillon bowed to Prince Ilsevir as he held out a bound folder.

“Let's see.” Ilsevir took the folder and opened it, leafing through the pages. “The procession to the cathedral will begin at nine in the morning…”

Adèle half listened as Ilsevir read aloud the order of service. She was lost in a memory of Enguerrand's coronation, and the recollection of her brother—his bespectacled face earnest and radiant, as the archbishop placed the crown on his dark head—made her eyes sting with tears.

Why did you have to go so far away to carry out your charitable good works? Why couldn't you have stayed here, safe in your own country?

“And while the bishops and other priests process up the aisle carrying the crown, the choir will sing,” Ilsevir was saying. “An anthem by Talfieri, Adèle? Or one of your Francian composers?”

“Surely a Francian would be best,” she said swiftly. And then, lost in the memory again, “with a Francian soloist. I'd love it if Celestine de Joyeuse…” Her voice faded out as she became aware that all the ministers were looking at her oddly.

“Your highness may not be aware that Demoiselle de Joyeuse is a wanted criminal,” said Maistre Donatien coldly.

Adèle stared at him. “You must be mistaken, Maistre,” she said. “Celestine is a good and loyal friend of mine.”

“I fear that even good friends may be swayed by the lure of the Forbidden Arts. The demoiselle has been practicing dark magic.”

“That must be slander! Vicious slander put about by one of her jealous rivals.” Adèle was incensed that Celestine's reputation had been tarnished by such ugly rumors.