Flight Into Darkness (54 page)

“It wasn't a dream.”

“But that singing… and that dazzling light…”

How to begin to explain it all to Jagu?

“The dead don't return,” he said as he lay back, almost as if he were trying to reassure himself. “Not unless their souls have been stolen…”

But long after his breathing had lapsed back into the steady, regular rhythm of sleep, Celestine lay awake, trying to make sense of what she had seen.

Gauzia closed her dressing-room door. The room was filled with fresh flowers and their sultry scent was overpowering. A bouquet of
rose-pink camellias lay on the dressing table; curious, she picked up the attached card to read who had sent it. Behind her, she heard the sound of someone slowly applauding.

She spun around to see a man sitting behind the door. He was smiling at her. “What a superb performance you gave tonight, Diva!”

“What the hell are you doing in my dressing room? Get out, before I call the manager!”

“There's no need for alarm, my dear demoiselle, I mean you no harm.” The lazy smile only infuriated her more.

“Get out!” She seized the nearest object to hand—a hairbrush— and began to advance on him, brandishing it.

“I'm here on official business,” he said, not making the slightest move to leave. “From Maistre Donatien of the Commanderie. I'm looking for two old friends of yours. I wondered if you might have seen them.”

She lowered the hairbrush. “Old friends?” she said suspiciously. Her admirers sometimes invented extraordinary excuses to try to get close to her.

“Celestine de Joyeuse—and her accompanist, Jagu de Rustéphan.”

“Celestine—a
friend?”
she echoed. Even the sound of her onetime fellow student's name rankled. “What's your name, Guerrier?”

“Guyomard's the name. Lieutenant Kilian Guyomard.” Again that lazy, knowing smile.

“Can I trust you, I wonder, Lieutenant? The very fact that you've traveled all this way to Mirom must mean that you have a strong suspicion she's to be found here.”
Maela Cassard.
“Of course I can't be entirely sure,” she said, sniffing at a fragrant bouquet of hothouse lilies left on her dressing table, “but I've had my suspicions about her since the start. It's a very clever disguise. Her hair, her complexion, even the color of her eyes. But the voice. It's impossible to disguise that unique timbre. What would make her go to such lengths to reinvent herself, Lieutenant? Is she in any kind of… trouble?”

“So she's here in disguise?”

He had only answered her question with another question.

“I never said I was sure.” If he could be evasive, so could she.

“Maistre Donatien is very close to Prince Ilsevir. I'm sure he could put in a good word about you if you were to assist me—and the Commanderie—with our inquiries.”

“Oh, really?” So he was trying to bribe her with promises of royal patronage. “That sounds rather attractive to me.” She broke off one of the lilies and went up to him, tucking it into his top buttonhole. As she did so, she whispered a name in his ear.

“Maela Cassard.”

CHAPTER 20

Celestine had been drowsing, her head pillowed against Jagu's bare chest, feeling so warm and comfortable that she had no desire to move. And then she heard the sound of brisk footsteps hurrying up the stairs toward her room.

“Someone's coming!”

“Your landlady?”

Celestine shook her head. “Not at that speed!”

A fist rapped loudly on the door.

“Demoiselle! Open up!” called out a man's voice in Francian.

They both spilled out of bed, fumbling for their clothes. Jagu was fastening his breeches; grabbing his shirt, he signed to her to keep quiet. The door handle rattled; the man outside was evidently determined to get in and it was only a matter of seconds before he would break the lock. Celestine tugged her shift over her head and cast around in a panic for the saffron dress she had been wearing the day before.
Please don't let it be the Inquisition.

“I'll protect you,”
whispered the Faie.

“I know you're in there, Demoiselle. Haven't you got a few words of welcome for your old friend, Kilian?”

Celestine, trying to pull on her stockings, stared at Jagu.
“Kilian?
Did you tell him, Jagu?”

Jagu looked at her blankly. “I didn't even know he was in Mirom.”

“Well, well…” Kilian stood in the doorway. “Celestine and Jagu, here in Mirom together. How long has this cozy little arrangement been going on?”

“It's not what you think, Kilian!” said Jagu defensively.

“Oh, come now, it's exactly what I think.” Kilian's gaze rested on the bed and the tumbled sheets. A malicious smile had appeared on his lips, but the look in his eyes was cold and unforgiving.

“Who sent you? Why are you here?” demanded Jagu, knowing to his shame that his cheeks were flaming. There was no point in denying what had happened.

“Maistre Donatien sent me. You've been gone rather too long, Jagu. He was becoming… suspicious.”

“Has the Maistre forgotten how far north Mirom lies? My ship was icebound for weeks.”

Kilian shrugged.

“So he sent you to arrest us.”

“Arrest? To
escort
you back to Francia.”

“Escort? Does he take me for a fool, Kilian?”

“Maistre Donatien is prepared to ask Prince Ilsevir to grant you a royal pardon on the occasion of his coronation. A gesture of clemency, if you like.”

“On what conditions?” Celestine had taken no part in the conversation till that moment.

“I won't intrude on you two lovebirds any longer. The ship leaves for Francia in two days’ time. I've booked passage for the two of you. If you decide to accept the Maistre's offer, meet me at the Northern Docks at dawn; the ship's called the
Héloise.”

“Will Kilian report us?” Celestine set down a bowl of tea in front of Jagu.

“I don't think he expected to find us together.”

She noticed a faint blush color Jagu's cheeks as he said it. She wanted to hug him.

“But he didn't even try to arrest me.” She passed him the pot of damson jam. “And he was armed. Why didn't he?”

Jagu put a spoonful of jam in his tea, stirring with an abstracted look in his eyes. “I don't know. This talk of a royal pardon. It sounds … feasible.”

“But can we trust him?” She sipped her tea, watching him through the rising steam from her bowl. That characteristic little frown she knew so well had appeared, furrowing his dark brows; never before had she found it so irresistible. She wanted to lean across and kiss his forehead.

He was staring into his tea. “We can't take the risk.” He looked up. “I fear he's become Donatien's man. He'll be back, Celestine, with reinforcements.”

“But he can't officially arrest me, can he? Not while we're in Muscobar. He'd need a warrant.”

“No, but he could have you abducted.”

Celestine had no answer. Jagu was right. Wasn't that exactly what they had done to Kaspar Linnaius in Tielen?

“We have to split up,” he said. “I'll lay a false trail to lure Kilian away from you.”

“And put yourself in danger?” Her hand reached out across the table and clasped his. “No, Jagu. In the eyes of the Commanderie, you're as much of a renegade as I am—and all because you've protected me.”

“You know as well as I do that there's still a chance Donatien might hand you straight over to the Inquisition.” Jagu's fingers tightened around hers. “There's too much evidence against you. You have to lie low. If only for a little while.”

She gazed up into his eyes. “But I don't want to leave you, Jagu. Not now, now that I've realized what a fool I've…” Her throat tightened but she tried to keep speaking, determined that he hear what she had to tell him. “You've been protecting me all these years. Why has it taken me so long to see how much I love you?”

He rose and went to her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close.

“We were both fools,” he said. “And it's taken me all this time to see how I've been deluding myself. Why did we leave it so late? At least we were granted this second chance. But now we're being dragged apart again.”

When I lost Henri, I thought my life was over.
Celestine raised one hand to caress his face, trying to imprint its lean contours into her palm and fingertips.
I'm not going to lose you, Jagu.

He pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her again until, dizzy with desire, she broke away, all too aware where that would lead.

“I can't just abandon my work at the opera house. I'll have to invent some excuse.” Celestine felt torn; she had worked so hard to rise to gain acceptance by Grebin that she was loath to throw her new career away.

“A sudden chill, brought on by the change in the weather. An inflammation of the throat. Your physician has advised you not to sing for at least a month…”

“Oh and which physician is that? Doctor Rustéphan?” She tried to make light of it, although the prospect of having to be apart was weighing heavily on her heart.

“You may even have to travel to a warmer climate to recuperate fully. The voice is such a precious, sensitive instrument.”

“In which time, some ambitious little ingénue will come along and usurp my place.”

Jagu gave her an odd look. “For a moment there, I thought I heard Gauzia de Saint-Désirat talking.”

Celestine laughed, in spite of the sadness in her heart. “Heaven forbid that I'm turning into a diva! Perhaps it's all for the best that I take a break from the stage.”

“Where will you go?”

Celestine had not thought this far ahead. She was weary of being on the run. She wanted nothing more than to be with Jagu. “It was so simple back then, you and I, performing together.” She turned to him. “Those were the happiest moments of my life. You don't always realize it at the time, do you? It's only when everything begins to crash down about you that you see clearly.” She reached out and stroked his cheek. “I want to give recitals with you again, Jagu. Just like we used to.”

“I'll have to start practicing again,” he said, a little contritely.

“Then let's make a plan.” If they agreed on a day and a time to meet again perhaps she would feel less anxious.

“I'll lay a false trail to confuse Kilian. I'll tell him that you've been invited to sing before the Grand Duchess at Erinaskoe.”

“But wouldn't it be better if we just sent a message to the
Héloise
and both disappeared?”

“It's only Kilian,” said Jagu. “Don't worry; I know the way his mind works. We were at school together, remember?”

Only Kilian. How could Jagu sound so confident? “He's never liked me, Jagu. I don't know why, but—”

“All the more reason for me to divert his attention.”

“And have him blame you for helping me escape?” She shook her head.

“I can make this plan work, Celestine.” He took hold of her hands, pressing them between his own. “Whatever Kilian's orders may be, I'm certain I can convince him. He's always backed me up in the past. He's my oldest friend, after all.”

Why was Jagu being so stubborn over this? She snatched her hands away.

“Of course, you'll have to leave your lodgings to make it look convincing. But it'll take Kilian so long to verify the details that he'll have to sail for Francia without us. Two days, he said. That's all. And then we can rendezvous at the ambassador's residence.”

“Why won't you listen to what I'm saying, Jagu? How can you be so sure of Kilian? He's Donatien's man now.”

“But Donatien answers to the king. And the new king is Prince Ilsevir. Don't forget we saved Ilsevir's life.” Jagu put on his jacket, turning up the collar. “Let me handle this, Celestine. Here are the keys to my rooms. You can stay there tonight.” He held out the keys but when she turned away, he placed them on the table. “Well, I'll see you later then…”

A moment later she heard the door catch click open, then close again as he went down the stairs.

She watched from her little window in the eaves as he set off along the winding street until he had disappeared from view.

I don't want you to go, Jagu. I don't want us to have to part again so soon.

A dull pain nagged at her heart as she turned away from the window.
Is this what they call a premonition?

The final performance of
A Spring Elopement
would take place that night. Kilian would surely not expect her to forgo her final triumphal night. And he would never dare to have her abducted from the Imperial Theater. There was no reason why their plan should go wrong… was there?

Jagu passed fishwives gutting the silver gloss of a fresh herring catch as he walked along the quay, searching for the
Héloise.
The raucous cries of greedy gulls filled the air as they swooped down to snatch up the discarded entrails in their sharp beaks. The pungent, oily smell reminded him of Azhkendir and their first journey to Saint Serzhei's as Père Jagu and Celestin. The memory made him smile to himself.

“Jagu with a grin on his face? Well, that's a rare sight!” Kilian hailed him. “So where is she?”

Jagu shrugged. “An imperial invitation to perform before the Grand Duchess.” He had never been a good liar and Kilian must surely know it.