If Gabrielle had brought any sort of danger down upon the house, she was determined to shield Cass at any cost. But Cass was so frantic for the safety of her dog, it was all Gabrielle could do to persuade her to remain below.
Gabrielle looked about her for anything that might serve as a weapon. She glanced down at the charm she clutched in her hand. So much for Cass’s protective amulet, she thought wryly. She had not felt so much as a tingle of approaching danger.
She shoved the charm in the pocket of her gown and seized upon Cass’s stout walking stick. Gripping the gnarled wood in her hands, she crept up the narrow stair.
Cass hovered below her, whispering anxiously, “Be careful.”
Gabrielle did not reply, her concentration focused on making her way through the darkness that enveloped her, finding the lever that controlled the door to the hidden chamber. Following Cass’s instructions, Gabrielle twisted the handle a few degrees to the left, just enough to barely shift the cupboard.
The creaking of the mechanism sounded infernally loud to Gabrielle’s ears, enough to alert any intruder. She waited a few seconds before cautiously poking her head out the opening. The great hall was shrouded in the gloom of evening, the dust thickening on the floor appearing undisturbed. But the sound of a ferocious hiss caused the hairs on the back of Gabrielle’s neck to rise.
She muffled her startled cry and tracked the sound to its source. A black cat with snowy paws had taken refuge atop the high table. Back arched, it spat furiously. Gabrielle released a tremulous breath. Was it possible the dread intruder was no more than this cat? But then where was Cerberus? Why wasn’t he baying his head off and threatening to make a meal of the feline?
As the cat hissed again, Gabrielle realized its venom was not directed at her. Those golden feline eyes glared at something out of her range of sight. Tightening her grip on the walking stick, Gabrielle inched from behind the aumbry until she spotted Cerberus. The dog flopped over on his back, but not because he had taken any harm.
Cass’s hellhound groveled shamelessly at the feet of a slender youth obscured beneath a long gray cloak, a hood pulled forward over his face. All Gabrielle could make out of the lad were his dusty boots and shapely legs encased in a pair of dark trunk hose. He crouched down, scratching Cerebus’s stomach, subduing the fierce animal with no more than a touch and a few soft words. Gabrielle had only ever known one person in her life who had such a magical way with animals. But no. It could not possibly be.
She stepped forward and the floor creaked beneath her feet. The lad glanced up at her and then calmly rose to meet her. He thrust back his hood and revealed—not a lad at all, but a tall young woman with straight moon-gold hair and eyes of silvery blue.
“Hello, Gabby,” she said with an impish smile.
“Miri?”
At least now Gabrielle knew why Cass’s amulet had failed to signal danger. Recovering from her shock, she gave a glad cry and gathered her sister into her arms.
Gabrielle rummaged through her wardrobe, inspecting gown after gown only to discard them, the chair in her bedchamber disappearing beneath a rainbow array of silks. As she considered each garment in turn, her gaze traveled to the figure curled up on her bed, fearing that Miri might vanish just like the fairy child she had always been.
Perhaps she only imagined the girl lying propped on one elbow, teasing her cat with a bit of ribbon, conjured her up out of her lonely ache for her home and family. Except this was not the Miri of Gabrielle’s memory. This was a girl on the verge of womanhood, her figure blossoming with soft curves that her boyish garb could not quite conceal. Her high cheekbones and winged brows combined with her moon-gold hair and unusual silvery-blue eyes to give her a dreamy, ethereal appearance.
When had this happened? At what point during the past two years had her scapegrace little sister been transformed into this serene young beauty? The changes in Miri brought a bittersweet ache to Gabrielle’s heart and filled her eyes with tears. When Miri lifted her head and regarded her gravely, Gabrielle was swift to turn away. Blinking hard, she dove back into her wardrobe and hauled out one of her simpler gowns with a modest square neckline and tiered sleeves.
“This one might do.” She held up the green silk folds. “Come here and let me see.”
The cat had draped itself over Miri’s lap. When she shifted him off her, Necromancer let out a yowl of protest. Miri approached Gabrielle reluctantly. “There is no need for you to be going to so much bother, Gabby.”
“No need? It is bad enough you have been running all over the countryside garbed as a boy. You cannot possibly continue to do so here in Paris. Now stand still.”
Miri fetched a heavy sigh, but obeyed. Gabrielle bit back a smile. At least one thing about her little sister had not changed. Miri still preferred the freedom of doublets and trunk hose to feminine lace and frills. But as Gabrielle held up the gown to Miri’s shoulders, she made another startling discovery.
“Great heavens. You—you are taller than me.”
“So I am.” Miri lifted her chin proudly. “I am a bit taller than Ariane too.”
The mention of their other sister caused Gabrielle to stiffen. It was as though a shadow fell between them. Miri must have felt it too because she said softly, “Ariane misses you very much, Gabrielle.”
“Does she?” Gabrielle’s heart lifted with sudden hope. “Is that why you have come to Paris? Did Ariane send you here to act as peacemaker?”
“No, she didn’t even know I was coming.”
“Oh.” Gabrielle concealed the depth of her disappointment, berating herself for a fool. She should have known her older sister better than that. If Ariane had the least interest in mending their quarrel, she would have come herself.
Lifting the lid of the trunk at the foot of her bed, Gabrielle hunted for petticoats and chemise to go with the gown. “So then how the devil did you get all the way here to Paris?” she demanded of her younger sister.
“I, er, borrowed one of Renard’s horses and outfitted the saddle with a basket for Necromancer. Neither Brindel—that’s the horse—nor Necromancer were fond of the arrangement. But we managed by taking the journey in easy stages.”
Gabrielle paused in the act of unearthing a shift to gaze at her sister in consternation. “Miribelle Cheney! You—you traveled all this way alone?”
“I wasn’t alone. I just told you. I was with Brindel and Necromancer.”
“A horse and a stupid cat!”
Necromancer perched on the end of Gabrielle’s bed, haughtily licking his snow-dipped paws. As though he understood her, he paused to shoot Gabrielle a baleful look.
Slamming the lid to the trunk closed, Gabrielle straightened and scolded. “Damnation, Miri. I would have thought you would have acquired more sense by now. That is a journey most men would have feared to make alone.”
“Ah, but I am not a man. Nor some ordinary woman.” Miri’s air of unruffled serenity only added fuel to Gabrielle’s outrage.
“Do you even realize what could have happened to you? You could have been set upon by brigands, robbed, attacked, even worse.” Gabrielle’s blood ran cold as she imagined the horrors that could have been visited upon her innocent young sister, injuries that might have made death welcome by comparison.
But Miri replied with infuriating calm, “Nothing could have harmed me. Necromancer would have warned me if there was peril nearby and I have my own sixth sense for danger. It is not as though I stayed overnight at public places like inns. Thanks to Ariane’s council meetings, I know where other wise women reside. I merely traveled from one safe house to another.”
“I don’t care!” Gabrielle fumed. “It was still a reckless and irresponsible thing to do. Ariane must be frantic. You do realize that she will blame me for you running away and hate me more than ever.”
“Ariane doesn’t hate you. And she knows that I make my own decisions. She understands that I am no longer a child.”
“Then she must be a great deal different
from the Ariane I remember. I never thought she’d willingly allow either one of us to grow up.”
“Ariane has changed.” Miri’s remarkable eyes darkened, clouding to a hue of gray. “She has not been the same since the babe—”
“Babe? Ariane has had a child?” Gabrielle’s anger faded in the face of this new staggering information. “I—I am somebody’s aunt?
“Well, what is it?” she asked eagerly. “A boy or a girl?”
“Ariane lost the child before we could tell. She has had other miscarriages as well and seems unable to conceive again. It grieves her deeply. I think it is tearing her all to pieces inside.”
Ariane, all to pieces? Gabrielle could not even begin to imagine it. Her older sister had been a pillar of strength for as long as she could remember. The Lady of Faire Isle, the wise one, the great healer. It was frightening somehow to think of her being beset by the sort of woes that afflicted other, lesser mortals. All this while Gabrielle had been fancying Ariane’s life so perfect, Ariane had been suffering from some of the worst kind of pain any woman could know.
“I should have been there with her,” Gabrielle berated herself. “Why didn’t she send word to me, let me know? She should have realized nothing would have kept me away if I thought she was in trouble. I don’t know what I could have done, but at least I might have offered her some comfort.”
“You know what Ariane is like, Gabby. She always felt she had to be strong, never burdening anyone else with her sorrows. Infernally independent, not unlike someone else I know.”
Miri dropped a kiss on Gabrielle’s brow. Gabrielle wrapped her arms about her little sister and they hugged each other close. The sunshiny scent of Miri’s hair reminded Gabrielle poignantly of the sweet scents of Ariane’s herb garden, carrying her back to those days on Faire Isle when it had been just the three of them, she, Ariane, and Miri. The Cheney sisters. Despite their differences and disagreements, there had been a unity among them, sisterly bonds that Gabrielle had brutally snapped when she’d fled to Paris.
She feared she had cost Ariane enough grief. She could not let Miri do so as well. Much as she might wish to, there was no way Gabrielle could permit her younger sister to remain in Paris. Not with all the dangerous currents and intrigues swirling about Gabrielle, threatening to engulf her at any time. Not when there was so much about her that her innocent sister didn’t know and Gabrielle would just as soon Miri never did.
But for the moment she held her sister close, stealing precious moments of warmth from her presence. Miri leaned her head against Gabrielle’s shoulder with a deep sigh. “I have missed you, Gabby. When you went away, you never even said good-bye to me.” Miri’s voice was not so much accusing as hurt.
Gabrielle knew full well why she had played the coward’s part and avoided bidding farewell to her sister. Miri would have cried and clung to her, asking too many awkward questions. How could Gabrielle have possibly told Miri she was running off to Paris to make her fortune by seducing powerful men, that she was going to be living in the house purchased for their father’s lover? Miri had been closer to her father than either of the other Cheney girls. If Miri were to ever find out the full extent of his betrayal . . .
Gabrielle’s gaze skated uneasily over the lush trappings of the bedchamber once owned by Louis Cheney’s mistress. “I am sorry, Miri. I never meant to hurt you, but when I left there was so much you were too young to understand.”
Miri raised her head from Gabrielle’s shoulder. “Such as your determination to become a courtesan, the same as the woman who used to own this house. The woman who seduced our father.”
Gabrielle stared at her in shock. “Then you—you know about Papa—”
“I have known for a long time. I overheard you and Ariane the night you quarreled, about you coming here to Paris and accepting this house.”
“Oh, Miri.” Gabrielle groaned. She tried to hug her again, but Miri slipped out of her reach, standing beside the bed. She managed to smile but the expression in her eyes appeared far too sad and wearied for her years. “I truly am not a child anymore. I know that there aren’t unicorns and elves hiding in the woods. That my Papa was not perfect and my sister isn’t either.”
Gabrielle recalled how often she had been vexed with Miri for her whimsical imagination and longed to shake some sense into her. But hearing her renounce those childhood beliefs was almost enough to break Gabrielle’s heart. She had never allowed herself to be ashamed of the path she had chosen, but Gabrielle felt her cheeks burn. She lowered her head, unable to meet Miri’s eyes.
“Oh, Miri. How you must despise me.”
“Don’t be foolish, Gabby.” Her sister cupped her chin, forcing Gabrielle to look up at her. “I am often disappointed and made unhappy by the choices that the people I care about make, but that has no effect on the way I love them.”
Gabrielle felt a lump rise in her throat. Unable to speak, all she could do was press Miri’s hand.
“I have even managed to forgive Simon,” Miri added.
Simon Aristide, the young witch-hunter who had once taken part in the raid against Belle Haven? Miri had persisted in believing that Simon was her friend until he had betrayed her trust most cruelly.
Gabrielle regarded her sister with a troubled frown. “You still think about that boy? I hoped you would have forgotten about him by now.”
Miri drifted away from her to stare out the bedchamber window where twilight had deepened into night like a heavy warm mantle being drawn over the city of Paris.
“I don’t grieve for Simon as I once did. But I do think about him from time to time,” Miri admitted. “I hope that wherever he is that he overcame his pain and bitterness, that somehow his spirit managed to heal.”
Necromancer padded over to the window, pawing at Miri’s skirt as though sensing his mistress’s sorrow. She scooped the cat into her arms and buried her face in his fur. “No matter what Simon did, I loved him, Gabby.”
“Miri, that was three years ago. You were little more than a child,” Gabrielle protested faintly. “It was but your first infatuation.”
“No, I loved him. And when I love someone, it is forever.”
Gabrielle was both awed and disconcerted by how sure Miri sounded. She couldn’t help envying her sister this ability to love so simply and with such conviction. Especially when Gabrielle’s feelings toward Remy were so complicated. She had told Miri nothing about Remy as yet, his miraculous return or the peculiar nature of their betrothal. She winced, wondering if Miri would be able to be quite so accepting of that. But there was time enough to broach that subject tomorrow.
Miri’s head drooped and she started to look fatigued. Gabrielle bustled over to her and gave the girl’s shoulders a light squeeze. “We have much more to talk about and catch up on. But you have to be exhausted. I will summon Bette to draw you a bath and fetch you a light supper. Then straight to bed, young woman. As delighted as I am to see you, you do realize that I am going to have to find a way to send you home.”
Miri snuggled her cheek against her cat, but her lips thinned into that stubborn line Gabrielle knew all too well. “I have no intention of going anywhere until I am sure you are safe and happy.”
“You mean to stay in Paris the rest of your life?” Gabrielle asked wryly.
“It is nothing to jest about, Gabby. It is not a whim that brought me all this way to find you. I have been having my bad dreams again. This time about you.”
Gabrielle’s smile faded. Her sister’s dreams certainly were nothing to laugh at. From the time she had been very young, Miri had been afflicted with recurring nightmares of a prophetic nature. She had dreamed about both their mother’s death and the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre long before either event had occurred.
“What sort of dreams have you been having?” Gabrielle asked.
“You know what my nightmares are like, never clear until it is too late for me to do anything about them.” Miri shuddered and cuddled her cat closer. “I kee
p seeing this grand palace with endless halls and galleries. The air is full of voices whispering about you. I hear your name over and over again. Gabrielle, Gabrielle.
“And then I see a blond-haired woman in a lovely gown, drifting through the halls. I can never see her face, but I am certain it is you and you keep moving closer to these doors. Somehow I know where they lead. To the bedchamber of the king. I keep calling out to you, trying to stop you, get you to come back. But you never hear me. Each time I have the dream, you get closer to those doors.”
Gabrielle felt a hot flush creep into her cheeks. How was she to explain to Miri that what her sister regarded as a nightmare was the very goal Gabrielle had been pursuing these past months? Miri’s dreams only confirmed what Nostradamus had predicted. Gabrielle would become the king’s mistress. This was her fate, her dazzling future . . . and she felt as though someone had just hammered the final nail into her coffin.
But she forced herself to rally with a brittle smile. “Your dream doesn’t sound so alarming. Some regard sharing a king’s bed as an honor, a great opportunity.”
“I know that. But I still have this suffocating feeling of danger. The same feeling I had when I tracked you to that house today where that strange woman hides.”
Miri cast Gabrielle a worried look. “There is something very troubling about your new friend, Gabby. Something dark and disturbing.”
“Cass? I’ll admit she can seem a little . . . disconcerting sometimes. But she has had a very hard and tragic life. You only exchanged a few words with her. Aren’t you being rather quick to judge?”
“It is not my judgment. It is Necromancer’s.” Gabrielle solemnly hefted the cat a little higher in her arms as though fully expecting the feline to confirm her words. “He thinks Cassandra is very dangerous.”
Gabrielle did her best not to roll her eyes. She had never shared Miri’s fixed belief in the wisdom of animals. “Er—don’t you think Necromancer is being too harsh? Cassandra’s dog obviously adores her. That ought to count for something.”