Still, she found herself wondering why that kiss on the hand had so nearly enfeebled her.
Fool! she told herself, put down the powder puff, and surveyed her reflection critically, then turned and looked back over her shoulder to check the rear view. Satisfied, she allowed herself a single, gloating smile—he might sell her out to her enemies, but one look at her, and he would regret it sorely.
She threw the door open and announced to the guards, "I am ready!"
"Most timely, milady!" the maid said, wide-eyed. "I was just now coming to lead you. A body would think you had heard my thoughts!"
"Who knows but that I did?" Quicksilver said airily. "Lead on!"
The maid turned away, and Quicksilver swept after her, with a single haughty look over her shoulder at the guards.
To the stairway they marched—but as they came to it, a middle-aged man and woman joined them. "Hold," Quicksilver said to the maid. "Age goes first."
"Scarcely aged," the lady said, amused, "but I thank thee, damsel." She was round-faced, with a gentle smile and lively eyes. Her red hair was bound up with pins, as much silver as flame, and her husband was even more gray, but still had a full head of hair. He was hawk-faced and craggy, but seemed to look kindly upon the bandit girl—for a girl she suddenly felt to be again; he was so like her father! Not in his looks, no, but in that clear aspect of the warrior, mellowed and blended with the spouse and parent. "You are a knight," she heard herself saying, "and a father."
He gave her a little bow. "I am honored by both titles, my lady, but more by the second. Thank you."
"Do you come to the Court?" asked the motherly woman.
"Aye, whether I will or no!" Quicksilver gave them a hard smile. "Know that I am a prisoner of Sir Geoffrey Gallowglass, and that he is about to see me hanged for my crimes."
"Surely a knight would not so abuse a sweet damsel!"
"I have known more knights who gave abuse than succor," she said—but the lady reached out to touch her arm with a look of such sympathy that suddenly, Quicksilver could no longer hold back the tears. They burst forth, and the lady wasted only one quick look of surprise before gathering the girl into her arms. "There, now, love, let the tears fall, for thou'lt be much better able to face the Duke, if their weight is spent from thee ... there, now, there." She murmured more inanities until Quicksilver's tears slackened, and she managed to push herself away from the comforting bosom. "No! No, I thank you, milady, but I must not ... I have ruined your dress..."
"'Tis only linen, and the tears will dry." The old dear smiled with amusement again, and touched Quicksilver's cheeks with a handkerchief. "There, now, dry your eyes, and tell us the manner of it as we walk."
She did—she had absolutely no reason to trust these people, except that they seemed so kind, so understanding. Besides, what matter if they betrayed her? She was done already.
"So Sir Geoffrey has betrayed thee, then?" the woman asked, beginning to look a bit severe.
"Oh, he has given me no promise," Quicksilver said, "nor asked even as many favors as I would wish, curse him! Yet I thought I saw a promise in his eyes, felt a pledge from his lips ... No! It was my own foolishness, nothing more!"
"Perhaps not," the woman said gently. "It may be that he meant more than he said; there are men who do."
"I doubt that he is one of them," Quicksilver said, with irony. "Strong he may be, but silent he is not."
"Trust him a little longer," the woman coaxed. "He may not have forsaken thee quite." She looked up at her man. "Husband, what sayest thou?"
"Only that if he lets such a gem as you slip away from him, he's a fool," the man said.
"You know not what I have done!"
"I don't think it would make much difference," he said firmly. "I know a good heart when I see one. But tell me this, maiden—would you want him so much, if he did ask for your hand?"
"Oh, yes!" she breathed, and felt the fluttering within her. "It is unkind of you to make me reveal so much of my heart, sir." She could feel the tears again.
"Yes, I'm afraid I've always been unkind in my blindness," he agreed. "But do think carefully before you answer, maiden—you might not want to be bound to so restless a wanderer as he."
It conjured up a sudden vision that made her tremble, and she said softly, "Be sure, sir, that if I were his and he mine, he would never be restless again."
"So thought I, once," the lady said with a sigh. "Well," her husband said, "it was mostly true."
"Aye," she agreed, "mostly."
He had a very strange way of speaking, Quicksilver thought.
"We are here," the maid said.
Looking up, Quicksilver was astonished to see the huge oaken doors of the hall before her. Somehow, though, she found that she was no longer anywhere nearly so frightened as she had been. This nice old lady and gentleman had calmed her. She straightened her shoulders and actually found that a smile came unbidden to her lips, felt the fire of battle joy light her eye. "Let us go to the fray!"
The doors swung wide, and in they went among a babble of noise, for the Great Hall was thronged with courtiers, and the tapestries muted little of their noise, for the walls were too far away. The ceiling was lost in the gloom, for the light of a hundred torches and candles did not reach so high.
Above them on a dais stood the Duke's great chair—or should have; even higher than that stood two thrones, and on them sat a man and a woman, both with silver hair mingled with golden, both with regal bearing. The Duke's chair stood beneath them with a slight young man sitting in it, leaning forward with his elbow on his fist.
With a shock, Quicksilver realized that the King and the Queen had come to visit their younger son.
In a panic, she spun about, looking for Geoffrey. There he was—talking to the nice middle-aged couple she had been chatting with on the way down! As she watched them, the older man stepped a little to the side, a torch lit his features—and she caught her breath. Side by side with Geoffrey, the resemblance was unmistakable. She had been talking with the High Warlock and his wife—worse, with Geoffrey's parents! Oh, what must they think of her for speaking so shrewishly about their son!
Hot on the anguish came anger. They could have told her, they could have identified themselves! Never mind that they had probably feared to embarrass her—what did they think she felt now, seeing them with him?
But they had seen she needed comfort...
They moved on, stopping to have a word with Gregory—and again, the resemblance was clear. Lady Gwendylon cast a jaundiced glance at Moraga, but the witch did not notice—she was too busy giving Quicksilver a gloating look. Quicksilver glared back.
Then Geoffrey turned and saw her. His eyes went round and his breath hissed in between his teeth and, for a moment, he looked positively haggard with longing. Only a moment—it faded into a sort of numbness before he finally wrenched his gaze away from her, and Quicksilver smiled, relishing her revenge.
He came up to her, still a little dazed—and still hungry. She trembled at his nearness, cursed herself, and found a barb for her tongue. "Well, sir! Have I met all of your family now?"
He looked up at his parents in surprise, then turned back to her, smiling. "Not quite. My eldest brother Magnus is far away from here, too far to come back to meet you, I fear. Other than that, though, you have met us all, yes even my brother-in-law-to-be." He nodded, and Quicksilver, looking where he indicated, saw Alain standing behind Cordelia—who was chatting with the nice middleaged couple. Once again, the resemblance struck her—but this time, between mother and daughter.