He followed the stone path as it wove between some trees and lush plants until he came to a small table and chairs. In one of the chairs sat a woman who looked incredibly fragile. Her dress was black, her delicate slippers were black, and she even wore black lace gloves on her hands. Her pale-blond hair was piled on her head in a sort of messy bun as if she couldn’t be bothered with it.
Caelan paused several feet away from the woman, his brow furrowed and lips pulled into a hard line. Who was she? This…this couldn’t be Queen Noemi Thrudesh-Vo. How could she be the ruler of Caspagir? She appeared as if she might break under the force of a strong breeze.
Beside him, Rayne pressed his hand to his heart and bowed deeply to her. “It is a great honor to meet with you, Your Majesty.”
Caelan stared openmouthed at Rayne and then back at the woman to find her faintly smiling at him. “We weren’t supposed to meet for the first time like this,” she said in a rough voice. She cleared her throat and turned her attention to Rayne. “It’s good to see you again, Master Laurent. I trust you’ve already visited with Shey.”
There was no expression on Rayne’s face, but there was a rise of color in his cheeks. “His Highness was kind enough to share some information with me and assist in a small matter.”
The smile returned with a twinkle in her eye. “I heard about that.” She turned her attention to Caelan and rose.
Sense finally slammed into his brain, and he bowed deeply to her. She was the queen of Caspagir and he was a king without a kingdom, dependent on her goodwill. She gently laid a hand on his shoulder, applying just enough pressure for him to straighten. When he did, she placed both of her lace-covered hands on his cheeks and stared deeply into his eyes, then slowly moved over the rest of his face like she was trying to memorize it.
“You look like her. So much.” Her voice trembled on those whispered words. “But I also see…” She drifted off and Caelan was desperate for her to finish those words. However, her next ones blew away that thought. “I loved your mother.”
She paused as she started to turn toward her chair and placed her hand on Rayne’s arm, squeezing lightly before continuing. Surprise widened Rayne’s eyes, but he said nothing.
“Did you know I had hopes of Rayne marrying Shey one day?”
Caelan’s mind was spinning with just the simple things she’d already said. He glanced over at Rayne to find his friend would no longer meet his gaze. “No, I did not.”
Noemi sighed heavily as she sat again. “He had an almost magical way of reining in some of Shey’s more dangerous impulses.” She motioned toward the chair closest to her and Caelan took it. When Rayne simply took up position behind Caelan, Noemi huffed at him and jerked her head toward the remaining chair on the other side of the table. “Come along, Rayne. Considering it’s just the three of us and all that’s happened, I think we can drop some of the ceremony. Besides, staring up at you makes my neck hurt.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Rayne bowed to her and dropped into the final chair.
“I’m sorry, but you said you loved my mother. Then you knew her well. I didn’t know,” Caelan started, drawing Noemi’s eyes to him. The deep sadness in her blue eyes returned and she rapidly blinked away tears.
“I know it must be hard to believe. We were so different. Amara would never have dropped all the royal pretexts and rules, even if it was just us. I was able to get her to drop it all only a few times in the years that I knew her. She said it was what people expected and what held the line.”
That definitely sounded like his mother, though his brain was still reeling from the shock that his mother had a friend. He had some very early memories of her smiling and being freer around him, but not many and none when he was older. She was always queen first and his mother second.
Except for their final night together. She’d held his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d even touched him before that.
Her skin had been so soft but cold, as if she’d had a chill that she couldn’t shed. She had held both his shoulders, fingers squeezing so tight. Had she suspected they might never see each other again?
Why hadn’t she said more? Told him that she loved him? That she was proud of him?
Because he would have known something was wrong and wouldn’t have left.
“Yes, but how? You never came to Erya and Queen—mother never traveled to Caspagir,” he corrected himself. “Relations between Erya and Caspagir have always been lukewarm at best. Everyone knows that Erya is much closer with Ilon.”