Prince of Dogs (Crown of Stars 2)

“She’s so holy, so pure. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t come to her as … pure as she will come to me.”

“A Godly sentiment, Alain, and I am proud of you for it. It is just as well that the Eagle leaves today. If you have conceived a fondness for her, it might prove hard to keep your pledge to your future bride.”

It took Alain a moment to sort through this. Then he jerked his head up. The untied hounds swarmed over to him, licking his hands. “Go away!” he said, irritated at their attention. “But I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t think of—” He stammered to a halt. With the window open, he could see his father’s expression clearly and read what it meant: Not that Alain was tempted by the young Eagle, but that Lavastine was.

Was this how Alain had been conceived? By a young man who, seeing a young woman, determined to have her in his bed no matter what she wanted? “Isn’t it written down by the church mothers that we must all come cleanly to the marriage bed?” he demanded, horrified to see Lavastine in this unflattering light. No word of scandal had ever touched Henri the Merchant.

Lavastine bowed his head and looked away. “So I am justly reminded of my own faults.”

“I beg your pardon, Father.” How had he come to blurt out such an appalling statement—even if it was true?

But Lavastine only smiled wryly and crossed the chamber to touch Alain’s hair as a praying man might touch a reliquary. “Never beg pardon for telling what is only the truth. Be assured I have learned my lesson in such matters. I have learned to confine myself to whores and married women, such as may be approached discreetly.”

“Father! But the church mothers enjoin us to—”

The count laughed sharply and called Steadfast over to him. She had become more restless of late; most likely she was going into heat. Already the males had begun to grow more irritable than usual. “I am not that strong, son. We must all learn the measure of our strength. Otherwise we exhaust ourselves striving for that which we can never gain.” He tied Steadfast up away from the others and frowned at her, then whistled for Sorrow and Rage. Good Cheer was, as usual, hiding under the bed. “Let the servants in, Alain,” he added curtly, motioning toward the door.

“But, Father, what about the Eagle?”

Lavastine was down on his knees now. Grabbing Good Cheer by the forelegs, he dragged her bodily out from her hiding place while she whined and attempted to lick him into leniency. He grunted, heaved her up, and wrestled her over to the wall while she leaned heavily against him, anything to impede his progress. “Cursed stubborn hound.” He patted her affectionately on the shoulder. Then he turned round.

“Well, then, boy, we shall keep the Eagle here with us, which is the only practical choice, is it not? She knows the lay of the land by Gent. She has walked in the city and remembers its streets and walls. She traversed this hidden tunnel. What use to us is her knowledge of Gent if she is with King Henry when we attack?” He lifted a hand, forefinger raised as the deacon did when she meant to scold her congregation. “But there will be no—”

o;She has no kin.”

“Then it is doubly wise of her to resist such an arrangement. I admire her pragmatism. She is better off in the Eagles.” He shut and latched one shutter, leaving a draft of cold air to spill into the room while he called over Terror, Ardent, Fear, and Bliss and leashed them to a ring set into the wall. “But I remain puzzled. Why did she confide in you?”

Alain hesitated. For an instant, he wanted to say, “Because she’s a wild creature, like the hounds, and she trusts me,” but the notion was so outrageous that he knew he could speak no such thing aloud. “I don’t know.”

Lavastine had marked the hesitation. “If you have conceived some fondness for the Eagle … you understand why nothing must happen, Alain. You of all people must be more careful—”

As he hadn’t been when the servingwoman at Lady Aldegund’s manor had accosted him. Only the savagery of the hounds had saved him from giving in to base desire! Hadn’t he learned anything from that? “I wouldn’t—if I’m to marry Lady Tallia—” But this was too much. He sat down heavily on the bench and buried his face in Sorrow’s flank. The thick smell of dog drove all impure thoughts out of his mind—or most of them, anyway, though he could not banish the image of Tallia. And why should such thoughts be impure? Wasn’t it true that desire came from the Lady and Lord, that They had granted it to humankind so that woman and man could create children between them?

“What wouldn’t you do since you’re to marry Tallia?” asked Lavastine, sounding more curious than anything.

“She’s so holy, so pure. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t come to her as … pure as she will come to me.”

“A Godly sentiment, Alain, and I am proud of you for it. It is just as well that the Eagle leaves today. If you have conceived a fondness for her, it might prove hard to keep your pledge to your future bride.”

It took Alain a moment to sort through this. Then he jerked his head up. The untied hounds swarmed over to him, licking his hands. “Go away!” he said, irritated at their attention. “But I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t think of—” He stammered to a halt. With the window open, he could see his father’s expression clearly and read what it meant: Not that Alain was tempted by the young Eagle, but that Lavastine was.

Was this how Alain had been conceived? By a young man who, seeing a young woman, determined to have her in his bed no matter what she wanted? “Isn’t it written down by the church mothers that we must all come cleanly to the marriage bed?” he demanded, horrified to see Lavastine in this unflattering light. No word of scandal had ever touched Henri the Merchant.

Lavastine bowed his head and looked away. “So I am justly reminded of my own faults.”

“I beg your pardon, Father.” How had he come to blurt out such an appalling statement—even if it was true?

But Lavastine only smiled wryly and crossed the chamber to touch Alain’s hair as a praying man might touch a reliquary. “Never beg pardon for telling what is only the truth. Be assured I have learned my lesson in such matters. I have learned to confine myself to whores and married women, such as may be approached discreetly.”

“Father! But the church mothers enjoin us to—”

The count laughed sharply and called Steadfast over to him. She had become more restless of late; most likely she was going into heat. Already the males had begun to grow more irritable than usual. “I am not that strong, son. We must all learn the measure of our strength. Otherwise we exhaust ourselves striving for that which we can never gain.” He tied Steadfast up away from the others and frowned at her, then whistled for Sorrow and Rage. Good Cheer was, as usual, hiding under the bed. “Let the servants in, Alain,” he added curtly, motioning toward the door.

“But, Father, what about the Eagle?”

Lavastine was down on his knees now. Grabbing Good Cheer by the forelegs, he dragged her bodily out from her hiding place while she whined and attempted to lick him into leniency. He grunted, heaved her up, and wrestled her over to the wall while she leaned heavily against him, anything to impede his progress. “Cursed stubborn hound.” He patted her affectionately on the shoulder. Then he turned round.

“Well, then, boy, we shall keep the Eagle here with us, which is the only practical choice, is it not? She knows the lay of the land by Gent. She has walked in the city and remembers its streets and walls. She traversed this hidden tunnel. What use to us is her knowledge of Gent if she is with King Henry when we attack?” He lifted a hand, forefinger raised as the deacon did when she meant to scold her congregation. “But there will be no—”