The prince’s eyes bulged with astonishment. “A sign? What sign?”
“I must show you in private, my lord. The Fountain does not wish it to be seen by so many unbelievers. There is a chapel yonder with a fountain. May we speak there, my prince? It is there that I must show you the sign.”
“My lord, no!” Doone warned, his cheeks flushed. “She could be a poisoner! This is a ruse!”
The maid turned to the earl. “Who are you to challenge my mission?” she demanded. “I am from the village of Donremy. I bring no poison. I bring no weapons.” She turned back to the prince. “Please, my lord. I am a simple maid. But through me, the Fountain will give you the kingdom of your fathers. Believe.”
The prince glanced across the room at Alensson, stuck between courage and fear. Alensson met his eyes and nodded. This was a moment that couldn’t be ignored. The duke had hoped to be the one chosen by the Fountain to save his people, but it had chosen an obscure maid instead. So be it then. He would support her, and by doing so, support the Fountain.
“Take my arm,” the prince said, offering his elbow to the maid. And he escorted her, to the wonderment of the entire hall, to the chapel.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Signs
The atmosphere of the great hall had changed in an instant. Gone were the mocking sneers and the incredulity. A mood of excitement and intensity had settled over the nobles, who began discussing the scene that had just unfolded in their midst. Who was this peasant girl? Where did she come from again? Donremy? Wasn’t that near the borders?
Jianne glanced furtively at the archway as she stroked Alensson’s arm. “This means another battle, doesn’t it?” she whispered.
“I hope so,” Alensson answered truthfully. He instantly knew he’d chosen the wrong words, and a glance at Jianne confirmed it. There were already tears quivering on her dark lashes.
“My love, my love!” he soothed, pulling her into an embrace. He stroked her hair. “We both knew this would happen! I am a beggar. I am worse than a beggar. If I’m to repay all who lent money for my release, I must do this!”
She cried quietly into his chest and he continued to soothe her, wishing they were not in such a public place.
“I know it, I know,” she answered, shaking her head. She looked up at him through her tearstained eyes. “But I’ve been without you for so long, my husband, and I had hoped that we wouldn’t part so soon.” She traced her fingers along his shoulders. “How are we even going to afford a suit of armor? It is costly going to war, and we owe so much.”
“The prince will provide,” Alensson said.
She looked doubtful. “I pray he does. Did it take much convincing before he’d see her?”
“This court is full of vipers,” he said, growling. “Look how they’ve changed in such a short time. They were ready to claw her for presuming to be here. Now they’ll fawn over her.” He seized her hands. “This is the moment Occitania has needed. You felt it in her as well. After you and Alix came down, you heard her stories about how the Fountain speaks to her. We both listened to her tale before bringing her here. Can you imagine what it must be like? She hears its voice every day, like music audible only to her. The music of the Deep Fathoms.”
Jianne wiped her nose. She stood up straighter, putting on a brave face for him, and said, “So strange that it spoke to one so young.”
“How I wish it were me,” Alensson breathed, trying to wrestle down the wriggle of jealousy in his heart. The thought flared for a moment, but he struck it down violently with his mind.
“I will return to the cottage,” Jianne said, looking up into his eyes.
“Nay, stay at Shynom!” he insisted. “If the prince summons an army, it will take time to gather them. It will take time to drill and train.”
“Do you think the prince will do it?”
He nodded. “He will not miss this opportunity. Look at the hunger in their eyes. They have an appetite for hope. We all do. You must stay with me, Jianne.”
She winced. “An army isn’t a suitable place . . . for a woman. There’s so much swearing, so much lewdness. I . . .” She blushed furiously. “I wouldn’t want to be taken for a camp follower, Husband.” She looked away.
Her browned skin, her callused hands, were a symbol of all she’d suffered in their marriage. She was right. While the nobles knew that her father was the Duke of Lionn, the rough soldiers would likely treat her with impertinence. Neither of them could bear that.
“I will return to Izzt with Alix,” she said firmly, seeing the look in his eyes. “Before you go to battle, come and see us. I will wait for you, my husband. I will always wait for you.” She reached up and smoothed a lock of hair from his brow.