When Spring Died

Chapter Thirteen

Ivette was not quite sure what to expect from Laurent after not having seen him for a year. It went without saying that he'd be furious, but how furious would he be? Would it be his loud sort of anger that swept everything up and smashed it back down until there was nothing left? Or would it be lingering, subtle and barbed? She was fluent in the language of Laurent's ire, but its unpredictability left her wholly unprepared.

She worried she would not be able to find him, that maybe in his disgust he'd left Marseille. But then she passed by a room from which she heard the resounding, screeching smash of something breakable being thrown against the wall, and she knew he had not left after all.

With inordinate amounts of nausea roiling in her stomach, she pushed the door open to find Laurent with his back to her. He was glaring at the shards of a hand-painted teapot, now in over a dozen tiny pieces on the floor.

"Laurent," Ivette began, hanging back awkwardly in the doorway.

He whipped around, steely grey eyes flashing. When he saw who it was, his expression heightened in its indignation.

"You," he said, or rather snarled. "What...in the hell is the matter with you?!"

She smoothed her skirts and squared her shoulders. "It's good to see you too." Her voice sounded terse and hollow.

His lips twisted with mockery. "Is it? Then why do you look so sick?" He massaged the back of his neck and paced away from her before instantly twisting back around. "You're a clever girl, ma chère sœur, my dear sister, and you know as well as I that it is not good to see me, at least not for you. Especially not for you. You didn't expect me to show, did you? Else you would never have said all that in court. That's fine, that's fine. I intended to surprise you anyway. Seems I was the one surprised instead."

Ivette made her way into the room and sat down, stiff as a board. She fancied the very air around Laurent to crackle with his hostility.

"If you'd given word of your intentions," she said gently, "I would've spoken to you about what I said in court beforehand, and this would not have come as a shock."

"Would you really?" Laurent collapsed into the chair across from her, squinting. "I doubt that. You know what I think of Ryssland and Norvége. It seems in my absence, everything I've told you concerning them has gone..." He sucked air between his teeth and snapped his fingers so suddenly Ivette nearly jumped. "Completely over your head."

She swallowed, only to find a lump in her throat. "It hasn't. Because of all you've told me, I am better equipped than most to--"

"I don't want to hear it, Ivette! After all you've done to rebuild the name of Soleil, to prove yourself as our queen...you've wasted it! Your reputation will be in tatters by the morrow. You've...merde, I sound like you, lecturing and criticizing!" He dragged a hand over the lower half of his face as if wiping away his disgust.

"I've known all my life that there will be times when I please no one. But I am prepared for that. I've lived my entire life knowing I will be queen, and that means I won't be able to make everyone happy. Do not presume I will crumble beneath the troubles we are faced with."

"Simply because you can be made of stone doesn't mean everyone else is of the same countenance," Laurent said, tone dripping with condemnation.

Ice, bronze, stone. What else did the nobility fancy her to be made of?

"I know you're angry," Ivette said. "And I don't begrudge you that. It's within your right--"

"I don't care what you say is or is not within my rights! You're missing the entire point. By the time this news reaches the borders, you'll have an uprising on your hands. What's worse, you've cut yourself off from the support of the nobility, and just because Clarisse Anjou and His Grace, the devil take him, are half-heartedly backing you--and yes, it is half-hearted. Clarisse has a head for business and profit, and Étienne simpers after everything you do like a wayward hound--all that does not mean you will succeed. Your margin for success is slim. Hell, it barely exists!"