When Spring Died

Chapter Six

She didn't bother to hide the sarcasm in her voice, and she regarded Étienne with haughty composure.

He took a shaky breath, forcing his own temper back into check. "Well now you know. Is anyone else aware?"

"Genevieve Anjou, one of my attendants," Ivette returned. "She was with me at the cathedral. It stands to reason she would know, but she is sworn to secrecy."

Étienne dragged a hand through his hair and began to pace. "Alright, well...that can't be helped. You understand I will keep this between us, correct? You have my word." Ivette didn't answer, and Étienne repeated himself, a little harsher. "You have my word, Ivette."

"How am I to trust you?"

He stilled. "Don't be absurd. You have always trusted me. You will always be able to trust me."

"That's not true. If you were to keep something like this from me now, how am I to know you won't do it again?"

"Nothing like this has happened before, Ivette, and the likelihood of it happening again is slim to none. You're getting ahead of yourself."

"Am I? Must I remind you that the affairs of the state don't belong to you yet? They are mine to oversee. I know that will change in time, but that time has not come yet. It is not me who is getting ahead of myself. Were this a different time, I could try both you and Father Desjardins for collusion."

"By different time do you mean when Adeline ruled?"

Ivette's breath sharpened like daggers in her chest. "I'm not talking about her right now."

"And I don't want to argue with you, mon ange," he said, perhaps hoping the nickname would soothe the tender bruises of Ivette's heart that he'd prodded. "It seems all we do as of late is argue, and it tires me."

He took several measured steps toward Ivette, who stood motionless, her eyes transfixed on the ground. She went rigid and felt like she couldn't breathe when he took her in his arms and held her close to his chest. The flower almost fell from her hand. She heard the beating of his heart, fast and uneven from his agitation.

"You and I...we will find a solution, the way we have always done," he whispered into her hair. "If a goddess can leave, then she can be brought back."

"You're going to be angry with me, Étienne," she murmured against the crisp smoothness of his silken shirt.

"Angry with you?" He pushed her back by the shoulders to better look at her. Cool air rushed between them, a steady barrier. "Angry how?"

"I already have a solution." Her voice became thick and unsteady. "And I know you won't like it, but I don't have another way."

Étienne's brows lowered. "What is it?"

"I have written draft letters--invitations--to the respective rulers of Ryssland and Norvége to invite them and their embassies under the prospects of reconciliation and arbitration to the Spring Courts. I--"

Étienne let go of her abruptly. "You didn't."

"Étienne...Étienne, please hear me out."

"No, you must listen to me. Whatever it is you are trying to do, stop it at once. Do not send those letters."

"I must. If I can reach an accord with either nation, then I can save Frantsiya. Perhaps one of them will know how to find Vesna."

"That is madness! Utter insanity!!" He turned from her and she grabbed at his wrist, begging him to see reason.

"If you look at it logistically, I can--"

"No one will support that! Not one house, not one family will agree with you."