Windsor Castle May 1172 That evening’s mass was attended by only myself, Marie Helene, and one of Eleanor’s elderly ladies as well as the priest who sang it. Vespers followed, and I knelt on the stone floor, my gown tucked under my knees as the sisters of St. Agnes had taught me, long ago. Marie Helene knelt beside me, though I could feel her thoughts were far from prayer. I turned my own mind to God, and stayed on my knees long after the priest had finished and blessed us. I heard the elderly lady withdraw. Marie Helene rose and stood by the stone wall, where candles in sconces gave the only light. I stayed on my knees, and prayed for my father and my brother, and for the future of France. I prayed for the Reverend Mother and all the sisters at the abbey, and I prayed for Richard and Eleanor. I even prayed for the king, though something about him vexed me, even as it drew me as the moth is drawn to the flame that kills it. I tried to turn my mind from Henry altogether, from the warmth of his gray eyes. I tried to forget the way he had tempted me into losing my temper in front of the entire court, though I had been raised to self-control and obedience all my life. I brought Richard’s face to the forefront of my mind, Richard and the song he had written and sung for me himself. The song had been beautiful, as he was, but for some reason I could not understand, no matter how I disciplined myself, my mind kept turning to the king. As if I had conjured him with my thoughts, I found Henry standing by the altar of the chapel when I rose from my prayers. He had come in silently, and alone. He must have sent Marie Helene away, for she was gone. I reached for my father’s prayer beads, their smooth pearls calming me, their cold diamonds and amethysts reminding me of my father, and all the training of my childhood. The king came no closer. Henry seemed almost handsome in the dark of that chapel, the dull light from the sconces catching the red of his hair. His eyes did not move from my face, except once, to take in my hair under its red veil, and my breasts beneath the red silk gown his wife had given me. “Do they not miss you in the hall, my lord?” I asked, because I could not bear the silence. A strange heat had begun to mount in my belly, and it grew as Henry’s eyes returned to my face. I strained my ears to listen for the sound of the priest in the sacristy. As I listened, I knew there was no one there. “They miss me whenever I leave them, but like the sun, I always return.” Henry did not move closer, nor did he touch me. There were still at least five feet between us, but I felt as if he had stepped toward me. I remembered how it felt to have his breath on my cheek. “I hope some of your prayers were for me, Alais.” My voice did not fail me, though it sounded strangled, not like my own smooth tones at all. “They were, my lord. And for the kingdom.” Henry’s face softened when he heard my earnestness. I am sure that no matter how young he once was, he had never been earnest in his life. But my words must have reminded him of my youth, for the spell was broken as if it had never been. As Henry retreated behind the gray of his eyes, I wondered if I had imagined the connection between us. “I will leave you,” he said. “I hope to see you tomorrow.” I curtsied, my sore knees protesting, my voice still thick in my throat, as if I had swallowed honey “Good night, Your Majesty.” Henry did not speak again, and left me as silently as he had come. I held my curtsy until he had gone, then stood once more as Marie Helene rushed back into the chapel. “Are you well?” she asked, fear on her face. I took her hand. I would never betray to her or anyone the way I was drawn to him, nor the power his gaze held over me. “Of course, I am well, Marie Helene. He is no ogre. He is only the king.” She crossed herself. I took her arm and led her into the hallway. It was dark, the cold gray stone reflecting very little light from the torches that were lit here and there along the walls. I was not sure that I would be able to find my way back to our rooms. “Do you know the way?” I asked. Before she could answer, Richard stepped out of the shadows. My voice stopped in my throat. The sight of Richard standing near me, the blue of his eyes searching my face, reminded me that any idea of a connection with the king was foolish fancy. This man was my future.“I will lead you,” Richard said. “Come this way” We followed him in silence. It was not a long journey, for Richard knew a quicker way than I had taken earlier that evening. Marie Helene went into my rooms before me, to check the fires and to see that the bed was turned down. I stopped in my doorway. “Thank you,” I said. “If you had not come, I would still be stumbling in the dark.” “Alais, I am going to France tomorrow.” “Yes,” I said. “I thought you had gone already.” “I was delayed.” “I am glad.” He smiled then in spite of himself. He seemed to remember that I did not dissemble, nor did I lie. “I will be gone for some time.” “I hope that you will write to me,” I said. “I will.” Richard stood staring at me, as if trying to communicate without speech. I could not read his face. “I will not be here to protect you,” he said. I did not ask what he meant, for surely there was no danger for me in his father’s court. “Take care,” he said, “while I am away.” “I will.” “Promise me.” I stood in the dark hallway, the only light the fire from my room behind us. I looked into his eyes, but I could see nothing, for the shadows were long, and hid the blue of his gaze from me. “I promise, Richard. I will be careful.” I raised my eyes to his. “Thank you for my song.” He said nothing more, but only took my hand. I thought he would kiss the back of it, as he had done once before. Instead, he turned my hand over in his own large one, and kissed my palm. The softness of his lips and the bristles of his beard made my breath come short. I waited for the hot warmth to pool in my stomach again, as it had done when Henry simply stood and looked at me. But it did not come. He left me and I stood cradling the hand he had kissed. Marie Helene found me like that and brought me inside. She made me drink the warmed wine she had heated, and gave me a little cold meat and bread, for I had eaten little at dinner. I lay in bed a long time without sleeping, while I tried to convince myself that the liquid heat Henry inspired in me was some strange alchemy that would have no power in the light of day. I drew my mind back to Richard, to the song he had sung for me, to his kindness. But as I slept, it was King Henry who came to me in my dreams. At breakfast the next morning, I sat at my small table, my knife biting into the stewed pears the palace women brought. I laid a slice of pear on the soft fresh bread and savored the taste with my eyes closed. Even in the light of morning, the memory of Henry’s eyes stayed with me. I had hoped sleep would cure me of this folly, but so far, it had not. “The king said that I could see the puppies in the stable,” I told Marie Helene. “The king said that?” “He said they are fond of me.” “They are only dogs, my lady. They are fond of everyone.” I laughed. “Marie Helene, I am glad that I do not have to worry that you will try to turn my head with flattery.” She smiled wanly. “I am sorry, Your Highness. I fear for you.” Guilt pressed on me. I should not look on the king as I did, and I knew it. I would have to confess............