Part 2

This was how her precious independence would end—with this hurried wedding with a stand in in his shiny armour. Ridiculously outfitted, the man stood before him as if this were the battlefields at Crecy and not a family chapel in Bourbon. It served her right for having the temerity to think that she was done with this responsibility after Louis died. What a fitting way to be committed to another. She could barely see the man before her.

Blair glanced back towards her father, who nodded at her in encouragement. She turned back to the man. He reached up and took off his helmet, revealed tousled dark hair. As if to give comfort, those thin lips curved a small fraction.

The eyes, those eyes—HIS eyes-on her were burning. Every fiber of her being lit afire by his presence, this man who had been sent for her, this man who was not king. He was no one to her, and she regretted the moment the words spilled from her lips, as if he were a savior and would understand what even her mother could not.

What her father would not.

"I do not wish this. I do not need a husband."

And his response, in the liquid fire on his voice, licked at her spine. It was soft, a challenge and a plea. It was all she could do not to break apart.

These men. She knew these kinds of men. All men. They would swear heaven and earth to get to their ends.

For this man before her, it was her hand for the dauphin.

And with her hand, her gold and the swords that came with them.

After all, her father had sworn to her that she would need not wed again after Louis. That with Burgundy, she had more than any other woman. He assured her that she could live out her life in freedom, as a widow of consequence, under his roof.

She was protected, far away from the battles that raged outside. But she knew, certainly. She knew when noble men came through the doors begging for succor from the Bourbons, and even as her parents chose to stay as far as they could from the chaos it would touch her.

Many men had come to her home since before she could remember, to ask for her hand and been turned away. A long time ago she sat by Roman and asked her father, when one particularly charming one had been rejected, why. And the duke had told her that one by one the men would fall. None could do better than Roman would.

After all, between Bourbon and Burgundy, Roman controlled a purse far heavier than even that of the king.

For the longest time Blair had lulled herself into the assurance that she would never be wed again.

How she had discounted the blinding sheen of the crown. Despite being penniless and crushed in battle each time, the Valois claim to the throne proved too attractive for her father to resist.

A king, it seemed, or at least the dauphin, was the only man who would convince the Duke of Bourbon.

God would strike her for certain, but fleetingly she wondered how soon this dauphin would fall in battle too, and she could be widowed another time, freed again from marriage a second time. Surely she would not be so fortunate.

When she was queen, and her new husband fell in battle, what fate would befall her, she wondered, when the English stormed France? Would she be martyred and beheaded, her bloody head displayed amongst a dozen other noble heads? She doubted it, truly. Her coffers were too full, and if the whispers of the servants were to be believed, the English freely traded prisoners for gold. Surely she could buy a hundred years of freedom.

Blair resisted the urge to be taken away by a daydream.

"You will have everything," this man who stood in the dauphin's place swore to her.

And for the life of her, knowing not his name, she almost believed him. Her mind told her the words were empty, for who was this lord who was instructed to take her for the dauphin? God help her, she could drown in those narrow eyes that searched her soul. She turned towards the priest, who began the solemnization of the matrimony.

Gently, he reached for her hand. The metal of his gauntlet was cool against her skin. Blair turned to face him, listened to the nuptial vows that he made on another man's behalf. When she recited hers, for the first time she was told, as she had been too young to repeat the words on her first wedding, Blair could not help the tightness in her throat.

Every breath rebelled inside her. How she longed to proclaim that she would be free, than to tie her fate to a man she did not know.

From her father's roof, to a husband's, widowhood, and then another husband's.

Each tie a cage smaller yet grander.

"His highness is a good man, my lady," he said gently, as he opened his hand and showed her the wedding ring nestled in his palm. "And I will keep my promise."

Why would she trust him, she wondered, this man whose name she did not even know?

Blair watched as he slid the ring on her finger. "With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow." Such words rang false, knowing he said it in place of another. His voice had no right to be so liquid and heated. The ring fit her finger perfectly, and it too felt wrong. A fleeting thought occurred to her that the dauphin had not happened on the size by accident, and that it was a ring her mother had prepared. The man's fingers lingered on hers. How well it fit, yet how heavy and odd it felt. Blair held her breath until he released her.

"Forasmuch as his highness Nathaniel Archibald, dauphin of France and regent of the kingdom, and her grace, Lady Blair Grimaldi, Duchess of Burgundy, have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

The marriage contract lay before her, signed with a flourish by the dauphin. By her husband Nathaniel. This man whose face she did not know.

The man who stood by her side placed the ink and quill within her reach. She took a deep breath, and with a trembling hand she took the quill and signed her name to the document.

She put down the quill, then slowly turned back to this man. "My lord," she said to him, "if you should take me from the only home I know, I must have your name."

"Charles, your grace," he offered. "I swear to you deliver you safely to your husband." Blair nodded. "We leave tonight."

She had been told what would happen, expected nothing less. Unlike her marriage to Louis as a child, a pure merging of wealth between two families, with no immediate expectation at such a young age, marriage to the dauphin would require far more. A future king required a queen, and Eleanor Waldorf, despite her shortcomings, raised—no matter how reluctant Blair may be—a queen.

~o~o~

The travel itself had been smoother than she expected. Yet over and over this Lord Charles had surprised her. She had insisted to bring everything she owned with her, declined all offer from her father to allow most to follow in the next weeks instead. Chests to overflowing chests were carried out of the castle and loaded onto wagons behind her carriage.

Beside him, another of Nathaniel's lords paused to lean in, and Charles waved him back.

He turned to her, that slight smirk still resting on his lips. Blair's back straightened as she prepared her defense.

He said, however, to her pleased surprise. "Your silks and linen, your grace, will rival those of any lady's in the chateau."

"And so will my slippers, my veils and all my jewels," she returned. "All fit for a queen."

"As it should be," he murmured, patiently waiting astride his horse as her treasures flowed out of the castle.

Blair eyes narrowed. It was too easy. He was being much too kind for one pressed for time on the dauphin's errand. Last night, he was in such hurry to wed her for Nathaniel, and now he could dally endlessly on her whim.

His haunting dark eyes were not to be trusted. The smooth silky voice was treacherous.

"I need to take it all," Blair told him, her smile saccharine. "After all, one cannot expect the throne of France would have the coin to spare."

It was only then that his smirk faded. "For baubles and fancy dresses, no," he admitted. "There are affairs of the kingdom, your grace, that require our gold—such as keeping our land and our menfolk alive." And then he gave a curt nod to her, "If it will please you, your grace, I shall wait up at the front of the party and lead us out."

Since the day they ventured out, she had not spoken with Lord Charles. It was as if she traveled the independent widow she had wanted to be. The days on the road were long, and most times she was able to move her curtain and watch the countryside. Aside from the first day when it seemed like they had been led to a needlessly bumpy path—which she swore was his revenge for her caustic words—the trip from Bourbon to Paris was quite memorable.

Good thing he stayed away, she told herself. Lady Blair was well entertained by her maid's stories in the carriage. Beginning on the second day—which was when she supposed Lord Charles no longer had a grudge on her and the carriage ride was smoother—she could even read from her small book, sew tiny pearls into her crispinette, and even fall asleep on the cushioned seat.

On the first night of their journey, there were close enough to the town that they could rent rooms for the nobles. Blair had stayed with her maid in the finest room at the inn. When she went up to the room, she was surprised to find Lord Charles inside as he surveyed the windows and the door lock. The moment she stepped inside, he bowed before her and left the room.

On the succeeding nights out in the open road, far away from towns, the traveling party gathered for dinner and drinks around the fire. Blair found out about the rest of the dauphin's party, and was entertained by stories they told. She realized that the head of the party had been schooled with the dauphin at the chateau since boyhood, that the two had grown up close as brothers in the court.

No wonder it was Lord Charles that made the trip to Bourbon for her. In Nathaniel's place she would have chosen the same. None could take the place of a trusted confidante in matters so critical.

Sir Rufus, one of the more experienced knights in the party, ended the night with a haunting song on his hurdy-gurdy, and the haunting cranking tune sent many to their sleeping mats. Blair made her way to the covered wagon that Dorota had made up so she could lay down fully and not sleep sitting down in the carriage. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the dark figure sitting down, leaning back against the wheel of the wagon, his hand fisted around the hilt of his sword.

Since he had not been speaking to her, Blair decided to quietly make his way into the wagon and lay down in the dark. The air was cool, and she pulled a heavy blanket over her body. She stared up at the linen roof cover and realized everyone else could see the stars littering the night sky but her.

"Sleep well, your grace," came his deep silk voice. "Fret not. I am on watch this night."

She gave a deep sigh. Blair gathered the thick blanket, then crawled back out and tossed it down towards him. He leaned his head back with his familiar smirk, his eyes closed. Lord Charles pulled the blanket over lap.

"Some watch," she muttered softly. His eyes were closed, for sure. Yet as she drifted off to sleep, knowing he was out there gave her peace.

In the morning, Lady Blair took to the back of the back of the party and secured her palfrey from her men.

"Hello sweetheart," she greeted her horse, as it neighed in happiness at the sight of her. She brushed the ebony mane of her beast, and pulled herself up astride. Blair leaned forward and whispered, "It had been a while, my love."

With a slight urging of her knee, the palfrey ambled forward and then sped up, cantered past the wagons and past Dorota in the carriage. She made her way up to the front of the party and slowed down beside Lord Charles. He turned to her, and a slow smile of welcome built as her ride dropped to an easy gait that matched his.

"Your grace," he greeted her.

"My lord," Blair returned. She looked out towards the vast space between them, then saw the chateau towards which they rode. "Is that home?"

"Oui," he answered. "The only home I ever knew." He pointed towards the tower. "I was born in that keep, tutored alongside the dauphin in the same library." He glanced at her. "It is beautiful," he assured her. "Massive enough that you could wander for weeks and never be found, should you so choose."

For some reason, it vastly intrigued her.

"Will you show me, my lord?" Blair asked. "Will you tour me and show me the places where I can disappear?" Hidden away, she could be free. Much like her life in Bourbon. And then her heart sank. But she was married to the regent here, a queen consort in every way. She would never be allowed to vanish or be free. It was her responsibility. "Forgive me," she said, brushing aside her desire. "I did not mean to sound the girl."

Queens bred kings. The did not deal in folly.

"We are fortunate to have you, your grace," he said to her. "You come at a time the kingdom needs you most. From the first moment I saw you, I knew you would change the world."

~o~o~

This was his world, his corner of the earth. He led the path up to the chateau. The fortress gates opened to welcome them, and Charles took the horse through. The cheers of welcome were intense, loud, warm. He recognized the slight tinge of desperation in those voices, knew at once that the people who gathered realized the very reason for this arrival.

To them, she would bring gold, vast resources that the kingdom sadly lacked. In these times of war, her wealth was their savior.

He glanced towards Lady Blair as she sat upon her black palfrey, her purple cloak about her with the bordered trim so intricate and rich. She seemed like a stranger, still ill at ease in a new world with vastly more people, so crowded compared to her own. As if by cue, the Bourbon men who had ridden with them at the back of the party fell into place behind Lady Blair. Suddenly she was no longer alone in this strange world, but a force mighty and prepared. Two of her knights flanked her as she made her way towards the main keep.

Queen Anne and Nathaniel stood at the step, eager to welcome her. When her palfrey stopped a few steps away, Nathaniel walked over and held a hand up to receive her.

Like the well educated noblewoman she was, Lady Blair dropped to a curtsy before Lord Nathaniel. The dauphin offered his arm and she took it, and Blair curtsied before his mother as well.

Charles followed closely as they entered the main hall. Once inside, he saw his father and handed the wedding document. He caught a glimpse of Blair as she peered towards the entry way. Charles stepped forward, and his heart bled warmth when she sighed and visibly eased at the sight of him. She turned to the queen and Nathaniel, her husband.

He had done his part for the kingdom, Charles told himself. He would rest easy tonight.

tbc