beloved mother. ‘Yes, Your Majesty, I do.’ It would not be the Mary or Elizabeth or Catherine he expected. ‘My mother also calls me Solay.’
‘Soleil?’ he said, with the French inflection. ‘The sun?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why would she give you such a name?’
She hesitated, fearing to speak the truth and unable to think of a way to dissemble. ‘She said I was the daughter of the sun.’
Whispers ricocheted around the floor. I was the Lady of the Sun once, her mother had said. The Sun who was King Edward.
The King dismissed her with a wave. ‘Your name matters little. You will not be here long.’
Fear twisted her stomach. She must cajole him out of anger and gain time to win his favour.
‘Your use of the name honours me,’ she said quickly, ‘as much as the honour of knowing I share the exalted day of your birth under the sign of Capricorn.’ She knew no such thing, but no one cared when she had come into the world. Even her mother was not sure of the day.
He sat straighter and peered at her. ‘You study the stars, Lady Solay?’
She knew little more of the stars than a candle maker, if the truth be told, but if the stars intrigued him, flattery and a few choice phrases should suffice. ‘Although I am but a student, I hear they say great things of Your Majesty.’
He looked at her sharply. ‘What do they say?’ he said, leaning forward.
What did he want to hear? She must tread carefully. Too much knowledge would be dangerous. ‘I have never read yours, of course, Your Majesty.’ To do so without his consent could have meant death. She thought quickly. The King’s birthday was on the twelfth day of Christmas. That should give her enough time. ‘However, with your permission, I could present a reading in honour of your birthday.’
‘It would take so long?’
She smiled and nodded. ‘To prepare a reading worthy of a King, oh, yes, Your Majesty.’
The King smiled, settling back into the throne. ‘A reading for my birthday, then.’ He turned to the tall, dark-haired man on his right. ‘Hibernia, see that she has what she needs.’
She released a breath. Now if she could only concoct a reading that would direct him to grant her mother an income for life. ‘I will do my humble best and be honoured to serve Your Majesty in any way.’
A small smile touched his lips. ‘I imprisoned the last astrologer for predicting ill omens. I shall be interested in what you say.’
She swallowed. This King was not as naïve as he looked.
Done with her, he rose, took the Queen’s hand and spoke to the Hall. ‘Come. Let there be carolling before vespers.’
Solay curtsied, muttering, ‘Thanks to Your Majesty’, like a Hail Mary and backed away.
A hand, warm, touched her shoulder.
She turned to see the same brown eyes that had made her stumble. Up close, they seemed to probe all she needed to hide.
The man was all hardness and power. A perpetual frown furrowed his brow. ‘Lady Joan, or shall I say Lady Solay?’
She slapped on a smile to hide the trembling of her lips. ‘A turn in the carolling ring? Of course.’
He did not return her smile. ‘No. A private word.’
His eyes, large, heavy lidded, turned down at the corners, as if weighed with sorrow.
Or distrust.
‘If you wish,’ she said, uneasy. As he guided her into the passageway outside the Great Hall, she turned her attention to him, ready to discover who he was, what he wanted and how she might please him.
God had blessed her with a pleasing visage. Most men were content to bask in the glow of her interest, never asking what she might think or feel.
And if they had asked, she would not have known what to say. She had forgotten.
Yet this man, silent, stared down at her as though he knew her thoughts and despised them. Behind him, the caroller’s call echoed off the rafters of the Great Hall and the singers responded in kind. She smiled, trying to lift his scowl. ‘It’s a merry group.’
No gentle curve sculpted the lips that formed an angry slash in his face. ‘They sound as if they had forgotten we might have been singing beside the French today.’
She shivered. Only God’s grace had kept the French fleet off their shores this summer. ‘Perhaps people want to forget the war for a while.’
‘They shouldn’t.’ His tone brooked no dissent. ‘Now tell me, Lady Solay, why have you come to court?’
She touched a finger to her lips, taking time to think. She must not speak without knowing whose ear listened. ‘Sir, you know who I am, but I do not even know your name. Pray, tell me.’
‘Lord Justin Lamont.’
His simple answer told her nothing she needed to know. Was he the King’s man or not? ‘Are you also a visitor at Court?’
‘I serve the Duke of Gloucester.’
She clasped her fingers in front of her so they would not shake. Gloucester had near the power of a king these days. Richard could make few moves without his uncle’s approval, a galling situation for a proud and profligate Plantagenet.
She widened her eyes, tilted her head and smiled. ‘How do you serve the Duke?’
‘I was trained at the Inns of Court.’
She struggled to keep her smile from crumbling. ‘A man of the law?’ A craven vulture who never kept his word, who would speak for you one day and against you the next, who could take away your possessions, your freedom, your very life.
‘You dislike the law, Lady Solay?’ A twist of a smile relaxed the harsh edges of his face. For the first time, she noticed a cleft in his chin, the only softness she’d seen in him.
‘Wouldn’t you, if it had done to you what it did to my mother?’ Shame, shame. Do not let the anger show. It was over and done. She must move on. She must survive.
‘It was your mother who did damage to the law.’
His bluntness shocked her. True, her mother had shared the judges’ bench on occasion, but only to insure that the King’s will was done. Most judges could not be trusted to render a verdict without an eye on their pockets.
Solay kept her brow smooth, her eyes wide and her voice low. ‘My mother served the Queen and then the King faithfully. She was ill served in the end for her faithful care.’
‘She used the law to steal untold wealth. It was the realm that was ill served.’
Most only whispered their hatred. This man spoke it aloud. She gritted her
