the séance and let you depart in peace.”
“No, you won’t,” Gabrielle protested. “What about Remy?”
Cass gave Gabrielle’s hand a hard squeeze to silence her. The old man closed his eyes, as though trying to will himself back into the mists of his own world. He apparently realized the futility of the struggle because his mouth drooped with defeat.
Nostradamus opened his eyes and began to intone in accents of wearied resignation. “The Lady Gabrielle has a mighty destiny before her. She will become a woman of great influence, wealth, and power beyond her greatest imaginings.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Gabrielle said. “Tell me about Nicolas Remy.”
“Gabrielle will hold sway over the heart of a king.”
“King? What king?” Cass asked eagerly.
“The king of France. Gabrielle will rule the country through Henry. First she will become his mistress—”
“Henry Valois?” Gabrielle echoed with revulsion. “The son of Catherine de Medici? That perfumed fop? He is the cruelest and most perverted man I’ve ever known.”
“I speak not of Henry Valois,” Nostradamus replied . “But of Henry, the present king of Navarre. It is his adoration you will gain and he will one day inherit the throne of all France.”
“That’s impossible,” Gabrielle said impatiently. “Valois is a young man and he has an even younger brother. Their mother, Catherine de Medici, would fiercely guard their right to the throne. Now about Nicolas Remy. He was a Huguenot soldier. It is him I want to—”
“The House of Valois will fall, the power of the Italian woman come to an end.”
“Stop!” To Gabrielle’s astonishment, Cass reared back, her voice sharp with alarm. “You will speak no more of the Dark Queen.”
Nostradamus paid no more heed to Cass’s attempt to interrupt than he had to Gabrielle.
“Beware the Dark Queen. She will fight to keep what is hers and destroy all who threaten her power. But she will perish along with both of her remaining sons. Her line will end. The king of Navarre shall become king of France, and Gabrielle will—”
“No more of this,” Cass cried. “Be silent.”
Cass’s hand fought to break contact with hers and this time it was Gabrielle who clutched at her to prevent that from happening.
“Gabrielle will what?” Gabrielle asked the old man, intrigued in spite of herself.
“The Dark Queen’s reign will end and Gabrielle’s will—”
“No!” Cass shoved to her feet, wrenching free of Gabrielle. Before Gabrielle could stop her, Cass lashed out with her free arm, striking the copper basin and black candle from the table. Both hit the stone floor with a terrible clatter.
Gabrielle leapt up from the table, hoping to be able to do something, but it was too late. The water was spilled, the candle extinguished. The mist, the ghostly countenance, the predictions of Nostradamus, all gone. Even worse, so was her hope of seeing Nicolas Remy again.
A heavy silence fell over the chamber. Gabrielle stumbled through the darkness, fumbling with flint and tinder until she managed to relight one of the torches. The basin lay overturned on the floor, a dark spill of water pooling around it and the black candle. The wick was charred to black ash. The candle, which had blazed with such power only moments ago, looked absurdly harmless.
“Why, Cass?” Gabrielle asked, turning angrily on the other woman, her voice thick with a mingling of frustration and dismay. “Why did you do that?”
“Why?” Cass repeated shrilly. “Bloody hell, Gabrielle.”
She hugged her arms tightly around herself. “Nostradamus was bandying about the name of the Dark Queen, foretelling her death and the downfall of her line. Do you know what she would do to us if she found out we were conjuring up such predictions?”
“Oh, don’t be a fool, Cassandra,” Gabrielle snapped. “We are hiding in an abandoned house, holding a séance down here in a room like a blasted tomb. How the
“No, you won’t,” Gabrielle protested. “What about Remy?”
Cass gave Gabrielle’s hand a hard squeeze to silence her. The old man closed his eyes, as though trying to will himself back into the mists of his own world. He apparently realized the futility of the struggle because his mouth drooped with defeat.
Nostradamus opened his eyes and began to intone in accents of wearied resignation. “The Lady Gabrielle has a mighty destiny before her. She will become a woman of great influence, wealth, and power beyond her greatest imaginings.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Gabrielle said. “Tell me about Nicolas Remy.”
“Gabrielle will hold sway over the heart of a king.”
“King? What king?” Cass asked eagerly.
“The king of France. Gabrielle will rule the country through Henry. First she will become his mistress—”
“Henry Valois?” Gabrielle echoed with revulsion. “The son of Catherine de Medici? That perfumed fop? He is the cruelest and most perverted man I’ve ever known.”
“I speak not of Henry Valois,” Nostradamus replied . “But of Henry, the present king of Navarre. It is his adoration you will gain and he will one day inherit the throne of all France.”
“That’s impossible,” Gabrielle said impatiently. “Valois is a young man and he has an even younger brother. Their mother, Catherine de Medici, would fiercely guard their right to the throne. Now about Nicolas Remy. He was a Huguenot soldier. It is him I want to—”
“The House of Valois will fall, the power of the Italian woman come to an end.”
“Stop!” To Gabrielle’s astonishment, Cass reared back, her voice sharp with alarm. “You will speak no more of the Dark Queen.”
Nostradamus paid no more heed to Cass’s attempt to interrupt than he had to Gabrielle.
“Beware the Dark Queen. She will fight to keep what is hers and destroy all who threaten her power. But she will perish along with both of her remaining sons. Her line will end. The king of Navarre shall become king of France, and Gabrielle will—”
“No more of this,” Cass cried. “Be silent.”
Cass’s hand fought to break contact with hers and this time it was Gabrielle who clutched at her to prevent that from happening.
“Gabrielle will what?” Gabrielle asked the old man, intrigued in spite of herself.
“The Dark Queen’s reign will end and Gabrielle’s will—”
“No!” Cass shoved to her feet, wrenching free of Gabrielle. Before Gabrielle could stop her, Cass lashed out with her free arm, striking the copper basin and black candle from the table. Both hit the stone floor with a terrible clatter.
Gabrielle leapt up from the table, hoping to be able to do something, but it was too late. The water was spilled, the candle extinguished. The mist, the ghostly countenance, the predictions of Nostradamus, all gone. Even worse, so was her hope of seeing Nicolas Remy again.
A heavy silence fell over the chamber. Gabrielle stumbled through the darkness, fumbling with flint and tinder until she managed to relight one of the torches. The basin lay overturned on the floor, a dark spill of water pooling around it and the black candle. The wick was charred to black ash. The candle, which had blazed with such power only moments ago, looked absurdly harmless.
“Why, Cass?” Gabrielle asked, turning angrily on the other woman, her voice thick with a mingling of frustration and dismay. “Why did you do that?”
“Why?” Cass repeated shrilly. “Bloody hell, Gabrielle.”
She hugged her arms tightly around herself. “Nostradamus was bandying about the name of the Dark Queen, foretelling her death and the downfall of her line. Do you know what she would do to us if she found out we were conjuring up such predictions?”
“Oh, don’t be a fool, Cassandra,” Gabrielle snapped. “We are hiding in an abandoned house, holding a séance down here in a room like a blasted tomb. How the
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