The Courtesan by Susan Carroll Page A

devil would Catherine ever find out?”
    “Because she is a devil. She possesses more evil powers than you could ever imagine. If the Dark Queen even suspected that you hoped to supplant her and her brats with Navarre, she’d destroy you and him, too. And then she’d come after me for conjuring up her dead court astrologer to fill your head with such ambitions.”
    “I didn’t need Nostradamus to supply me with the ambition to end the Dark Queen’s power. I have burned with the desire to see Catherine brought low ever since—” But Gabrielle checked her anger as she realized how genuinely distressed Cass was.
    She had turned deathly pale, even for Cass, and she swayed a little as though she might be about to faint. Her ire dissolving, Gabrielle hastened to Cass’s side.
    “Are you all right? You look terrible.” Gabrielle wrapped her arm bracingly around Cass’s thin shoulders. “Come on. I think you need to lie down.”
    “What I need is a drink,” Cass mumbled, but she allowed Gabrielle to lead her over to the narrow cot. Cass refused to lie down, but she did sink down on the edge, bowing her head between her knees until some of the color returned to her cheeks.
    She sat up with a blurry sigh, seeking to shove back the straggling ends of her hair. Cassandra Lascelles dwindled right in front of Gabrielle’s eyes, all trace of the formidable sorceress vanished along with the mist. The most marked change was in her eyes, the light in them snuffed out like the wick of the candle. Cass was lost, back in her darkness.
    She moistened her lips, passing a trembling hand across her brow. “Lord, it—it is always hard on me when I end one of my conjuring sessions so abruptly. I—I am sorry I did so, Gabrielle. I know you think me a great fool. But when the master started going on and on about the Dark Queen—”
    She shuddered. “I am not frightened of many things in this world. But I am wary of crossing her. At least now while she is still the strongest witch in France.”
    Gabrielle knelt down in front of Cass, gently chafing her wrists. “You need not be so afraid. Far too many of our kind ascribe to Catherine all the dark magic of hell. But I’ve had dealings with the woman and I promise you—she is just another daughter of the earth, flawed with weakness like the rest of us.”
    “But—but she is so powerful.”
    “So are you,” Gabrielle said, trying to rub some warmth into Cass’s hands. “I have never known any other witch as gifted at conjuring the dead as you.”
    Cass managed a wan smile. “Not that good, apparently. I didn’t give you what you wanted, your Captain Remy.”
    “Well, that’s no great matter,” Gabrielle lied, swallowing her disappointment. “It was interesting meeting the great Nostradamus. My father used to bring us the almanacs of his predictions from Paris, although Maman never approved. She had little faith in the art of astrology. She always said that Nostradamus’s predictions were but foolish poetry, irritatingly vague.”
    “Some of his predictions were, others were astonishingly accurate. I can tell you this much, Gabrielle Cheney,” Cass said earnestly. “I have conjured Nostradamus many times since he passed over to consult him about the future. His skills have been greatly honed by death.”
    “Then you think all those things he said about me were true?”
    “Oh, yes. You undoubtedly have a great future before you. I only regret I didn’t have the courage to continue so he could have told you more.”
    “Never mind.” Gabrielle sighed. Actually there was only one more thing she wanted to know about the séance. She hesitated, fearing she might not like the answer.
    “Cass . . . why did Nostradamus come to me tonight instead of Remy?”
    Cass shrugged. “The master and I are linked together forever in a way, whether he wishes it or not. You see, when I was a little girl, my father, the bishop, took me to Dr. Nostradamus in the hopes he could cure my