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lean on at the end of the day.
He searched the palace - the gardens, the libraries, even Noire's room and a few parlors before finally landing upon the idea
of the tower.
Freddie had found Noire as a young man, after he'd made his way to the city from a poor village buried in the Border
Mountains. He'd caused a ruckus in the main courtyard, but after everything was sorted it out, they'd learned Noire was the
one least responsible for the disaster - something involving the Forms of three women and two men besides Noire. Ailill no
longer remembered the specifics, but from the day forward Freddie had not let the young black panther out of her sight.
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Three years later, when he was old enough and her elk ready for retirement, Noire had taken up the role of Grand
Duchess's messenger. That had been five years ago, just a couple of months before Ailill had left on his mission.
In those five years, Noire had changed a great deal - far more than Ailill had implied a couple of nights ago. There was a
deeper maturity to him now, like Noire had finally grown fully into himself& there was also a deeper sadness, and Ailill
wondered what had caused it.
Whatever had caused all the changes, and he sensed it was not simply five years as Freddie's messenger, he sensed it
was tied to Noire losing his temper. He should have looked more closely, seen that Noire was this troubled about
something.
Throwing Giles into the fountain was no small matter - Noire had officially earned himself a bitter enemy for life, and he must
have known that would happen.
His first year or so of adjusting to noble life, Noire had often retreated to the one of few places almost never occupied - the
western tower of the four that crowned the Silver Palace. More than once Ailill or Freddie had found him there in a state of
confusion or misery.
It would seem they had not done their best to see that Noire adjusted and found his place.
Climbing the steps, noting ruefully it had been much easier to do five years ago, Ailill pushed the door open and saw Noire
sitting beneath the window, his head propped on one knee, the other leg stretched out.
"Noire," Ailill said softly, closing the door behind him. "What's wrong? Normally the Earl does not get to you so."
"I guess I'm more tired than I thought," Noire said tightly, slowly looking up.
His pale blue eyes told a story at complete odds with his words. Something about what the Earl had said or done had cut
Noire deep.
"You're not fooling anyone, Noire." Ailill slowly sank down to sit beside him. "The Earl will very like do his best now to see
you suffer miserably all the rest of your days."
Noire closed his eyes, head leaning back against the wall. "I don't care," he whispered. "All I care about is the day after the
Ceremony& "
Ailill looked at him sharply. "Why?"
"Why?" Noire laughed, the sound tired and sad. "Because in exactly one month all the people I care about may die. In one
month and one day I will be either the happiest man in the world& or likely dead, for I will not live so completely alone."
"Noire& " Ailill drifted off, not knowing what to say. Finally he just reached out and tugged him into a loose embrace. "I am
sorry. All of us have been fretting about the Ceremony, but it is not about those of us who will die that everyone should be
concerned. It is those of you who will continue living, should everything go wrong again, who face the greatest burden, and
we have been neglecting that."
In point of fact he'd been trying very hard not to think about it. He knew part of the reasons Ivan's men had been so
boisterous and loud of late was to keep all of them, and Ailill's servants, from dwelling on the fact that in thirty one days they
could very well be burying the Marquis le Blanc alongside eleven other Beasts and the three would-be gods.
He'd been so busy thinking about how he didn't want to die, he - and apparently all the other Beasts - had neglected those
under their protection. It was all too easy to think of Noire as his peer, his equal. So far as he was concerned, Noire was the
better of anyone in the palace and beyond.
Noire wasn't, however, a Beast. That meant he'd still be alive when - if - they all died. What would happen to him? To the
people of their provinces?
Ailill suddenly felt woefully inadequate a Beast.
"You should not speak of killing yourself - it would make none of us happy to know that you died as well. If we have to die
because we all proved unfit, because our Guardians Prospective and Faerie Queen were not worthy& then so be it. We are
the Beasts. That brings us status, wealth, power, great magic& and if that means we must also die because of it all, then
that is a fair price to pay."
Noire shook his head. "What will Ivan do, should you die?"
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"He will return with his men to Pozhar," Ailill said softly. "Live out his days quietly, doing small jobs, simple things, and
spend time with the friends he has there. He will hate every second of it but find what joy he can, and take comfort in
knowing we will see each other again someday." He smiled. "Zhar Ptitka himself told us that our souls are forever bound,
that in every life, no matter the circumstances, we will find each other again."
Longing burned in Noire's eyes as he looked at Ailill. He'd never seen emotion run so deep, but those pale blue-silver eyes
positively blazed with it. What in the name of the Queen was Noire keeping so deeply buried it was tearing him apart? "Do
you think& do you think& " he shook his head and buried it once more in his folded arms.
"Ivan's men were given a similar blessing, shortly before we left Pozhar," Ailill said slowly. "The Sacred Firebird promised
that in every life, they would find each other and Ivan."
Noire didn't lift up his head, voice muffled as he spoke. "So it could be others are so blessed?"
"I have not a single doubt," Ailill answered immediately, his suspicions growing.
Slowly Noire sat back up, though he still did not look at Ailill. He reached up a hand to touch a teardrop shaped cravat pin
nestled in the folds of black silk, the gesture clearly an unconscious one.
Ailill's suspicions tripled. Noire had a lover& or at least was very much in love. He thought carefully back over the scene in
the garden, replaying everything from the moment the Wolf and Ram had started speaking to them.
Why do you insist on acting like children? Like kittens. That bit had made Noire growl. I do believe you are black, not white,
kitten. That had caused the White Ram to wind up in the fountain.
"Kitten," Ailill said suddenly, suspicions confirmed when Noire shot him a startled, half-panicked, half-furious look. "You
didn't like that the Earl called you kitten."
Fury filled Noire's face. "No one e-is allowed to call me Kitten," he said furiously. "No one. If he or anyone else does it
again, I will do much worse than throw them into the fountain!"
Ailill said nothing. If Noire had worked this hard to keep his lover a secret - though Ailill had plenty to say to and about a
man& or woman, he supposed, but something told him Noire was in love with a man& who kept Noire like a dirty secret.
Except Noire wasn't stupid. If he thought he was being strung along& but that wasn't necessarily true. He'd seen smarter
people turn dumber when it came to such things.
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